Текст книги "Twisted Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Camera. Off.” His words are sharp, nothing short of demands he expects to be obeyed as quick as a snap of a finger. “Now.”

“Me. Noelle. You. Rude.” I sit up straight and meet his eyes with the same steely determination he’s staring at me with.

His eyes flare as he storms to the corner of my office where my security camera is hanging. Within seconds, he’s reached up, turned it off, then spun it into the wall so there’s no way Marsh can see anything if it’s switched back on.

“Can I help you with anything, Detective? Possibly a lesson in speaking eloquent English?”

“Do not fuck with me, Noelle.” He slams his hands down on my desk and leans over it toward me. “What were you doing in Rosie’s this morning?”

“Why do you insult my intelligence by assuming I don’t know that you already know the answer, Drake?” I stand too, flattening my hands on the desk to mirror his. I kick my chair out behind me and shake my head to pull hair away from my eyes. “You knew what I was doing the second you walked in. Pulling the dumb card does nothing for you.”

“You knew we’d be in to question her. Why did you go?”

“Because I’m being paid a lot of money to find the person who killed Lena Jenkins. We’re doing the exact same job, and by the sounds of it, I’m leaps and bounds ahead of you despite the resources you have at your disposal. I am, for the most part, workin’ off my intuition. You’re apparently hoping for the killer to walk through the doors of Holly Woods Police Department and turn themselves in.”

“Do not—”

“Fuck with you? Sass you? Grab you by the balls and twist them?” I hiss, cutting off his low growl. “Too late.”

He inhales sharply through his nose, his nostrils flaring with the intensity of his breath. His eyes—Jesus, his eyes. They sear into mine, and the passion and determination glaring from them is almost suffocating. I want to cover his eyes with my hand just so I’m not smothered by the power of his gaze any longer. I want to close my eyes and look away and not be so totally overwhelmed with the sheer emotion he’s throwing my way with just a stare.

“Again, Detective,” I say slowly and quietly, pushing off the desk and walking around it. “I do not appreciate you bursting into my office and yelling at me like I’m a petulant schoolchild. I have no idea what kinda saps y’all work with at the police department or what kinda women y’all got that roll over like little dachshunds expectin’ themselves a belly rub when you call for ’em, but you ain’t gonna find one here. I’m conducting my own investigation whether you like it not, and not once have I stepped on your toes. In fact, I’ve been nothing but fucking cooperative to your rude ass.”

“Watch your damn mouth, Noelle Bond,” Drake says low, his tone full of threats and barely restrained anger. “My patience where you’re concerned is just about at the breakin’ point, and when it reaches it, you ain’t gonna like me very much.”

“So save yourself a job and cuff me. See what the hell happens when you do that.”

He stands and turns to me, eclipsing me in height and width. “Are you threatenin’ me, ma’am?”

I take another step toward him despite our size differences. “Fuck yeah, I’m threatenin’ you, sir. Except my threats are closer to promises, so try it and see how well it ends for you.”

The minute distance between our bodies is swallowed by his single step toward me. If I were to reach out just a little, my fingers would brush his inevitably toned stomach.

“You have five seconds to take it back before I make good on my threat, Noelle.”

“You have five seconds to get your ass the hell out of my goddamned office before I break your kneecaps.”

Within two seconds, Drake Nash’s arms are around me and he has both of my wrists secured at the base of my back with one of his hands. The other is pressed between my shoulder blades, an open pair of handcuffs just close enough that I can feel the chill of the metal through the light material of my shirt. He’s so close that I can feel every contour of his body pressing against mine, and the heat of his breath flowing across my skin sends my body temperature up several degrees.

“Do not tempt me,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear. “Do yourself a favor and refund Ryan Perkins his money. Then get your ass out of this investigation. It’s too fucking dangerous for you, Noelle. You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“Don’t ever underestimate me. You may be able to restrain me without trying, but I sure as hell ain’t afraid to fight your fine ass and pin you to the ground,” I grind out. “I’m not the cops who work under you at the station. They might whimper when you so much as glare at them, but you can have those handcuffs at my back, Detective, and I’m still gonna be ready to twist your balls off and hand them to you.”

