"What the fuck?" Luke snaps at the same time.
"Your boy is here to take me in for questioning," Kincaid says, his voice carefully neutral, like it doesn't matter one way or another to him…like he's not surprised.
Octavio meets my gaze and nods almost regretfully.
Motherfucker.
"For fucking what?" Luke asks.
I don't have to ask though, I already know. He's here to question Kincaid about the murders I've been trying like hell to keep the DEA from looking into. Resignation slams into me. Regret quickly follows. The cat is out of the bag now. That burns like a motherfucker, and not just because I need Kincaid. Regardless of what he did, Kincaid is a good cop and a good guy. I think Octavio knows it too, but he can't just let this go…and I can't ask him to do it.
"For the murders of Omar Adams, Jermaine Adcock, and Deshawn Cortez," Octavio says.
"Yeah, for that shit," Kincaid agrees, taking a step toward me. Despite the fact that he's got one brow raised in challenge, he can't hide the worry or regret lurking in the depths of his eyes. "You going to take this? I'd surrender it myself, but I don't want to chance Carrot Top there pissing himself or fucking shooting me if I reach for my gun."
Luke snorts, glaring at the kid, who swallows audibly and takes a step back.
I shake my head, resigned, and then unlatch Kincaid's holster and pull his gun out before handing it over to Luke.
As soon as Luke takes it, Kincaid tugs his shield from around his neck and hands it to me, meeting my gaze. He holds it for a brief second like he wants to say something, but doesn't.
"Tear this shithole apart and take everything," he says before turning to jog down the steps. "Let's get this shit show on the road."
Octavio shoots me another grim look and then follows behind him. The kid does too, reaching for his cuffs.
"If you think you're putting those on me, you're going to be sorely disappointed," Kincaid says, popping open the door of the kid's patrol unit and folding himself into the backseat. "I'm into the kinky shit, but not with you, dude. My girl is the only one who gets to tie my sexy ass up."
Several of the guys on the team laugh. Luke snorts when the kid releases his handcuffs.
"I'll call Ames," I tell Kincaid before the kid slams the door closed behind him.
"This is fucked," Luke mutters.
"Yeah, it is," I agree softly. It's more fucked up than he knows. Everything Finn and I have been working for just blew up in our faces…and I'm guessing it wasn't the DEA who lit the fuse. I'd bet my left nut it was Curtis Kaleo, and there isn't a goddamn thing I can do about it right now. There might not be a goddamn thing I can do about it at all.
"Get back to work!" I yell at the guys who are standing around.
As soon as we make it back to HQ, I drop my gear and head to my truck, leaving Luke to take Mila home while I deal with Kincaid. I called Finn on the way back and gave him a heads up. He's as pissed as I am, but there's not a whole lot we can do about it until we know exactly what the fuck is going on.
A uniformed officer waves me back to Octavio's office when I arrive at his precinct station. I mutter a thank you and grab a chair, leaning back against the wall. Despite the fact that he's working God only knows how many open homicide cases at the moment, his office is freakishly tidy. The supplies on his desk are neatly arranged and the wood top gleams. There's not a single piece of paper on his desk. Even his bulletin board is neat, missing person posters and Post-It notes with phone numbers jotted in his neat scrawl hanging in orderly rows. Not that I'm surprised. Octavio is methodical, precise.
He plays by the rules, bending them only when absolutely necessary, but he can put together pieces most others would miss and is rarely wrong. He's an incredible detective…which worries the fuck out of me. If anyone can find evidence to pin those murders on Kincaid, Octavio can. Unless I'm way off base, he's already found something incriminating enough to warrant pulling an officer in for questioning. He wouldn't have brought Kincaid in on Kaleo's word alone.
I close my eyes and settle in to wait.
"Roman," Octavio says less than fifteen minutes later, pulling his office door closed behind him.
I crack my eyes open to look at him when he takes a seat behind his desk. His expression is shuttered, careful. His sharp jaw is clenched, his shoulders tense beneath his button down. He meets my gaze, holding it. He knows why I'm here. I think he expected me hours ago.
