Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1)

by Holly S. Roberts

  “I don’t need you to rent me a car. I’ll take a cab.”

  He holds up his hand. “No.” His palm slides over his closely cropped head. “You need a car at your apartment. It’s a safety factor if you need to leave in a hurry.” He looks me up and down. “You’ve proven you can take care of yourself. Stay in the room until the car is here. I don’t want to fucking see you.” He steps around the corner into his closet and comes out with a shirt in his hand. Without looking back, he leaves the room.

  Misery settles over me. I take a quick shower and put on a pair of cargo shorts and a tee. Gabriella delivers the promised tray of food. She knows I’m leaving and won’t look at me or speak to me. The phone buzzes, and when I pick it up, Gomez tells me the car is out front. I leave the bedroom and walk down the long stairs with heavy feet.

  Gomez waits at the front door. He hands me the keys without a word.

  The morning heat envelops me when I walk outside. I slide into the car and drive away.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MY APARTMENT IS CRAMPED, hot, and lonely. I guess it’s always been this way, I just never noticed it like I do now. I turn the thermostat to its normal I’m home setting. After staying at Moon’s, the heat is unbearable within an hour.

  I check through my messages, glad that the cell phone from my car was waiting in the rental. Three missed calls from Terry, one from Brenda, and one from my dad. Crap. I forgot about calling my mother. I make the call. My mother is a wonderful person, but she has her moments. This is one of them. She talks my ear off for an hour while I swelter. I finally tell her I have other calls to make and need to get to work. She disapproves of my job and doesn’t ask specifics. She disapproved of law enforcement too. I’ve come to terms with it, and maybe one day my mother will realize that a boring eight to five job is not my thing.

  I call Brenda next.

  “Hey, girl, you had us worried,” she says as soon as I identify myself. “Terry was planning to call in a missing person’s report if we didn’t hear from you today.”

  I’ve always disliked Terry because of his profession. His moral compass concerning women has never been up on my list either. “Is he in his office?”

  “He is and the door’s closed. You’ll never believe who’s in there with him.”

  I’m not in the mood to be conspiratorial. “I give, who?” I ask trying to sound like I care.

  “Sheila Bradford, the woman who took out the lawsuit. I’m code-naming her BF for big foot. She’s at least a foot taller than Terry. You have no idea what the past few days have been like. He’s like a little boy with a plastic pumpkin filled with candy. I think this is loooooove.”

  My heart clenches. I fucking miss Moon, and the last thing I want is to hear about someone else’s budding love life. Besides Moon, there is so much happening right now. Serious life and death drama unfolding. “When he comes out, will you have him call me? I don’t want to come to his office, and I need him to meet me.”

  “Are you okay?” I can’t be sure Brenda knows all the details of the case I’m working for Terry. I also don’t want to involve her any more than necessary. And I’m not fucking okay.

  “I’m good. I’m just playing it safe right now.”

  She makes a slight humming noise and I know I’m not fooling her. “Look, I know Terry was very worried about you. Dixon Connor was found dead in his cell yesterday. They’re saying it’s suicide. Terry doesn’t believe it. I’ll have Terry call you as soon as his lady love leaves.”

  I stop breathing. Moon had to know this. Why the hell didn’t he tell me? “Thank you. Gotta go, Brenda.” I cut her off quickly and know she can’t be pleased.

  The last person I want to talk to is Moon, but I need answers. I take out the phone he gave me, which I took from his bedroom, and make the call. Gomez answers. “Yes, Miss Kinlock?”

  “Is Moon available?”

  “No, that’s why I’m taking your call.” Gomez is pissed off at me too. He’s made that clear. I don’t know if Moon is actually busy or just refuses to speak to me.

  I’m pacing in my small apartment and I swear I want to hit someone. “Do you know about Dixon Connor?”

  I can hear Gomez breathing. What I don’t get is an answer.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I have no idea what Moon’s current game is, but people are dying,” I spit out. I’m so frustrated, I end the call. I continue to pace for about five minutes without a return call from Moon or Terry. It’s only wishful thinking about Moon. I know he won’t call. I had hoped that Terry would, though. I’m a sweaty mess when I head into my room to put on my standard work clothes. I refuse to sit still. These last three days with Moon have been a fairytale. I need to stop thinking with my lady bits regardless that the sex was smoking hot. I’m over it now. If I tell myself that a thousand times, it just might be true.

