by Tes Hilaire
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Tom’s Mustang was gone.” She opened her mouth to tell him she’d seen it but he held up his hand. “It was there, I don’t doubt you on that. Numerous tenants saw it in that garage and there was fresh oil on the ground.”
“You think they followed me from Tom’s car, then took the opportunity to attack when I was alone?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She drummed her fingers against her thigh, remembering how she’d been paranoid that she was being followed. She’d convinced herself that it was Logan she sensed, but was it?
Damon stepped closer, his dark eyes hooded with worry. “Did you notice anything unusual about them, babe? Any distinctive features? Something that we can tell the rest of the guys to look for?”
She looked from Damon to Mike. She felt positively stupid for saying this, especially with Damon here, but… “Their teeth. I think they may have undergone some of that cosmetic dentistry that Melissa was talking about.”
“You’re shitting me,” Mike said.
“Cosmetic dentistry?” Damon asked over him.
Mike made a motion with his hand. Two fingers extended like fangs.
Damon folded his arms, lips pulled tight.
“Melissa says there is a subculture of Goth types who like to play at vampirism,” Jessica explained.
“And they attacked you? Two of them?”
She started to shrug it off, but Mike pointed his finger at her, waving it. “Don’t you dare say it was nothing.”
She closed her mouth.
Another significant look passed between the men.
“What?” she snapped.
Mike jerked back around, his face almost apologetic as he spoke. “That time-off thing might not be a bad idea.”
She wanted to say she wasn’t some fragile wallflower. That she could handle a couple of assholes in a garage. But she couldn’t exactly say that truthfully now could she? And besides, wasn’t the entire point of this visit to drop off the evidence and remove herself from the case?
She cleared her throat, pointedly not looking at Damon. God, what must he be thinking? That you’re insane? That you’re chicken? Ding, ding, right on both accounts. Though not for the reasons he must think.
“I think you’re right.” She glanced at the clock. “Either of you know if Sergeant Banks is in?”
“In a meeting with the captain,” Damon offered.
She grumbled. Of course. “Guess I’ll tag him later then.”
“I’ll give him the heads up,” Mike said. “Tell him you’ll be calling.”
She nodded, started to step toward the door, but Damon shifted into her way.
“Can I see you home?”
Her first instinct was to refuse. She had so much to think about and didn’t want to have to deal with the problem of Damon, but Mike was watching her, even gave her a slight nod of his head in encouragement. Damn, if she didn’t, then Mike was going to insist on doing so. Hmm, the partner she’d fucked over or the guy she hadn’t fucked but had cheated on?
Might as well get the dumping over with.
With a quick nod for Damon, she slipped from the room. Then, after stopping by her desk to collect a couple things, she let Damon escort her out of the building.
“Don’t leave the lot. I have to get my car from the back,” he said when they’d reached her beat-up Chevy.
She mumbled an okay, then sat tapping the steering wheel impatiently as he jogged off to get his car. She really, really wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming conversation, but it was the right thing to do. Well, the right thing barring traveling back in time and breaking up with him correctly three mornings ago.
A minute later Damon drove up, stopping just down the row from her. She backed out of the spot and turned out of the lot. They drove slowly through the city, killing another forty-five minutes, the morning traffic having gone from snail pace to clogged-toilet speed. Damon followed her patiently. Never close enough to take off paint but never far enough to let the eager cabby between her and his Viper. It was black, of course. Everything about Damon was black, from his almost ebony eyes to his leather coat to his car. She even had an image of his apartment though she’d never actually been in it. It would be a loft studio filled with black, modern furniture and minimal decorations. Idly she found herself wondering whether he came from some sort of money because that car was definitely not purchased on a cop’s salary. All of a sudden, Jess realized that she really knew nothing about the man she’d been dating. Far less than he knew of her, at least. Hell, she even told him about Julia. She never told her coworkers about Julia. Not even Mike.
She bit her lip. Definitely odd. She was not a bare your heart kind of girl, but as she thought back and analyzed their interactions, she began to realize just how unusually chatty she’d been.
Not anymore. Moment they got to her apartment she was going to thank him, break up with him, then send him on his way. Cold-hearted? Maybe. But safer—given that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened over the last couple days—and frankly all she could manage at this point in time.
They reached her apartment. Damon followed her into the lot that conveniently butted up to the back of her building and stole the first spot available. She barely had time to retrieve the tube from under the seat before he opened her door for her.
“You don’t have to see me up. Besides, probably better to not keep your car there long, seeing how you don’t have a permit,” she added as she stepped out, secretly glad for the excuse to get the whole dumping thing over with quickly.
“I’d feel better seeing you to the door,” he replied, his eyes scanning the dim parking lot. Mildly alarmed, she followed his example and saw…nothing.
