“What did he expect?” I countered. “What did you expect? You know I only left you because I knew I couldn’t be the husband you deserved. I did not expect you to move on with my best friend.”
She looked down at the ground. “I know, we didn’t mean to do it, Kane. It just…happened.”
I ran my hand over my face, feeling guilty immediately. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, I am sorry,” she said, moving closer, as if she were going to take my hands in hers before she stopped herself. “I made you a pie. Judging by this place, I probably should have made you a casserole to make sure you’re eating properly.”
“I’m doing okay, Mi,” I said. “Thank you for stopping by. You can report back to Kemp that I’m doing good.”
She smiled. “I know it’s complicated between you and I, Kane, but you can call me for anything. I’ll be there. I still like to think of us as friends.”
“Of course we are,” I offered her a smile. “And thank you.”
She moved toward me and gave me a quick hug before she headed for the door. I’d caught a whiff of her vanilla shampoo, and the reaction it used to inspire was no longer there. It wasn’t like the violets Maurelle smelled like.
“I mean it, Kane, call me or Kemp if you need someone.”
“I appreciate it, Mi, I do.”
She smiled as I watched her walk to her car and drive off, closing the door, I let out the breath of air I’d been holding and walked over to the glass dish. Feeling back the tin foil, I chuckled at the thick layer of meringue on top.
Lemon meringue pie.
My favorite.
I picked it up and put it in my bare as bones refrigerator before I sat back down on my couch and channel surfed.
Seeing her again…it always stirred up bad feelings, coupled with Maurelle getting the best of me, yet again, it was a recipe for disaster. I was getting nowhere on my cold case file and generally no closer to finding Maurelle again. She’d completely up and disappeared off the radar after Chicago.
Just like she said she would.
There has to be a way I can find her. She can’t just be a ghost in the system. No one was that good.
I shot off a text to Petra.
GARRICK
Did you find her?
PETRA
Good morning to you too, sir. No, I didn’t. She’s off the grid or she’s burned through another alias.
GARRICK
Can’t you track her some other way?
PETRA
Maybe if we were the CIA and I could search using some fancy machine that uses face ID, but we’re just a police department, so you’re going to have to use my limited resources available.
Jesus Christ she was a smartass but she was the only tech we could handle my gruff attitude.
GARRICK
Keep the alerts up.
Petra responded with a thumbs up and I threw my phone onto the couch next to me. Closing my eyes, all I could think of was that beautiful face hovering over me as she rode my cock for her own pleasure. I was out of it, but bits and pieces had returned to my memory, making me angry that she’s bested me twice already and yet, I didn’t want to arrest her, I wanted a third time where I was in control. I wanted her again, yet she was the bad guy. She was the fucking black widow I was chasing, and I wanted her to ride my cock again and again, like a sick fucking creep.
