by BJ Bentley
At that, she whirled around with a glare. “Don’t you effing dare!” She pointed a finger at me then decided to clench her fists at her sides instead. “You have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. You could at least have the decency to give me time to sort through it.”
And that was just it. I didn’t want to give her time to sort through anything. I wanted her to feel the same way I did. I wanted her to go with her gut. She had great instincts. I just wanted her to trust them.
To trust me.
Still, I wasn’t in her shoes, so I had to let her off the hook, no matter how much it pained me. “Fine,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.” I scrubbed a hand over my head thinking it was lucky my hair wasn’t long enough to grip, or I was likely to pull it out.
“Look,” she said, putting a knee to the mattress and crawling toward me. “I’m not looking to blow you off or dismiss what we just did.” She’d managed to pull her panties on, but that was as far as she’d gotten, so when she straddled me, her bare breasts were in my face, and I nearly forgot what we’d been talking about. “I’m just asking for some patience.” Her small but mighty hands squeezed my neck. It was a comforting gesture, and I felt the last of my ire drain from my body, my muscles going slack with surrender.
“Patience.” I chuckled wryly. “Not exactly a virtue I possess.”
“Ahh.” She smiled when she shrugged. “Even old dogs can learn new tricks.”
I narrowed my eyes on that smile. The one that said she forgave me for being a dick and had already moved on. There was also something mischievous in it, something I didn’t pick up until it was too late.
I’d always had great reflexes. Kind of have to in my line of work. Being too slow to think or move can get you hurt or even killed. But I had nothing on the seemingly non-threatening bombshell in my lap, so I didn’t see it coming when her fingertips dug into my ribs on either side of my chest, zeroing in on the ticklish spot she’d accidentally stumbled upon while I’d been on top of her earlier.
My body jerked in surprise as a strangled laugh lodged in my throat.
I got my payback when I whipped her around and tore her black lace thong clean in half.
16
Poppy
I rinsed the conditioner from my hair, feeling like I’d just successfully dodged a bullet. Okay, maybe I hadn’t come away completely unscathed, but I’d managed to cool Vance’s jets.
And even that was probably temporary, but he had no idea, being in the boys club, what it was going to be like for me if word of our…affair?… got out. He’d no doubt get a pat on the back and a round of celebratory drinks at Rizzo’s. I, on the other hand, could face disciplinary action or ridicule from my brothers in blue. Likely, even both.
I shoved aside the shower curtain and wrapped myself in a plush towel before I noticed the steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee adorning the counter on the far side of the sink. I smiled at the thoughtfulness of the simple gesture, and that smile only grew when I took my first sip and realized it was doctored just the way I liked it— sweetened with a shot of the caramel syrup I kept stocked in the kitchen cupboard and plenty of cream. I closed my eyes and savored my second sip.
Once I was dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a heather gray tank top, I took my coffee and ventured downstairs in search of my houseguest.
“She’s fine, Maxie, I promise,” I heard Vance saying for what I assumed was not the first time.
“I just want to see for myself.”
I stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and took in the scene. Vance stood, shirtless and casual as could be, against the counter, his own coffee mug raised to his lips. Maxie stood just off to the side with what looked like a chocolate layer cake held aloft in her hands.
Vance noticed me first and shot me a wink and a smug grin.
I fought against rolling my eyes. “Hey, Max.”
“Oh! Poppy!” Maxie whirled around like a mini tornado, nearly dropping the cake in the process.
“Whoa!” Vance and I both yelled, lurching forward to steady her.
“Why don’t we set this down, Max.”
She obliged, letting the cake rest in the center of my small two-seater kitchen table.
“Looks amazing,” I said. “Is that chocolate on chocolate?”
“Actually it’s chocolate raspberry on chocolate. Four layers of it, in fact. Topped with chocolate ganache.” She spoke of her baked goods with confidence, as she should, because everything she made was delicious. But she was trying to hide the fact that she was wringing her hands in the folds of her jersey dress. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “No way do you need to thank me for anything. If anything, I should be baking you something as an apology for last night.”
“You bake?” Vance asked.
I declined to answer.
“No, Pop. Seriously. Thank you for stepping in when you did. I’m afraid things would have gotten ugly if you hadn’t. Or, more ugly,” she corrected, almost to herself.
I shot Vance a questioning glance, but he only shrugged in response.
“You’re welcome,” I conceded, if for no other reason than to prevent Maxie from going on and insisting that I’d done her a favor when we all knew I’d caused a scene at her big showing, and I could have ruined the whole night for her. I was already uncomfortable with how it played out, I didn’t want to dwell. I knew I’d done the right thing when Maxie’s face broke out in a wide grin.
“Right. Well, sorry to interrupt your…morning.” Her eyes darted between Vance and me before landing on me and widening in universal girl code for ‘tell me everything as soon as he’s gone.’
I gave her a sly smile in response and felt my face heat with a blush which only intensified when I caught Vance’s knowing grin.
I spun around, walking Maxie to the door.
“I want to know everything!” she stage-whispered on her way over the threshold.
