Cut So Deep: A dark second chance romance (Dark and Deep Book 1)

by Jax Colt

  I bend over again to pour some detergent into the dishwasher, and he inhales audibly. The thought of him breathing that heavily makes me want to turn around and jump him on the kitchen table. Instead, I play it cool. If Blake really wants me, this time he has to make it clear. I’m not putting myself out there anymore. A man is supposed to pursue a woman. I’m sick of all these empowered female narratives. It’s just not as sexy without the chase. Sure, I’m independent and gutsy, except when it comes to love. I want to be wanted, and I want him to let me know.

  The energy in the kitchen sizzles between us. We move deftly around each other, rinsing pots, covering extra food and putting Brenda’s ingredients away. We’re both quiet, but he keeps brushing against me as we reach for something. He stands way too close as I fiddle with the light above the gas stove. I’m trying to turn it off, but it’s tricky with him standing right behind me. If I wasn’t enjoying his closeness so much, I’d let him do it himself, but something in me wants to prove I can figure out a stupid light switch, so I don’t give up.

  He’s so close now I can feel the heat of him radiating into my back. My whole pelvic area is on fire, but I’m sticking to my guns. Every molecule in me wants to turn around and let him take me up against the stove, but instead I take a breath and remove myself from the situation. Stepping back to open the fridge, I retrieve a bottle of water. “Can you please get that switch for me?”

  I need to put some space between us, so I move to the other side of the table and take a seat on a bar stool. The water cools me down, and I’m glad I kept my head. He leans back against the stove, arms crossed, his body looking delectable as he raises those delicious eyebrows.

  “You okay?”

  I grin at him. Two can play this game.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine, just grabbing a drink.” I look around the room to avoid getting caught in his gaze again.

  Brenda heads out of George’s room. “Sleeping like a rock.” She walks into the kitchen, and motions for Blake to get out of the way. “Who wants coffee?”

  I nod, and head over to relative safety at the low table that makes their space seem so urban and comfy. The cushions and candles Brenda has thrown artfully around make it easy to snuggle down, away from Blake’s inquiring eyes. I want him to look, but the heat of his gaze makes me feel naked. The two of them join me, and we sip our coffees.

  “We had a parent teacher meeting today at George’s school. He’s back up on his reading again, and the teacher says he’s doing well.”

  I see the way Blake’s face changes. “Awesome.” He turns to me. “We had to limit his Xbox this time last year, more reading, less speeding.”

  We all laugh at George’s demonic driving tendencies.

  “Does he know what he wants to be yet?” I ask them, and they both shake their heads.

  “So many parents are already pushing their kids to make decisions, so we decided to let him work it out on his own.” Blake laughs. “He keeps threatening to become a cop, but I don’t think he’s cut out for it. I went to one of the career share days at his school last month, and he seemed more interested in the parents who design software.”

  Not only is he a loving uncle, he’s a father figure in George’s life. This man is unbelievable. April would choke on a donut if she heard this. It’s our favorite thing to do, gossip about men and share Dunkin Donuts and hot chocolates. We’re always laughing at the latest construction of masculinity. The lumberjack or the hipster guy or the high flyer with the flashy suit.

  Blake sounds as if he has stepped right from the pages of a romance novel and into my life. Not that the scene is set with everything else that’s going on. It’s nearly been a full day since she was taken, and I still don’t know more than what I did when we left the station this morning. I know I need to grill Blake about what he found out at the station, but I don’t want to interrupt.

  “How about a movie?” I ask Blake directly, and hope Brenda doesn’t get offended.

  “Sure,” he says. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff saved and ready to watch. You wanna join, Bren?” He makes the offer anyway, but she has picked up my not so subtle play.

  “No thanks, guys, I’m going to spend some time with my book.”

  I thank Brenda for cooking, and take the mugs to wash at the sink. This time, Blake doesn’t follow me but waits at the foot of the stairs. We walk up together. Brenda waves mischievously from her spot on the pillows, and I can’t help feel a little guilty for my manipulation. Blake doesn’t know that the second his butt hits the couch upstairs, the interrogation is going to begin.

  I play nice as he chooses a movie, but before he presses play, I casually ask, “So, how’s the case going?”

  We’re sitting quite close on the small sofa in front of his entertainment system, but the light is still good enough for me to see the pause in his eyes.

  “Not so well. The camera footage of the attack was tampered with, and the scene was virtually empty.”

  He gives me the information softly, knowing I’ll have a reaction, but I do us both a favor and keep my emotions in check.

  “No evidence, no license plate to follow, and no way to ID the guys who took her?”

  He nods. “That’s the short of it, but we’ve been watching the Jessup crew for a while. Your attackers are likely to be people who they’ve recently done business with, people who weren’t happy. That’s why we’re calling on every resource to find out who’s behind it, Carrie, believe me.”

  I see in his eyes that he’s telling me the truth, but it doesn’t make me feel much better. If he’s going in to work on his day off, then I can’t exactly fault him for not being diligent. But I can’t help wanting to ask more. She’s my friend, and I’m scared for us both. Tomorrow, I’ll try to get a look at his emails, but for now I’ll just surrender. There’s nothing left to do except cry and go to sleep.

