8
Roscoe
As I glared at Detective Mason of the Springfield Police Department, I wasn’t sure what bothered me more. That he was going to fuck up my investigation, or that my sassy Brit had kept me busy so his partner could toss my cabin.
Stewart was a cop?
Mason crossed his arms and studied me, cool as ever. Stewart’s eyes were like the kaleidoscope I had as a kid—emotions shifting so fast that I couldn’t get a clear picture. Hurt. Betrayal. Anger. “You were arrested?“
he asked, but it sounded like an accusation.
Why was he surprised? If they were investigating me, surely Mason had told him. And Stewart had no right to be pissed at me. He was the one who’d had his tongue down my throat while his buddy tried to sneak out.
“I never pretended to be a good guy, sweetheart.“
I did pretend to be a bad guy, but Stewart didn’t need to know that. “So, you’re a cop?”
His chin rose. “FBI.”
Well, fuck me sideways. This was getting better and better. “Why is the FBI investigating me?”
“We’re not—“
He stopped. His eyes darted to Mason and back.
Okaaay. “Why is the SPD investigating me?”
Mason was silent while Stewart nervously tapped his fingers together like he needed a keyboard, STAT. This was why I never pegged him as a cop. He shot me a haughty look. “Not everything is about you—”
“Stewart,“
Mason snapped.
Stewart’s skin flushed pink.
I wasn’t the target. “This is about Carter?”
“We’re not here officially.“
Mason spoke first, probably afraid of what Stewart might say. “What’s your role in all of this, Joey?”
Stewart squeaked. “Roscoe isn’t your real name?“
But that wasn’t his question. Was any of this real? You tell me, sweetheart.
“Joseph is my middle name. And I’m the one asking questions.“
I studied them both. “Why were you searching my room?”
Stewart hesitated for a second, not looking at Mason, and then he straightened. “Why were you fucking my boyfriend?”
My mouth dropped open. I’d never heard Stewart cuss. But also, what the fuck? His words didn’t make sense. “Your boyfriend? The ex-boyfriend you mentioned before? Or was that a lie too?”
He raised his chin. “You are princess_with_a_P, right?”
“Yes, but—“
And then everything fell into place. “Da_ch0zen_1 was your boyfriend?”
“As if you didn’t know,“
Stewart said in a low voice, avoiding my gaze.
Fuck. Lisben was going to skin me alive. But I hated the way Stewart was doubting himself again.
Because of his piece-of-shit ex. Because of me and my lies.
I motioned to the couch. “You might as well sit down.”
Stewart lifted his chin, his mouth set in a stubborn line. And fuck, I wanted to kiss him. Erase the suspicion in his eyes. Detective Mason sat on the couch, and Stewart weirdly plopped onto the floor.
“It’s his thing,“
Mason said with a fondness that irritated me.
I nodded instead of breaking the hand he’d rested on Stewart’s shoulder. Maybe he could read my expression because he moved it with a quirk of his lips.
Clearing my throat, I continued before I lost my nerve, “My name is Roscoe Joseph Mann.”
“Man. That’s redundant,“
Stewart said with a slight giggle before clamping his lips shut.
“M-A-N-N.“
I cleared my throat. “I’m an undercover agent with the FBI.”
Mason jumped to his feet. “What the fuck? Stewart?”
“Don’t look at me, mate. It’s a big agency.”
Mason crossed his arms. “The FBI is after Carter?”
“Not exactly.“
How much could I tell them? “Our investigation splinters in several directions. A circuit judge is involved, and we hope Carter can lead us to the person pulling the strings.”
Mason accepted my answer with a nod. But Stewart jumped to his feet and marched up to me with fire in his eyes. Fuck. No way to shift without bringing attention to my inappropriate boner. Even imagining the hell Lisben would give me didn’t help. “How do I fit in?”
The question threw me. “You don’t.”
“Right. So you were randomly…“
He waved his arm.
“Nothing I did with you was random, Stewart. You’re cute.“
I lowered my voice. “Sexy.”
He shook his head rapidly, his cheeks stained pink.
I remembered the feel of his blush against my lips. “I didn’t know who you were. I was here to meet Da_ch0zen_1. He said he had information on—“
Fuuuuuck. I was an idiot.
“On what?“
Stewart demanded.
I met his gaze. “On Carter’s ties to the cult leader arrested last year.“
I glanced at Mason. “Your investigation?”
“Our investigation.“
Stewart raised his chin, but his eyes shone with unshed tears. “That bastard.”
“Did you meet with him?“
Mason asked.
“He didn’t show.”
I didn’t mention the message I’d received from Da_ch0zen_1 less than an hour ago. He’d been delayed and suggested we get together once I was back. I’d told him I was eager to meet with him.
And I meant it. Once I was off this ship, I’d have access to my gun.