Dirty Deeds

by AJ Nuest

  Kelly slowly nodded, shifting his stance. “That doesn’t change the outcome, though, does it? You’ll still be out there waiting for Pratt to make his move, and I’ll still be sitting in the background, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.”

  “I know, Kelly.” She stepped toward him, but drew up short. Dammit, this was a living nightmare. If only she could touch him. Find some way to reassure him without raising all sorts of red flags. “If I thought there was another way, you have to know I would’ve taken it.”

  “You sure about that?” He glanced at her and then checked up and down the street. “You sure meeting Pratt head-on isn’t more about making sure you get the ultimate revenge?”

  Another internal wince, and she closed her eyes, breathing through the sting. Hell, he was right. Always, always right, and there was no sense in insulting him even more by denying it. He’d already cut through the crap, figured her out.

  Then again, did it really matter? She’d known this was coming all along.

  “Here.” He shoved his pillow into her arms, backtracked a step and raked a damp lock of hair off his brow. “Five more minutes of you standing there, and I’m liable to do something we’ll both regret. You should go.”

  Yep. But whether he meant ripping her a new one or pulling her into his arms for a kiss, she wasn’t sure. At this point, she would’ve welcomed either.

  Nodding, she turned for the street and started toward Mocha’s car. Too bad her heart opted to stay behind without her.

  “Eden.”

  The wet asphalt grated under her boots as she spun around.

  “Just…” He ran his hand down the stubble on his cheeks, the set of his jaw so tight a muscle bunched near his temple. His shoulders fell and he waited, searching her face as if he were trying to memorize every line and curve. A cab splattered along the opposite side of the street, and she understood then he’d been waiting for the sound to mask his words. “Christ, baby. Be careful.”

  She bit the inside of her lip to stop any tears before they could start. Unfortunately, the pain had the same effect on her voice.

  Smiling softly, she tipped her head, and left him standing near the front of his car.

  It really was downright pathetic. After all these years, she still sucked at saying goodbye.

  Chapter 19

  That sealed it. He’d officially lost his goddamned mind.

  Kelly slammed the cover on his laptop and shoved it away with both hands. The day-old coffee he’d been sipping toppled over, dousing his cuff and the left thigh of his jeans. His computer slid off the back of his desk and teeter-tottered in slow-mo, and he pounded a fist on the corner before the damn thing took a suicide nose-dive for the wooden floor.

  “Son of a bitch!” He shook the cold droplets off his hand.

  A hush fell over the precinct’s third floor Criminal Investigations Department. Across the aisle, Archer cleared his throat, shaking open the afternoon edition of the Trib. He rocked back in his chair and propped his boot heels on the corner of his desk.

  Shit, was he kidding with this? Kelly dried his hand along the tail of his shirt. Didn’t the guy have anything better to do? A lead to track down or someone to arrest?

  Must be fucking horrible to be so stressed out.

  A few brave souls glanced Kelly’s way as he jerked his laptop forward, but he didn’t bother logging back in. What for? So he could re-do the same damn arrest reports he’d filled out three times already? Have D’Avella find a mistake and email them back with a note bawling him out on how he’d missed a step in the process?

  He ground his molars, forcing his other hand open until he’d successfully flexed the tension from his fingers. God, he was one fucked-up mess. He’d never repeatedly tripped over his own feet like this in his entire career.

  Arrest reports? Come on, he could practically do them blindfolded. That was, before he’d met Eden. Before she’d left. Before his life had begun circling the toilet and he’d stood helpless on the sidelines, watching as it got flushed straight down the shitter.

  Four days.

  A uniform headed across the room toward Kelly’s desk, a stack of manila file folders in his arm. The cadet took one look at Kelly’s face, blanched and quickly veered in the opposite direction.

  Ninety-six hours and counting since he’d last talked to Eden and—no surprise—the knot at the end of his rope had frayed to nothing but a handful of worthless string.

  Archer closed the ends of the newspaper to turn the page, shook it open across his legs and grunted…then laughed.

  Jesus. Kelly shot a sneer at the newsprint before surveying the mess on his desk. He tugged a few discarded napkins from under his cell and tossed them over the dark puddle dribbling onto the floor.

