Текст книги "Twisted Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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“Midday.”

Drake glances at his watch. “So she’s been there for an hour at most. Did you see her when you came back in?”

“I generally don’t gaze at Dumpsters unless I’m using one.”

“Your sass is doin’ nothing but pissin’ me off, Noelle.”

I stare at him flatly. “I just saw a mutilated dead body, Detective. Excuse me if I happen to have a mechanism that helps me cope with such incidents. If it bothers you, spit out whatever it is you have to say and bug my employees so we can get back to work.”

“You’ll have to close the office for at least twenty-four hours,” he says, his voice sharp. “We’ll need to search the building.”

“How did I know you’d say that?”

“I can get a warrant if I need one.”

“Believe me, if my desire to piss you off was stronger than the one to keep my business going, I’d refuse you entry until you had a warrant and gave a flamingo a striptease,” I bite out. “As it is, I have a job to do.” I pull my spare set of keys from the drawer and throw it at him. “They’re all labeled. I’ll be outside at four p.m. tomorrow to collect them, and that goddamned yellow tape better be nowhere except for the parking lot.”

Drake’s lips curve. “You know you can’t take anything home with you.”

I lean forward. “Do cops have a thing about patronizing ex-cops or is it just the detectives at HWPD? I’ve already had it from my brother this morning. I’m more than aware that I can’t take anything out of the office that’s currently in it. Which is why I’ll be printing copies of all my current cases to take home so that I can still work.”

“It’s much easier to do this job when you’re not working against an ex-cop.”

“If you think this is me working against you, Detective, you don’t know me very well.” I get up and walk to the door. “Are we done here? Because it looks like I have a busy afternoon, and as pretty as you are to look at, you’re not the greatest company.”

His smirk comes back as he stands, my keys in his hand, and walks toward me. I pull the door open and glare at him when he stops in front of me. Looking up at him, I’m aware of how much bigger than I am he is, both height-wise and muscle-wise. He has a good three inches on my height and I’m wearing freakin’ high heels.

“Keep it that way, Noelle,” he says in a husky, dominant tone. “I’d advise you not to work against me. I’d have no problem putting you in cuffs.”

“And I’d have no problem spending the night in the lockup for impaling your penis with my stiletto.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment. “I want all of your staff out within ten minutes after they’ve been interviewed. You’ll get your keys tomorrow as promised, providing we don’t find anything in here.”

My body tenses at his insinuation. “My staff aren’t murderers, Drake.”

“That’s Detective Nash.”

“Then it’s Ms. Bond.”

“One day,” Trent says, appearing to the side of me, “you two will give up the sick foreplay and just fuck.”

“I’d rather shoot myself in the foot,” I snap, smirking at the burly man in front of me.

Drake takes a deep breath. “You should. That way, you may think twice before doing it to other people.”

“Perhaps. But you still haven’t learned not to piss me off when I have a gun in my hand.”

“You don’t have a gun in your hand, Ms. Bond.”

Two seconds later, I have my brother’s 9mm dangling from my finger and directed at Drake Nash’s chest. Both men tense, and my smirk becomes a grin as I turn to Trent.

“You should really secure that better. I didn’t even have to try.” I pass it to him and look back at Drake. “Well, Detective? Are you going to stop harassing me and move on to my staff now? I’d like to print my reports.”

“Your brother will wait with you to make sure you don’t remove anything from your office.” Drake’s eyes flit across the room then settle on me. “Try not to piss any of my men off, Noelle.”

“Ms. Bond,” I correct him. “Try not to drink all of my coffee in the kitchen.”

“All right,” Trent interjects. “Noelle. Inside. You’re not doin’ yourself any favors.”

“Neither is the dead body outside,” I mutter, turning away from that bastard Drake Nash and walking back into my office.

News travels fast in Holly Woods. Especially when there’s a murder. Something that happens not regularly, but enough that it’s never quiet. I’ve just never been in the middle of a Holly Woods murder before, much less the investigation.