"How long have you been on this case?" I ask, unable to hide the thread of anger in my tone.
He stares at me, unblinking, for several long seconds. And then he sighs, folding his arms over his chest. "I tried to give you a heads up," he mutters, "but couldn't catch you."
"Why bring him in today?"
"Didn't have a choice. Captain heard he was involved in the raid on Kaleo's property. He ordered me to bring him in." Octavio grimaces, his careful mask slipping. "You know I would have done it another way if I had a choice, Roman."
I hesitate for a moment and then blow out a breath, my anger deflating. "Yeah, fuck," I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. "I know. What are we looking at here?"
"He needs a lawyer," Octavio says.
"What do you have, O?" I curse when he hesitates, clearly reluctant to tell me. "What the fuck? You're not sharing intel now?"
"It's not that," he rumbles, shooting me a hard glare. "You know me better than that."
"And you know how the fuck to get ahold of me," I snap right back at him, my temper flaring again. "Even if you couldn't catch up with me, you knew where to find me, so cut the shit and tell me what you've got on him."
"We received a tip that he was involved in the murders of three Crips ten years ago," Octavio growls, his own temper flaring. "I figured it was bullshit, but then I got to looking into the case. The three who died were the primary suspects in the murder of his best friend and his best friend's mom. He skipped town right after they were killed."
"That's it?" I ask, snorting derisively. "You ever stop to think maybe he left town because he just watched his best friend get gunned down and felt like it was his fault? He couldn't face Titan's little sister—his fiancée—with guilt eating him alive, Octavio. That's why the fuck he left town."
Octavio growls low in his throat and then yanks open a drawer on his desk. He grabs a case file and then tosses it across the desk at me, not speaking.
I flip it open and then scowl down at the picture of a receipt for several thousand dollars, made out to a gang prevention program in Compton.
"The lead investigator at the time never bothered to look into the receipt when they found it at the scene of the crime," Octavio says, his voice hard. "Whoever made the donation did so in honor of Titan James."
Fuck my life.
"When I asked Kincaid about it, he didn't deny making that donation, Roman," he says quietly, his tone softening incrementally. "I know you feel responsible for him, but you know I can't just drop this and pretend I never saw that goddamn receipt. Even if I wanted to do it, I couldn't. A federal agent helped plunge this city into a gang war. I can't just turn a blind eye to the fact that another one may have murdered three people, regardless of why he did it."
"You've already decided he's guilty," I mutter, not really surprised by that either. Octavio didn't get this far in life being stupid. He's smart as hell and has killer instincts. That's part of why I respect him as much as I do.
"You think I want to bring down a good cop?" he asks, his jaw clenched. Anger roils in his dark eyes, snapping like sparks of fire. "You know me better than that, man."
"Fuck," I growl and flip the case file closed. I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. He's right. I'm stressed out and seriously worried, but none of this is Octavio's fault. He's doing his job…the same damn thing I'd do if our roles were reversed.
"You want him to walk away from this? Find me another suspect or some goddamn evidence that proves he didn't do it," he says, still glaring at me with his ja
w clenched. "Until then, you know damn well I have to do my job. Get off my ass about it because doing this shit isn't exactly fucking fun for me either."
"You're right," I mutter, holding up a hand. "I'm being a dick."
"Yeah, you are," he agrees, and then shrugs. "But I get it, Roman. I like the guy myself. He's a good cop who deserves respect. The situation is fucked up."
"More than you know," I murmur. He shoots me an odd look, but I wave him off. Telling him what's going on with the DEA isn't an option any more now than it was four hours ago. Until all the guys on the team are out of their control, I have to keep my mouth shut. "Is he ready to go?"
"Yeah. I'm done with him." Octavio glances at his watch. "I need to go get Faith."
"How are things going with her?"
He huffs a frustrated sigh, his expression flickering from aggravation to pride and then back again. "She's talking a little. Her mom and stepfather stole several hundred thousand dollars from Fuentes and then skipped town."