Paranoid.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“Humor me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. She was about to anyway when he turned his gaze back on her, the power of all that intense focus like a stiff wind snuffing her will to fight.
“Fine. Yeah, that would be nice,” she said, and as they walked together toward the building, she realized it was true. The night was so dark, no moon and half the safety lights were out. Damon was strong and competent and she couldn’t help but feel safe around him. It wasn’t until they were inside the straining elevator, the flickering florescent light threatening to send her into an unprecedented fit of epilepsy, that the sense of ill-ease wore off. What was she doing? Letting him come up to her place was only going to confuse things. What was it her mother said: “If you don’t want to see him again, then break the date at the door. Don’t let him inside the building.”
“Bit late, Mom,” she muttered under her breath.
“What’s that?” he asked just as the elevator jerked to a stop.
“Nothing.” She led him down the hall in awkward silence, the only break the sounds of their own footfalls. She may have wanted to end it outside, but she didn’t need to share her personal life with her neighbors.
She entered her apartment, setting the tube on the console table while Damon stepped in and closed the door. And since he was already inside, she also took the time to remove her jacket and holster too. It wasn’t until she hung them both in the closet that she turned to Damon, a half-assed apology/letdown on her tongue, only he beat her to it.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?”
Her head snapped back, a weird mix of horror and embarrassment rushing through her veins. How did he know? Was it written all over her or something? “Excuse me?”
He smiled, kind of sad like, reminding her of the last time he stood in her apartment foyer. “The guy you’re ditching me for.”
She looked down at the tube on her console, remembering, again, Logan’s insistence that she keep it with her. That he ne
eded to know she was safe. It would have been a good memory but for the bowl that sat next to the tube. The one her keys had been in, even though she’d never put them there. Don’t think about that.
“There is no guy. Not anymore,” she said, her voice sounding horse and hollow, as if the life were being sucked right out of her.
“No?” Damon’s fingers brushed her cheek, pushing her hair behind her ear. “But you want there to be, don’t you?”
When she didn’t bother to deny it, he let his hand drop, a short, self-deprecating chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I guess we have that in common at least.”
She raised her head, gave him a questioning look.
“You know,” the side of his mouth quirked up, “wanting someone who doesn’t want us back.”
“Damon…” She trailed off, because really, what could she say? I do want you? Untrue. And to tell him that wanting Logan and Logan wanting her in return was not the problem would almost be cruel. Unless of course she went on to explain the whole sordid tale. In which case he’d probably pity her for being positively nuts for a guy who was either a criminal or so far off his rocker he might as well be in a straightjacket.
She didn’t want pity.
“Jessica?”
She took a deep breath, carefully hanging her keys on the hook rather than the bowl. “Let’s just say there are a million reasons why it didn’t work out.”
“You want to talk about it?”
No, she really didn’t, only the longer he stared at her, the more she found she actually wanted to. Alarm spiked, but just as quickly faded. She weaved on her feet, her muscles going lax. The only thing holding her up was Damon’s steady black gaze. Damn, he had the most gorgeous, kind eyes. And he listened so well. What would it hurt? She was so tired. So sick of holding it all in, going through life alone.
“Don’t you want to talk about it, Jess?” he asked again, his voice hardly more than a soft whisper. She found herself nodding. Yeah, she did. She really did.
“You remember the day you first asked me to coffee?” she asked. He’d come to her desk and told her that people had to stop stealing his cases. The case he referred to was the Thomas Rhodes case, and the day was when they got a positive ID on a John Doe, removing it from organized crime, and tying it to Mike’s attempted rape case. She inherited the case and Mike, but not Damon. Despite his joking, his position on a new prostitution ring task force kept him busy enough.
“Will never forget it,” he said, his voice low, silken.
The heat in his tone was enough to make her suck in a breath, but nothing more. In fact, what it did was drive home everything that had been missing in their relationship and everything she found last night with Logan. Craziness aside, the moment Logan and she came together, their eyes locking as their bodies shuddered from the exquisite pleasure of taking and being taken, she’d felt something for the first time. She felt perfect, right, complete.
And then I woke up.
“Jessica?”
She blinked, looking back at Damon. His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with concern. She found herself desperately wanting to ease his worries.
She took a deep breath, blowing it out. “Sorry. I just feel so stupid about this whole thing.” And so tired. She could hardly stand on her feet, let alone concentrate. Damon was looking at her expectantly though, so they must have been talking about something important. “What were we talking about?”
“You were about to tell me how our first date had anything to do with some other guy. Which, I must say, is already a real ego buster so please go gentle here, okay?”
She chuckled, grateful for his teasing. What guy would joke at their own expense to make a girl feel better? “Someday you’re going to make some woman a great boyfriend.”
“But not you?”
