by Jada Cox
I, however, wasn’t.
During the security meeting, the instructor had told me just how dangerous of a guy Rowe was. I knew why the police weren’t involved. They’d been paid off. Rowe was a powerful guy, and whoever he was working for was certainly making sure he was paid well. There were a lot of hands putting money into many pockets to keep everything hush-hush. The question, then, was who was hiring JC Detectives to find all this out? And what were they going to do with the information?
One thing I did know was that I couldn’t stop thinking about going over to Violet’s house. I almost felt like I just wanted to check on her and make sure she was alright. I knew that it was unlikely that these guys were going to come all the way out to Rock Creek, especially since we hadn’t even begun to tail them, but I still would feel better if I knew she was alright.
It felt unwise to leave her unsupervised. If something was going to happen to her as a result of this case, whoever did it wasn’t going to make sure that she was still on the clock when they did it.
I was grateful that I lived so close to her in case things did get out of hand. At least, I would know that I’d be over there in a heartbeat. I would do anything to protect her. After all, she was my mate.
I sat bolt right up at that last thought.
Mate? Did I really just think that?
I didn’t believe in mates. They were just something for love stories among shifters, that was all. But for the first time in my long life, I wondered if something like that could possibly exist. Were there such things as mates? And if so, would I know? How would I know?
Was that the reason why I was thinking about Violet so much? Couldn’t I get that house out of my head, because she, my mate, was in there?
I settled back down on my inflatable mattress, my mind tied up in the concept that maybe Violet was more than just a fleeting interest for me, more than someone I wanted to get involved with and date. For the first time, all I could think about was whether or not she was my mate. If she was, what did that mean for my lifestyle? Could a human be mated to a shifter?
My mind went to her house again, wondering if I should be checking on her.
I was going to have to stop. She didn’t want security at all, and it wasn’t going to help if I hovered over her. But then again, it was my job to do that, wasn’t it? I was still new to the company, but if I wasn’t making sure she was safe, then I wasn’t doing it right.
I thought about what I had seen between Violet and Don and wondered if I wasn’t just there to keep an eye on her, to be a helping hand in case she couldn’t get the case done. I wondered if I was there to actually undermine her, like she thought I was.
No, that couldn’t be. They would have told me in my briefing, and nothing like that was even breathed. But then again, as I told Violet at lunch, their security department was a little laughable. I had used my fake ID and everything to get my job there, and no one was the wiser. Surely, detail for a private eye company would be more meticulous at looking into backgrounds. Not that I’d wanted them to be. If they had been, they might have found out that this was just the latest in a long line of revolving false identification cards, that each one put my date of birth more and more recent as the years progressed. That was one of the hardships of being a Dragon shifter—it made being on any books that much harder. We didn’t age like anyone else, not even like other shifters that I knew about.
This thought led me right back to Violet. Would she want to be with a Dragon? Could I drag her into the shifter world?
Was she my mate?
Chapter 8 - Violet
I stared at the computer screen, not even sure what I was looking at anymore. This case was exhausting, and finding evidence for Skeet Rowe’s money laundering was just as exhausting. As it turned out, the man was squeaky clean. I was beginning to wonder if there was anything to be found on him at all. The only thing that kept me looking was that I knew that whoever had hired us for the job paid a pretty penny, and that wasn’t something they were going to do if they only had a hunch.
Unless, of course, the person who hired us was Rowe himself.
That had been an idea I’d toyed with. Malcolm had suggested the other day that the police were in Rowe’s pocket. And I wondered if maybe Rowe had hired us to fail to bring in any evidence, only to bring further proof of his innocence in case things went wrong.
No, that didn’t make sense. There were some good cops out there, and that’s why I’d been brought in. Those good cops were the ones who hired me, the ones who knew that I was capable of getting undeniable, unignorable evidence against this guy.
Then again, I was going on faith that Don hadn’t lied to me. He was the one who’d told me that someone from the police department had specifically asked for me. There was no reason for Don to lie to me, other than to maybe save face for actually putting me on a real case. And I didn’t think he was big enough of a man to throw me a bone.
Malcolm and I had spent weeks trying to tail Rowe, trying to find something, anything on him. We spent many nights sitting in a car together, just waiting to see what happened next. All the gangs I thought he might have been affiliated with turned out to be false leads. I sent Malcolm into the strip clubs to see if Rowe was meeting up with anyone. So far, no. We paid for information, and while we had some luck with his secretary, Rachelle (who, it turned out, also hated her boss—we got along just fine), we didn’t find out much that we didn’t already know. Rachelle was at least willing to keep an ear out for us. We tailed the guy on countless nights and did everything short of tapping his phone. Still, nothing. The guy was just as clean as could be.
Despite not finding anything useful during our sleuthing, I did find that I was really enjoying my time with Malcolm. He was sweet and funny and had interesting perspectives on things. He would tell me about his travels across the country on his motorcycle with his friends, and I was even beginning to lighten up on the idea that all bikers were jerks or, at the very least, unreliable. He had long since redeemed his tardiness on his first day with me and showed himself to not only do his job well but also not be too bad of a partner in sleuthing.