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice still hoarse. “Stay. Away. You’re connected to this. I don’t know how yet, but you are, and every time you drag your fine ass into another branch of this case, you’re puttin’ yourself in danger.”

I swallow and meet his eyes, my heart thundering in my chest. “I always liked to live on the wild side. Ask my family. I’m the kid who ran across the road without looking and ignored the ‘do not feed the animals’ signs at the zoo. I’m doing my job. Just like you are. Try to remember that I’m trained the same way you are.”

“Dammit, Noelle!” Drake snaps, letting me go, his handcuffs clattering to the floor between us as he pushes me backward. “You’re askin’ to sign your fuckin’ death warrant. Do you know that? It doesn’t matter if you have a gun on you or have them hidden in your office, car, and at home. This killer isn’t playing by the rules. They’ve ambushed and poisoned without the victim even knowing it. This is a cold, calculated murderer on our hands, and your pretty little blue Glock inside your pants isn’t gonna save your ass from a poisoned fuckin’ salad!”

His words cut through me with their honesty. Because I know that, really. But the blood that runs through my veins—it’s cop blood. It’s blood that flows for justice and retribution, and the heart that pumps it around my body beats for righteousness.

“I know that!” I shout, running my fingers through my hair. “But someone I know, my friend, was murdered and dumped in my parking lot. Someone I followed, someone I had to chase and spy on. Then her best friend turns up dead. In my car. My fucking car! Someone else I had to follow and dig up dirt on.” I take a deep breath. “You don’t do this job and not get enemies, Drake. I have a helluva lot of enemies—people who hire me then hate me. You know how you deal with your enemies? You don’t run away. You stand ten feet away from them, laugh, and give them a big ol’ fuck you. This person who’s doing this? They’re my goddamned enemy, and I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna sit here in my office like a good little girl and let them think they’ve won, because the only way they’ll win this is if I’m the one poisoned, cut up, and laid out to die wherever they dump my body!”

Three steps.

That’s all it takes for him to close the distance between us and slam our bodies together.

That’s all it takes for my body to be against his, for his arms to be around me, for his hand to be in my hair, for his mouth to be dropping harshly and relentlessly onto mine.

I wind my fingers into his crisp, white shirt and succumb to the kiss he’s just planted on me. There’s nothing else I can do. His body is strong, and his grip is tight. Leaning against him, pulling him closer, and tasting him as deeply and as ferociously as he is me are the only things I’m physically capable of doing right now.

My blood is humming through my body at a speed I didn’t know was possible, and I feel nothing but lust and adrenaline and the sweet sensation of pleasure and relief throbbing its way through me from my head to my toes. The intensity of my feelings surprise me, and when Drake pushes me against my desk and my ass perches on the edge of it, I don’t complain.

I curl my hand around the back of his neck.

I fall victim to his almost-deadly assault.

I allow his touch to brand my skin.

I sigh inside with his angry, passionate kiss that burns my lips with each touch.

I surrender—hopelessly, entirely, completely and utterly and devastatingly. To his touch, to his kiss, to his unrelenting power and dominance over my body.

And this is everything I never thought it would be. Everything I never thought would be. Drake Nash’s kissing me was too much of a thought to comprehend, but now, it’s a reality, and oh God, it’s better than a dream could ever be.

His lips are soft but harsh, and he tastes like coffee and cupcakes. Triple-chocolate torte cupcakes. Rich and decadent and temptation at its finest.

I breathe him in. Just breathe, continuing to let him kiss me, tease my skin with his fingertips, and ignite a fire so strong in the depths of my belly that I feel it pounding between my legs with every stroke of his tongue against mine.

And I don’t want him to stop.