She shook her head, somewhat sadly. It was so weird. Damon was nice. And yeah, hot. She should want him. But there was something about him, something she was thinking of in the car coming over here…something to do with Julia and—
“All right then. Let’s get back to the asshole currently breaking your heart. I’ll make him see reason if you want.” He winked, punching the palm of his own hand with the other. The action snapped her out of her thoughts and she straightened, shaking her head.
Logan, they were talking about Logan.
“Actually I’m the one breaking it off.”
His brow winged up. “And this has something to do with our first date?”
She nodded.
Damon plopped down on the nearby couch, gesturing for her to sit also. “I have a feeling this could take a while.”
“Not that long,” she said but found herself sliding down onto the opposite end. Her legs rejoiced over the reprieve. She was thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In fact, if she sat here long she’d simply slip down the rest of the way onto the cushy suede and start snoring.
“You look beat.”
“I am,” she replied, failing the fight to keep her eyes open.
“Long night, babe?” His voice rumbled deep in his chest.
Her eyes snapped back open, but he was smiling at her, his dark eyes twinkling.
She sat up straighter, shaking her finger at him. “You’re bad.”
“I know.” He said this with all seriousness. It was enough to have her frowning, but when he didn’t expound, just gestured for her to go on, she shrugged letting the comment slide.
“So, I’m assuming you remember the case that you dumped on me,” she said.
He nodded. “I may not have ended up working it, but you and Mike have told me enough here and there that I know the basics.”
“You’re aware that our witness identified our suspect, but we had to release him?”
He nodded again, more warily.
She took a deep breath. “Let’s just say that I did something stupid and allowed my emotions to sway me.”
He held up his hand, his eyes narrowed on her in disbelief. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re saying that this guy you’re dumping me for is involved in the case?”
“I’m not dumping you because of him.”
He gave her a disbelieving look.
“Okay, maybe he was the catalyst but I’m not dumping you for him. The truth is, I was trying to come up with the nerve to do that before this all happened.”
“Oh yeah, and that is so good for the ego.”
She cringed, guilt assailing her. Why had she said that? Why was she being so cruel? “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he shook his head. “It’s all right. What is not all right is that you’re personally involved with someone in a police matter.”
“I know.” And she should have told Mike. There must have been some reason she hadn’t…She rubbed her temples, trying to figure it out but her head felt so thick, muddled.
“Wait, it’s not the va—” Damon cleared his throat. “The suspect?”
“Not him,” she scoffed at herself. “Just his best friend.”
Damon sat up straighter, his head turned just slightly as if trying to piece something out. “His friend. Does this friend have a name?”
“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to tell you that.” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. They’d changed, no longer dark and inviting but dark and, well, foreboding, and in this light almost a freaky, ebony color.
What was it about the men in her life and their changing eye color?
He shook his head, as if shaking off some gloomy thought. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter anyway.” He shifted, fidgeting. “But wow. That is definitely a conflict of interest.”
“Hence the vacation,” she said, sinking her chin into her hands. They sat for another few moments of silence, her head bobbing, though she couldn’t sleep, not with him restles
sly shifting on the couch.
She forced herself to sit up, open her eyes. “Do you want some coffee or something?”
“No. Actually I should go. There’s something I’ve been putting off but need to take care of,” he added, standing up.
“Oh. Okay.” She stood as well, having to hold the arm of the couch to steady herself. The room was spinning, though at least she didn’t feel as exhausted as a moment before. She’d practically fallen asleep with him sitting there! She frowned, not remembering asking him to come in and sit down…What were they talking about?
“You weren’t planning on going anywhere, were you?” he asked as he headed toward the door.
“No,” she replied, following him down the short hall. Her legs were steadier. Must have been a bout of exhaustion. All those hours of not sleeping catching up with her. Crap, she hoped she hadn’t actually dozed off on Damon.
“Good. And you have both mine and Mike’s numbers on speed dial, right? And you won’t answer the door for anyone.”
“Not without my gun.”
He pinned her with his dark gaze. She met him glare for glare. He leaned in and Jessica felt herself shrinking back. He’s going to kiss me. But all he did was tip up her chin.
“Not even with your gun,” he said sternly. “Crushed heart or not, I’m kind of fond of you.” He let go, slipping on his coat on the way to the door. “Be sure to lock up after I leave.”
“I will.”
With one last penetrating glare he left. She closed and locked the door behind him, knowing he would most likely stand there on the other side until he heard the bolt turn. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t. He’d certainly seemed antsy to leave.
And distracted. Definitely distracted.
That was okay, she was distracted too. Her mind kept on turning back to what she was going to do next. Turning in that tape may have ended her involvement in the case but it didn’t solve her real problem. Logan knew where she lived. When he was done with, well, whatever it was he was actually doing, he would go to the beach house and then, not finding her, it wouldn’t take him long to guess she’d come here. The question was, when he did, would she let him in?