He deserved that, so he didn’t argue. “Please lock your door.”
“I can take care of myself. It’s what I should’ve done instead of letting you screw me!”
He walked out but stayed there by the door, clenching his fist and calling himself every name in the book. Only when he heard her slide the lock did he leave. And he was only three steps away before he was certain that he was walking away from something he’d miss forever.
* * *
Connor had slept two hours. Not good sleep. He’d woken up every half hour with the weight of remorse sitting on his chest, smothering him. He didn’t know what he regretted the most: having sex with her or being such a complete asshole afterward.
Probably being an asshole. But having sex with her was the reason he was an asshole. Oh, hell, he was too tired to even attempt to make sense of this. They’d had sex—not a big deal.
But it was a big deal. The whole night had been a big deal. Sitting on that sofa, telling her things he hadn’t told…anyone. Why?
He parked at the precinct and walked in. Checking the time, he saw he was about fifteen minutes late.
“Good morning,” Mildred said as he approached her desk. He normally liked her cheeriness, but this morning it was too much. He felt hungover in a world where smiles were like noise. In a world where freaking awesome sex turned you into a dick.
“I said ‘Good morning!’” Mildred repeated.
He forced himself to mumble something close to hello.
“Whoa,” she said when he passed her desk. “You got a message.”
Stopping, teeth clenched, he glanced back. “What?”
“Mr. Dunn called looking for you. He said he was on a job, but you could call him.”
She held out a sticky note.
He reached for it.
She yanked it back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I gave him my cell number. Why didn’t he—”
Shrugging, she eyeballed him, as if trying to get inside his head. “I can usually count on a smile from you.”
He forced his lips to spread.
She made a face. “No! Stop. That’s pathetic.”
He exhaled. “Just give me the number.”
“Does this”—she drew a circle in the air, gesturing to his face—“have to do with my crossword buddy?”
“I have a headache.”
“I’ve got aspirin.” She reached in her desk drawer.
“I’ll be fine.”
She shook two pills from a bottle and held them out. “Why do you have a headache?”
He took the pills because arguing with her was like scolding a puppy. “Why are you here? You don’t work weekends.”
“Mark asked me to comb through some old vice files to look for missing women tied to the murder of Brie’s sister. I have five boxes of files heading my way.”
“Oh.” He held out his hand. “Can I have Dunn’s message?”
She handed him the sticky note. “Take the aspirin.” She pointed to his hand.
He looked at the paper. It wasn’t the same number he’d had for Dunn. He knew because he’d already called it twice this morning. He looked up to offer thanks.
She frowned. “Don’t fake-smile like that anymore. You look like you should be doing a constipation commercial.”
He laughed. “Why do I like you so much?”
“Seriously, is this about Brie?”
His smile faded as well. “I already said no.” He started walking.
“So you don’t need me to warn you that…” Her voice trailed off.
He turned around. “Warn me about what?”
“That Brie’s in your office, talking to Mark, Juan, and Billy. And she looked about as happy as you do. Did you two have another argument? Please tell me you didn’t handcuff her to anything else.” The woman’s face reddened. “I don’t mean…I wasn’t implying anything sexual.”
Throwing the two aspirin in his mouth, he chewed the bitter pills as he headed to his office.
Chapter Fifteen
Connor heard her talking as he moved down the hall. Just the sound of her voice sent elephant-sized regret to weigh down his shoulders. Walking in, his eyes went straight to her. She sat in front of Mark’s desk, her back to him. Billy had pulled a chair over and sat beside her. A little too close.
“Hey.” Mark spotted Connor. Billy nodded at him as well.
“Hey.” Connor went to his desk, busying himself by putting his gun away, so he didn’t have to look at her right away. With that task finished, he dropped in his chair. His gaze found her. A huge heavy feeling swelled in his chest.
He expected her to look as miserable as he felt, but no, she looked good. Too good.
He noticed she wore makeup. She’d had a little on last night when she returned from work, but it had mostly worn off. Now, her eyelids had a little sparkle, her cheekbones were more defined, her lashes longer, and her lips—lips he remembered kissing, devouring, tasting—had a glossy sheen.
She wore a gray suit jacket. Under it was a pale blue blouse that matched her eyes. The top two buttons were left open, not exposing any cleavage, but just low enough to make a man’s eyes go there and wish. His gaze lowered. The memory of being between her legs hit and sent a wave of lust to his groin.
Was she trying to remind him of what he’d walked away from last night?
Mark cleared his throat. Connor realized she still hadn’t cast him a single glance. But everyone else had noticed him eyeballing her.
He swallowed hard. “Did I miss something?”
“No,” Mark said. “Brie’s filling us in on a phone conversation she overheard Dillon Armand having last night, and she brought in the glass with Armand’s fingerprints. I’m going to run them to the lab and then track down how I can compare them with records in Guatemala.”
Juan spoke up. “I’m going to try to get phone records from Olvera’s office and see if any of those might give us something.”
“Have you talked to Agent Calvin about that?” Connor asked, now trying not to look at Brie. “Are they all still coming in today?”