Not ever.

I just want him here, me on my desk, his body between my legs, us separated by layers of clothing, while he kisses me like the thought of me being dead is too much for him to bear.

Not a kiss driven by anger or frustration or the tension that’s been close to snapping for days now.

Just because imagining me dead bugs him. As a person. Not as a police officer.

“Boss? Is everythin’ okay? Your cameras went off. Then I heard shouting then nothin’.”

I shove Drake away from me at the sound of Marshall’s voice and glare at the thankfully still-closed door. “I’m fine,” I say a little too breathlessly. “Detective Nash and I just needed to discuss something confidential.”

“Right. Well, I tried calling your line.”

Oops.

“I’ve recovered some of the Santiago-Westwood file,” he says.

Drake’s eyes bore into the side of my head as I jump up and adjust my pants. Running my fingers through my hair, I stroll across the room and open the door a crack. “Thank you.” I take the file. “And the other thing?”

“Nothing, boss,” he replies, adjusting his glasses. “I don’t know where Dean found that, but I can’t seem to.”

Hmmm. “Okay. Thanks, Marsh.”

“You’re welcome. Remember to turn that camera back on when you’re done. Just in case something else happens and your office is broken into for files.”

“Thank you, boss,” I tease him with a smile. “I’ll turn it back on. No worries.”

He nods once, smiles, and disappears back into his office. Slowly, I close my door and lean against it, closing my eyes for just a second to gather myself.

“Santiago-Westwood file?” Drake asks, his voice rough.

“Some of.” I open my eyes, my heart beating hard as soon as I meet his gaze. “You’re welcome to look it over with me, although I have no idea if any of this will be useful.”

He waves his hand toward my desk. “Sure.”

I walk around to my side and sit in my chair, laying the file on my desk. Drake rounds the desk, too, and leans over my shoulder to read. I can feel his body, hot and strong over me, but I tamp down the lingering memories from the kiss we just shared and open the folder to the first page.

I skim-read it, knowing that, if there’s anything majorly important, it’ll jump out at me. Line after line, I read, feeling the memories about the case come sinking back.

That’s the thing with this job—the cases might all be the same in technicalities, but the details are all different. For instance: Ryan and Lena almost always went to exclusive hotels in Austin. Daniel and Claire always hit up a town around forty-five minutes from here.

I wonder if Daniel and Lena knew about the others’ extracurricular activities. If they were both partial to the other’s sordid and immoral activities.

That bugs me. Almost as much as having Drake’s bicep touching my shoulder.

I swallow hard and inch away from him. What the hell was I just thinking, letting him kiss me? I’m done reading, but he clearly isn’t. So I’m stuck. With him behind me. Just staring at me.

Wait. No. What?

“Is there something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Drake’s lips twitch up to one side. “For the last few minutes, you’ve moved farther and farther away from me.”

Clearing my throat, I meet his eyes. “Well. You are a little close.”

His smile grows. “Noelle,” he murmurs, “not ten minutes ago, you had your legs wrapped around my waist and your tongue in my mouth. Little late to be worryin’ about personal space, don’t you think, cupcake?”

“Okay! One—stop with the cupcake nickname!” I slam my hands on the desk and get up, moving away from him. Ignoring the speedy pound of my heart, I push my hair from my eyes and point at him. “That…serious lapse in judgment…ain’t ever gonna happen again.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m…” I frown. “I am?”

“Sure you are.” He takes a few steps toward me, his lips still curved in that annoyingly sexy twist and his eyes dancing with laughter. “Next time, it won’t be a lapse in judgment.”

I blink harshly and clear my throat again. “Perhaps for you. For me, it will never be anything but.” I smile tightly, ignoring the clench of my stomach when he drops his eyes to my mouth, and ask, “So, did you see anything in the file that you think could help?”

Anything to change the topic of conversation. I know for a fact he wouldn’t have. The file is full of nothing but Claire Santiago and her various comings and goings. Nothing at all on Daniel.