  I’m out of my apartment ten minutes later. It’s time to take a trip to my old precinct. I won’t be terrorized by Kennedy. I bring both cell phones with me, but neither ring as I drive into the Sunnyslope district to the Wendell Precinct. Even though the rental car’s air conditioner is more powerful than Sally’s, it’s hotter than hell, and I know the outside temperature has spiked a few degrees. Or maybe it’s just my temper. Two people murdered. I don’t need proof to know Dixon Connor’s death was not suicide.

  I run through the bank drive-thru around the corner from my destination and take out $100. It’s bittersweet to pull up to the station. I loved this building. Not because it’s anything special. The building is non-descript and unwelcoming to the average person. For me, it was home. Shortly after my retirement, I was still invited past the security door inside the lobby. Becoming a PI changed that; I haven’t been behind that door in more than a year.

  I’m not here to gain entry into the inner sanctum, though. I need information. Most people don’t understand the inner workings of a police precinct. A records clerk is the department’s gold mine of knowledge. I’ve heard them yelled at, complained about, and put down by the public in general. I hate to admit that officers are occasionally guilty of the same thing. Meagan, the Wendell Precinct records clerk, is loyal to the officers. She also has a big mouth and that works into my plans.

  I walk inside and there isn’t much of a temperature change from the hundred and something degrees outside. It’s probably in the mid-nineties in here with no air circulation to speak of. Smaller precincts like Wendell don’t want you to be comfortable while you wait for whatever it is you need. Behind the security door and into the belly of the department the temperature will be thirty degrees cooler. It’s kept almost frigid because officers wear a lot of gear and need to cool down as soon as they enter the station.

  If you’re filing a police report and it’s deemed worthy, you’ll be escorted inside to a desk sergeant. Officers come into the department to prepare for their shifts and write reports. And they enter through a private door inside the fenced officer parking area. They do not come into the office to take reports. Officers need to be seen on the street even if it’s on the way to another call. I have no idea how other departments are run, but I know Phoenix PD. These substations are bare-bones minimum and not designed for civilians. I love it.

  A small bulletproof window inside the tiny lobby is located on the right-hand side of the door I walk in through. The walls are painted white over cinderblock with no decorative embellishments at all. I walk over and press the buzzer to the side of the window. It takes about sixty seconds for Meagan to leave her desk and walk to the service window. Her eyes grow large when she sees me.

  “Hi, Meagan, how are you?” I say with a smile. It’s clear she’s unsure how exactly she should answer and that’s too damn bad. She has a slight look of horror on her face as she examines my stitches and bruising. Today I make orange look good.

  “I’m good Offi… I mean Mak. How may I help you?”

  I would so love to be Officer Kinlock again. I do my best to give nothing away. “There was a homi
cide a few days ago. She was a client of mine and I’d like a copy of the preliminary report if the case was handled by Phoenix PD.”

  Her lips tighten. “If it’s ours, you’re aware I need to charge you for the report, right?”

  I bite back a smartass retort. “Absolutely, Meagan. I wouldn’t expect anything other than being treated like the general public.” I could have gone to any Phoenix substation and requested this report. It just doesn’t suit my purposes to go elsewhere.

  She grabs the records request clipboard that rests to the side of the window and pushes it through the two-by-eight inch opening in the glass. I fill it out giving Penny’s name and date of birth and also give my information, including my driver’s license number, before pushing the clipboard back through. Meagan glances at the name without recognition. I have absolutely no idea how deep the corruption within the department runs, though I would be quite surprised if Meagan were involved. The biggest reason is that she considers herself one of the team, but the officers feel much differently about it. She’s a civilian, and they don’t trust her. End of story.

  “Let me see what I can find. Would you like to leave a number and I’ll call you when and if the report is available?”