“Yeah. He called.” Juan glanced at the computer screen. “And even though he said they’d cooperate, we’ll see if he meant it. He also asked if we’d set up the interviews yet.”
“Why is he rushing this?” Connor asked.
Mark pushed back from his desk. “Probably just wants them over with. I’ll remind him we want to review the Sala files first. I’m going to suggest we look at doing the interviews on Monday or Tuesday. Juan made the request for all three of the agent’s bank records yesterday, but since it’s the weekend, we don’t know if the bank will send them over before Monday.”
“What about the restaurant where Agent Olvera ate? Have you checked into that yet?” Connor asked.
“I’m calling today,” Juan said. “The bill was sixty-five dollars. I’ve looked at the menu, and that could cover two meals, or a pricy one with a drink. I won’t know until I talk to his waiter.”
“Yeah.” Connor’s gaze shifted back to Brie and his chest tightened. “Dunn called the front desk and asked to speak to me. I’m going to go see him. I think a face-to-face might be more convincing.”
Billy’s attention went to Brie. “Why don’t I go with you to see the homeless guy?”
Connor sat up in his chair. “You found Tomas?” He remembered promising Betty he wouldn’t let Brie go alone.
“Not really.” She looked at him for one, two seconds, before focusing on Mark as if he’d asked the question. “I ran into someone who knows him, and he said Tomas eats lunch at the Logan shelter.”
“I know where that is,” Billy spoke up. “That’s where Connor and I delivered the toys we collected for the homeless kids last December. I could go with you to the shelter, and afterward you can hit the stores with me to check for security camera footage.”
Connor’s empty stomach churned the aspirin to dust. From the way Billy looked at Brie, there was no mistaking
the man’s interest.
Brie smiled at the guy. Thankfully, he’d seen her real smile and knew this one wasn’t even a good forgery. “That’s okay. I’m going by the hospital first anyway.”
“You sure?” Billy asked. “I don’t mind going—”
“Positive.” She looked at Mark. “Call me if you learn anything. And I appreciate what you’re doing.”
“Yeah.” Mark cut Connor a quick glance, as if he suspected something was off between the two of them.
She continued, “If I find Tomas and he has any information, I’ll bring him in so you can get his statement.”
Connor started to speak up about Tomas being dangerous, but that might encourage Billy, so he clamped his mouth shut.
Brie stood. Connor’s gaze shifted to her breasts pressing against her shirt. Images of her naked in the shower with water droplets running down her body filled his head.
“What time do you work tonight?” Billy tossed out.
“I’m off until Monday.” She turned and left.
Billy stared after her, or rather he stared at her ass. When she was gone, the younger cop looked back, grinning ear to ear. “I shouldn’t like her after she busted my balls, but damn, she’s hot!” He rubbed his hands together. “You think I stand a chance?”
Mark and Juan looked at Connor.
“What?” Billy asked, now looking at him, too. “Crap. Don’t tell me you already called dibs?”
“Stop being an ass,” Connor snapped. Reaching into his gun drawer, he grabbed his Glock and hurried after Brie. No way was she going to see Tomas alone.
* * *
Brie was halfway across the parking lot when she heard her name being called.
She looked back, praying it wasn’t Connor. Anyone but him. God let her down. Fracking Hades!
Reaching into her purse, searching for her keys, she walked faster. She wasn’t above ignoring him, getting into her car, and hightailing it out of there. But that would require finding her dad-burn keys. She hated this purse.
By the time she found them, his steps sounded right behind her. He stopped. She didn’t look at him, but a nippy breeze delivered his scent to her. The memory of being surrounded by that warm masculine smell played in her head.
“Gotta go.” She hit her clicker to open her locks.
“Can we talk?” He moved a step closer. Her heart skipped a beat.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I need to explain.”
She looked up, wind whipping her hair in front of her eyes. She pushed it back. “No, you don’t. I get it.” And she did. Granted, with her lack of experience, she’d never dealt with a commitmentphobe, but she’d heard about them from Carlos. What was the saying, wham, bam…?
Meeting his gaze, she realized he looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had frown lines around his eyes and one in the center of his forehead.
“Give me five minutes,” he said.
“I told you, I understand. You don’t need to explain.”
“What do you understand?” He raked a hand through his hair.
“That you’re afraid I might think last night meant something. Well, I don’t think that. We had sex, Connor. Slot-A-goes-into-slot-B kind of sex. That’s it. Frankly, it wasn’t even that good.”
He stared at her, shook his head, then his eyes narrowed. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” She closed her fist around her key fob until it dug into her palm, setting off the car alarm. It took her three tries to stop it.
“Don’t lie.”
“Lie?” she seethed. “You mean about it not being that good?”
“Not just—”
“Yeah, I told you it was awesome, but I know how fragile guys’ egos are. I’m sure it was just an off night for you.”
He frowned. “I’m not talking—”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen When Harry Met Sally. Girls know how to fake it. Not that it’s a big deal. I’m over it. It’s like it never happened.”
“Dammit, Brie! It was a mistake. I shouldn’t—”
“Wow, you’re finally saying something I can agree with. It was a big fracking mistake. So forget about it. I have. In fact, it already feels like a distant bad dream.” She reached for the car door.