And definitely not a suspect.

Which is technically what I am, along with all of my staff. And that sucks. I don’t have time to be a suspect, and I have even less time to have Detective Drake Nash sniffing around my business. His obnoxious self is a giant pain in the ass.

If he weren’t a cop, I’d shoot him in the foot again. I’d enjoy it as well.

Jesus. I really need to stop thinking about shooting the man. It simply isn’t going to do me any good, because I might have a bit of a twitchy trigger finger. Which is how he ended up getting shot by me in the first place.

So, yes. No more pointing guns at Detective Drake Nash.

I grab a cupcake from the box and slink down in my seat. Restaurant stakeouts on Saturday nights are the worst damn thing in the world. There are only two or three small-to-medium-sized restaurants in Holly Woods, so they’re almost always full on a weekend.

This makes my job very hard when someone I’ve been hired to follow goes to dinner with someone other than their spouse. Sadly, nine times out of ten, my clients’ hunches are right, and despite the businesslike tone of the dinner meeting I’m observing, there are slight hand brushes and moves like wiping food from the other person’s mouth that give it away.

Unfortunately for me, that isn’t enough to convince my client that her husband is a love rat. I need a kiss or, at the very least, a blatant tit grab.

Why can’t these scumbags make my life easier and just have at each other in an alleyway?

I sigh and grab my can of Diet Pepsi. Stakeouts are the worst part of this job. One day, I’ll simply install my own cameras in every public establishment in town and collect the tapes every morning. Then I could technically do stakeouts in my pajamas at home.

Ahh, pajamas.

I glance at the clock. It’s almost ten p.m. Yes. I should be in my pajamas, especially after the hellish day I’ve had. I’m pretty sure all a girl should do after finding a dead body is hide beneath her covers with Jack Daniel’s and cake. And then never, ever, ever come out again.

I answer my phone as soon as the screen lights up. “Noelle Bond.”

“Why are you sitting outside Red?” Drake.

“I’m working. Why do you want to know? Wait. How do you know where I am?”

“Who are you tailin’?”

A face appears at my window, and I drop my phone. I press the button to roll the barricade down.

“That’s confidential. What are you doing here?”

Drake leans his forearm across the bottom of the window so I can’t roll it back up. “I stopped by your place to give you your keys. We went through your building earlier and it’s clear there’s nothin’ there and that Jane Doe was planted in the Dumpster.”

I take the keys he hands me, my eyes narrowed. “Why would she be planted there? In broad daylight, too. It makes no sense.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Along with her identity. Tim is waiting for dental records before he identifies her.”

“Do you know the cause of death yet?”

“Confidential,” Drake replies, straightening. “I couldn’t tell you even if I liked you a tiny bit.”

I smile tightly. “Well, thanks for my keys. I have to get back to work now.”

He looks between me and the restaurant. Then his eyes fall on the cupcakes. “Oh yeah. You’re workin’ real hard over here, Noelle.”

Staring at him, unimpressed, I press the window button. He moves his arm as soon as the glass rises, but he curls his fingers over the top.

“Oh, and don’t leave town. Your building was clear, but you and your staff aren’t.”

“I have an alibi, and so does Bekah,” I remind him. “We were together.”

“Convenient,” he drawls.

“I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating.” I jab my finger on the window button and it jerks up another centimeter.

“I’m not insinuating anything, Ms. Bond. Merely stating the obvious.”

“Merely pissing me off, more like,” I say under my breath.

“I heard that,” Drake mutters. Straightening, he asks, “What about the others?”

I hover my finger over the window button again. “Maybe you should do your job properly and ask them, Detective.”

I rub my temples, leaning forward on my desk. The cops didn’t do much in the way of tidying after they’d finished ransacking everyone’s offices, and Detective Drake Nash took my fucking coffee. The man gets a strange kind of pleasure out of messing with me, I swear.