"They left her behind?"
Octavio's expression darkens. "Yeah, and Fuentes stepped in. She hasn't left the confines of Los Zetas territory in years."
"Jesus Christ."
"Yeah." He scrubs a hand down his face and then shoots me a look full of genuine bafflement. "How the hell am I supposed to convince her to trust me when I'm essentially holding her prisoner too? She's not any freer with me than she was with them."
"You're nothing like they are, O. Give her time and she'll figure that out," I mutter, sympathy for him welling. He's fighting an uphill battle with her, and there's no way around it. Not if he wants to get to where I know damn well he wants to get with her. He's got it bad for her. I don't think he even realizes how bad he's got it yet. She's going to knock him on his ass.
"Yeah," he says with a sigh.
"Where is she anyway?"
"You mean you don't know?"
I shake my head, climbing to my feet.
"I dropped her off with Finn and Mila," he mutters, looking frazzled. "Didn't have much of a choice."
"Jesus Christ." I laugh, unable to stop myself. The last place Faith needs to be right now is at headquarters, surrounded by cops. We're trying to keep her completely out of sight. "This entire day has been a shit show from start to finish."
"True fucking story," Octavio agrees.
"How's he doing?" Finn asks as soon as I step into his office after dropping Kincaid off at home.
I drop into the chair across from his desk, frowning. "Honestly? I don't know. He's worried he's going to go down for this shit. He told me to make sure January is taken care of if he's charged." Worse than that, I think Kincaid genuinely believes he deserves to go to prison for what he did. That's fucking me up a little. I'll fight tooth and nail for him because he's earned my respect. Hell, he earned it before he ever set foot in Los Angeles to help rescue Lillian. But I need him to fight too.
January was back at her house next door when I dropped him off. I'm hoping seeing her again will settle him down a little, remind him what exactly he stands to lose if he goes down for those murders. He might not realize it, but she needs him as much as he needs her.
"He's pretty fucked up right now," I tell Finn.
"You surprised?" Finn quirks a brow at me. "I warned you when you told me you wanted him back here that this shit could go bad real quick, especially for him."
"And I told you I'd handle it. I'm handling it," I mutter, propping a foot up in his desk.
He immediately reaches out and knocks it down, scowling at me. "Go put your feet on your own damn desk and keep them off mine," he bitches.
"Fuck you and my office, man." I'm still pissed about that bullshit. I don't even want to see whatever new stack of paperwork awaits me. Why the hell does he think I'm in his office instead of my own? The stacks of paperwork all over his office aren't my problem.
"Mila likes your office." He smirks.
"Did you take care of her today?" I smile at the mention of my girl.
"Better than you do," he retorts.
I narrow my eyes on him, which only makes him smile wider. "You're lucky I actually like you," I tell him, flipping him the bird. "It's the only reason I haven't kicked your ass like you deserve for flirting with her."
He throws his head back and laughs loudly. "And you're lucky I like you or I wouldn't have chased off everyone who came around trying to talk to her today."
"Who was trying to talk to her?" A growl rumbles in my throat, my body going rigid.
"You possessive motherfucker," Finn says, chuckling.
"That woman is my entire world," I say, not mincing words. "You're damn right I'm a possessive motherfucker. I know what I have with her…what I've wanted since the day I met her. I'm not letting anything jeopardize it now that she's mine."
"Good. Then take the weekend off and spoil her rotten," Finn says, hitting me with a hard glare. "She misses you. She's worried about you working so much. Frankly, I am too."
"I miss her too." I sigh. "But I can't afford to take a weekend off right now. Kaleo's on the run. Remi's on the run. Kincaid is fucked up. Octavio is about to lose his goddamn mind over Faith."
"All the more reason to take a couple days off," Finn says. "You need a break, Roman. You've been running nonstop since the minute Riley touched down in Los Angeles. All this shit will still be here on Monday. And if anything happens in the meantime, Luke and I will handle it."
"Kincaid's being investigated for murder," I remind him, though I want nothing more than to spend a few days lost in Mila. Leaving her every day to deal with this shit is killing me.
