Dominique
Kobe arrived at ten,bursting with unrestrained energy. He barreled through the door—nearly tripping on his boots—the second I opened it, falling into my arms and crashing his mouth to mine. The kiss was heady and hungry and hotter than I expected, stirring my cock and making me forget my name. He clutched my cheeks between his frozen fingers and walked me backward until I bumped into the wall and could do nothing more than kiss him back. It went on for ages, brisk winter air pouring through the open door.
Only when I shivered did he break free. His smile was luminescent.
“Hey, sexy. I missed you.”
“Apparently.”
“Is Cosette up?”
“She’s been in bed for hours.”
“Crap. It’s late. I know. Forgive me.” Kobe kicked the door closed but didn’t release my hand. “I had the best fucking night.As I was packing up to go home, I had a brilliant idea and needed to explore it.”
“Come in. Tell me about it. Do you want a drink? I’m making snacks.”
“Hell yeah. It’s New Year’s Eve. I plan to get trashed and spend all night naked in bed with you.”
I couldn’t help the smile. “Is that so?”
Kobe removed his winter gear as he explained his theory that the girl from Yates’s unfiled report might have gone to the hospital for help and ended up in the care of Navid Kordestani.
“Of all fucking people, right? It’s the link I’ve been looking for and could explain why he’s dead.” Kobe followed me into the kitchen, where the scent of baking hors d’oeuvres permeated the air. “He wasn’t one of the ones who raped that girl—I don’t believe that—but he didn’t help her either. That guy had a reputation for being an asshole to his patients. A scantily-clad teen at the ER in the middle of the night, crying about rape? Can you see it? Suppose she was as elusive about details with him as she was with Yates. I can totally understand how he might have gotten frustrated and stopped caring. His bedside manner was shit on a good day. Ask any of his colleagues.”
I pulled a tray of food from the oven, and Kobe groaned at the sight. “That looks so good. I’m starving.”
“Keep going with your story.” I left the tray on the stovetop and found a clean glass in the cupboard. I mixed Kobe a strong drink as he chattered excitedly.
“So, I went to the hospital and sweet-talked a nurse into peeking through old files to see what she can find. I gave her the date it happened and an overview of the story. I know it’ll be tricky without names, but that girl would have signed in at triage. There will be a record of suspected rape. In a matter of days, I’ll have a name, Dom. I know it. I feel it in my bones. I’m close. This is it. My god. I’m so pumped right now.”
I handed him the full tumbler with a quirked brow. “Back up. Don’t you need a warrant for that?”
“Technically, but I have ways. Besides, I’m doubtful I can get a warrant signed based on an unfiled report with no names.”
“So, yousweet-talkeda nurse.”
Kobe slurped a sip of the spiced rum and Coke before setting the glass aside. A spark of mischief danced in his eyes. “I was selective about who I approached, and I may have flirted a little, but if it’s any consolation, she saw right through me.”
“You have no shame.”
“None at all, but it worked.”
I located a serving platter and used tongs to transfer the hot pastries. I’d bought an array of finger foods to enjoy, mostly to soak up the booze. “There are sauces and a cheese and meat plate in the fridge. Can you grab them?”
Kobe complied, shedding the plastic wrap over the two plates and filling small dishes with dips. He added the sauces to the hors d’oeuvres platter and grabbed the box of crackers I’d left out.
I tucked a few napkins under my arm, and we carried the food into the living room, spreading it on the coffee table. I’d set the mood earlier. Soft jazz—something I knew Kobe would enjoy—played from my phone, and the lights were dimmed.
I had packed the tree away for another season, and the area where it had sat for the better part of a month felt empty. Regular household decorations did not have the same impact as Christmas shine.
The Times Square New Year’s Eve celebration played on the TV, but I muted it long before Kobe showed up. The announcers chatted and laughed on the screen, bundled against the cold. The streets were filled with thousands of people in party hats or silly bands with the shimmering number 2026 bouncing on springs above their heads.
Kobe stacked crackers with cheeses and meats, stuffing them into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten all day.
“How will you explain this to Rue and your boss?” I asked as we got cozy.
I passed Kobe a napkin, and he wiped crumbs from his lips before selecting a sausage pastry and popping it into his mouth.
