She shut off the engine in the lot outside the luxury complex where Jacques Jr., all of twenty-two years old, lived in a penthouse suite by himself.
“How did it go down with Butler?” she said.
He inhaled slowly, then released the air. “I struck out. Butler knew that we’d be coming, and he was prepared. All he gave was that he and Drummond had broken up, and he claimed that he’d had nothing to do with her since. He conceded that Drummond had met Jacques Junior at the club, and that he knew Lara Pennington. He said he did not know who Amanda R. was, nor could he think of any of Drummond’s associates or friends with the initials J.R. or B.C. He said that Jacques Junior and he are not friends outside the club, and he claims to know nothing about Drummond’s high-end possessions.”
“Faith Hocking?”
“Claims he’s never heard the name.” Maddocks paused, looking up at the apartment block. “I have a feeling we’re going to strike out here, too.”
Silence.
He glanced at her—mouth tight, sexy scar, her gray eyes cool. Badass. And at this moment he wanted to lean in and kiss the shit out of her. Maybe it would relieve the frustration building inside him.
She broke eye contact, reached for the door handle.
“Don’t do that to me again, okay?” he said quietly.
Slowly she met his gaze once more. “Do what? Listen to you because you rank higher? I made the right decision, Maddocks. I got to her.”
“You got control issues, that’s what you’ve got. Dominance issues. This much was evident from the first time I met you, Angie.”
Heat flickered into her eyes at his use of her first name, and her jaw tightened.
“Maybe that’s fine for a good fuck,” he said, unable to stop himself now, powerless against the sexual tension and frustration that had been burning inside him since she’d left him naked with a hard-on on that bed and written her name on that piece of paper—an unspoken promise there would be more. “But not on the job. Homicide is for team players, and I need a partner who has my back and who doesn’t go off half-cocked against my advice or orders.”
She swallowed. A small vein pulsed near her temple. “Maybe,” she said, very quietly, “I don’t want you as a partner. Not if you’re going to keep bringing up that we had sex—”
“It’s not just sex, dammit. It’s Russian roulette, going to that club and picking up strangers like that.”
“So now you’re my guardian? So it’s fine for a guy? It’s fine foryouto go to the club and let an anonymous woman with a knife in her pocket cuff you naked to a bed and have her way with you? Are you going to keep raising this every time your male ego gets bruised?”
Blood beat hot and fast through his veins, and he told himself to stop. Right now. All he had to do was go back to the station and put in for a new partner. It could kill her goal of getting into homicide, but he owed her nothing. He didn’t know why he should even be concerned about her apparent desire for self-sabotage. But he was like a fireball rolling downhill through a tinder-dry forest and just gathering speed and flame as he went.
“You want to make homicide, right? You know that I’m supposed to evaluate you while you’re temporarily partnered with me?”
She blinked.
“Well, you’re not going to get it this way,Angie. This is not just about the club. It’s about character, and being a team player, and having a partner you can trust will not get you killed. And I owe it to my fellow officers to tell them the truth if I judge you to be a risk.”
“You’re threatening to sabotage me?”
“I think you’re going to do that all by yourself.”
She swore viciously. “So your ego gets bruised and you resort to revenge?”
“Listen to yourself. You already had an incident where you lost a partner. If I were you, if I wanted a promotion, I’d be kissing ass right now, not self-destructing.”
She glowered at him. Electricity burned between them. And be damned if all he wanted to do was grab her and fuck her right here in this car.
“I’m not a baby, Maddocks. I don’t need you to care for me.” She flung open the door, got out, slammed it shut, and marched for the apartment complex entrance.
He cursed, exited the vehicle, and stalked after her. She broke into a run as an older male approached the complex doors and used an electronic fob to open them. The man entered, and the door began to swing shut behind him, but she caught up and slapped her hand on the open door. She showed the man her badge. The man shrugged and gave her access. She entered, allowing the door to almost swing shut and lock in Maddocks’s face. He shoved through, caught up to her at the elevator.
Both breathing hard, avoiding eye contact, they rode up to the penthouse in fiery silence. Just before they reached the top floor, he said quietly, “Don’t try me again, Pallorino. I’m not someone you want to cross.”
Her gaze sparked to his. And he saw in her eyes, in her features, that she regretted her own impulsivity, her own quick flare to aggression. He regretted his own words, too. There was no textbook for this.
The elevator doors opened, and they both hesitated. He let her go first, and they made their way down the hall to the penthouse of Jon Jacques Jr., her leading the way.