Because of the lack of fucks given by HWPD’s homicide rookies who searched my workplace, we’ve all spent the whole morning cleaning up and reorganizing all of our files. Neither of which is one of my favorite things, especially since one of my files is missing.

I never throw my files out. Most of them are kept on a flash drive, but I like to print the basic information. It’s easier than transferring the documents between my laptop, phone, and tablet, depending on what I’m using. And, uh, what happens to have battery. Call me old school, but it’s how I know that one of them is gone.

I dial Trent’s number.

“Detective Bond.”

“It’s me,” I say. “I have a question.”

“Shoot. I’m busy.”

“Did y’all take anything from here yesterday?”

“No,” he says instantly. “You know I’d have told you if we needed to take something.”

“Shit.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Whoa, Noelle. Wait. What’s up?”

“I’m just a file missing is all. I guess it got lost when y’all tore this place apart. Probably ended up in the trash or something.”

“Sorry,” Trent says. “Damn rookies don’t know how to clean up after themselves.”

“And Drake Nash didn’t give a shit,” I finish for him. “Never mind. I’ll keep looking. Thanks.” I drop the phone back onto the hook and sit back. Before I have time to think over my newest predicament, though, there are three knocks at my door. “Come in.”

“Noelle? Are you busy?” Bekah pokes her head through.

“No, no. What’s up?”

“Ryan Perkins is here to see you.” She pulls a face. “Grecia called me since your line was busy.”

“I was talking to Trent. Why is Ryan Perkins here?”

Six months ago, I busted Ryan Perkins for cheating on his fiancée. Needless to say, my excitement for this meeting is at level zero right now.

“He didn’t say. Just that it’s real important.” She shrugs. “I suggested to Grecia we call the guy who deals with strays, but she told me to stop being a bitch.”

I cough to hide my laugh. “Okay. Tell her to send him up. It’s not like I have anything else to do.” Except look for my missing file. Although I have to admit that my interest is piqued. What could he possibly want me for?

Bekah leaves, and seconds later, there’s another knock at the door. “Mr. Perkins,” I say, opening it. “Please come in.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bond. And please, call me Ryan.” He shakes my hand.

“Then call me Noelle.” I smile politely and walk around my desk. “Take a seat. What can I do for you?”

He swallows heavily, and his eyes dampen. “Lena’s dead,” he whispers.

A chill cascades down my spine.

“Detective Nash came to see me this morning. She’s the body your guy found.”

Oh. Shit.

“Ryan, I’m so sorry. She was a good friend of mine.”

Her boutique stocks the best clothes, and she was always impeccably dressed. She was also one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. This isn’t fair.

“I can’t believe she’s gone. My beautiful Lena.” He covers his mouth with his hand and looks away.

I wait patiently for him to gather himself again, and when he does, the sadness in his eyes is highlighted by a steely determination that makes his jaw set hard.

“I want to hire you. You have to find who did this to her.”

I blink quickly as his words hit me. “I’m not sure I can, Ryan. I’m close to this case, not to mention a suspect in the eyes of HWPD.”

“Which is why you have to do it.” He leans forward and grabs my hand, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. “Please, Noelle. Please. I’ll pay you anything.”

I want to say no. I thought I’d left chasing murderers behind when I left Dallas. That was the plan, anyway. I was going to come back to Holly Woods and following cheating spouses and all other kinds of menial little jobs. I was never supposed to do this again—big jobs where it’s too easy to screw it all up.

But as I look into the eyes of a man who’s just had his heart ripped out brutally, doubt creeps in. One case won’t kill me, if you’ll pardon the pun. All I have to do is discover the identity of the killer then hand my brother all the information I’ve gathered.

Shit though. I don’t want to be running around after crazy shits again. If I wanted to do that, I’d have stayed in Dallas or trained to be a pre-K teacher.

Ryan Perkins looks at me with tears shining in his eyes, and despite my reservations, I know there’s no way I can turn this down.