  Gone were the nights of achieving anything that remotely resembled a solid block of sleep. Other than the occasional two-hour nap on that rack-of-nails cot in a holding cell, he hadn’t been able to relax enough to nod off.

  Sleeping at home had become a non-option, even after two nights of prowling the halls at the precinct, when D’Avella had finally ordered him home for some mandatory R&R.

  Everywhere he looked inside those four walls he was reminded of a beautiful woman with auburn curls. Every time he turned around, he expected Eden to be standing behind him. The one time he’d tried to drop off, he’d been kept wide awake by her scent on his sheets, and the empty spot beside him had made it seem just plain wrong for him to be lying in bed without her there.

  Exercise hadn’t done him any damn good. Not even the midnight sessions running his ass off on the treadmill had lowered his anxiety enough to concentrate, wrap his head around whatever the hell he was supposed to do next. Food tasted like shit, he was pissed at the world and, for Christ’s sake, what was up with the persistent hollow ache in his chest?

  Loud shouting echoed across the room, and he zeroed in on Ramirez as she wrestled a handcuffed suspect into the chair beside her desk. The guy sneered, struggling against his restraints. His greasy hair swung past his shoulders as he leaned back and lobbed a glistening wad of snot straight at her face. She dodged to the side and grunted as it splattered and ran down her neck.

  A low growl built in his throat, and Kelly shot to his feet. The suspect snapped his head over, stiffened, paled, and shrank in the chair, dropping his focus to his feet. That’s right, asshole. Another move like that, and Kelly would have no qualms about bouncing the guy’s skull off the nearest brick wall.

  “Touch him, and D’Avella will have your ass in a sling.” Archer lifted the paper to supposedly read lower down the article. “Ha!” He chuckled. “Fuckin’ A, she did.”

  Kelly gritted his teeth. What the hell was the jackass reading? The funny pages? He snatched his cell off his desk and stalked toward the bank of windows offering a southern view of the gloomy October sky. A swipe of his thumb over the screen, and he scrolled through his text messages, searching for a name he knew damn well wouldn’t be there.

  Nothing.

  His fingers flexed around the case, and he resisted the urge to drop his phone and grind it to smithereens under his heel.

  Why wouldn’t she contact him? Eden knew he didn’t have her private number, so what was the hold up?

  He bounced his cell in his hand, studying the screen. Sure, he’d been pissed following that joke of a meeting. What guy wouldn’t be after receiving orders to abandon the most perplexing, frustrating, sexy-as-all-hell woman he’d ever met? Let her disappear without his protection only so she could draw the attention of a sadistic killer? But that didn’t mean she couldn’t check in, right? Right?

  He’d heard the sadness in her voice at saying goodbye. Seen the heartache she’d tried so hard to hide from everyone traipsing in and out of the precinct. He couldn’t imagine she preferred things this way, so why hadn’t she called to let him know she was okay?

  One more day of this bullshit, another endless night without her,
and it was pretty much guaran-damn-teed he would slam headfirst into some weird, psychotic episode brought on by lack of sleep.

  He sighed and dragged his thumb and index finger over his eyelids. Maybe he should just cry uncle. Do what he’d been considering ever since Eden had given D’Avella the address to Dirty Deeds, drive over there and demand she come to the door.

  But shit. He dropped his hand. All video feeds of her home and office were being reviewed. By his department. He’d spent enough countless hours watching Eden fake her way through the days, searching for any sign of Pratt lurking in the background to know. Showing up at her office for no good reason only to later appear on the monitor had disaster written all over it. He could see the suspicion lifting D’Avella’s eyebrows without even trying. Besides, after so much time apart, starting down that slippery slope probably wasn’t the best idea. With all the things he wanted to say, the way he craved her, no way in hell was he about to let Mocha, his team, the captain or anyone, for that matter, be a peeping Tom on their conversation.

