by Trixie More
Sophia shrugged.
“Maybe.” It wasn’t worth arguing with her boss over. “I’ve done some digging into a precedent for those three cases you asked about. I’ve emailed you the findings. Do you want paper on any of them?”
“Email’s fine,” he said. “We have a new case that came in yesterday. Small grocer, lottery, cigarettes, using cyber currency to fund something back in his home country. I sent you the info yesterday late. I need to decide if we’re prosecuting; the arresting team had enough to charge him.”
She scrolled through her emails.
“You look like shit, Sophia,” Jacob said, his voice kind. Then he chuckled. “Is that the first time anyone’s ever said that to you?”
“What?”
“Your eyes were as big as saucers when I said that,” he said. “I just meant, I’m sorry you had a tough day yesterday. I’m assuming it wasn’t anything fun.”
She glanced down and then back at him. He was charming, clean-shaven, with the almond-shaped eyes of his Japanese mother, a long, lean, very handsome man. She shivered.
“No, it wasn’t any fun,” she said. Except some of it was. Her mind flashed back to the alley, Doug pulling her to him and then her uppercut that just missed hitting square beneath his chin. Instead, she’d caught Doug slightly to his left side. She could still feel the ache in her knuckles. Her gaze flickered to the slight bruising there.
“What’d you do to your hand?”
The guy was observant, she’d give him that. There was no point in lying. Not this time.
“I punched someone.”
He gawked at her. “Seriously?”
“Yes. He was getting between me and my email.” She kept her face deadpan. “I find keeping up with my inbox very compelling.”
Jacob laughed and took his ass off the corner of her desk. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone,” he said.
“What’s to miss? You’re only going to your office,” she replied, feeling a bit better.
“Anyway. I hope today is better.” With that, he sauntered off in the direction of the break room.
For her part, she was true to her word, at least in the sense that she went to work clearing out her never empty inbox.
The day had started to turn cloudy by the time Jacob came to get her for lunch, and when she left the building well after six p.m., it was downright nasty out. The wind churned between the buildings, pushing damp mist ahead of it as if the whole city were sitting inside a rain cloud. No less than five of her coworkers took the opportunity to tease her about being without her ever-present raincoat on a day she actually needed it.
The dry cleaner had her coat ready, it was fresh and crisp, and the sleeve was returned to its former pristine state. As if she’d never tailed a suspect through the subway as if she’d never been caught trying to get off a train at the last minute as if she’d never been pulled behind a stanchion and asked: “What if I break your heart?”
On the street, in the damp mist, Sophia barked out a laugh at the memory. What a fool she was. Sophia had gone right up to him, the scent of him in her nostrils, the feel of his beard still on her palm and told him he would never have a chance to break her heart. Forty minutes later, she’d been halfway in love with him, dragging her chair closer to him, her cheek resting on his chest, charmed.
She’d been charmed, mesmerized. Why?
Traitorous body. Between Sophia’s legs, the aching tingle began as remembered. How could she be turned on by a man so completely not what she should want?
Her mind stutter-stopped at that thought. What if Doug was precisely what she should want? Her pace slowed, and behind her, a muffled curse erupted. A woman dressed in high fashion—heels, jumpsuit, elegant coat, bleached hair, long and straight—sped past her.
Sophia didn’t speed up. She needed to think about this. Ben had been devoted to her, even in bed, worshiping her body, but it had been so difficult, so rarely, that she was able to reciprocate. Her mind was never fully present when they were together that way. Ben was patient with her, accepting her freedom to come and go, to sleep on the couch, to work long hours. It had been clear that he wasn’t happy with that lifestyle but he continued to support her, never asking for any rent or contribution from her, backing off when she shot down his thinly disguised suggestions that they marry and get on with creating a family. All of that just made her feel more muffled, more coddled, more encapsulated.
What was different about Doug? She shook her head and picked up her pace, thoughts flooding in like the tide.
Well, for starters, he was a rat. His disloyalty had left her humiliated in an alley. He was a criminal, and he still hadn’t paid for all of his crimes. Even if Tom’s story gave his assault on Ed context, it also clearly implicated Doug in a heinous crime that couldn’t just be forgiven or swept aside. There was a victim and a consequence for the act and Doug should be brought to justice.
Sophia paused her thinking, waiting to see what emotional reaction she had to that idea. She felt resignation and determination. She liked him but she still believed in justice.
Stil, she also had a separate part of her, just as a woman, who cared for someone even though she knew he’d done wrong. Why? How? He had no respect for her personal space, reached out and touched her whenever he wanted, didn’t seem to revere her at all. After her assault at the fair, how come she could tolerate that about Doug? And when she punched him? He stopped, but he didn’t apologize, and he didn’t get all weird or even offended. He just waited and accepted that one minute she was fighting him and the next she was falling all over him. He took it all in stride. He didn’t try to stop her from being a prosecutor, from taking risks. He followed her, true, but he didn’t treat her like a child. He wanted her, but he didn’t seem to think she was anything special or fragile, and holy crow, not gay.
