Searching for Love (Behind Blue Lines #2)

by Christine Zolendz

  “I’m just waiting for everything to fall down around me. My career is over. You don’t get it. And I’m asking myself if I’m falling for the same shit over and over again. Picking the wrong guy.” She straightened and leaned far away from me. “I think you’re perfect, but I thought Harris was too, do you understand that? I had no idea he was doing anything wrong. I just wanted more of him and most of the time I didn’t think it was wrong. That leaves me to question what the fuck is wrong with me? What if I’m wrong about you too?”

  “No, you’re right, Brooke. Definitely. I am pretty perfect,” I answered, smiling.

  “And you make a fucking joke out of everything!” she said, jumping off the couch and bolting into the kitchen. I sprang up right after her and followed her inside.

  “I need space,” she murmured in front of me.

  “For what exactly?”

  “To process!”

  “Process?” I asked, cupping my hands around her face and pulling her in for a kiss. She didn’t even hesitate—didn’t pull away—just kissed me as hard as I kissed her.

  Then, she was gone, shoved away from me, laughing in a bitter self-deprecating way, “You want to fuck me, because you saw those photos, right?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to fuck you to erase those pictures in my head. In your head.” I gripped her wrists and slowly pulled her back to me. Her mouth opened and closed, struggling to find words.

  I brought our bodies together until our foreheads touched, and she was squeezing her eyes closed and entwining her fingers through mine. Her breaths became shallow and her body languid, “I really wish you could,” she laughed bitterly and stepped back, turning away.

  “Let me try,” I whispered, making her stop mid-step and hang her head low.

  Stepping forward, I slid my hands around her waist, and brought her head back up against my chest. “Tell me want you want,” I said slipping my fingers around her waistband and yanking down her pants.

  Her gasp was small, but her answer was loud. “You. Ryan. I want you.”

  “Lean down over the table,” I said, lifting her shirt over her head and bending her forward over the table. She slid her arms over the surface and let out a small moan.

  I leaned over her, trailing my lips over her spine. Her breath hissed out a cry with my name on it, and I was instantly hard. “Pull this knee up on the table, Brooke.” My voice whispered against her skin, as I gently pushed her right leg over the top of the table, keeping the other one on the ground, spreading her wide open for me.

  I sank to my knees and feasted on her wet flesh until she was gasping and squirmy, pushing herself hard against my mouth.

  “Please, Ryan. Please…I need…” she chanted over and over, stumbling over the words.

  Standing up, I slid my pants down and buried myself inside her with a growl. “This what you need?” I said, thrusting myself deeper and faster.

  “Fuck…yes…” She groaned, her breath heavy and rasping.

  She arched her back leaning her palms on the table and moved herself over me, grinding and rotating, getting me closer and closer to exploding.

  Sweat broke out on my forehead. It glistened over her shoulders and at the nape of her neck. “Harder,” she begged.

  “Yes ma’am,” I chuckled, gripping onto her hips and pushing into her so hard and fast that she screamed out my name, pleading for more. Our pace quickened until she was convulsing over me in a rush of warm, wet heat until I couldn’t hold off any longer, collapsing with intensity over her.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed, rolling out from underneath me. She grabbed for a towel from over her sink and balled it in between her legs. “I’m so damn dizzy; I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

  Laughing, but pretty unsteady on my own legs, I scooped her up, throwing the stupid towel behind us.

  “But, I’m all wet,” she laughed, trying to reach for the flying towel.

  “Yeah, babe. You are, and it’s sexy as hell that it’s because of us.”

  I carried her into her bedroom and laid her on the bed, kissing her softly on the lips. She settled under the covers, and I tucked them up to her chin.

  “You’re not coming under the covers?” she asked, softly.

  I looked behind me, trying to remember where the hell my clothes went.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked, raising her head off the pillow.

  “I figured you’re still processing.” I smiled, sliding my hand along the shape of her leg beneath the blankets.

