Custom Love

by Chantal Fernando

  “Nadia, just tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  “Taylor, that woman we were following...she’s the ex-girlfriend of Damon Richard,” I say, swallowing hard.

  Trade’s brows furrow. “They didn’t bring up any ex-girlfriend during the trial. What does this have to do with...?” His eyes widen in realization. “So who is your client?”

  “Damon’s mother, Marisol,” I admit, licking my suddenly dry lips. “They are family friends of mine, and she wanted me to look into the case and see what I can find.”

  His jaw goes tense. “What is there to look into? He was found guilty. I don’t understand why you’d want to bring it all back up again, especially when everyone is trying to move on from it.”

  “Because Marisol was always there for me when I was younger. I figured I’d look at the evidence and then no harm, no foul. But there was something telling me there was more to the story, so I decided to pursue it, if only to make sure the right person is behind bars,” I tell him.

  Trade’s voice raises. “He is the right man. They found him guilty, Nadia. What more evidence do you need?”

  “Trade—”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters.

  “Trade, I dropped the case, okay? I’m not working on it anymore, I’m letting it be. I just wanted to tell you because it didn’t feel right keeping it from you. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing, that I owed it to Marisol. I’m sorry.”

  I know it’s not fair to expect him to understand. This isn’t just a person to him, this was the woman he loved and planned on spending the rest of his life with.

  “I just don’t understand why you would do this to me, to the kids, especially when we are trying to move on...” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “I’d like you to leave,” he announces. “I just...yeah. I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret.”

  I nod and stand up. “I’m sorry, Trade, I never meant to hurt you or your family. But I just wanted to double-check the facts and make sure that Damon did it. And after looking at everything, I realized I was wrong. I should’ve just let things be.”

  “You were just doing your job, Nadia, right? You don’t give a fuck who you upset in the meantime,” he says in a bitter tone.

  Ouch. “I’m sorry.”

  I leave after that, not wanting to stay in his presence any longer. I always knew there was going to be some backlash, and I guess this is it.

  It just hurts more than I had anticipated.

  * * *

  “He has every right to be upset,” I tell Bronte on the phone later that night.

  After I got home, I broke down and cried. It’s selfish of me, but how was I to know I was going to get closer to Trade after taking the case on?

  Fuck, that’s the first time I’m admitting it to myself, but after seeing his face fall, disappointed because of something I did, it’s clear that I do like him.

  Not that any of that matters anymore, because I just lost any chance I had with him. He’s never going to look at me the same way after this. And I honestly don’t blame him. I’d probably do the same thing if I were in his shoes.

  “He does, and you knew it was going to happen,” she says with a sigh. “But you know what? Let him be upset, and afterward, when he’s thought about it, he might forgive you. Just give him some time. It would have been unexpected, and hard for him to hear. This is why I tried to warn you, Nadia. He’s been through so much, and it’s just such a hard situation.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “I hope you’re right and he can forgive me, though. This whole thing has me feeling so shitty. I can’t even imagine how he feels right now. Do you think I should send him a message or just leave it?”

  “I’d text him and just say sorry,” she suggests.

  We say our goodbyes and end the call, and then I have a long shower before climbing into bed. I follow her advice and send him a message.

  Hey Trade, I’m so sorry, and I hope that you can forgive me. I’m here if you need me. Nadia.

  What more can I say?

  What’s done is done.

  The next morning I head into work, coffee in hand, feeling tired after a long night of tossing and turning, but I have to push through. Trade never replied, and I never expected him to. I push away my sadness at that and listen to my voicemails, calling clients back one by one.

  Decker comes in when I’m on my last call, and takes a seat and makes himself comfortable. When I hang up the phone, I cross my arms and look over at him. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  “The girlfriend, Taylor, was found dead this morning,” he says.

  “How?” I ask, eyes going wide.

  “She fell down a flight of stairs,” he says, tone indicating that’s not what he thinks it is at all.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I think it’s a little convenient.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We decided that we’d let this case go.”

  “I know.”

  “Is this all connected?” I wonder how Chains is going to take it. He finally starts seeing someone, and then she dies.

  “I don’t know, but it’s a little suspicious. But the lead detective on the case called it an accident. Whether it was accidental or not, the case is closed. Are you going to look into it, or let it go?”

  “I don’t know. Did the evidence at the scene support any suggestion of foul play?”

  “Undecided. But there was no forced entry and all trauma was from the fall. There were traces of drugs in her system.”

  I think about it a bit. I could look into it for Chains. It doesn’t have to be connected to Damon’s case, which I’ve already dropped. Although if Decker is bringing this to me, he clearly thinks this is something that should be looked at further.

  But after what happened last night, maybe I should take a back seat here. I also can’t afford to take on a case that no one is paying me to investigate. I stopped taking on passion projects, aka non-paying jobs, when my business almost went bankrupt. Besides, even if I did find something about Taylor’s death, what good will that do for Damon?

  “We could search her house...” Decker suggests after watching me go through mental gymnastics.

