Disbelief trickled through Harper. “Excuse me?” He took a step toward Colson. “Are you accusing me of using my position to have sex with crime victims?”
Colson’s eyes bore into his. “Have you?”
Harper turned around, opened the door, and walked away. It was the best thing to do, otherwise he might’ve punched Colson in that pretty face of his. By the time he arrived home, he’d cooled off, and after washing his face and putting on a pair of athletic shorts, he peeked into David’s room.
Luis was wrong. So was Nolan. This was all he needed.
Chapter Seven
Another chapter finished. Colson saved it and sat back with a sigh. While the words still flowed—and his agent was texting him every day with encouragement and not so subtle hints that if he finished by the end of the summer, he could arrange for foreign rights to be secured by year’s end—all the initial excitement and joy had diminished after the break-in.
He knew it was silly to be so wrapped up in a picture, but its loss left a gaping hole inside him. Each morning when he awoke, he looked where their picture should’ve been and felt their absence. His grandparents, even in spirit, had always given him the strength to keep going.
His phone rang with an unfamiliar number. “Hello?”
“Mr. Delacourt, this is Detective Martinez.”
“Oh, hi.” Immediately, his mind went to that night a week ago with Harper Rose. God, the filthy dreams he’d had of that man. He’d spent every night since then thinking what it would’ve been like had they taken it to the next step. But then he’d accused Harper of unprofessional behavior.
He’d instantly regretted the accusation because it had been made out of fear. With Evan gone—and if he were honest, even before Evan had dumped him—he’d lost the part of himself that had found pleasure in writing, in life…in love. Sparring with Harper had been more than fun. It had awakened his long-lost passion and the lust he’d thought gone forever. As much as it shocked him, it scared the hell out of him as well.
But why him—why Harper? For God’s sake, he didn’t even like the man. Harper Rose was arrogant, annoying, overly confident…and the best damn kisser who’d ever put his mouth on him.
Colson sighed. Nothing he could do about it now.
He’d plotted a romantic side angle in the book for Harrison Rosa, where he’d fallen for someone he worked with. In his writing, he could explore what might’ve happened between Harper and him if he hadn’t said something stupid.
He rubbed his face as if to wipe away the memory.
“If possible,” Martinez said, “could you come down to the precinct?”
Alarmed, he gripped the phone tighter. “Why? Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing we can discuss over the phone.”
Martinez’s terse voice didn’t bode well.
“I can be there in about thirty minutes.”
“That works. See you then.”
Before he had a chance to say anything further, the call ended. He quickly showered and dressed and walked to the precinct, about a mile away. He was ushered into a room where he waited for almost ten minutes, tapping his fingers and scrolling through his phone, growing more agitated by the minute.
The door opened and Martinez walked in, carrying a file. Colson peered over his shoulder, expecting to see Harper. Martinez’s lips quirked.
“My partner is in court this morning.”
He hoped his cheeks weren’t red. “I—uh, wasn’t…what did you need me for, Detective?”
Martinez sat across from him. “We’ve found some items from the break-ins, and we wanted to see if you could identify them.”
“Oh. The picture of my grandparents?”
“I’ll show you what we have.” He set the file on the table, pulled out a sheaf of printed photographs, and set them out on the table one by one. “If you recognize anything, please let me know.”
Colson scanned the photos, recognized his wallet and a laptop that could be his, and pointed them out to Martinez. Spying the picture frame, his heart sank. With a trembling hand, he reached out and picked up the photo.
“Dammit.”