  “I am Ryan. I’m overwhelmed by all of this, but please stay,” she said sleepily. “For a little while.”

  She fell asleep a little while after I agreed. Left alone with my own thoughts, I decided on a shower. Once under the hot jets of water, images of her filled my mind, but they weren’t the kind I wanted to be thinking. All I could think about was the look on her face when she sat in her kitchen as all the people she knew saw her raw and bare, beyond vulnerable. She held in more tears than she’d let out in front of everyone, and I was in awe of her strength in not crumbling completely.

  She was ashamed and embarrassed, but she didn’t show any fear. She wasn’t afraid to be hurt or humiliated; she was upset about not being allowed to do the job she loved to do.

  My shower didn’t last nearly as long as I wanted it to. Within minutes, the warmth of the water was gone and what felt like ice pelted me from above. Damn old houses. I’d have to talk to Dean about checking on the hot water heater.

  I dried off quickly and redressed in the clothes I’d flung all over her kitchen. Looking at the table, I laughed, loudly. I’d forever remember her on it with her perfect ass in the air sliding over me every time we’d sit there from now on. Just wait until we had Dean here for dinner; I wouldn’t stop with the uncomfortable jokes. I lived for making people feel awkward.

  Roaming around the apartment, I scanned over the belongings she had that weren’t ruined from the break-in. One entire wall of her living room was lined with shelves, holding books and picture frames, even some small pewter figurines. There was a triangular desk in a corner, home to her laptop, strangely untouched in the home invasion.

  Looking at it from the corner of my eye, I noticed a yellow manila envelope on the floor—between the back of the desk and the wall. I pulled it up and turned it over, reading the label on the front. Brad Dietz, Private Investigator. Inside were another two pictures we’d missed. Personal ones, where Brooke’s back was arched and her eyes were lidded, straddling a faceless man in the backseat of a car. Who ever had these photos done was having Brooke followed by a PI?

  Angrily, I tossed the pictures down on the desk. A strange red tint stuck to the tips of my fingers, and I brought them to my nose and sniffed. Spray paint. The same spray paint that was tagged all over her walls. I’m sure they’ll find prints on the evidence they brought to the lab. That shit was viciously sticky.

  But why was someone following her? What did it have to do with Captain Anderson or the cadets? Was Anderson following her? Pulling out my phone, I quickly Googled Brad Dietz and saved his address in my browser. Was Anderson tailing her to see what she was doing? Who she was spending her time with? Was he jealous? Could the same person have killed the cadets or were they unrelated?

  A soft creak in the wood floorboards caught my attention. When I looked up, Brooke was standing in the doorway, watching me. She wore a huge sweater that hung off one shoulder and a pair of ripped up jeans, making her look child-like and vulnerable.

  “What are you looking at?” Her voice was haunted.

  “More pictures,” I shrugged, pointing to where I’d found them.

  She didn’t like that.

  “Not the pictures really, the back of them. And the envelope I found them in.”

  “Envelope?” Her hand clasped at her chest.

  “Yeah, it’s got an address for a private investigator. I think maybe Anderson was having someone follow you.”

  She stiffened, muscles
suddenly rigid. “It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered the words, as if she herself was having trouble believing them.

  “I don’t like this Brooke.”

  Her skin paled and outside the whoop of a siren chirped.

  Chapter 17

  Brooke

  I was through the front door and halfway down the porch steps before I realized there was a police car drawn up to the curb. My throat closed, and my heart stuttered and thudded so hard against my chest that I worried it could be seen through my shirt. I was too busy staring at the beautiful young cop in the driver’s seat to notice Harris pulling himself from the passenger side and walking around the front of the car toward me. The young officer stared straight ahead, wouldn’t even turn around to face me, her profile stiff and flawless.

  I guessed this was his way of telling me he’d moved on. I had been thoroughly replaced. I bet they just drove from the same secret spot he always took me—odds were her mouth was still full of him.