  My head perks up and my eyebrow arches. “You going to use your badge to get me in there?”

  “It’s not a crime scene.” He shrugs. “Going and having a look wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “And you’re going to let me come? Now?”

  “I’m bored. No time like the present,” he replies, smirking.

  Fuck it. I grab my bag and jump in his cop car with him.

  There’s one officer there when we arrive, and he doesn’t blink an eye when me and Decker show up and have a look around. The house is cluttered, with garbage everywhere, her possessions piled up all over any visible counter.

  I stop and look at the photos on her fridge. There’s one of her and Damon, which I find a little odd, considering the circumstances. Did she still care about him? The photo suggests that maybe she did, but her attitude at Fast & Fury suggested otherwise.

  We find nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that gives us a clue about what really happened here. It’s so sad for everyone involved.

  “Maybe she did just take too many drugs,” I say in the car on the way home. But as I say it, I wonder if my presence caused this. “Do you think my confronting her pushed her to do this?”

  He gives me a look before focusing back on the road. “No, you shouldn’t think that. She has a history of doing drugs, so you can’t blame yourself for this. You were walking away from this case anyway, remember?”

  “Case closed,” I whisper to myself. Time to move on to my next job—my next paying job.

  Chapter Nine

  Bronte, Quinn and Crow come o
ver for dinner that night. I make a cob loaf, which is pretty much a cheesy bacon dip in a bowl of bread, with carrots, cucumber slices and corn chips to dip into it. Not exactly a fancy meal, but I know it’s a favorite of Quinn’s. That and I didn’t have much time after work to cook up anything special.

  “Did you hear about Taylor?” Crow says, bringing his blue eyes from his daughter to me. “The woman Chains was seeing.”

  “I did. How is Chains taking it?” I ask, wincing. I mean, how well can someone take the death of a partner? No matter how short of a time they were together, that still has to hurt like crazy. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  “You know Chains,” Bronte replies, taking a sip of her soda. “He buries everything so deep, I don’t think he can even feel anything. He said they had only just started dating and she did mention that she was on medication for depression, but he didn’t think she’d do something like take her own life.”

  It would be insensitive for me to comment on whether I think she did or didn’t, so I just nod and keep my thoughts to myself. “It’s so sad,” I whisper.

  “Probably going to put him off dating for life now,” Crow mutters, eating a carrot stick.

  “Should we discuss the elephant in the room?” he continues. “What’s going on with you and Trade?”

  My eyes dart to Bronte, who shrugs. “I didn’t tell him anything—he has eyes.”

  “There’s nothing going on, especially not now,” I reply, shoulders hunching slightly. “Did Bronte tell you about my case?”

  Crow shakes his head. “Nope, she said it was up to you if you want to tell me. I just noticed you and Trade flirting at AJ’s birthday party and asked her what was going on.”

  “We weren’t flirting,” I deny. “Basically the case I was working on has to do with Ariel’s murder and whether Damon actually did it or not. I told Trade and now he hates me. The end.”

  “Oh fuck,” Crow mutters, leaning back in his seat. “Why the hell would you take that case?”

  “I don’t know. I felt like I owed it to his mom, Marisol,” I admit. “I’ve known her my whole life. She’s been like a second mother to me. I didn’t see any harm in looking into it for her. She is sure that Damon didn’t do it. But now it’s clear that it’s just a mother’s love speaking. I’ve messed everything up.”

  “That’s not right, you reopening a case of a friend of ours that was murdered.” Crow sighs and looks between me and his wife. “Both of you should run shit by me before you make any decisions.”

  “Uh, excuse you. What happened the last time you said that to me?” Bronte says with her eyebrow lifted.

  “You saved the day.”

  “Damn right I saved the day. I don’t have to run anything by you and neither does Nadia.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, babe,” he says as he pulls her close.

  “It’s over and done with now. I fucked up, and now I have to deal with the consequences,” I say.

  “She wasn’t going to tell anyone about it,” Bronte says, eyes narrowing. “So why did you tell Trade? This whole thing was supposed to be hush-hush. That’s why I didn’t even tell Crow.”

  “Because we were hanging out a little and I felt guilty,” I admit, wincing. “And he was there when I was following Taylor, and—”

  “Wait, what does Taylor have to do with this whole thing?” Crow asks, looking confused.

  “Taylor was Damon’s ex,” I explain, shrugging. “I know, small world, isn’t it?”

  “So you and Trade liked each other, but then you tried to exonerate the man who killed Ariel, so he’s angry at you?” Crow summarizes.

  “Don’t say it like that,” Bronte says in my defense.

  “No, it’s not that simple. I did not try to exonerate him. I was just taking a second look at the case for a family friend. I never said I believed he didn’t do it. I just said the evidence was flimsy.” I realize I’m tired of repeating myself. I guess it’s a sign that I probably shouldn’t have taken the case. “Besides, nothing has happened between us,” I assure them.

  And now nothing probably ever will.