I was finding that I was looking forward to each shift I worked with him. No matter my mood, he always seemed to have something to say that would cheer me up, whether it was a joke or a strange historical fact woven into a story as if he’d been there. He had a strange knowledge of 20th century history, and he would always tell me such interesting things.
I was having to give myself a mental slap on the wrist when, alone at home, I caught myself smiling about something he said earlier in the day. Those were dangerous early signs. I would not develop feelings for him. It was a bad idea. I didn’t need to be bringing my personal life into to work, and I didn’t need my professional life on my doorstep.
Except, it kind of already was on my doorstep. Malcolm was, after all, my neighbor.
I glanced out the window. It was getting dark. Malcolm would be around any moment to come pick me up in his new car. More trailing behind Rowe to see where he would take us was on the schedule for the evening. I wasn’t expecting much. So far, the most we had seen on Tuesday evenings like this one was that he went to play racket ball at the gym before going home.
I toyed with the thought of sending Malcolm in to play with him and see if he could find anything out, but it seemed too risky, especially since Malcolm had already been in the strip clubs to keep an eye on him. What if Rowe recognized him? It seemed better to keep us both as faceless as possible to him for the time being. Plus, this was my case, not Malcolm’s. I might have been his to protect, but this was my case.
“You ready?” he asked as he came into my office.
I turned off the computer monitor and scooped my purse from the floor. “Yep.”
“To the gym?”
“That’s my guess,” I said. I turned the lights off as I left my office and closed the door behind me. It was unlikely that we would be coming back tonight.
“
Another eventful evening,” I said, sighing as the lights in Rowe’s house turned off. We had done enough overnight stake-outs to know he wasn’t likely to go anywhere. There, so far, had been no changes to his routine to indicate otherwise. “Let’s call it a night.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You never know what might change.”
“At this point, I’m almost beyond caring.”
“Wow, you’re really dedicated to the job,” he joked.
“I’m just trying to gage whether there’s a case here at all,” I said. “Come on, it’s a long drive back to Rock Creek.”
Malcolm started the car and pulled away from the curb. I watched the house as we passed it, trying to see if there was anything, anything at all that had changed. Nothing, as far as I could tell. The only thing changing was my disappointment, which was building with every day on this case.
“I tell you what,” Malcolm said. “Let’s get something to eat and a drink.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, cautiously. “It’s been a long day, it’s a long way back, and I don’t think that I have it in me.”
“Nothing fancy,” he said. “Just maybe pizza at Italiano’s in Rock Creek. You’ve got to eat.”
I couldn’t argue with him, though I thought I probably should. Then, my body betrayed me and let out a long growl from the pit of my stomach.
“That settles it,” he said. “I’ll drop you off at your car, and then we’ll meet there.”
I sighed, smiled, and shook my head. “Alright, alright. We can go get some food. That pizza place is pretty good, too. Have you eaten there?”
“I may have already experienced their delivery service a time or two,” he said.
Malcolm took me back to the office where my car was, and I set off on the drive out of Atlanta and into Rock Creek. I tried to mentally prepare myself for our dinner together, trying to wave off thoughts of whether I looked alright to be dining with him, whether this was a date, and whether I wanted it to be a date. I told myself I had to make sure I didn’t drink too much, and that I needed to insist on paying the bill at the end, or at least my share of it, so he didn’t think it was, at least.
We had been out for lunch plenty of times, as Malcolm had promised we would. But having lunch during work hours, in the middle of the day, away from home, felt far less intimate than going to an Italian pizza place a mile away from my house, in the dark, and with alcohol.
The whole drive there, I couldn’t help but notice the bubbling excitement inside of me.
I parked next to Malcolm as he got out of the car and waited for me before we both meandered into the restaurant.
I sat down and immediately wanted a glass of wine. That was the effect of the scent of delicious, cheesy Italian carbs on me. Just the smell made me want red wine to accompany it. I knew it was just some odd comfort thing I’d developed, but I always felt that I was being healthier if I had a glass of red wine with an unhealthy meal.
“What’s that look on your face?” Malcolm asked as we slid into the booth.
“I want wine,” I confessed.
“Then have wine. This is on me.”
“Shut up,” I said. “No, it’s not. My meal, anyway. We’re not getting in the habit of you spending your paycheck on meals for me.”
“Violet, I have this job for fun, not because I need it,” he said, winking. “Besides, what else am I going to spend my money on?”
“Thank you, but no,” I said. “And maybe I shouldn’t have wine because I’m kind of a lightweight. I don’t drink often. And I’m going to have to drive after this, even if it’s only a short distance.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Malcolm said. “I’ll drive you back, and I’ll take you to get your car in the morning. Go crazy.”
I laughed. “If you call one glass of wine going crazy.”