  “No, I’ll wait here.” She gives me an impatient look and I ignore it. The last thing I want is for my request to go on a stack of others. If I wait, she’ll check now. I sit in one of two green, hard-plastic, metal-framed chairs. They’re as uncomfortable as I remember. A cell phone rings in my pocket and I pull both of them out. It’s the one Moon gave me and aka criminal shows on the caller ID. I hit Ignore. Two minutes later, the phone rings again. This time, I turn off the ringer. I am not speaking to him inside the substation.

  Fifteen minutes later, Meagan walks back to the window and I approach. “It’s six pages, and will cost thirteen dollars,” she tells me. “Nothing but the preliminary is available at this time because the case remains under investigation. Would you like a copy of the full report once it’s released?”

  “Yes, thank you.” My mind is reeling. I know it’s only a preliminary report from the responding officer and then a detective, but six pages bothers me. I’ve had more than six pages on a standard burglary. “My office number’s on the request. Could you also do me a favor and give Officer Kennedy a message?” I used his title on purpose. I don’t want Meagan’s panties twisted because I’m not treating Kennedy with respect. She nods. “Thank you. Please tell him I enjoyed our lunch the other day.” I don’t wait for the shocked look to leave her face. I never dated officers while on the force and everyone knew there was no love lost between me and Kennedy. The rumor mill will explode before I leave the parking lot.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I CAREFULLY SLIDE BEHIND the hot steering wheel. With even more care, I gingerly put my seatbelt on. I pull out of the parking lot and notice one of Moon’s black Caddies across the street. It pulls out and follows me.

  I take a few turns and enter the I-17 on-ramp. The Caddy stays a safe distance behind me until I take the Peoria turnoff and head into Ghetto Center. That’s not actually the mall’s name, it’s just what it’s known as. Off the road that circles the mall there’s a large store that’s been vacant for years. It went out of business ages ago and no one ever moved in. This isn’t the nicest neighborhood. I drive into the parking lot. The Caddy pulls up beside me and Moon opens the back door. Gomez is driving and he isn’t looking at me.

  I pop the locks and Moon opens the passenger door.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks before he shifts his body inside. He’s not wearing a jacket and he’s a bit more disheveled than I’m accustomed to.

  I’m more than ready for this macho thug game. “I’m working a case. What the fuck are you doing following me?” I don’t think he’s prepared for me to throw his shit back at him. He’s seen me at my weakest. It’s time he knows what I’m made of.

  He looks up like he’s asking God to intervene. Tiny dots of sweat show on his neck, and the collar of his shirt is damp. I swear I won’t lean over and lick his skin no matter how bad I want to. When he turns back to me, his eyes are stormy dark. “You are playing with fire and this is not a game.” He says it slowly, almost like I’m a child.

  I give my own clipped response. “I’m quite aware that two people are dead. The information about Dixon Connor should have come from you. If I don’t have all the cards in the deck, then someone is cheating. My job is to investigate Kennedy. I’m being paid to do that and you won’t stop me. Just because we fucked like rabbits last night does not mean I stopped doing my job.”

  Moon leans into me so I can see the flare of his nostrils as he tries to gain control of his temper. “This is not a game of cards. You were almost killed. I can’t do the things I need to do if you insist on placing yourself in danger. The last place I need to be seen right now is in the Sunnyslope district.”

  Ha, really. “Why Moon? How many people do you plan to take out in that district? How many cops do you plan to kill? Do you think that because I fucked you that I’ll just stand by while you take out cops? If you want me out of the way, you’ll need to play your game a little rougher.”

  He reaches out and grabs my hair, bringing my head forward before I can stop him. I wince and it pisses me off. His lips slam into mine and our teeth clang. His other arm is at my back and pulling me into the kiss. This isn’t how I wanted this argument to go, but I’m unable to tear my lips away. I return his angry kiss, tit for tat.

  He’s pulling my hair, and I’m squeezing his bicep and digging my fingernails in. My other hand is clenching the steering wheel. Moon is frustrated, and this is no playful kiss that turns deep. He fucks my mouth and I fuck his back. I have no idea how long the kiss would have continued if my cell phone hadn’t rung.