“Brie.” The way he said her name came out a little hurt, a little desperate, a little confused. Mirroring what she felt. He moved in front of her.
“I gotta go,” she said.
“I promised Betty that I wouldn’t let you go see Tomas alone.”
“Hmmm.” She tapped her lips with her index finger. “Consider it a lesson. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Please—”
“Sorry if it bruises your ego, big guy, but I don’t need you. I don’t need a man to take care of me. I don’t need any ho-hum-wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sex. You got the extra notch on your belt, so drop it. And please,” she said, waving him aside. “Get out of my way.”
When he didn’t move, she darted around him. She opened the door as far as she could with his football-sized, solid, muscled body in the way. Then, heart hurting, feeling like a fool for thinking last night was special, she squeezed into the front seat. Barely settled, she locked her door, started the engine, and peeled off.
Unfortunately, the exit of the parking lot had a red light and a line of cars. As she sat there, the vibration of her idling car made the quivering in her chest more noticeable. She told herself not to do it, swore she wouldn’t, but she did it anyway.
Looking up, she found him in her rearview mirror, not much bigger than a speck. A splinter. An irritant she needed to pluck out. He stood in the exact same place, by the empty parking spot, watching her. He looked wounded, rejected, vulnerable.
Had he taken acting and asshole 101 in college? He must have aced every course.
Her eyes stung, but no way would she cry. Nope. Why did it even hurt? She barely knew him. Just because they’d shared secrets. Just because his pain had felt so familiar that consoling him had been almost self-healing. Just because last night had been the best sex she’d ever had. Just because for the first time, in a long time, she hadn’t felt lonely.
None of that meant jack shit.
* * *
Connor phoned to see what time lunch was served at the Logan shelter. Then he called Dunn, got his on-the-job address, and informed him he’d be dropping by.
Remembering Brie’s panties scattered across her bedroom, he decided to go to the man’s office first to see if he could get the name of the redheaded pervert. His gut said something needed to be done about him. He could at least run the guy through the system for priors.
The office was a trailer placed in a half-commercial–half-residential area. A car parked outside told him Dunn had someone manning the office.
He headed to the door where an OPEN sign welcomed him inside. A blond girl, muttering obscenities, cleaned a table littered with coffee cups and fast-food wrappers.
“Can I help you?” She tossed a half-eaten biscuit in the garbage. “Sorry, some men don’t know how to clean up after themselves.”
“I’m thinking about doing some remodeling and a while back I met a guy who works here. I saw your sign, so I thought I’d pop in and ask about getting an estimate.”
“What kind of work are you doing?”
“The kitchen needs everything, cabinets and new flooring.”
“Well, Mr. Dunn does plenty of kitchens. He has some pictures of his work if you’d like to see them.”
“Sure.”
She moved behind the counter and pulled out a binder. He flipped through and pretended to be interested. “Who do I talk to about getting an estimate?” he asked, baiting the hook before fishing for information.
“Leave your number and I’ll have Mr. Dunn call you.” She pulled out a notepad.
“Why don’t you give me his number and I’ll call when I’m ready to move forward.”
“Just tak
e this.” She handed him a business card.
“Thanks.” He flipped the edge of his card with his finger. “Does Jimmy still work here? He recommended Mr. Dunn.”
“There isn’t a—”
“Wait. That wasn’t his name. He has red hair?”
“You mean Lawdon.” She frowned.
“I don’t thin…What’s his last name?”
“Davis. He’s got red hair, big guy.” Saying the name deepened her frown and Connor got a bad feeling.
“That’s not him. Maybe this guy quit.”
“Hmmmm.”
Connor studied her. “I’m glad Lawdon isn’t the guy I met.”
She looked up. “Huh?”
“You don’t seem to like him.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re very perceptive.”
“Yeah.” He pushed away from the counter and started out, then stopped and turned around. “I’m probably overstepping here, but if some guy makes you feel uncomfortable, you should report him to your boss. And if he’s really crossed a line, you should report him to the police.”
“Like my boss would care. I’d lose my job,” she said flatly.
Connor lifted a brow. “Doesn’t look like such a great job.”
She chuckled. “Good point.”
When he got to his car, he called Juan.
“What’s up?” Juan answered.
“I got the redhead’s name. Can you run him? My gut says he’s bad news.”
“Yeah. What is it?”
“Lawdon Davis.” Connor heard Juan typing on the computer.
“Well…your gut’s right. He’s got a list of priors. Wait. It gets better. He’s got a warrant out for…rape and assault.”
“I knew it.” The thought of that guy getting anywhere close to Brie sent a jolt of protectiveness through Connor. “I’m on my way to see Dunn at his work site. If the guy’s there, I’ll call you and someone can pick him up.”
“Yeah,” Juan said. “In fact, it’s Detective Quarrels who’s listed on the warrant. He’s the one who brought over the files that Mildred’s going through. We owe him, so this is good.”
“Has Mildred found anything?” Connor asked.
“Not yet.” Juan paused. “What’s up with you and Brie?”
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