“No. But I’m gonna need you to copy it anyway, just for the case file.”

“Obviously.” I take the folder from him and turn to my printer-copier-scanner thing I don’t know how to work apart from printing. I stare at the machine for a second and run my tongue across my teeth.

Yeah. About this.

A low whistle leaves my pursed lips as I perch on my desk and reach for my phone.

“You don’t know how to work it, do you?”

“I can work the printer,” I reply defiantly.

“The printer ain’t gonna get me a copy of this, Noelle.”

“Sure it is. I just gotta turn my laptop on and print another.” I shrug, slipping past him. My butt has barely touched my chair before the file is unceremoniously whipped from my hand and Drake moves across the room to the printer-copier-thingymajig Marshall talked me into buying everyone.

He presses some buttons on the pad that’s sticking up, lifts a lid I’m not sure I ever knew existed, and slips the top sheet of the report in facedown. Another button, some clicky noises, and the whir of the printer and the machine spits out a sheet of paper.

“I could print this quicker,” I grumble as he replaces the sheet.

“I know. I’m just enjoyin’ how real fuckin’ awkward you look right now.” He shoots a smirk over to me and carries on with what he’s doing. “Plus, the fact that you can shoot any gun given to you but can’t work a three-in-one printer is pure gold.”

I glare at him, putting every ounce of annoyance in my body into my gaze. Something that’s real hard when I can still kinda sorta feel him kissing me. And touching me. And this was not on my to-do list, dammit.

“Done.” His voice cuts through my musings. “This one is yours.”

“Thank you.” I take the file and set it on my desk. “If Marsh recovers any more, I’ll let you know.”

Drake nods once, his eyes firm on mine as he tucks his file under his arm. “And the other thing you asked him about?”

“Huh?”

“When he gave you this”—he taps his fingers on the file—“you asked him about ‘the other thing.’ He said no and that he didn’t know where Dean had found it.”

I suck my lower lip into my mouth as I consider what to tell him.

What to tell him.

Oh, sweet Jesus, Noelle.

I know the rules—anything I come across that could impact the official investigation definitely needs to be passed on to the HWPD. As much as I hate it. Mostly because I have a serious competitive side, and dammit, I want to work out who this murderer is.

Not catch them, mind you. That’s all down to Drake, my brothers, and their cronies.

“Lena Perkins is married.”

Drake laughs. “Yeah. Her husband is your client, remember?”

“Technically, he’s not,” I reply slowly, thinking over every word. “She apparently got married in her senior year of college. And she never got divorced.”

His dark eyebrows pull together, creases lining his forehead. “Are you tellin’ me Lena and Ryan ain’t married?”

“Dean seems to think so.” I stand and move to my window, looking out at the park for what feels like the hundredth time today. “But that’s it. Literally. After that…the trail goes cold until she returned to Holly Woods.”

“When did she come back?”

“A few months after graduation? I think. I was already in Dallas. She was here when I came home for Thanksgiving, though, so she certainly didn’t stay in Houston long.” I take a deep breath and turn around.

“Did you call the reference office?”

I roll my eyes and turn to him. “I’m no amateur, Drake. It was the first thing I did. Unfortunately, I’m not a cop, so I can’t get a warrant, which means I have to wait in line like everyone else waiting for documents they need.”

His eyes flare. “But the certificate is there? They have it?”

“She says there’s one on record—maiden name Lena Young.”

“Come with me.”

The ride to the station is tense and full of silence. Drake grips the steering wheel steadily the whole way back, and I’m guessing that it’s tight because his knuckles are white. And his jaw is clenched—devastatingly tight. Like, I’m wondering if he has any teeth left by the time he pulls up in the HWPD parking lot.

Drake gets out of the car and slams the door. The loud noise makes me jump, and I follow him into the building. Every door he comes across, he slams it, and by the time we make it to his office down the hall, I think he’s rattled every hinge in his path.

