“Thank you, ma’am. Message received.” I looked at Dilton, who was turning a shade of lobster. “I’ll take that badge and service weapon now.”
He came out of his chair like he was on a spring. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, fury flashing in his eyes.
“You wanna take a swing at me, do it. But understand that that’s got its own consequences and you’re about up to your ears in them already,” I warned. “Think on it.”
“This won’t stand,” he snarled, throwing his badge and gun on my desk, knocking over my nameplate in the process. “This is supposed to be a brotherhood. You’re supposed to have my back, not take the word of a couple of asshole outsiders or some pathetic drunk who peaked in high school.”
“You can run your mouth about brotherhood all you want, but the bottom line is you’re in this work for yourself. For the power trips you think you can get out of it. That’s not a brotherhood. That’s one pathetic kid trying to make himself feel like a big man. And you’re right, I’m not gonna stand for it. Neither are any of them.”
I pointed to the window where the rest of Knockemout’s officers stood—even the ones who had the day off. Arms crossed, legs braced. Behind Dilton, Grave grunted in satisfaction.
“Now get out of my station.”
Dilton yanked the door open so hard it bounced off the wall. He stormed out into the bullpen and laid a glare on the rest of the department.
Zeroing in on Tashi, he got in her face, looming over her. “You got a problem, little girl?”
I was halfway out of my seat and Grave was already in the doorway when Tashi smiled up at him. “Not anymore, asshole.”
Bertle and Winslow stepped up behind her, smirking.
Dilton raised a finger, shoved it in her face. “Fuck you.” He glared down the other officers and pointed at them. “Fuck you too.”
With that, he stormed out of the station.
“‘Not anymore, asshole?’ Bannerjee, that’s some G.I. Jane–level shit there,” Winslow said, slapping her on the shoulder.
She beamed like the teacher had just handed over a gold star. Even I couldn’t help but smile.
“Guess I’ll be on my way,” the union rep said with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
“Good luck,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”
“Good to have you back, Chief,” Grave said to me before following her out of my office.
Piper scrabbled at my legs. I leaned down and put her in my lap. “Well, that went well,” I said to the dog.
She gave me an enthusiastic slurp with her tongue before hopping down onto the floor again.
I picked up my nameplate and ran my fingers over the letters. Chief of Police Nash Morgan.
I wasn’t back. Not all the way yet. But it felt like I’d finally taken a step in the right direction.
Maybe it was time to take another.
FIFTEEN
SATAN IN A SUIT
Lina
Naomi: Don’t forget! We shop for bridesmaid dresses Wednesday. I’m thinking all the fs. Fall, fun, and flattering!
Sloane: Lina, I think this means she’s going to dress us up like pumpkins.
Me: Pumpkin is not my color…or shape.
I didn’t enjoy wasting my entire morning fruitlessly checking potential properties off my list. Not when it felt like there was a ticking clock hanging over my head. I needed progress. I needed a break. I needed to stop thinking about Nash Morgan.
That meant banishing all thoughts of his offer, his confessions, and his hot, hard cock. Okay, that last one had already taken up permanent residency in my head. But the rest needed to vacate my brain immediately.
I was mechanically chewing my way through a Cobb salad at a diner forty minutes outside Knockemout when six feet four inches of sin in a suit slid into the booth opposite me.
Lucian Rollins wore danger like it was custom tailored for him.
“Lucian.”
“Lina.” That low timbre, those piercing eyes. Everything about the man was vaguely threatening…and therefore a reasonable distraction from my obsessing over all things Nash.
“What brings you to my booth?”
He stretched one arm across the back of the vinyl cushion, taking up even more space. “You do.”
The perky twentysomething server who’d brought me my food and chatted about my leather biker jacket for five straight minutes hustled up to the table holding a coffeepot at a precarious angle. Her eyes and mouth were wide. “C-coffee?”
“Yes. Thank you,” he said, looping a finger through the handle of the upside-down mug in front of him and flipping it over.
Her eyes got even wider and I wondered if they were about to pop out of her head. Just in case, I moved my salad out of the pop and splatter zone.
“Could I get some extra dressing, please?” I asked when she finally managed to pour the coffee.
“Extra creamer. Got it,” she whispered dreamily and wandered away.
“Great. Now I’m never going to get my extra dressing.”
Lucian’s smile had the bite of frost to it. “I’d hoped this conversation wasn’t going to be necessary.”
“I love it when men track me down and open with that line.”
“Nash Morgan,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“He’s going through a difficult time. I’d hate to see anyone take advantage of that.”
I pointed to myself. “Me?”
“Anyone,” Lucian repeated.
“Good to know.” Not about to make this chat easier on him, I speared another bite of salad with my fork. I chewed thoroughly, not breaking eye contact with Lucian, who didn’t move a muscle.
We stared each other down, willing the other to break first.
These were the kinds of social situations I excelled in. Making small talk about normal girly things? Nope. But going head-to-head with a cagey man when there was important information on the line? This was my Olympics and I was a goddamn gold medalist.
I took a theatrical sip of iced tea. “Ahhhh.”
His lips quirked.
“Are there any other vague statements you’d like to make or are you just going table to table issuing warnings?” I asked.
“We both know you’ve got ulterior motives for being here. I am aware of your employer just as I’m aware of the interesting timing of your arrival in town.”
I feigned shock. “Is there some town ordinance that makes it illegal to work in insurance?”
“Must we play games?”
“Listen, pal. You’re the one who decided to play cat and mouse, hunting me down out of town just to prove you can. I don’t like being toyed with any more than you do. So cut to the chase or you’re going to piss me off,” I said with a mean smile.
Lucian leaned in and interlaced his fingers on the table. “Fine. I know who you are, who you work for, and what happened on your last job.”
I kept my expression one of marked boredom even though that last bit impressed and unnerved me.
“Despite your low profile,” he continued, “you’ve built an impressive reputation for finding things that others couldn’t. You’re known for being fearless to the point of recklessness, a trait rewarded by your employer. You’re not in town for a weeks-long visit with your old pal Knox. You’re here looking for something…or someone.”