“All right. I’ll do it. You have to understand that I may not solve it and the police are in a much better position than I am to find who killed her,” I explain softly. “They have access to forensics and reports I can only get by breaking and entering, and I’m no good to you at all if I’m in jail.”

Ryan nods slowly. “I understand. How much is your retainer?”

I tell him a figure two-thirds of my normal price.

“That’s not what Julie paid you.” He looks at me contemplatively, referring to his ex-fiancée.

“I have a personal interest in this case,” is my reply. I want to find Lena’s killer almost as much as I want Detective Nash’s nose out of my backside.

“Thank you,” Ryan says, ripping a check out of his book.

I take the slip of paper and nod. “Thank you.” After tucking it into a drawer, I pull a notepad and pen out and pass them to him. “I’m going to need to know everything she’s done over the last few days. Who she’s been in contact with, if you’ve seemed suspicious about anything, her schedule—that type of thing. Can I get you a coffee?”

“That would be great,” he says weakly, staring at the pad. “I’ll write down everything I know.”

I pick up the phone and dial Grecia, hoping she already went out to get coffee. “Perfect.”

My teeth nibble at my thumbnail. Dammit. My gut is screaming at me that it isn’t a coincidence that I have a missing file, and my gut is rarely wrong. It’s why I’m damn good at my job. I swear my gut knows things before they happen.

Shame it couldn’t predict a murder, but there we go. I’m not freakin’ Superwoman.

Time to figure out exactly which file is missing—and I have a hunch I know which one it is.

I grab my cell phone and lock my office door behind me. Stopping down the hall, I poke my head through the open door. “Hey, Marsh?”

“Yep?” Marshall looks up from his laptop. Actually, laptops. He’s surrounded by three of them and somehow using them all at the same time.

“You busy?”

“Not for you, boss.”

I smile at my twenty-two-year-old resident geek. “I need you to go through every file on record and see if any are missing. I know it’s a big job, but—”

“One is,” he says, his eyes on the middle laptop. “There’s one less file in the total documents.”

Shit. “Can you find which one? I have a paper file missing from my office, and I’m heading down to the basement now to check there.”

“Sure. I’ll come find you when I have.”

“Awesome. Thanks, doll.”

I leave him to do his freaky computer thing he does. I don’t know if I could run this business without Marsh, and I certainly couldn’t figure this out without him. I hired him a year ago for part-time work while he finished his degree in Austin, but instead of staying in the city or going back home to Houston, he came back to Holly Woods and now works for me full time. I’m not exactly sure everything he does to get me the information I ask for is legal, but if I don’t ask, I won’t feel any guilt.

So I just don’t ask.

I unlock the door to the basement I use as a records room. Every case Bond P.I. has ever taken is documented down here, and this room is part of the reason why I use paper copies for my own cases. It means I don’t have a whole bunch of printing to do at the end of a case, and if anything ever happened to the electronic things I fight against every single day, I know I have this room.

I skim through the files one by one. An agonizingly long amount of time seems to pass as I go through every single file from the last six months. My organizational skills leave plenty to be desired, so it’s not until I get to the last drawer that I know whose file is missing.

My phone rings in my pocket, buzzing against my thigh. “What?” I pull it out and balance it between my ear and shoulder.

“We have a name for our victim,” Drake says. “Thought you should hear before the gossip mill churns it out.”

“Lena Perkins,” I whisper.

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one, Ryan Perkins just came in to hire me.”

“What?” Drake explodes.

“Secondly, Julia Owens had me check out Ryan before they got married,” I explain, ignoring the random burst of anger. “He was sleeping with Lena. They’re married now. Or they were. And that’s the missing file I just told Trent about.”

“That’s no coincidence, Noelle.”

“Funnier things have happened,” I laugh dryly.

“Hold on.”

I go upstairs to Marsh’s office and swing my head inside the door, the phone line still quiet. “Did you find it?”

Marshall nods, his shaggy, brown hair flopping into his eyes. He pushes it to the side. “The Perkins file. I’m trying to recover it as we speak.”