  22

  Blake

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I’m trying to be quiet but the frustration has me banging the tiled wall of the shower cubicle. There’s nothing I can say to make it better for her, and I know it. Total powerlessness. I want to help her, and I want to hold her, but it’s all out of my reach.

  I let the warm water flow over my head, and try to calm myself down. So many questions are running through my mind, but the most disturbing is still the thought that someone at the station is helping whoever wants to take down Jessup.

  I may not be the social type, but I do care about the people I work with, and there’s no way I’m going to let Carrie be put in danger. If anybody knows anything about this, it’s Jacobs. I know how long she’s wanted to take Jessup down. What I don’t know is how far she’s willing to go to get the job done. Is using a witness as bait without their permission really something she’s capable of?

  Then there’s the tampering bullshit with the video cuts on the recording, and the scene that was wiped down. It all feels so neat and tidy, and something bugs me about that. I’m sure I’m missing something vital, and it’s driving me crazy. I hate not knowing, and at least Carrie is telling me the truth now.

  The power of our attraction blows my mind and vanishes every qualm I once had about witness protection. I’d be the type of cop to feel bad for taking advantage if she didn’t obviously enjoy it so much. God those lips, and the feeling of her hips moving against my cock earlier was like lightning striking. Years of pent-up tension coming to the forefront. I’m instantly hard at the thought, and I groan as my cock grows heavy in the steam of the shower.

  There’s nothing I’d like more than to feel her rub herself up and down my shaft, and to sink into her warm, wet pussy. I’d fuck her so hard she’d see stars. I swear to God, she’d better stop shaking her ass around. I need to concentrate on the case, no matter how alluring she is. This train of thought is only going to end one way, so I wash the rest of the soap from my body and turn off the faucet.

  The towel feels rough against my back, and I’m glad for the friction. I need to work out, get som
e relief somewhere, so I head down the hall to my bedroom and drop to the carpet for a series of push-ups. The water drips from my hair, and it’s late, but I can feel it’s working. My muscles protest, but I keep up the grueling pace. Carrie would probably make fun of my boot camp style, but when my head’s this clouded, there are only two ways to deal with it, and this is one of them.

  I should call my sponsor tomorrow. I can’t tell him about the case, but I can tell him about the girl, and I know he’ll be concerned. Pussy is just as potent as scotch when it comes to numbing me out, and I’ve already promised him that my next relationship will be about more than just sex.

  I finish up, dry myself off, and open my laptop to check my emails. It’s getting late, but I need to make a plan for the morning. I’m expecting some information about the various thugs Jessup has been running deals with in the last three months, but instead, there’s an email from the desk sergeant. Someone called the station for me this evening while we were having dinner. The guy insisted I call him back and left a number. I quickly dial it, and a gravelly voice answers like it’s straight out of a detective movie.

  “Hello.”

  “Good evening, this is Detective Blake Anderson. You called for me?”

  I hear breathing, and he then he grunts out, “You’re missing something big in the Lee case.”

  I laugh, and figure it’s one of my buddies messing around.

  “Sure thing,” I say, mocking him for his cheesiness. “And I bet you want to meet me in a park to tell me more?”

  Who does this guy think he is? Phoning the lead detective with a phony tip. The desk sergeant will have hell to pay after I tell the others he passed on a prank call.

  “If this was phony, then why am I holding a receipt saying that Carrie James was at Caliber before her friend got attacked?”

  I nearly drop my phone. The public doesn’t have that information as part of the missing person’s appeal. We kept it confidential to keep the Lee connection under wraps. I perk up.

  “Do we need to meet?”

  He laughs, and I hear the sarcasm in his voice.

  “Listen, boy, this is the real fucking deal, so hear me now or pay no attention. I don’t give a fuck. Either way, I’m telling you that April Lee hasn’t been taken by anyone you’re looking at. This is an inside job, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from playing out. You’re better to just let it all go, my friend.”

  His intonation is mocking, and I’m supposed to feel threatened, but instead I’m just curious.

  “If you want me to let it go, then why tell me that I’m on the wrong track?”

  All I hear in response is a click when he hangs up. This is good news. The case is starting to open. There’s always a point where it cracks like this, and I start to see a shift in perspective. It sucks, but it makes sense that it may be someone within the police department trying to influence the Jessup case. It’d be a big win for any of the brass to take down a trafficking ring.

  Somehow, I’ve got to find a way to keep April safe despite the wheeling and dealing. And I’ve gotta find out who the corrupt little shithead is who has her is. It could be anyone, but I’m guessing these orders come direct from the commissioner or the chief. It’s been a while since they reported a big win. The media will be out for blood before long, and the race will be on to avoid funding cuts. It’s all so fucking political.

  Then, there’s telling Carrie. What the fuck am I going to say, that finding April just got harder? There’s no way she can know how much danger her friend is in. If ‘the forces that be’ want Jessup bad enough, they’ll happily sacrifice April as collateral damage, and that will drive Carrie crazy. The first thing I have to do is find out where April is. It doesn’t matter who’s got her, as long as we can get a location.