Malcolm caught the eye of a server and ordered a bottle of red wine to share between the two of us as well as some water. As he opened his menu to scan it, I caught myself watching him. He was very involved in what he did, very focused. I knew he said he was a slow reader, but it wasn’t because he didn’t read. I took him to very much be a reader. As I watched him, I realized it was because he took the time to take in each item he read and consider it with all seriousness. He wasn’t simply scanning over it to know what to eat; it was like he was studying it.
We ordered, and I tried not to listen when he ordered pizza and baked spaghetti for himself while I treated myself to spinach tortellini.
“So,” Malcolm said. “Any ideas as to who hired you yet?”
“Why do you ask?” I responded as our wine arrived and the server graciously poured a small amount into each glass.
“It just seems strange to me that someone would pay this much to hire a private investigation agency to find something on someone who I’m beginning to think is innocent.”
I shook my head after sipping the wine. Malcolm had a superb wine taste, it turned out. “I very much do not think that guy is innocent. He was this elusive being back when I was on the force. We all knew he was involved and stuff, but no one could ever get anything to prove it. Anyway, it’s some of my guys who hired us.”
“Your guys?”
“Yeah,” I said. “From the police force. You said it yourself, a lot of the cops are in Rowe’s pocket. So the good ones who are left came to me. I’m not in the system anymore.”
“I had no idea,” Malcolm said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t need to know,” I said. “You’re not my partner.”
“I know,” he said, sipping his own wine. “Can I ask you something? You tell me I’m not your partner a lot. Why?”
“Because you’re not,” I replied simply.
“No, there’s something else there,” he said. “And I think it has something to do with when you were working for the police department.”
I sighed. He had me.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll tell you. But it’s not something I like talking about, alright?”
“I won’t bug you about it.”
I finished my glass of wine, and Malcolm took the bottle to fill my glass again. I let him.
“When I was at the police, I had a partner, Keswick, who I was really close to. We were like best friends. He found out that his wife had been using drugs while she was at home alone with their infant daughter. Their divorce was nasty. She came from money and used a lot of it on a pretty damn good divorce lawyer who accused my partner of all sorts of stuff. Really dragged him through the mud. But in the end, he still won the custody battle and was able to keep his daughter. Anyway, none of that matters. We were close, that’s all. And then we were working on this case, and we got into a dangerous situation, and … he …. we …” I brought my thumb up to scratch under my eye, wiping away a tear as discretely as I could. “Well, he died. There in my arms. I couldn’t save him. I should have done something, protected him somehow. But I couldn’t.”
“Violet,” Malcolm said softly, reaching across the table and putting his hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
I nodded, trying to keep my emotion out of my throat. “After that, I just couldn’t stay with the police. It was my fault, and everything there reminded me of him. So I left. Which is why I work for Justin Case Detectives.”
“What happened with his daughter?” Malcolm asked.
“She went to her grandmother’s on her mom’s side,” I said. “Keswick’s ex spent all of her and her parents’ money on drugs and rehab. The grandmother now lives in a trailer park, a few doors down from her daughter. Keswick was the breadwinner, and he’s gone, so I opened an account for his daughter. I pay into her college fund every paycheck I get. I want to make sure she has a good start to life, despite everything that happened.”
“That’s really noble of you,” he said.
I shook my head. “It’s not. But it’s the only thing I could think of to do for him.” I tried my eye-scratching trick agai
n for another tear before clearing my throat. “Anyway, that’s why I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Well,” Malcolm said, holding up his wineglass. “Here’s to our non-partnership.”
I gently tapped my glass against his. “To our non-partnership. Long may it reign.”
Chapter 9 - Malcolm
I could tell that Violet didn’t drink much. It wasn’t that she couldn’t hold herself well once she had a glass, but her eyes just got a little softer and her face a little rosier.
I drove her home from the restaurant, which wasn’t far. Really, we could have walked. But given that it was the middle of the week, I knew that at least one of us would want our cars without having to walk a mile for it. She had expressed repeatedly that it would be a cold day in hell that she’d get on a motorcycle with me, so I thought at least I should drive us back.
I pulled into her driveway and hopped out of the car, walking around to open her door for her.
“I didn’t know you were such a gentleman,” she said. “I can open my own door.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to,” I said, offering her my hand as she climbed out of the vehicle.
“Well, thank you for dinner. You weren’t supposed to pay for that,” Violet said.
“I know,” I said. “You told me.”
“I’m telling you again,” she said, smiling. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Damn,” I said, walking with her along the path to her front door. “Using my own words against me.”
“You come out with some clever things sometimes.”
Violet fumbled for her keys in her purse before finding them and unlocking the door.
“Thank you,” she said.
“What for?”
She stepped closer to me, her green eyes looking up and into mine. “I don’t know. I just thought I should thank you.”
I saw the moment, that little window of opportunity. I was not about to waste it. I leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were so soft, so perfect. I felt my body move toward hers like I was connecting to a lost piece of my life that I didn’t even know was missing. I felt as though we were connecting on a deeper level than just bringing our flesh together, as if there was some cosmic force wrapping itself around me. Was this what fate was? Was this what it meant to find your mate?