“If you do, print it and drop it on my desk. I’m going to check the flash drive.”

“Huh?” Drake says.

“I was taking to Marshall. He’s trying to recover the digital file. It might be on my flash drive but I’m not holding out much hope.”

“Noelle, I need that file. Yesterday.”

I sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Nonna, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I have-a you a date!”

I muffle my groan by biting my hand. “I don’t have time to go on a date. I just took on a huge case.”

“That-a murder one?”

“Yes,” I answer hesitantly.

A long stream of angry Italian escapes her. “This is-a why you need a man-a! So you don’t have to work-a silly jobs!”

Oh, here we go. “Nonna, my job isn’t silly.”

“You carry a gun!”

“I’m trained to use it. I could fire a real gun before you tried switching it out for a Nerf gun and a water pistol!” I clap my hand over my eyes. “Anyway. I’m sorry, but cancel the date. My caseload is too heavy to spend evenings frolicking with your Italian blind dates.”

Another stream of Italian. With some curse words for added effect. Lovely. “Noella!”

“No, Nonna. I’m putting my foot down.” I stomp it for good measure. “No more dates. I don’t care if I’m a zitella.”

She humphs. “I invite-a him for family dinner instead-a.”

“Wait, no!” I shout, but she’s already hung up. Interfering old bat!

I groan and bury my face in my arms on my desk. Great. I have three cheating husbands to stalk—I mean, observe—a murder case to solve, my innocence to prove, and, now, Friday night dinner dates.

Just fucking shoot me.

It’d be nicer.

“Busy!” Grecia shrieks outside my door. “She is busy!”

Oh my crap. What now?

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t care.” Detective Drake Nash’s voice is strong and firm. “She has something I need.”

I groan again. Isn’t Sunday supposed to be a day of rest?

I knew I should have gone to church this morning. God is so punishing me right now.

“Quick,” I hiss as there’s a knock at my door. “Find me a rogue love rat to chase before my pain in the ass comes in.”

Bekah laughs down the phone. “Yours are all at home with their families and accounted for.”

“Fuck it.”

“Noelle?” Drake knocks again. “I know you’re in there.”

“Gotta go,” I grumble, hanging up on Bekah. “Come in.”

“This man! He has no manners!” Grecia fumes.

I look at her sympathetically. “Honey, I know. Why don’t you take your break now?”

“I will!” She shoots the imposing detective an angry look before sweeping out of the room and slamming my door so loudly that it rattles on its hinges.

I wince as it bounces open an inch before clicking back shut again. For a five-foot-nothin’ chick, she’s damn strong.

“Thanks for pissing off my assistant. Angry Grecia is so fun to deal with.” I roll my eyes and stand up. “You may as well turn around and leave, Detective. I don’t have the file yet. It’s been wiped from everything, including the flash drive it should have been on. I’ll call you if and when Marsh has it.”

Drake pins me with his gaze. “It isn’t a coincidence that your file on a murdered woman has disappeared entirely from your systems. For all I know, there’s something important in there that could crack this case open, so unless you can recite it word for word for me right the fuck now, I’m going to talk to Marshall and hurry his ass up.”

My jaw drops. Drake merely stares at me as I gape back at him.

“No?” he asks, his eyebrows raised. “That’s what I thought.”

With that, he adjusts his gun at his hip and yanks my door open. I stand frozen for a second before I storm after him.

“Detective Nash!” I yell at his back, making Mike look up from his desk on the other side of the hall. “You cannot come in here and harass my staff as they work!”

“Actually, sweetheart, I can. The badge says so. Mr. Wright!” He bangs on Marshall’s door.

“No, you can’t—especially when they’re working for somethin’ you want!”

Drake cuts his cold eyes to me and knocks again. “Mr. Wright!”

“Detective Nash.” Marshall opens the door. “I’m afraid I don’t have what you need, sir, and even if I did, I couldn’t give it until Noelle has checked it to make sure it’s complete.”