  “This is yum.” Quinn grins, sinking her corn chip into the dip. “Mmmmhmmm.”

  I smile at her. “I’m glad you are enjoying it.”

  Crow stay silent for a few moments. “I think you and Trade would be good for each other. He loved Ariel, but she’s gone now, and he can’t be alone for the rest of his life. I know it’s complicated, and I realize Bronte is on the fence about the whole thing. But that’s what I think.”

  Well, that was blunt. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” I reply. “He won’t want anything to do with me now anyway.”

  As usual, my work and business came first. It’s always been that way for me. I’m married to my job, and my other half doesn’t let me stray. I wouldn’t have time to cheat anyway.

  “And he lost the love of his life, let’s not forget that little tidbit. He’s probably still heartbroken and will be forever,” I add. And how does one compete with that? I’ll always be second-best to a ghost. I don’t know if I could do that.

  “You can have different types of love for different people,” Bronte says. “He will always love Ariel, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love someone new. You can’t compare the two, so don’t even think like that. And Crow is right—I don’t know how I feel about the whole thing. I just know that I care about you both and don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

  We sit in silence for a bit until I decide to change the subject. “So how is life at Fast & Fury?”

  Bronte smiles, but allows me to redirect the conversation. “Same old. We’ve been getting a lot of orders, Cam is in high demand. But Trade said we can take our time, not to overwork ourselves.”

  “And Crow? How’s the club scene?”

  “Also busy,” he replies on a sigh. “There was another huge fight there last night. People can’t control themselves when drinking. We’ve added more security.”

  “You guys must be minting money there.”

  Crow smiles, flashing his teeth. “Let’s just say business is good.”

  “Decker mentioned that place to me before. Says it’s always packed.”

  “Who is Decker?” Crow asks.

  “Is that the hot cop?” Bronte asks.

  Crow scowls at her. “How do you know he’s hot?”

  “Nadia has mentioned him before.” She shrugs, giving him a quick kiss and then turning back to me.

  “No...yes. The cop I told you about was Felix—he’s married but hot. Decker is someone I just started working with since Felix is away. But for the record, he is also hot.”

  “Yes! Did he go in for work or play?” she asks.

  “Play.”

  “Does Trade know that there’s a hot cop on the scene?” she teases.

  I roll my eyes. “There is no one on the scene.”

  “Stop saying hot cop,” Crow mutters, lips tight.

  “Hot cop!” Quinn calls out, making me and Bronte burst out laughing.

  Crow looks like he wants to strangle us. “Quinn, baby, don’t listen to these two.”

  “What’s a hot cop, Daddy?” she asks, eyes going wide. Crow looks heavenward.

  I speak through my laughter. “I’d tell Decker about this if his head wasn’t big enough already.”

  And I’m just glad we got the subject away from Trade.

  Trade and I were always going to go one of two ways—it was either going to be a mistake, or it was going to be something wonderful.

  Either way, I don’t think Bronte has anything to worry about.

  At least not anymore.

  Chapter Ten

  Decker stops by my office the next morning and takes a seat while I’m on the phone with a client. When I end the call, he flashes me a smile. “I brought y
ou coffee.”

  “Is this going to be a regular thing? A girl can get used to this.”

  He smirks. “So I haven’t been able to let this Taylor thing go.”

  I arch my brow. “What have you found?”

  “Not much, but I spoke to her AA sponsor, who claimed she had been sober and on track for over a year now, but the toxicology report proved otherwise. I don’t know, I just don’t think it was an accident.”

  “You think it was murder.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I just have a feeling that there is more to it. Someone could have easily pushed her down the stairs.”

  “Let me know what you find, or if you need any help,” I say.

  He grins, flashing his teeth. “Oh, I will. That’s why I’m here. If I need you to work on this case with me, are you down? Off the books.”

  I pause with my fingers around the takeaway cup. “Depends...how much are you going to pay me?”

  “Remember all the favors I’ve done for you?”

  “Ha. Felix was the one to do me favors.”

  “Maybe, but you might need favors from me and I’ll owe you.”

  My door opens, and I see the last person I’d expect—Trade.

  He steps inside, in his work jeans and T-shirt, and eyes me and Decker. “Sorry. Am I interrupting something here?”

  I look over at Decker and realize how we look, leaning over my desk toward each other like we’re having an intimate conversation while having coffee. Not that I think that Trade cares, but I don’t want him to get that impression. Which is actually quite telling, and something I’m not going to dwell on right now.

  “Nope, come on in,” I say, and give Decker a look that tells him to please leave, my eyes going wide and my head tilting slightly to the door.

  Decker gets the hint, as he smiles but doesn’t leave. “You going to introduce me to your friend?”

  He’s such a pain in my ass. I clear my throat. “Trade, this is Detective Decker. Decker, this is Trade. He is my best friend’s boss.”

  I should introduce Trade as my friend, but is he my friend anymore? Shit, I’m not sure. For all I know he’s here to yell at me and tell me to stay away from him. I hate not knowing where I stand with someone. It’s not fun.