Page 15 of Bent, Not Broken

I gripped the edge of the sink and let my head fall forward. Unwanted memories slid into the forefront of my mind—the sight of my mother’s blood as clear as it had been the day I actually saw it. Her mangled body twisted in her bedroom, face slashed up by a knife, horror in her eyes as they lifelessly stared up at fifteen-year-old me.

No. I wouldn’t go there.

“I’ll never visit you, Archie. Never.” I jabbed the End Call button on the screen of my phone and let out a harsh breath. My insides twisted and it took everything in my power not to throw my Samsung across the room. I didn’t have that type of money to get it fixed or buy a new one. Running a hand through my short, spiky hair, I started toward the hallway and to my bedroom. I had off from work, but the phone call had ruined the entire day before it even began.

Something black sitting in the corner of the hallway floor caught my attention, and I frowned at it, bending to pick it up. The wallet sat heavy in my hands and I flipped it open, rolling my eyes when I was immediately greeted with Madden fucking Polunin’s driver’s license. There was something extra frustrating about seeing how perfect his picture was, even though he wasn’t smiling. There was a rule that all license pictures had to be ugly and boring, but not his. He still looked like a runway model posing for his portfolio, and my fingers twitched in annoyance. His keys glinted on the floor too and I scooped them up. I’d tossed Polunin’s clothes in with mine last night before I went to bed and missed these.

I didn’t have his number, so I couldn’t call the fucker to come get his stuff, which meant I had no choice but to go to his workplace. I was half tempted to keep his things until he came looking, but losing your wallet wasn’t the most pleasant experience, and the cop side of me wouldn’t let me.

Cursing Polunin, I grabbed my truck keys and locked up the house. I knew where the law firm he worked for was, I’d made it my duty to know, but I’d never actually been there. I avoided the building at all costs, until today.

The moment I pulled into the parking lot, I regretted it. I thought about driving straight back home again and sending him a letter telling him to come get his wallet, but I wasn’t a wuss. The solution was simple—I’d leave it with their receptionist in the lobby. We wouldn’t have to see each other at all.

Sliding out of my truck, I walked to the front. The outside of the building gave off an industrial vibe, but was one of the few on the street that had a parking lot attached, which was nice. Simple white-on-brick walls made up the facade of the high-rise, and the words Demchenko and Weston were etched into a large gold plaque beside the entrance. There were several other business names listed above and below the law firm, and that made sense since they couldn’t possibly take up all the space. Drawing a deep breath, I went inside, where things were a lot fancier. The lobby seemed to double as a waiting room. White leather furniture lined the walls and soft, humming music played. To the right sat a coffee machine. Portraits of landscapes and one of a night view of New Gothenburg’s cityscape hung on the wall behind the receptionist and the wide wooden desk she sat behind.

She smiled when she saw me and stood, waving as though ushering me toward her. The name Alexandra was printed on her name badge, and she wore a beige dress with her long dark hair pinned to the back of her head. Her makeup was minimal, and she was fucking gorgeous, the type of woman with curves I’d usually attempt to bed. Except today, because for some goddamn reason, I was stuck on Polunin.

“Good morning. Can I help you?”

I shifted closer to the desk and threw the wallet and keys on top. “Yeah, can you give these to Madden Polunin? I found them near my house.”

She frowned at me and went to reach for Polunin’s belongings, but the bell above the front door chimed and she glanced behind me, her face brightening. “Mr. Polunin.”

Well, fuck.

I turned on my heel and looked at Polunin, who stood in front of the door with his boss, eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise. I counted his shocked stare as a win because he didn’t seem like the kind of person who got caught off guard very often. Today he looked impeccable as always, in a gray suit and shiny black shoes, his hair neatly styled to stay stuck in place. No one should appear that good after the way I fucked him last night.

Demchenko raised his dark eyebrows. “Officer Slater.”

I nodded, jaw tight as I grabbed Polunin’s wallet and keys off the desk and strode forward, shoving them in his hands. “I found these. Thought you’d want them.”

Polunin’s gaze dropped to his hands and then rose back up to me, the shock sliding off his face. His mouth curved into a smug grin. “I wondered where they went.”

“You’re lucky I found them.” I sent him a don’t fucking say a word about what we did look, and his shit-eating smile widened.

Demchenko eyed me, the disbelief sliding over his handsome face as he shoved his glasses up his nose. “I have work to do,” he muttered, striding past us and through the waiting room to the elevator. He jabbed the button and the doors slid open right away. He disappeared fast, and I snorted.

Polunin grabbed my wrist and tugged me outside again. I was tempted to yank my arm away from him, but that would attract more attention than I wanted. I’d only come here to try to be halfway decent. He dragged me around the side of the building to a small cemented alcove that reminded me of the station’s designated smoking area. It had a bench to sit on and bright purple flowers in small clay pots set around it.

He fell onto the bench and patted the spot next to him.

I shook my head. “This isn’t a social visit, Polunin. I just came to give you your stuff back.”

He leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms, short brown hair glinting under the sunlight. His ash-colored suit fit perfectly to his body and gave me a good view of his biceps moving under the expensive material. I had a feeling those clothes cost more than my truck. I couldn’t stop noticing how good he looked today, which frustrated me even more, especially with the way my stomach flipped as I thought about how I’d pounded his tight hole. He didn’t protest once, and I couldn’t remember the last time someone had reacted to my touch like that. Maybe never. The thought made my cock twitch in my pants and I stamped down the urge to touch it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with money-hungry lawyers.” I stepped back, hoping the extra space between us would help with my stirring cock problem. The earthiness of his rich cologne did all sorts of things to me, and that wasn’t right. I preferred women, because there wasn’t a time I could remember that a cock ever interested me. Polunin’s ass? Sure, it had a tight hole I could stick my dick inside. I clenched my jaw at the thought, though. I shouldn’t want his ass, either.

He tilted his head. “Give me a chance to make my case first, Slater. Don’t you know how deals work?”

I breathed heavily through my nose and straightened. “Fine. Make your case, Polunin.”

“Listen, we both know that we enjoyed last night.” He held out his hands, grin widening. “You got someone you could fuck as roughly as you wanted, and I got a cock, no strings attached. You’re not going to get that kind of deal with a woman. Most of them expect to be wined and dined, and the ones who don’t, only want a one-night deal. Me? I’d be happy to get laid every night after work, if only to relieve some stress, and I’m sure you’re more than delighted to fuck anytime you want, right? So what’s the problem with this being a regular thing?”

“I don’t like men.”

He laughed and it was low and genuinely amused, and my mouth twitched as I forced down the urge to smile. “You don’t have to like men. I’m a hole. All holes are the same.”