“So,” I start abruptly, trying to stop either of them from scenting like burned sugar again. Because if I don’t, I know I’ll fall apart, and I’d rather do that without an audience. “What do you need to know?”
“It would be good to hear some background from you,” Detective Hill says, his careful temperament coming into play again, making him sound more robotic than anything. But I’m good with the lack of emotion—it helps. He focuses on his notes as he starts talking again. “I read the statement you gave before, and I know you’re aware that we have the Alpha responsible in custody. Charges are being filed as we speak, but anything else you can add would be a great help.”
I shake my head, still stunned at what happened, because Rocco’s reaction and physical attack literally came out of nowhere. Well, maybe notnowhere. Once before, Rocco said he didn’t ever want me to put an end to our very casual relationship. I remember laughing it off, thinking it was his post-sex endorphins talking.
Now, I wear the marks of his rage on my body. And my soul.
“Umm,” I mumble, ignoring the pinch of pain as I raise my chin and look at Detective Hill. “We’ve been hooking up for amonth or so. And things were fun. Good, even. He’d crash at my place, or I’d go to his for a few hours. I was always upfront, saying I didn’t want anything else from him.”
“No intention of packing?”
I shake my head. “No. We were compatible but not scent matched.”
And there is a difference. A significant one. Most packs these days choose compatibility over falling victim to primal attraction. At least with compatibility, you know what you’re getting into. With scent-matched mates, there are these wild and fanciful connotations to the connection.
But I’ve witnessed the side of scent matching that no one talks about. I’ve seen what happens when your scent matches find something better—your soul gets shredded by the very Alphas who swore they would treat you like gold and always protect you. Being scent matched doesn’t mitigate evil intentions.
Still, compatibility alone isn’t enough for me to build a pack. My life doesn’t allow for anything but casual relationships. Not that I ever wanted more from Rocco. Temporary fun. That’s all he ever meant to me.
“I didn’t believe we had enough in common for us to talk about what we were doing next month, let alone packing,” I explain.
Detective Hill looks down at his notebook. “Did he push you to pack?”
“No.”
“But he had an issue when you said you wanted to keep things casual?”
“No. He had an issue with me saying I didn’t want to see him again.”
“It says here that you were at a bar when this happened. Why?” he asks while reading from his notebook, but I guessreading the victim statement is different from hearing from the victim.
“I’d been getting some weird vibes off him. I wanted the safety of being somewhere public when I broke it off. Not that it made a difference.”
“What kinds of vibes?” he presses.
I pin him with a look. If he would let me speak without cross-checking and interrupting, we would finish a lot faster.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. It highlights his stress, mirroring the expressions of every person on his team I’ve seen tonight.
“I guess I was picking up the same vibes from Rocco you were”—my eyes purposely drop to the table—“but it looks like, while I only had my intuition to rely on, you have a rather large file of evidence against him. So, Detective Hill, who exactly is Rocco?”
His lips flatten, and his shoulders droop slightly, all but confirming they know a lot more about Rocco than I do. “Are you new in town?”
“Newish. I moved here a few months ago. I keep to myself and mainly work,” I confirm, sitting back in the chair, ready to find out exactly who I was sleeping with.
Hill gives me a tight smile. “That probably explains it.”
“Rocco is someone to you?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Rocco Quinn is a member of a local gang under the control of the Bratva. Have you heard of them?”
“Everyone has.” My gut sinks as everything falls into place. I literally hear the pieces clicking together. I stare Detective Hill down because I am not intimidated by the revelation that I was casually screwing a fucking gangster. If anything, it pisses me off. “He never mentioned it, and I never delved too deeply into his private life. If I went to his place, it was for a few hours. Inever stayed the night, because I prefer my space. I didn’t meet any of his friends.”
Hill jots down notes, and I use the time to mentally review my time with Rocco, because I am not fucking stupid. Usually, I’m pretty good at reading people and situations. So, what happened this time?
I’ll have to blame pure exhaustion. Since moving here, I’ve been working two shitty jobs, trying to make it on my own. And Rocco was easy in the sense he gave decent orgasms and didn’t require much of my limited energy.
“I don’t like being punched in the face or choked out when I tell someone I was casually hooking up with that I don’t want to see them anymore, Detective. I really don’t care who Rocco is, because once I leave this office, he will not see me again.” I obviously leave off the part where Hill won’t see me again, either.
