"Lisa." Leaning forward in my chair, I rest my forearms on my desk, covering the pages in front of me. "I'd offer you coffee, but as you can see, I've barely had time to unpack." Boxes linethe wall, along with shelves and storage units I've not had the time or energy to put together. Stretching my leg out under my desk, I kick the chair in front of her out. "Would you like to sit down?"
"No, thank you," she grits out, struggling to remain civil.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I fold my arms and sit back, my relaxed attitude seeming to make her more annoyed with each passing second.
"Cut the bullshit, Beau. You know why I'm here. Where's Zara?" She's already moving across the room and then standing over me with her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you call me the second you picked her up?”
Mildly amused by her dramatic entrance, I raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise, even though I knew this was coming. Hell, maybe I even manifested it by avoiding her calls.
"She's somewhere safe."
Lisa purses those full rosy lips of hers before asking slowly, "Safe where, exactly?"
She's pissed off. Good. So am I. It’s been four painful days since the rescue, and I’ve been going crazy trying to stay away, to be the good guy, and the first time I see her again, she's barging through my door, yelling at me.
And looking hot as hell while doing it.
"Safe somewhere top secret. Telling anyone defeats the whole point."
Who knows who’s involved, so I’m not taking any chances until we figure out what’s going on.
“I’m notanyone. I’m the police. And her friend.”
When I don’t reply, her eyes narrow, and she steps back, scanning the room, when her gaze lands on the whiteboard behind me and stays there.
I've been mapping Zara's stalking timeline alongside the broader Amber Reeves case, and while most of it’s basicinformation that Lisa already knows, the way she's studying the connecting threads makes me wish I'd thrown a jacket over the damn thing.
"If you tell me where she is, let me ask her some questions, I can help." She drags her attention back to me, one hand running along the length of her ponytail, batting her eyelashes now. "This break-in is probably connected to Amber's disappearance. You know that. And I've been working on that case from day one. I know it inside and out."
I consider my options, impartially, trying not to be swayed by her blatantly obvious attempt to charm me. I could bring Lisa up there, possibly risking tipping off the stalker of her whereabouts, or refuse the pretty detective and keep Zara's location to myself while I keep searching for clues.
"Maybe." My bear is practically vibrating, desperate to get closer to her, and he wants to help. But I work for Zara. Not him. And not Lisa Harris. So, I need to do whatever's going to keep her out of harm's way. "Tell me what you know first."
Lisa blinks, brows furrowed, but she sputters out, "What?" Then a definitive shake of her head, her ponytail swishing as she moves. "Absolutely not."
So, she wants to know what I know, but without sharing her information with me. That sounds fair.
Standing now, I loom over her, and she lifts her chin, determined not to be intimidated by how much larger than her I am.
"Share what you've got, and I'll share with you," I offer again.
It seems perfectly reasonable to me, but apparently, not to Lisa. She folds her arms angrily, mirroring my defensive stance, and stares at me, aghast.
"You know I can't do that. Sharing active case information with a civilian would cost me my badge."
She's so appalled by even the suggestion that it's almost amusing.
"Right. And we both know youdefinitelywon't do anything to jeopardise that."
Like sleeping with me.Those four words don’t need to be said out loud, though. We both know what I mean.
The colour in Lisa’s cheeks goes from pink to a deep red as she contemplates how to respond. Deciding there's no good way to reply, she remains stubbornly silent until I break the tense standoff.
"Looks like we're at an impasse then." I shrug and pull a document to me as I sit back down, the discussion already over. "I'll keep her safe and find out who did this, while you and your colleagues can go back to doing… whatever it was you were doing for the last three weeks since she told you someone was following her."
Furious, Lisa marches around the desk, grabs my chair and twists me to face her, before leaning over me with one hand flat on my large oak table, and the other, jabbing a finger at my face.
Her thighs press against the insides of my knees, and she's close enough that all I can smell is her natural perfume. It's dizzyingly delicious, and the strength of it reminds me that the last time she was this close, she was wearing significantly less.
