Kiss and Hell (DI Olivia Austin Book 3)

by Nic Roberts

  She was suddenly grateful for the obscurity of the night. His words were too kind, too generous.

  “You going to get me to my feet or what?” Olivia joked to dissolve the moment, her wound gifting her with another zing of pain in return.

  “I could do that, or I could carry you.” The constable’s voice was quiet.

  “You’re not serious?” Olivia asked, blinking rapidly despite the fact that there was barely anything to see besides the sturdy silhouette of the officer. His shoulders lifted and lowered.

  “Believe it or not, I work out,” he replied, doing his best to cut the tension.

  It all felt too real, though. The thought that she couldn’t walk out of the forest on her own almost felt as unbearable as the pain splitting her forehead open.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he elaborated, voice once again quiet.

  Olivia let out a huff.

  “Not a soul?” she asked, aggression tinging her voice. She worried Shaw knew her well enough to tell it was to avoid crying with frustration at how not only had she managed to let their killer slip through her fingers, she would be forced to take a backseat with her injuries. They’d been so close.

  “Not even Lawrence,” Shaw promised.

  Olivia bit her lip—hard. She knew she wasn’t going to handle walking well. Being carried was the only way.

  “Deal,” she muttered, and Shaw scooped her up into his arms as though she were a bride and he was about to carry her across the threshold. She yelped a bit at the change of height, her head spinning anew, but Andrew pressed her tightly against his chest, and she’d never admit it, but it helped.

  His heart pounded against her ear as he stepped into the night, gripping her close. Despite herself, she let herself fold into him, letting his presence push away the pain and the trauma of the night.

  “I’ve got you,” he assured her, and the way he said it built something deep in Olivia’s core. Whether it was dread or something far sweeter—and perhaps intensely more dangerous—she didn’t have the energy to consider.

  “I know,” she replied quietly. “I know.”

  23

  It was official: the day had been an absolute shit show. First, the fact that their murderer was probably on the police force, then the press conference, followed promptly by a chase which resulted in Olivia being knocked over the head with a heavy object, had all led to one final shitty, awful conclusion: the hospital.

  Olivia had tried her best to avoid it. When Collins and Lawrence showed up, she had put up a thorough fight, doing her best to insist that it was a measly scrape. The men had given her one look and called the ambulance in. Olivia almost regretted the profanities she had flung at them, but then again, anyone who landed her in the hospital was worthy of a cruel insult or five.

  Andrew and Dean had both stayed with her while they waited for the paramedics to arrive, and if it hadn’t been for the splitting pain radiating across her forehead, Olivia might have considered the terse glances the two men were exchanging. As it were, she was more focused on not having a panic attack over the ambulance and accompanying hospital.

  “I fucking hate hospitals,” she mumbled forlornly as they waited.

  “You’ve mentioned that already,” Shaw said, amused, although a quick glare stopped him mid-laugh. “Listen, I’ll ride right behind you and keep you company while they get you checked out.”

  Olivia had thought about grumbling out a witty retort but settled instead on another glare.

  Lawrence had pulled her to the side as the ambulance approached.

  “I’m sorry I can’t come with you,” he apologised. “But the sooner we get a head start on this scene, the better.”

  “Don’t. It’s fine.” Olivia replied. “I’m glad you’re staying. I would too if Collins wasn’t such a stubborn—”

  “You’re going to be okay,” Lawrence insisted, cutting off her retort. “I know hospitals are hard for you, but this should be a quick in and out.”

  “Just promise me you’ll find some good shit in there to catch our guy with,” Liv replied, aware how well Lawrence knew her.

  He nodded in response.

  “And let me know if he gives you any problems.” Lawrence gestured over to Shaw as he said it, voice low.

  “Andrew’s fine,” Olivia insisted. “Plus, if you think I can’t kick his arse even while possibly concussed, you’re severely mistaken.”

  “No, you’re right.” Lawrence grinned, though it did little to erase the concern in his eyes. “Godspeed, Liv.”

  She gave him a warm smile in return. A silent thank you for always being dependable.

  “Likewise, Dean,” she replied before hobbling her way towards the paramedics.

  The ambulance ride passed in an anxious blur, Olivia doing her best not to panic about the impending intake. It’s not going to be like in London, she reminded herself, though she still gave more attitude than was probably necessary to the paramedics. She apologised profusely, but they reassured her they were used to people with head injuries saying some rude shit.

  And she’d never admit it out loud, but at the hospital, Andrew had been a pillar of strength. Olivia had a real disdain for any sort of medical exam—being cut to shreds by a terrorist unit did that to even the strongest of people—but his presence helped keep her calm. She kept replaying their conversation in the woods in her head. I’ve got you. I know.

  The doctor eventually gave her a diagnosis: a minor concussion with a laceration. She stitched up Olivia’s forehead and gave her a some strong pain medication to get her through the worst of it, warning her to watch for signs of a more major head trauma.