Trent’s door opens and my brother pokes his head out. “Don’t tell me he finally arrested you,” he groans. “I don’t have time to bail you out today.”

I poke my tongue out. “No. For once, I’m not the reason he’s mad.”

“You think,” Drake snaps. “You should have told me right away!”

My jaw drops. “I would have if you hadn’t been yellin’ at me!”

“Wait—what’s happened?” Trent intercepts us.

“Lena Perkins isn’t Lena Perkins,” Drake replies, a muscle below his eye twitching. He explains the rest of the story.

“And you didn’t say anything right away?” Trent glares at me. “How long did you know?”

“Not long!” I protest. “I was going to call you whether or not I got the document.” I shrug. “And I would have told this idiot sooner if he hadn’t have strolled into my office like he owns the damn building and started yelling at me.” And kissing me.

Yep. We definitely won’t mention that little incident to Trent.

“I need a warrant.” Drake cuts his eyes to me although he’s speaking to Trent. “Get Brody on it and get it signed off before Judge Barnes takes off for his Saturday evening dinner and dance with Mrs. Barnes.”

“Got it.” Trent disappears back into his office, the door closing behind him.

“There’s no point in rushing,” I mutter, following Drake into his office. “The offices are all closed tomorrow.”

He narrows his eyes. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t have it on their front desk at eight a.m. on Monday morning.”

But I bet I can find out before that.

“Okay.” I shrug again. “Why did you need me down here, then?”

He shuts the door and locks it. Oh, shit. That never ends well for me. I swallow when he turns and walks past me. Slowly, he removes his guns and sets them on his desk. Then he leans against the edge of it and stares at me. His arms bulge as he crosses them over his chest.

“Like it or not, it’s clear we’re gonna have to work together on this,” he says, each word slow like he’s still testing them out in his mind. “Your team—somehow—seems to find things mine can only dream of.”

“They don’t always do it legally.”

“What was it you said before? What the HWPD doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

I tilt my head to the side and regard the dominating man before me. “Are you tellin’ me to break the law, Detective? Because I don’t think that’s in your job description. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Drake’s lips curve upward, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. “Absolutely not, Ms. Bond. I’m merely stating a fact or two. Clearly nothing I say to you is going to change your mind about continuing with this case…”

His pause makes me smile. “I’m sorry—am I supposed to justify that asinine comment with a response?”

“Touché,” he mutters, still smirking. “As I was saying, you’re not dropping this case, but it’s not safe for you to work it. And I know what you’re gonna say”—he holds his hand up to stop me when I open my mouth—“so the only way to keep you safe and let you have your way is by us workin’ it together.”

“Contrary to your belief, I can actually look after myself.”

“I’m not disputing that, Noelle. I’m sayin’ to you, sweetheart, that it ain’t safe for you to work this case. No matter how good you are with a weapon.”

“I don’t know that my safety needs to be a concern of yours. I already have three brothers who worry about me. I don’t need a fourth overbearing man in my life, thank you.”

“And your dad?”

I shrug. “He’s a smart man. He worries, but he lets me handle stuff. Then, when I fuck up, he laughs and says, ‘I told you so.’ It works.”

Drake shakes his head and stands, walking over to me. “Fine. Have it your way. You pretend I’m not worrying about your safety and look at it pragmatically.” He grabs my shoulders and steers me toward a chair in front of his desk. I drop into the seat, and he perches on the edge of the table again. “Our investigations keep crossing. Your team finds things mine doesn’t. Mine…probably doesn’t find anything yours can’t,” he admits with a slight laugh.

I grin. “At least you know I have the best.”

He inclines his head in agreement. “I have access to documents and findings you don’t. You also have a particular skill set. Something my female officers don’t have.”

“Which is?”

“You’re a total bitch.”

“Do you want me to break your kneecaps?” I push up out of the chair, but with barely a touch to my shoulder, he pushes me back down.