“Ugh,” she groaned. She had to let all this go. She was angry at the guy, and anyway, he didn’t want her.
One more intersection to cross and she’d be at her hotel. As the light changed, she thought, he might just work his way out of my system if I don’t see him for a good, long, time.
She crossed the busy intersection and smiled at the doorman to her hotel. The guy tripped over his feet in his attempt to get the door open.
Even with her hair wet and her makeup damp, heads were already turning when she caught a glimpse of something, someone, reflected in the door.
Not long enough, she thought.
Standing across the street was a man with red hair and a scruffy beard. Her man, damn it.
The cheap gray hoodie he was wearing was no match for the mist and wind. Doug tugged the hood up over his head, and his ears felt a bit better. He had his shoulders hunched up and his fists bunched into the pockets, keeping the hood pulled tight. He’d been waiting across from Sophia’s work, hoping to catch her when she came out. He hadn’t been sure what to say to her, he wasn’t very good at taking care of people. That was Alice’s role. He earned the money; she figured out how to use it. Alice wasn’t here and Doug was worried about Sophia. It was possible the man they’d followed on the subway might just turn up following one of them. Doug wanted to warn Sophia but seeing her walk down the street, chin high, the words had dried up in his throat.
Oh, shit. That was Doug’s first thought when he saw her stop at the door to her hotel. He already knew what was coming. He stood his ground, and she wheeled around to look at him. The first thing he felt was a rush of pride. You caught me. And then, dismay. She was not happy.
“You!” Sophia pointed her finger at him. “You better not be here asking to come in.”
He held up his hands, palms out in surrender. “I wouldn’t think of it, honest.”
Sophia marched across the street until she was toe to toe with him. “You wouldn’t even think of being honest.”
“Now, that’s harsh.” He tried to drawl it, but even he couldn’t keep a straight face. Do not laugh, he warned himself silently. She will kill me. He felt his
face lifting in a bit of a smile. He was smart enough to start retreating. He backed up until he felt a wall behind him.
“You’re laughing? At me?” Her voice rising slightly with incredulity, Sophia stalked forward. By the time she spoke again, her voice was low and mean. “What are you doing here?”
His balls tightened. He cleared his throat. “I’m following you.”
“You’re what?” Her voice went down another register, her eyes narrowed.
The low tone drove the blood to his groin. He was both turned on and slightly scared. It was a complex sensation that was entirely new. However, he didn’t think the woman in front of him gave a rat’s ass about their tricky attraction right now.
“First, you humiliate me in front of my family and now you’re stalking me. That’s very dangerous, Lloyd.”
“Doug.”
“What. Ever.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who cares.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“You? Hurt me? Really.” She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried to hit me with a stick. You don’t have the power.”
Oh. Well, that was unexpected. “Oh, um. Good. Good then,” he stammered. “‘Cause I didn’t want to. Hurt you. I mean.”
“I’m a prosecutor for the city of New York,” she said. “Don’t let me catch you following me again.”
Pink color infused her cool ivory skin, her hair was wet, and her makeup was starting to run. She was disheveled but he found he didn’t like it all. “You’re getting soaked.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m standing in the rain, aren’t I?”
“Your coat, it doesn’t have a hood?”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Not your problem, Lloyd.”
“Doug.”
“What. Ever.”
“I’m very sorry. It was better that your family thought I was a jerk.”
“You are a jerk.”
“I mean, they’ll forgive you for kissing me if it stops with that one time.”
Her eyes were wide and incredulous. “You’re certifiable. You know nothing about my family.”
“I know that you have one and they love you. I know I was about to mess that up.”
“We.” she snapped.
“What?” he asked.
“We. You think you were kissing yourself?”
“No, it wasn’t your fault. It was me. I was pushing.”
She shook her head. “You’re much dumber than I thought.”
Off balance, he felt so off-kilter in this conversation.
“You don’t have that much power, Doug.” Sophia was standing in the rain, water dripping from the ends of her hair, making dark patches where it soaked into the fabric of her coat. Her spine was straight as an arrow and the energy coming from her gave him the feeling he had when he watched a stock go up, slowly at first, with the certainty the gains would compound and push its value through the ceiling.
Doug’s chin dipped, he was looking slightly up at her, all traces of his smile gone now. He could feel it, the watchfulness, the way his body prepared for a blow.
He’d only ever had a relationship with Janice, and in that relationship, everything had been his fault. In a way, it made him more powerful, he realized. It made him think he was more powerful, but in the end, he hadn’t been able to stop her from bringing his world down around his ears.
Sophia tipped her head, a small smile on her face as she stared at him. “You don’t see that?”
He certainly believed her powerful now. If they were equal, it was both of them at fault. Or maybe there was no fault at all. The thought stunned him.
She reached toward his face and he caught her wrist. “Are you going to hit me?”
She shook her head and tipped it the other way.