"They aren't going to arrest him this weekend. If they were, they would have done it today. You've got time. Take the weekend off. Consider it an order."
"You're not my boss anymore," I remind him.
"I still outrank you."
"Dick."
"Stubborn son of a bitch," he retorts without heat. "Take the weekend off, Roman. If anything happens, we'll call you."
Chapter Fourteen
Mila
"You're really not going to work again today?" I ask Roman early Sunday morning, unable to keep the hope out of my voice. I can't remember the last time we had more than a few hours alone together, let alone two entire days. When he woke me up yesterday and said he wasn't going to work, I thought he was kidding. He wasn't. We spent the entire day on the couch, talking, laughing, and making love. It was perfect.
"Nope," he says, pressing kisses into my belly. "I'm all yours again today, baby." He lifts his head, giving me a grin that hits me right in the heart. He looks so much less stressed out than he has in weeks. I love seeing him so happy and carefree. "Do with me whatever you want."
"Hmm," I murmur, pretending to think about it while sliding my hands into his wild hair and tugging gently. "The possibilities are endless."
He nips my waist and then prowls up my body, holding himself up with his arms on either side of my head. "Endless, huh?" A wicked smirk lifts his lips at the corners. "Maybe we should narrow those possibilities down a little."
"Oh, yeah?" I breathe, tugging his head down until his lips hover right above my own.
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip in anticipation, his blue eyes darkening with desire.
"I can have whatever I want from you?" I ask.
"Yeah," he whispers, his voice gritty. His cock, hard and insistent, nudges against my belly. "Whatever you want."
I bite my lip. "I really, really want…."
"What?"
"I really want…"
"What, Mila?" he practically growls against my lips.
"For you to make me French toast," I lean in to whisper in his ear.
He freezes above me for a heartbeat and then throws his head back and laughs loudly. My heart melts at the light, happy sound. It's been so damn long since he really laughed. I want to see him like this every day…I want him to have this every single day.
"Fuck, I love you," he says, pressing his lips
to mine in a chaste kiss before he arcs up from the bed in one fluid movement, his muscles bunching and rippling in the most delicious way. He holds a hand out for me, helping me to my feet. Once I'm steady, he wraps his arms around me and kisses me hard on the lips. "Never change, Mila."
"You either."
"Deal."
I beam up at him, and then squeal with laughter when he sweeps me up in his arms. "Put me down!"
He smacks my ass and growls at me. "You aren't too heavy."
"I know, Hulk, but I have to pee."
Instead of putting me down, he carries me into the bathroom and then sets me on my feet. "You pee," he says, smacking me on the ass again. "I'll go start your French toast."
I grab his arm before he can head back out into the bedroom. "Can we go to the beach today?"
He rakes his gaze up and down my body, heat in his eyes. "You're not wearing a bikini."
I blink, uncertainty waving through me. Until Roman, I never wore bikinis. I only started wearing one in Santa Cruz to torture him…but hearing him tell me not to wear one stings a little.
"Get that thought out of your head now," he says, reading the emotion in my gaze. "You're too goddamn beautiful, Mila. Especially now that you're pregnant. I don't want everyone looking at what's mine, and if you're in a bikini, they won't be able to keep their eyes off you."
I shake my head at him, laughing. "You're so ridiculous."
"You want me running around in a speedo?" He cocks a brow at me, hitting me with one of those hard-ass cop looks he's perfected.
I narrow my eyes, the thought of a bunch of women ogling him automatically sending a bolt of jealousy through me. He's mine. "No," I practically growl.
"That's what I thought," he says with a little chuckle, his expression softening. "I don't want other women looking at me either. It pisses me off. If you want to go to the beach, we'll go. I'll even promise to try not to kill anyone who looks at you, but no bikini."
"Fine." I smirk at him. "I only wore the bikini to torture you anyway."
He growls playfully and then drops a kiss to my crown before stalking out of the bathroom.
Desire Me (Her Best Friend's Father Book 4) Page 21