Okay. Maybe I am a little.

Drake laughs. Bastard. “Not in a bad way. At least, most of the time. For what it’s worth, that just then? The bad way.”

“Explain what you mean before I make good on that threat, douchewank.”

“Douchewank?” He raises an eyebrow, pauses, then shakes his head. Again. He does that a lot around me. “You’re a bitch because people look at you and see the sweet Southern girl with good manners and a smile for everyone. They don’t look at you and see the calculating, suspicious investigator dissecting their every word or action. They see the Noelle you want them to see—and she isn’t the version of you with a gun tucked into her pants.”

I get up and look at him, my hands on my hips. “I do what I have to do get my job done.”

“People underestimate you, Noelle,” Drake says huskily, standing once again. “They don’t do that when they look at my team. Even when they’re undercover—they know they’re cops. Even people who know you don’t really know you.”

“What can I say? I’ve got more layers than Hell.”

His lips twitch. “The only way we’re going to catch our man is by working together. I can’t allow you access to my case files, but I can’t stop you from reading them on my desk or in my car—”

“Again with the law-breaking suggestions.”

“Another,” he murmurs with that smile. “I’m not your favorite person, and you’re sure as fuck far from mine, and I’m pretty damn sick of you meddling in my investigation, so it’s easier to invite you into it and have both of us on the front line of the case.”

“You’re not my boss,” I warn him. “I won’t take orders from you.”

“There’s only one kind of order I could give you and have you obey and it doesn’t involve the workplace.” His low laugh sends shivers down my spine. “I won’t tell you what to do, Noelle. For the most part, our investigations will remain separate, but every evening, we’ll convene to share notes, and we’ll keep in contact during the day about any new revelations. Does that sound fair?”

“And you won’t dispute my staff’s maybe not-so-legal methods of getting information?”

“If it blows open this case, then no.”

I take a deep breath and meet his eyes. If I ignore the lust and annoyance and determination there—and I am—they’re completely honest. And if I have to be honest with myself, I know he’s right. We may as well combine our investigations.

“As long as we avoid lapses in judgment,” I whisper then clear my throat.

“Absolutely.” He smirks again. Seriously, he’s a total bastard.

“Fine. We’ll work together.” Ugh. “I feel a little sick from agreeing to that.”

Drake’s smirk becomes a mischievous grin. “No sicker than I felt proposin’ the idea. I’m gonna get this certificate Monday morning and we’ll work on Lena’s life in Houston—see if there’s a connection to Daniel.”

I can’t help my smile. I can’t. I slowly walk backward, bringing my thumb to my mouth. “I’m going to Houston tomorrow. You can wait until Monday morning or you can come with me.”

His smile drops. “I’m comin’. You can’t go alone.”

I roll my eyes.

“Trust me, Noelle. When I say it ain’t safe, it ain’t safe. You’re embedded so deeply in this investigation that your connection is deeper than just coincidental discovery places and being hired by the victim’s husband.”

His words send a chill through me—one that crawls and twists its way across my skin until I’m all but shivering. “You think I’m in that much danger?” I ask softly.

His lips’ thinning is his answer.

“Then I guess you better come with me. Meet me at my house at six a.m. Look like…well, not like a cop.” I shrug and turn to the door.

“What exactly are you hopin’ to find in Houston?”

“The truth,” I say, opening the door and meeting his eyes. “You say everyone who looks at me underestimates me. Tell me, Detective. Do you?”

He looks at me stonily, the twitch of his lips to the side his only movement. “You surprise me on a regular basis, Ms. Bond, so yes. I probably do underestimate you.”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

“I think that was a compliment.”

“Oh, it was.” I match the curve of his lips with my own. “My nonna is a pain in my ass, but she taught me several things. My favorite? A smart man, a good man, will always underestimate a woman. Not because he thinks she’s worthless or beneath him, but because he knows she’s on a pedestal towering above him. Remember that.”