He let go and she laid her palm on his jawline, her thumb brushing his cheek.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” she said.
He stood mute and frozen beneath the warmth of her hand.
She looked at him speculatively. “There’s a part of me that wants to invite you in,” she said.
Oh Lord, yes. I want to come upstairs more than I want to breathe.
Sophia’s complex, compelling mouth turned down, and he found himself unable to look away. Her lips were so full, so kissable.
“I don’t want to make a mistake,” she said, and his heart tore, just a little. He looked away. Sniffed once and drew his hand over his mouth, his eyes roving over the crowds of people on the street. He was a mistake for her. He drew himself up and stepped back, looking her in the eyes.
Sophia’s features hardened. That’s the only word he had for it. Like she was making her mind up, setting herself in stone.
“Don’t follow me again,” she said.
He shook his head no, and his fingers weren’t crossed. Because he wasn’t a child and he wasn’t above lying to her.
She turned and headed back across the street, and in a moment, disappeared behind the glass doors.
And that was that. He’d lost the woman, but at least she was safe. And better off.
He turned to head home, working once again on how he could keep her that way. He tried to ignore the sadness he felt creeping in. He was doing what was best. Besides, the guy with his coat had called him.
Doug headed off to trade half a grand for a three-hundred-dollar coat. After all, loyalty should be rewarded.
Heads turned as she crossed the polished marble lobby floor, even with her hair wet and her makeup probably running down her cheeks. Sophia tucked her chin down into her collar and brought her shoulders up. She just didn’t have her game face anymore. She’d used every bit of it.
Inside her room, it was warm and empty. She toweled her hair dry and ordered room service. The prices were robbery. Then she lay on the bed and decided to finally answer Derrick.
He had sent seven texts.
We need to talk.
:(
:( :( :/
Are you OK?
Where are you?
At least text Allie so I know you’re OK.
That was a long one for her brother.
Then finally:
I love you, I’m scared, please text.
That was the one that got to her.
I’m OK. I’m safe. I’m staying at a hotel and eating better food than you are.
Sophia felt the tight sadness inside ease a bit. Her phone chimed with his reply.
Not likely. Have you met Allie?
Sophia smiled at that and considered the text for a minute.
I’m still mad at you.
Derrick replied with a sad-faced teddy bear gif. Her mouth pursed as she wrestled with her feelings.
You’re supposed to be on my side.
His reply was slow in coming.
I am, but I love Ben too.
A moment passed, and another bubble floated up.
I know you haven’t been happy, Soph
Another unhappy bear.
She was tired.
I have to go. I’m fine.
Chapter 14
The early morning sun glinted off the cold, dark waters of the Hudson. Sophia pulled her coat tighter around her and tugged on the belt. Across the water, the denizens of New Jersey were coming awake, lights on in the townhomes, vehicles starting to rumble over the George Washington Bridge. Here along the banks, she could hear the traffic picking up. She turned up the collar of her raincoat and stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets as she watched the detectives and the coroner do their work. After two hours, you would think they could move the body, but a new officer had just arrived and, Sophia guessed, this must be the person they’d been waiting for. The new officer was relatively young, not over forty, and female. She stepped gingerly over the low wall and headed over the stones to the water’s edge.
When Sophia had arrived, around three thirty this morning, the body had still been where it ha
d been found, half in, half out of the water. The crime scene unit had been photographing the scene, and within a few minutes, they pulled the lifeless man higher onto the shore and turned him face up. By then, Sophia already knew who it was.
It would have been better to have not come so early. It would have been better to not have the image of George Connelly’s once handsome face bloated and malformed, illuminated by the too-bright portable lighting.
Sophia looked down at her boots. One toe was damp, and she wondered if the leather would dry out correctly. A uniform approached from her left.
“Hey, Soph,” the man said. His face was carefully impersonal.
“Hey, Phil.” She didn’t look at him yet. He’d been the one to text her this morning when the ID had been found on the body, but the history between them, a couple of dates, her polite refusal, and his continued interest made her...careful.
“So, that’s him?”
She frowned. “I’m thinking so.” She shook her head. “At least, it was his wallet in the pants pocket. I couldn’t give you a positive ID by looking at him.” A breeze picked up, and they caught the scent of rot, the smell of the water, and the body, mingled. “But really, it could be anybody.”
“Gah. That’s brutal,” Phil said. “I feel bad for the family. It’ll have to be a closed casket.”
She’d thought the same thing. “At least they have a chance to bury him, say goodbye.”
“D’ya think they knew?”
She glanced at him. The sun was over the horizon now, and the sky was losing its morning colors, reds and oranges fading to pale white light.
“I think they spend a lot of time trying to believe he’s alive.”
“Well, I’ll get back down there.” Phil started to head toward the gathering by the water.
“Phil?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I call you tonight and get the details?”
“Soph, you won’t need to. I’ll reach out as soon as I know something.” The look he gave her was both sympathetic and a little sad. They both knew he’d find any chance to call her.