  “Just got called in by the Office of Equal Employment Opportunity liaison. Had an interview about some situation you brought to their attention. Complaints like that stay with Captains. Did you know that? But they stay with petty, disgruntled, rejected officers too.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, protecting my fiercely drumming heart, and said nothing; too afraid my voice would betray me.

  “How’s it going to look Brooke? Like you were chasing after a married man,” he laughed darkly. We stared at each other for a long, drawn-out moment, and then he smirked. “All your texts about how much you were starting to fall in love with me.” He sauntered toward me, the tone of his voice mocking and venomous. “Come over, I made dinner. Come over, I need you. Inside me.” He walked passed me, circling me menacingly, his dark eyes assessing and vicious. I turned slowly as he stalked around me, carefully watching him. “Everyone will know you’re nothing more than a whore who begged to sleep with her Captain to see how far up the ladder she could get.”

  And suddenly it hit me.

  I never did anything wrong. I didn’t have to stand here and take his bullshit—because that’s all it was—bullshit.

  The only thing I did was fall for the lies that this man told me. It was all on him. They could transfer me to the worst areas, put me on the worst possible hours, hell, they could fire my ass, and I would fight them with everything I had and I would win. Because I did nothing wrong, but fall in love with someone who was a liar. I did nothing wrong, but have poor taste in men.

  “No one is going to believe that,” Ryan’s voice called out from behind me. I felt a wave of nausea swell and roll in the pit of my stomach with his words. I had forgotten he was there, being an audience to my humiliation.

  Harris laughed, nodding in Ryan’s direction. “Well, look at this. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Ryan’s boots hit the steps and scraped across the walk toward us. I heard the sounds of his movements, but was too frozen with shame to turn around and see the way he’d look at me differently.

  Harris leaned forward, and his smiled widened, contorting into a sneer. “You’re fucking him now?” He rubbed his hands over a laugh, his shoulders shrugging up and down as if he was having trouble controlling his amusement, “Whoa, Brooke. I didn’t know you were that desperate for dick.”

  Ryan’s movement flashed beside me, at the same time I sputtered out, “No! We’re just friends.” I couldn’t have Harris bringing him into this. I couldn’t have other people thinking badly about me Ryan. I couldn’t.

  Next to me, Ryan flinched back. “Are you serious right now?”

  My stomach dropped when I realized Ryan’s words were directed right at me.

  “No way, Brooke,” Ryan roared, stepping between Harris and me. “I’m not going to let you stand here in front of that asshole and let you say we’re just friends. I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not going to hide you like he did.” He turned to look directly in Harris’s eyes. “I wouldn’t hide one minute of being with her. She’s not a dirty, little secret. And you’re nothing more than a predator.”

  Then, I felt myself flying back and landing hard on my back, my elbows screaming in pain. There was a sharp pressure in my chest where Harris slammed his hands against me and now those hands were around Ryan’s throat.

  “No! Stop!” I croaked, trying to catch my breath and climb to my feet. “Harris, don’t—” But by the time I got up, Harris was on the ground, Ryan wrapped in some crazy grappling maneuver around him. “You fucking touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” Ryan was grunting, his expression dark and serious.

  Holding my chest, I stumbled over to them screaming. “Stop! Just stop!”

  At the curb, the pretty young cop finally opened the door and rushed out, eyes wide with confusion, her radio up to her mouth.

  “Don’t!” I yelled, pointing my finger at her. “Harris, tell her not to. Tell her not to call it in!” Through the nausea and dizziness of getting the wind knocked out of me, I tried hard to focus on them.

  Ryan let Harris go with a shove that sent him reeling back. “Brooke?” Ryan asked confused.

  Three pairs of eyes watch me.

  I held up my palm, calmly, and took a deep, long breath in. When the black spots ceased dancing in the corners of my vision, I straightened up and swallowed hard. “You,” I said to Harris, through clenched teeth. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I will kill you. My complaint is not going anywhere, so get used to it.” I took a step closer to him, and for the first time, finally felt nothing for the pathetic person he was. “I did nothing malicious or wrong with you. You and I both know the truth. I know it’ll come out, and I’ll come out of this with my head held high. You, you’re nothing more than an adulterous pig.”