  “You’ll probably want someone to help you monitor symptoms for the first night or two,” the doctor explained. “Do you live with anyone?”

  Olivia shook her head, instantly reminding herself to stop thinking she could just move her head no holds barred.

  “That’s all right,” the doctor replied. “Just make sure you have an emergency contact follow up with you.”

  PC Andrew Shaw stepped forward from his position in the corner of the cubicle.

  “I can do that,” he offered before the doctor had fully finished her recommendation, and Olivia nodded after a moment.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Shaw insisted on driving Liv back to her house from the doctor’s office.

  “I heard the doctor,” he insisted when Olivia tried to protest. “She said no driving or screens for the next few days.”

  She’d briefly considered calling Dean for help, but then she realised in that exact moment that she wanted Andrew with her. He knew what had happened, and he’d seen her at her weakest point. There was something comforting about that.

  “I guess,” she acquiesced before following the constable out to the car park. Yellow streetlights warded off the night’s darkness and with it the memories of the shadowy figure hovering over Olivia, taunting her.

  “I’ll make sure you get home safe,” he replied. As the silence engulfed them once more, Olivia found herself repeating Shaw’s words once again, a mantra of relief against the terrors of the night.

  24

  It felt like a breath of fresh air when they finally arrived in her driveway. It had been a long day, and Olivia wanted nothing more than to collapse into her own bed.

  Though, maybe she did want a little something more, if she thought about it. She had let the thought build just below the surface as they drove, asking what if?

  “Well then, I’m glad I was able to provide my absolute shit bedside manner to you for the past two hours, Inspector,” Shaw smiled, parking his police response vehicle.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Olivia replied softly. The pain medication didn’t entirely remove the pain from the gash in her forehead, but it did dull it considerably. In the quiet calm of the car, their conversation from earlier echoed in her ears once more. I’ve got you.

  “No need to sugar coat it.” He laughed, instinctually flashing
her a dastardly smile.

  “I’m really grateful you were with me today,” Olivia admitted, licking her lips. She glanced at Andrew through her eyelashes, pleased to see he had shifted to face her. He nodded silently, offering a gentle smile.

  And though she knew it might be a terrible decision—in fact, maybe because it was a terrible decision—Olivia found herself letting her eyes deliberately trace Shaw’s mouth before meeting his gaze again, a dare perched on the uptick of her smile.

  To his credit, he seemed to brace himself for a moment, but then she let her lip curl under her teeth in a gentle bite, and his restraint broke like a dam.

  Shaw leaned forward, reaching his hand to snake around the back of Olivia’s neck, pressing her lips against his own. The kiss was insistent yet gentle, all-consuming as the two poured themselves into one another.

  Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed—certainly not by someone with lips as skilled as his. She groaned into his mouth, needy for more.

  “I don’t—I don’t think this is a good idea,” Andrew panted, breaking away from Liv. Her lips were still parted, just starting to swell from the pressure, and she couldn’t help but let out a forceful huff at his words.

  “You’ve been through a life harrowing experience today,” he tried to explain. “You’re drugged up on pain relief, and—"

  “But do you want me?” The words spilled out of Olivia’s mouth; the question was bold even by her own standards, but the conversation she'd had with Clara still played at the forefront of her mind. Maybe he's what I need.

  “I’m sorry?” Confusion was written across Andrew’s face, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “It’s a simple question,” Olivia replied. “Because right now, I know what I want. It’s probably not right, or good, but I could’ve died today, and I just want to feel something for fuck’s sake. And if you’re not interested, I’m more than happy to walk inside and not mention this again, but if you are, even if it’s just for tonight, we can forget about it in the morning.” Desire ripped through her as she spoke, wants that she had long shoved to the side bursting forth in protest. Desperation tugged at her voice, the shadowy figure still lurking behind her eyes when they closed.

  Shaw stared at her blankly.

  “I’m your superior,” Olivia added. “So I need to be clear that I don’t want any part of you unless you’re just as interested.” She diverted her gaze at that. A part of her knew there was no way this could end well. Maybe that was the point, though.

  “But if it’s what you want too,” she continued, “then I’m yours....”

  Shaw’s lips smashed against hers as the last syllable of I’m yours left her body, and suddenly they were two waves crashing into one another.

  “I’m a terrible man,” he muttered against her lips before tracing his own down to her throat, his breath hot against her skin.

  “What does that make me?” she replied, letting her fingers trace the divots of his arms, relishing in the warm contact, so different from the void that had silenced her, threatening to smother her. Her pulse quickened with the contact against his skin, hot and fast.

  Shaw didn’t bother replying to her question, instead investing himself in the crook of her neck, right above her pulse. He drew out her breath in sputters and gasps, her cheeks flushing with colour and life.

