His breath on my cheek is hot, and his spicy scent is wrapped around me with his warmth. Something quivers low in my belly as his words break through the anger, dissolving it. Letting my head fall back against his shoulder, I take a deep breath, enjoying his strength.
His chest is rock hard against my back, his body is practically flush against mine. He feels good.
One of his hands caresses my arm, slowly sliding over my skin, up and down. “Better?”
“Only if you promise not to tell anyone you saw mecry.” I follow that up with a sniff.
“I promise no one will know you’re human.” He kisses my temple with a chuckle, and we both freeze simultaneously, the gesture very intimate. I move my head to the side slightly to see what he will do next, but I’m disappointed when he lets go and steps away from me to put his hand on the doorknob.
“I have a meeting in less than an hour. Will you be okay here with Agent Corbett? I’ll try to cut out early today.” His voice is back to its usual stern, professional tone.
Turning to face him, I look over his features. His poker face is back. He’s shut me out. Disappointment washes over me, and I nod my head.
He does something he doesn’t usually do, he looks away from me before he nods. He never looks away. I feel even farther away from him than I did just seconds ago, it’s like a light goes off, and I’m standing in the dark.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RHYS
THE ARRESTreport in my inbox this morning detailed the apprehension of a man who was caught with a shit-ton of fentanyl-laced heroin in his car. Probably from our dead guy’s house. He’s also one of the men Ms. Harlow saw outside the club.
Sanders is going with me to the jail to talk to this guy. He’s been an ass all week, like he wasn’t the one to make a dick of himself.
As long as he doesn’t hinder anything while he’s acting like a little bitch, I don’t give a fuck if he curls up in a corner with a safety blanket to suck his thumb. If I could take Corbett with me, I would, but Sanders has rank and is deeper into the case than Corbett.
I need to know if this guy we’re going to see is who was sent to Ms. Harlow’s house. I also need to get him wired.
Sanders is flipping through the file in his lap. “Looks like they’ve booked him on possession, intent to distribute, aggravated trafficking, and evasion since he ran. All of that with his priors probably rules out bail, so he’s stuck for the time being.”
We both watched the detectives interrogating him at the city jail on the video file before we left. “He’s got a fucking attitude.”
He closes the folder and tosses it on the dash. “Don’t they all?”
“You want to do the usual?”
He’s looking out the window with his palm on his chin. “Sure.”
Fucking pussy.
Ignoring his silent attitude, my mind drifts to the beauty who was standing in my kitchen drinking her coffee this morning. Even fresh out of bed with sheet creases on her cheek, she’s fucking beautiful.
Swan is at my house, since she was so upset over the change in guard the day before yesterday, and agreed to stay with her yesterday and today.
Since I kissed her head, I’ve been trying to keep things between us professional, if not distant. I’ve tried leaving early and getting back late to avoid any contact with her, but that doesn’t mean my mind doesn’t wander to her throughout the day.
Shock gripped me when I realized just how easy and normal it felt to offer her comfort and affection, but when I felt her body go rigid, I couldn’t get away fast enough. Not because I wanted to, but because I was fucking terrified she might take offense.
Seeing her so upset and trying to hide it nearly killed me, and I want to do whatever I can to make things as easy on her as I can. As professionally as I can. It also stings that part ofher unhappiness stems from being stuck with me.
The interrogation room the dealer’s in is a small room with a table and three chairs. Simple and plain. He looks cocky as fuck when Sanders and I walk in, but I just toss the folder full of his report on the table and sit in the chair across from him without looking at him.
Sanders does his usual wall-lean with his arms crossed over his chest behind me, it’s something he’s always done. He says if he acts disinterested, it makes the perp open up more, and damned if he isn’t right. It works every time.
I still haven’t looked at the fucker yet, but when I flip open the folder and act like I’m seeing his name for the first time, I lift my eyes to him. “Devlin Finney?”
He looks like he’s in his mid-twenties. His hair is dark blond and greasy, touching his shoulders. He rolls his brown eyes and smirks. “You know who I fucking am, cut the cop bullshit and get to what you want to say. I wanna take a nap.” He leans back in his seat and swipes his nose with his thumb when he looks at the wall.
I stare at him until I see a little bit of unease on his face. He tries to cover it up. “I’m Special Agent in Charge Rhys Abbot with the FBI, and this is Senior Special Agent Sanders. We’ve been looking for you.”