  My eyes focused on Ryan, breathing hard, waiting for me to say something that I had no words for. “I’m still processing,” I said, softly.

  I spun around and smiled at the pretty cop who was still holding the radio up to her mouth in shock. I leaned close to her and smiled the kindest smile I could muster. “Captain Harris Anderson is married. He’ll make you drive him around and promise you the most romantic things, but believe me it’ll never amount to anything more than sneaking around and giving you a quick, unsatisfying fuck behind the locked door of his office or in the back of a radio car.” I took another deep breath and looked back at Harris, sprawled out on the grass. “Besides, he’s got a really small dick, and he punches like a girl. And when I’m through with him, the only place you’ll find him is on the unemployment line.”

  I stepped past them all and gathered my stuff together to go pick up Cameron from school, rubbing at the painful bruise blooming across my chest.

  Chapter 18

  Ryan

  Her words hung like a thick haze in my brain. Still processing? My hands gripped under the ledge of the cold, concrete steps I backed up to, and collapsed down on. Anger and confusion tore through my veins and my fingers curled, crushing into the rough surface of the cement. With just a little more pressure, I knew I was so infuriated I could crumble the stairs into fine dust. Still fucking processing? I hadn’t expected her to tell him we just finished our second round of slapping sillies, but to still be processing it when my body was still rubbery and tingling from being with her, not cool.

  I took a deep breath, her scent still on my skin, and watched silently as she stormed off into her car and drove away. Her tires squealed, sending a cloud of white smoke along the blacktop.

  Captain Anderson pulled himself up off the grass, his movements stiff and awkward, his uniform smeared with mud and dead grass. “I’ll have your job for—”

  “Not when I show the video footage,” I interrupted, pointing my index finger at the cameras that hung off the overhang of the house. I didn’t know if they actually recorded anything. I knew from coming over here to see Dean, he had a security system put in, so I might as well threaten the Captain with it.

  “Bullshit,” he growled.

  I smiled wid
e, laughing. “Call my bluff, asshole. I’d do anything to protect her.”

  “Anything to protect her,” he repeated with a smug tone. He took a few steps closer, and ran his hand across his mouth, giving me an arrogant laugh. “She does have one hell of a pussy, doesn’t she? One of those tight ones you want to fight to keep on your dick.”

  I wanted to turn my face away from him in disgust, as hatred and repulsion burned through me—but I didn’t take my eyes off him once.

  Why him? Why the hell did she pick someone like him? There was literally not one redeeming value that I could see in him. And what kind of person was she to have loved him? I guess that was the shit that I would have to process, wasn’t it? “Much better than your wife’s, right? And totally worth your entire career.” I smiled, staring him down.

  His eyes narrowed at me and his jaw flexed, yet he gave no rebuttal.

  “Have a nice day, Captain,” I said low, through clenched teeth.

  My hands tightened around the coarse lip of the step—I needed to refrain from letting go—if I did they’d be instantly around his throat.

  He said nothing else, but slowly backed away, eyeing me coldly. I could feel the jealously and hate radiating from his gaze—it matched my own—yet I would not speak further or move an inch. The thought of ripping his cocky smile off his face was a far too pleasing an image in my head, and I needed to control the impulse of flying at him. Instead, I focused on breathing steadily, and doing the right thing, even though every cell in my body was screaming at me to serve justice for his abuse of authority. Unfortunately, my brand of justice at that very moment would probably have gotten me locked up—which would have added more problems for Brooke, not lessen them.

  By the time his patrol car was turning the corner, my head was clear enough to continue my job. Inside Brooke’s apartment was the envelope with the Private Investigator’s address, and there were a few burning questions I wanted to ask him, as soon as possible.