  “House,” she managed to murmur, and then they were flinging themselves from the car, rushing up the walkway, hands alternating between grasping at each other and tugging the other toward the door. Olivia almost felt like a teenager again, reckless and brash. Not thinking what it would look like if any of her neighbours peeked out at that moment. The sight they'd see. Andrew in his hi-vis tactical vest unable to keep from touching her. The thrill of being caught heightened the passion she felt and her head spun—whether from excitement or the injuries she’d just sustained, she couldn’t be sure.

  “You can back out at any point,” she assured him as she fumbled with the keys, his body pressed against her back, hands roaming her curves. “No harm done,” she gasped.

  “So can you,” Andrew breathed against her ear. She grinned at that, turning around to capture his lips with her own as she pushed the door open and dragged him across the hallway.

  “No chance of that,” she dared. It was all happening so fast, and yet Olivia couldn’t get enough of him. The warmth of his skin was like a drug, shooting her high as a kite yet tethering her to earth, to her own sanity.

  “I’m so going to hell,” he groaned.

  “Guess I’ll meet you there.”

  25

  Fuck.

  Olivia shifted in the sheets, the tiniest bit of daylight making its way through her curtains.

  She groaned as she realised that a naked PC Andrew Shaw was lying next to her. The events of the previous night flooded her memories all at once. Conflicting feelings muddled her thoughts—the ecstasy of fucking him mixed with the concern of how it would affect their work relationship. Not to mention the fact that she had invited him into her bed to avoid the reminder that someone had knocked her out and promised to finish the job.

  Still, he did look pretty damn perfect in her bed, hair tousled and face relaxed in slumber.

  Olivia pushed the guilt away, instead choosing to focus on the fact that her body hummed in contentment despite the gash on her forehead.

  She smiled as she watched him. At least now she knew why they called him Duracell.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by her mobile ringing, and she winced at the sound. Noise is still hard; good to know, she thought to herself, fumbling with her hand to grab it. Beside her, Andrew stirred, not quite awake yet but no longer asleep.

  “Sorry,” she whispered before pressing answer. “Hello?” her voice sounded groggy. She sighed before heaving her legs over the edge of the bed. Bad idea. Pain rushed to her head, making her feel faint once more now that her medication had worn off.

  “Liv?” It was Clara, and the tone of her voice made the blood in Olivia’s veins freeze. The tech analyst always made a point of sounding upbeat at the beginning of phone calls, but it didn’t take Olivia being a detective to know that her friend was in distress.

  “Clara? What happened?” she demanded, now rushing to get out of bed and get dressed. She tried to ignore the discomfort.

  “Gentle,” Shaw whispered, pulling himself up to try and help. Olivia merely waved him back silently.

  “It’s—she was supposed to finish at two this morning.” Clara spoke rapidly, tears choking her up as she explained. “She was going to come to my place, but I thought maybe she just needed to chill because sometimes she needs space after a hard shift.” It didn’t take long for Olivia to realise who exactly the tech analyst was talking about.

  PC Diana Hershel.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she assured her friend, even as bile rose in her own throat. “I need you to tell me exactly what’s happened.”

  A sob emanated from the phone as she said it.

  “She’s gone,” Clara wailed.

  “What do you mean, gone?” Olivia asked, panic throwing her into a frenzy as she manoeuvred the duvet around her waist before dragging it with her to her drawers to get some underwear.

  “I went over to her place,” Clara continued. “I let myself in, thinking maybe I could surprise her with breakfast or something.”

  Olivia felt her heart breaking with each word the tech analyst said; the last thing she wanted was for her friend to be hurting.

  “What did you find?” Olivia feared the answer to the question, but she knew she needed to ask it.

  “Just a note,” Clara sobbed. “A note and clear signs of a struggle. She fought, Liv, I could tell. All of her stuff was flung about, and there was a bit of blood—”

  “What did the note say?” Olivia asked, her heart thumping so hard she thought it might escape her chest.

  “It just said, ‘I’ve got her. Pay attention,’” Clara wailed as she finished recoun
ting it.

  Liv found clarity even through the pain of her forehead gash.

  “Listen,” she spoke, words quick and fierce. “He’s fucked up. If he’s messing with us, he’s got hell coming for him, because we’re going to catch him, and we’re going to get her back, safe and sound.”

  “But what if we don’t—”

  “That’s not an option anymore,” Olivia declared, voice acrid. “Listen, I’m going to have Dean pick you up. Don’t touch anything else. It’s going to be okay. She’ll be okay.” Olivia hung up before Clara had the chance to protest. They didn’t have the time to linger.

  Rage burned behind her eyes, fuelled by the victims, by her encounter last night, by the fact that he had the audacity to take PC Hershel.

  “I’m coming for you, you son of a bitch.”

  * * *

  To Be Continued in Book Four

  Find it here: Those We Know

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  About the Author

  I’ve always had a passion for writing stories and loved being able to create a world and have my characters live inside it. Being able to do this has been a dream come true and I’m so grateful that you could join me on this journey .