“Later,” I hissed back, knowing she wouldn’t let it go until I fulfilled that promise, but I was going to put it off as long as possible.
Back in the kitchen, Vance was licking the remnants of chocolate frosting from a fork, and the beautiful cake Maxie had just dropped off had a glaring chunk missing out of one side.
“You couldn’t have bothered to cut it first?”
Vance’s response was to dig the fork in for another bite and feed it to me. I closed my eyes when the flavor hit my tongue and moaned in a way that could only mean one thing: foodgasm. I guess I couldn’t blame Vance for not slicing it first. It was too good to wait. Caught up in savoring the chocolate and raspberry mixture melting in my mouth, I jolted when Vance’s warm, wet tongue landed on my lips. I dragged my heavy lids open, drunk on the taste of chocolate and Vance.
He stared down at me, the stormy sea in his eyes threatening to drown me in their consuming depths. “What are your plans for the day?” he rasped.
I blinked, momentarily unable to form words since my tongue was otherwise occupied chasing its new favorite flavor combination. I hummed in the back of my throat. It was the only sound I was capable of making.
Vance’s devilish smile flashed. “If there isn’t anything on your agenda, I can think of a few things.”
“It’s the weekend,” I murmured, eventually coming to my senses. The lust fog Vance emitted was a thick one. It took me a bit to make my way out of the swirling and potent haze of desire.
“It is,” he agreed, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m usually at Linc’s on the weekends.”
“Linc’s? The old boxing gym downtown?” His brows shot up in surprise.
“Mhmm.”
“Huh. I would have pegged you as a card-carrying member of somewhere a little less…”
“What?” I narrowed my gaze, daring him to finish that sentence with anything that sounded remotely like an insult.
“Gritty,” he finished.
I couldn’t say
I was thrilled with his word choice, but I couldn’t fault it either. Linc’s was gritty. But that’s what I liked about it. Gritty was real. It wasn’t shiny or polished, the type of place designed to draw in the yuppy crowd who only exercised in order to preen for selfies in the bathroom mirror. Linc wouldn’t kick a peacock out of his gym, but he wouldn’t have to. They would never survive a session unless they were serious.
“Linc’s is a serious gym,” I informed him.
“I’m sure it is. Lincoln Jefferson has been whipping the asses of young punks into shape for nearly fifty years,” he said, his grin knowing. “Including mine.”
“Really?” I hadn’t expected that confession.
“Yeah. Haven’t been there in years, though. How is old man Jefferson?”
I raised a brow. “Still able to kick your butt if he hears you refer to him as an old man.”
Vance chuckled. “No doubt,” he muttered, his expression pensive.
I shuffled my feet where I stood, unsure of my next words until they were out of my mouth. “Do you want to go with me today?”
“To Linc’s?”
“Yeah. I’m sure he can still teach you a thing or two,” I teased.
“Are you gonna spar with me, baby?” He wrapped his arms around me as he spoke, effectively trapping me against his hard frame.
“Depends. Are you willing to get your butt kicked?”
“Think you can take me, rookie?” His arms tightened, and the muscles of his chest weren’t the only hard thing I felt pressing into me.
I fought against the lazy heaviness in my lids to narrow my eyes into a glare. “Only one way to find out.”
“C’mon, son, I taught you better than that!”
I nearly snorted at Linc’s razzing. This was after the third time I’d taken Vance to the mat.
“She doesn’t fight fair,” Vance grumbled, springing to his feet.
“She’s a woman, boy. Women can’t afford to fight fair.”
The look on Vance’s face was one of painful acknowledgment. I, and the women I trained, knew Linc spoke the truth, and most of us knew it from first hand experience. I sensed Vance knew it too. It was just that his knowledge came from whatever evils he witnessed on the job. He’d never been a victim himself, but he saw the struggle with his own eyes and gave a damn. That counted for something.
“And quit holding back. I know you got moves you haven’t even pulled out yet,” he added.
That made my head whip around. “Hey! Whose side are you on?”
Linc grinned, the toothpick in the corner of his mouth bobbing with the movement. “You can’t be the best until you best the best, you feel me?”
“Best the best,” I muttered. “Got it.” I punched my ungloved fists together, making sure my tape held, and wiggled my fingers at Vance in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Show me these moves, Brody.”
Vance closed his eyes on a reluctant sigh. “If I pin you, are you going to make me sleep on the couch?”
I gave him wide eyes, thankful that Linc had already wandered away to restock the towels and hopefully didn’t hear the question. The last thing I needed was the only father figure I had left lecturing me on the complete lunacy of sleeping with my superior officer, a fact I was wholly aware of and not too keen to be reminded of. “You’re not going to pin me, so I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”
He dropped his head back, muttering, “I am going to regret this,” before shaking his arms and assuming a fighting stance.
I assumed a defensive position, keeping my body loose but prepared for action. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the adrenaline that would have me springing forward in an attack that I wasn’t prepared to make, and I did not want to make that mistake. There was something about sparring with Vance that raised the stakes. I couldn’t let him see me fail.
More determined than ever to beat him, I was so focused on waiting for him to make a move, I didn’t recognize it when he did.
And that was my crucial mistake.
His smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, drawing my attention to the very seductive lips I’d had on me just that morning. And the night before. Suddenly, memories of the hours I’d spent in Vance’s arms flooded my brain, the resulting heat suffusing my system. My body, which had been poised for attack, became languid with warmth. My vision blurred around the edges remembering the salty taste of his skin and the rigidity of his tightly packed muscles and how they rippled underneath my touch.
And that was why I never saw it coming.
I barely had time to react, and when I did, it was an uncoordinated flailing of limbs. Pathetic, really. Linc had taught me better, and I felt a rush of shame and anger flush my face as I blinked up at the flickering industrial shop lights from my supine position on the mat.
“The key to any good offense is distraction.” Vance’s lips grazed the shell of my ear where he’d rasped his words.
“You played me,” I bit out.
“You fell for it,” he volleyed back, the smug smile never leaving his face.
I planted my hands on his shoulders and heaved. I was no match for his strength and weight, but unlike a true assailant, Vance knew when to take no for an answer and lifted himself off me. I ignored his extended hand and got to my feet on my own.
“Don’t be mad, Poppy, you can kick some serious ass, but I’ve got strength and experience on you. It was bound to happen.”
I opened my mouth to snap what was sure to be a cutting remark when I suddenly became aware of Linc’s presence back in the room. His sigh drew my attention away from Vance and the look on his face was one I didn’t like.
“I didn’t teach him that one. Still, if you’ve got a weapon like that, why not use it?” His lips twitched in amusement, which irritated me even more.
I looked around the gym, my gaze landing anywhere but on either of the two men who flanked me. Still, from the corner of my eye, I could see Vance’s smile grow, and I waged a war within myself. One side wanted to kiss him while the other side wanted to punch him.
Both sides lost when I stormed off toward the locker rooms, ignoring my name being called by both the man I respected above all others and the man who just exposed my greatest weakness.
17
Vance
I was ready to punch something.
Maybe even my partner’s face if he didn’t keep his snickering to a minimum.
“What are you even doing here? I thought you were working that joint task force in Sunnyville?”
“I’m only here to wrap up this B & E report so Carol Ann will stop leaving me angry voicemails.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“You have no idea,” he muttered, shuffling the file into a folder and standing. “I’m going to personally deliver this to the old dragon, and then I’m outta here for the foreseeable future.”
“Careful out there.” I toasted him with my lukewarm coffee before taking a gulp and grimacing. It was colder and even more bitter than the usual swill The Beat produced.
“You be careful,” Colin returned. “The way Poppy’s been looking at you, it’s only a matter of time before you find a slug between your eyes.”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled. Since our sparring session over the weekend, Poppy has been nursing one hell of a grudge. She hasn’t kicked me out of her bed, yet, but I could also feel her holding something back. Hence, my need to punch something. With every step I made forward, Poppy found a way to force me back two.
Right now she was in Captain Griffin’s office for her weekly check in. The captain called her bluff when she said she was fine and tried to cancel their meeting. His shrewdness was one of the qualities that led him to his position, and he’d clearly cottoned on to Poppy’s mood lately. It was fairly common to see rookies come in, straight out of the academy, and realize a bit too late that policing wasn’t the life for them. Poppy being a Leighton, well, that just meant that Griffin was giving her extra attention. What would normally be a biweekly report was a weekl
y one for Poppy, and it irritated me to no end that she was probably confiding things in the captain that she should be confiding in me.
We’d crossed all the lines going from partners to lovers, but it seemed Poppy was trying to backtrack. Too bad for her, she’d already given me a piece of herself, and I wouldn’t let her take it back.
I closed out of the report I’d been half-heartedly typing up —probably riddled with all kinds of errors thanks to my distraction— when Captain Griffin’s door opened and Poppy stepped out.
“Thanks, Cap, I really appreciate it,” I heard her say before Griffin rumbled something in response and she gave him a nod.
I watched her long legs eat up the distance from Griffin’s office to our section of the bullpen all the while beating back the urge to demand to know what their conversation entailed. Was she struggling? Did she need anything? If so, why wasn’t she talking to me about it? My compulsion to solve her problems stemmed from more than being her mentor. It came from being her man. If Colin were still here, he’d laugh and offer me Neosporin for the scrapes I was earning by dragging my knuckles around.
“Everything good?”
Her eyes flashed with what I thought was annoyance --her default setting with me, lately-- and her lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yeah. Great.”
It was only by Herculean effort that I refrained from growling. I didn’t know what her problem was, but I was going to find out. “You hungry? I was thinking the diner for lunch. Pretty sure the special is mac and cheese today.”
“Yeah, sure,” she mumbled off-handedly, no longer looking at me. Instead, her wide eyes were trained on her brother as he entered the bullpen. In less than three seconds, she was up out of her chair, heading straight for Heath, and demanding to know how he got the nasty shiner that was gracing his left eye.
“I’m fine, Pop.” Heath grabbed her wrist, which inexplicably pissed me off, since I could see he wasn’t hurting her, and pulled her probing fingers away from his battered face. “Just a little fender bender on my way home last night.”