  Is there anyone I can trust in the station? Probably not, so the best thing is to shut the fuck up. No one has to know that I know, so I’ll keep tracking suspects and watch it play out.

  This time, there can be none of that grandstanding bullshit or marching into the head office demanding information. A few years ago, I would have done exactly that, but now it’d just be foolish. I can’t let my emotions get involved. There’s a long game to be played here, or I’ll lose everything. If Carrie thinks she can’t trust the cops, she won’t believe I’m not in on it, and she’s bound to put herself in danger, or write some stupid exposé article. Then I’ll be kicked off the case. Of course, officially, it would be for leaking confidential information to a reporter, but really, I’d be giving them the perfect reason to get me out of the way of their glory.

  Christ. What a mess. And all because of a veterinary nurse from Iowa. A tiny selfish part of me wants to just let this play out, and let them do what they want to get to Jessup. But it’s more than just April’s safety on the line here. It’s Carrie. I want her in my life, and I want to do everything I can to make sure she stays there. If that means putting my neck out to help her best friend, then that’s what I’ll do.

  I need to make a plan, but I have no idea where to begin. I sit down, and try to think it through. It’s getting late, but I know I won’t sleep. I’m about to head downstairs to grab a snack when I hear moans coming from Carrie’s room. I pause outside her door, but when she starts to moan louder, I bust right in and find her writhing and thrashing around in the bed. She’s asleep, but having an awful nightmare.

  I slide onto the edge of her bed, and reach out to touch one of her shoulders. Her eyes are closed and the top she’s wearing is cut so low that I feel like I should avert my gaze. But I don’t. Instead, I look for longer than I should. Her legs are tangled in the sheets, exposing smooth, tanned skin and muscle. Her curvaceous waist is accentuated by a pair of cotton panties that are bright white against the flesh of her belly. It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  23

  Blake

  Her dream seems to have settled down in the moment I’ve been here, and I wonder if I should just leave her. But then she lets out a terrified scream. I instantly shake her awake.

  “Carrie, Carrie, wake up.” She doesn’t, so I shake her again, those luscious breasts jiggling as I notice a pool of sweat has gathered between them as she slowly opens her eyes.

  “You’re having a nightmare.”

  I say it softly as I don’t want to scare her, but she jumps anyway, pulling the sheet up around her body in protection. She’s breathing hard and disorientated, so I speak slowly.

  “It’s okay, I’m here, and it was just a dream. You’re safe now, it’s okay.”

  She licks her lips and I can’t help looking down at them. She starts talking hoarsely, so I hand her a glass of water from the nightstand, and she sips it before sharing her dream with me.

  “I was driving around town with April,” she starts, “and we were looking for a parking lot. It was her car, so she was behind the wheel and I was scanning the rows of cars to find a space. There was nowhere to go, and my shoes were really hurting my feet, so I took them off in the car. These massive billboards kept pointing to available parking lots, but every time we went toward a spot, someone else had already taken it.

  “Then, April told me she was feeling sick and asked if I could drive, so we changed sides, but as she was walking around the front, and I was crossing behind the car, it started rolling and dragging her by the leg. Suddenly we were on a massive steep hill, and the car was rolling faster and faster, but she was trapped under the front wheel. Every time her leg went under the wheel, I could hear it crunch and she was screaming but I couldn’t reach the car, and that’s when you woke me up.”

  She delivers the story hard and fast, almost without breathing, just to get it out. All I can do is listen. Her eyes are wide and she’s gesturing wildly. I wait and hold her hand until eventually she seems to calm down a bit. She takes another sip of her water, and the light coming from the hallway casts her shadow against the wall. She sits up farther and her hands dart up to the back of her neck, rubbing at
the tension. I’m just sitting with her, saying nothing as she collects herself, breath by breath. She meets my eyes and I lock on, holding her gaze, reassuring her that it’s okay.

  For a long second, we explore each other’s eyes, and I can see a softening of her face as the rest of the dream slips away. Thank God dreams are so fleeting. The feelings of terror that were so real are fading away as something else begins to dominate the energy between us. I stay fixed on her eyes, her hand in mine, and will myself not to make a move. Her pupils dilate, and she licks her lips again before starting to say something.

  “Blake, I…” She stops, but I will her on with my gaze. “I know I’m not supposed to feel this way, but I need you to do something for me.”

  I have no idea what she’s going to say next, and the moment gets longer as she weighs whether to speak or not.

  “I need you to make it go away, make the pain go away.” She’s rubbing the back of her neck, and she looks down in embarrassment as she sees that I haven’t understood. “Blake, touch me. Please, touch me.”

  I feel her words in my gut. She wants me. She wants me to touch her, and a fire runs up my spine at the request. I start to move my fingers against the palm of her hand. Tickling gently in circles while I hold her gaze firmly in mine. She stays silent but I see the effort it takes to swallow, and her lips drop open slightly at the sensation of my fingers feathering up her wrist and arm. Her palm drops open, and the energy is electric, but I take my time.