  I pull back and Moon releases my hair. I dig the phone from my pocket while Moon groans in frustration. It’s Terry. I answer and tell him before he can identify himself that I’ll call him back in a few.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he yells before I disconnect.

  I give Moon my death stare as I slide my cell back into my pocket and pull his out. I go into Settings and sure enough they haven’t changed since I was forced off the road. “You’re tracking me with the phone.” I change the settings and slide the phone back into my pocket. I should give it back, but I have a feeling I’ll need it again.

  “You don’t want to play it like this, Madison.”

  I can’t help but wonder if steam floats from my ears. “A few minutes ago, this wasn’t a game. Now you accuse me of playing. You can’t have it both ways, Moon. I’m on a case. I don’t need a babysitter. I need information.” I suck in air and throw out the thought that’s tearing through my insides and destroying me. “Did you have Connor killed?”

  A split second after the words leave my lips, he’s ready to explode. I lean back in case he decides to grab me again. He sees my retreat and I almost feel bad. I don’t actually think he would hurt me. What I don’t expect is for him to turn away, open the door, and climb from the car. He doesn’t look back, and I’m left feeling like I screwed up. Gomez finally gives me a look as he pulls away. His look says I fucked up majorly.

  I pull out my phone and call Terry.

  “You scared the shit out of me, Mak, and then you hang up on me. What the fuck is going on?” He’s still yelling and my head is beginning to hurt.

  “I need to meet you and I can’t go to your office. We need to talk.”

  “Listen, Mak. You’re off this investigation. Keep the money I’ve given you, but stay the hell away from this entire district. You understand me?”

  Not him too. Am I just the little woman who can’t handle it when shit goes down? Moon and Terry seem to think so. I’m so angry, I hang up on Terry again. Fuck him and fuck Moon. I won’t be led around by my nipples. I was a cop for fuck’s sake. A cop does not retreat. We run toward danger.

  I ignore the phone when it rings again and pull out onto th
e main road. I head toward Sky Harbor International Airport. I need answers and Moon following me isn’t going to help me get them. I park the rental car inside terminal parking and take a bus to a car rental agency outside of the terminal. I’m not stupid, and the chance that Moon has a way of tracking the rental car is too high. I need a car that he can’t follow because now it’s time to go on the offensive.

  I need to know what Moon is up to.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  AFTER OBTAINING A NEW rental, I purchase camo shorts, a green tank top, baseball cap, water bottle, and field glasses. Of course, I have all this back at my apartment. Being followed by Moon or his thugs is not part of the plan. The tables have turned.

  I know the area around Moon’s home. I end up parked two streets over and hike until I find a place to sit and watch. The sun beats down on me and I do my best to conserve the water. I don’t know if Moon is home. If he is, I’m following him. If not, I’ll stay in a hotel and come back tomorrow.

  The sun finally begins setting and a spectacular array of light washes across the horizon. Arizona sunsets are to die for. I smile at the thought. Following Moon could get me killed. It’s the whole sick cop humor thing. I’ll appreciate this sunset like it’s my last.

  About an hour later, one of the Cadillacs pulls out. I have no idea if Moon’s in it and that doesn’t matter. I know my plan could take a few days before it pays off. I stand up from where I’ve been crouching and focus the binoculars on the Caddy. The windows are tinted but I can just make out a head in the back seat, so I’m thinking I hit pay dirt. I take off running for the rental car. He’ll be about five minutes ahead of me and only luck will let me catch up with him because I only know at this point that he’s headed west.

  I can barely catch my breath by the time I reach the car. I grab a warm—I take that back, hot, water bottle and down it as I pull away from the curb and head west. Besides safety, I need speed. I get some luck with the first few lights. Then, at the third, I’m stuck on red for several minutes, which feels like hours. If Moon jumps on the freeway, it’s over… for now. When the light turns green, I head to the next corner and turn left on a crap shoot chance that the Caddy went this way. As an officer, I was never in the loop about Moon’s criminal activities—too far down on the totem pole, and I don’t know where his operations are run. I’m taking a chance by heading south as I begin crisscrossing streets. Tomorrow, I’ll head north.