I shoot Drake a triumphant yet angry smirk.

“Are you threatening to withhold information from me, Mr. Wright? You do realize I could arrest you for that.”

“Seriously?” I exclaim.

“Of course not, sir,” Marshall says, ignoring me. “I’m simply saying that I don’t have the information you need right now, and I’d hate to give you an incorrect or incomplete file, which would surely impede your investigation.” He brushes his hair from his face.

Bekah walks out of her office, her mouth forming an “o” when she sees Drake standing in front of Marshall.

“Detective Nash!” I snap. “Please leave my employees to do their jobs! Marshall,” I add, looking at him. “Carry on with what you’re doing. Detective Nash knows as well as I do that I can hold that file until the time Judge Barnes signs a warrant and said warrant is on my desk. Everyone else, back to work.” I stare at everyone one by one until they’re all back inside their offices. Then I take a step closer to Drake. “Again, you cannot come in here and harass my staff. I understand that you want that file, but so do I, Drake, and all that currently exists of it is an empty space where it should be.”

“I warned you yesterday not to get in the way of my investigation, but five minutes after being hired by Ryan Perkins, you’re already standing in my way,” Drake says in a low voice. “Do I need to get that warrant you just mentioned to enter your premises and take what I need when I need it?”

The inflection in his tone makes me fight against a shiver.

“Get it. You can’t take what I don’t have.” I lift my chin so I’m looking at him squarely. “It’s just that simple.”

A moment passes before he steps forward, so close that my breasts almost brush his chest. I clench my jaw and ignore the sizzle of attraction that’s trailing through my body.

“Stay away from this investigation, Noelle,” he warns. “Fucking far away. I don’t want to see you near my suspects, the station, anywhere. You understand that?”

“I have a job to do. I’m doing it.”

“Then call Ryan Perkins and tell him you’ve changed my mind.”

“You might be the only one with a badge here, Detective, but you’re not the only one who knows how to investigate a homicide. Apparently, I have more manners and finesse than you possess, and I’m a hell of a lot nicer to people, but I’m not a pushover. I’m sure as shit not gonna have you come into my damned building and tell me what cases I can and can’t work.”

His eyes narrow into angry slits.

“You don’t have to like it, but you can deal with it. I will question my own suspects, and if they’re the same as yours, then tough shit, big guy. When I have the Perkins file and I’ve checked it, you’ll have it. Same with any information that could drastically change the course of this investigation. As much as I hate it, I’m not the one with handcuffs.” My eyes drop to the cuffs on his belt.

“You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass, Bond.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Nash. Now, get out.”

“Boss,” Marsh pokes his head out. “Got it.”

I snap my head around to him. “I might kiss you.”

His cheeks pink. “That would be highly unprofessional.”

Still, I grab his face and plant a kiss on his cheek. And leave behind a little lipstick. Oops. “You have a…” I point to my cheek and take the file from him.

“The Perkins file?” Drake says, his eyes on the folder.

“No, it’s my freakin’ dinner reservation,” I snap, moving past him.

His arm reaches out, and he curls his hands around my upper arm.

“What are you doing?” I glare at his hand then him.

“You’re bringing it to the station.”

“I don’t even know if it’s all there.”

“You’re bringing it to the station,” he repeats lower, stronger. An order, not a request.

Something a little hard to disobey when my skin is buzzing beneath his grip.

“Can I get my purse before you manhandle me across town?”

His lips thin, but he releases me so I can grab it. No sooner have I locked my office door than he has my arm in his viselike grip again and is dragging me down the stairs.

“Gee, thanks for the gesture, but I can escort myself out.”

“I have no problems coming up with an imaginary charge and arresting you for it.”

“Do you realize you’ve mentioned arresting me twice in as many days? Are you fantasizing about me in handcuffs, Detective? Because I’m all for a little kink, but those things hurt like a bitch.”

Drake swings me around and my butt bumps into his cruiser. “Yeah? And you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Actually, I would.” I smirk. “If you’re a cop dating a cop, it’s a given.”

Drake’s eyes change from angry to smoldering before I’ve finished my sentence, and he leans in. “Noelle, if the handcuffs hurt, then he didn’t fuck you properly.”

“Sounds like someone uses his cuffs off duty.”

He grabs the door handle, his fingers brushing the side of my ass, and I ignore the sharp breath my lungs are begging me for. “Get in the car, Bond.”

“And here I was thinking you were about to promise to show me how to use handcuffs properly in bed.”

He tugs on the door so I all but fall against him. I’m only steadied by the grip he still has on my arm, although it’s softened a little now.

“If I ever get desperate, I have your number.”

He’s lucky he moves away, because I’m two seconds from jabbing my heel into his foot and giving him another scar to go with the bullet one I gave him twelve years ago.

“Good to know I need to change my number,” I mutter, settling into the car. At least he opened the front passenger’s door and not the back.

Sitting in the back would make everyone we pass assume I’m being arrested for murdering Lena, and if that happened, my dad would cause a riot at the station, my mom would cry, and Nonna would scream in expletive-laden Italian that she was right about her little zitella having a dangerous job and my gun permit has lead me astray.

And nobody, and I mean nobody, needs that in their life.

Nobody else, that is.

I don’t need to hear their complaints about it. I have enough of my own to go around. Maybe I should raffle them off.

“Earth to Noelle.” Drake snaps his fingers an inch away from my nose.

I blink sharply and turn to him. “What?”

“I hope your excuse for ignoring me for the last five minutes is because you’re thinking about the case.”

“Uh…I’m spacey, okay? Don’t judge. Some of my best moments are when I’m thinking about cupcakes.”

Drake mutters something under his breath and gets out of the car. At least I’m still holding the Perkins file. To be honest, I was so wrapped up in imagining Nonna tearing the police department into lasagna noodles that he could have taken it and I wouldn’t have noticed.

I really have to work on my skills of observation and focus.

“Hi, Noelle.” Charlotte, the station receptionist smiles at me.

“Hi!” I throw a wave over my shoulder as Drake drags me through his station.

“We’re here to work,” he mutters.

“And? I don’t work with you. I’m on my own time, and you’re not paying me for this.”

“Think of it as pro bono for the NWPD.”

“Ha!” I snatch my arm from his grip as we approach his office. “Working pro bono for you? I’m getting a whole list of things under the title ‘Prefer To Shoot Myself In The Foot Than Do.’”

“Yeah? Getting long, is it?”

“Every single one of them involves you, so you could say so.”

“Sit down, Bond.”

Sigh. I was supposed to be the Bond girl. Not just Bond.

Still, I sit down in one of the chairs opposite Drake’s desk. He unclips his belt and lays it on the desk. Then he parks his butt in his chair and looks at me expectantly. I set the file on the wooden surface before me and pull my purse onto my lap. His eyes get icier and more intense as I pull out my clear lip gloss, coat my lips, then drop it back into the depths of my purse.

Shit. I think it went inside my sneaker.

“Testing my fuckin’ patience, Noelle.”

“Ms. Bond, Bond, Noelle… One day, you’ll decide what to call me,” I sigh, setting my bright-blue accessory by my feet on the floor. “Your language is awful, by the way. Are you supposed to swear on duty?”

His response is in the hardening of his eyes.

“Jesus. You need a cupcake. Or sex,” I finish under my breath. Then I flip the file open and let my eyes fall to the words on the page.

As I read through it, I remember everything about the case. Julia, my client, had found some expensive underwear in a bag and expected Ryan to give her it for their anniversary. When he didn’t and her birthday had passed too, she checked, but they were gone. He also worked late three times a week, and with their wedding only three months away, she’d gotten suspicious and hired me.

Obviously, I proved her suspicions. Easily and quickly, too.