  Phoning her on the line designated to the investigation held the same risk. Muttering a curse, he shoved his cell in his back pocket. His control already hovered two degrees away from snapping. One brush of her husky voice against his ear, and whoever was listening wouldn’t matter. In two seconds flat, he’d be begging to see her, demanding they meet someplace private so he could soak in the addictive scent of her skin. Taste every inch, every curve. Relive the smooth silky texture of her lips as they slid down his—

  “Hey, Riordan.”

  “Goddamn it, what!” He jerked around to face the room.

  Molly’s eyes widened. Archer huffed and several heads popped up from behind their open laptops. D’Avella peeked through the open doorway to her office, apparently curious to see what the commotion was about. She sent him a warning with an arched eyebrow and disappeared behind the wall.

  “Whoa. Down, boy.” Tossing an envelope into his inbox, Molly shook her head. “I tracked down that information you requested. The document’s inside.”

  Good. At least something worthwhile had come out of hell he was living.

  “Oh, and I also found something interesting I thought you might like to see.” She sat and wheeled his chair toward his desk. A grimace twisted her lips, and she held her hands in the air as if the spilled coffee were toxic waste. “Really? Is this what we’ve come to? God.”

  Easing his laptop well outside the spill zone, she flipped it open, rattled a few keys and pointed at the screen. “Check this out. Remember the pyramid scheme Image-Tech’s CEO invested in? The one that took his money and left him flat broke?”

  “INR, Ltd.” Kelly returned to his desk and peered over her shoulder at the records from the lawsuit. Yeah, and apparently it was time to change his password. He shot Molly a dry glance. “What about it?”

  “That was Eden, all right. I was able to track the connection through her tax records, though she never had to report the money as income since it was siphoned straight through INR’s accounts back to Howard Weaver.” A few additional clicks, and she pulled up the bank statements for Image-Tech’s employee pension account. “In fact, according to this, she paid the transfer fees so the balance would remain even…and, I’m assuming, so none of Weaver’s employees would get dinged with charges from having their money bounce all over the place.”

  Yep, that sounded like his Eden.

  Molly sat back from the keyboard and crossed her arms, a wistful smile crinkling the skin near her eyes. “You know, I really like her. Eden, I mean. That chick is super-cool.” Turning her head, she batted her lashes at Kelly. “Once the case is closed, you should really consider asking her out.”

  He slumped. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”

  Or, better yet, he’d ask her to never leave his sight again. Apparently, whenever she did, his life lost all meaning.

  Molly’s focus returned to the screen, and she squinted, lifted one hand and pinched her chin between her forefinger and thumb. “There’s only one thing that’s left me guessing. INR… It’s an interesting acronym, don’t you think? I wonder what it stands for. Maybe it’s like a secret code or something.”

  His spine wrenched, and Kelly slapped his hand over his eyes. Or, the more obvious choice, a secret password. God, he was dumb.

  He dragged his hand down his face. Hesitated as he read the knowing sparkle in Molly’s eyes. Hold on a second. What was she saying?

  Oh, no. No fucking way.

  God dammit!

  “She told you.” One stride forward, and he jammed his hands down on the arm rests, trapping Molly in his chair. “Eden already gave you the password, didn’t she? You know exactly what those letters stand for and you came here to rub it in my face.”

  Molly’s shoulders lifted with a deep inhalation, and she flipped her hand to the side. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  Bullshit. And why Eden sharing the password with Molly bothered him so damn much, he couldn’t even guess. It wasn’t like he needed it for anything, and Eden could give it to anyone she wanted. Hell, if not for wanting to razz him a little, she no doubt would’ve told him what it was a long time ago.

  Still, the whole thing stuck in his throat like a wad of dry bread. Why Molly and no one else? For Christ’s sake, why not him? “Can the act. We’ve worked together long enough, you know I can spot a lie fifty miles off. How’d you get it, Molly? What was the trade-off?”

  “Well.” She tipped her head, dangly silver earrings catching in the fluorescent lights. “If Eden did give me the password, I certainly wouldn’t be able to tell you, would I? I’m sure she would’ve sworn me to secrecy. I mean, I assume something like that would be highly confidential, handed out only when earned and to be used with the utmost discretion.”

  Oh, so Molly had earned it? He shoved up from the chair, nostrils flared. Molly had earned the password and he hadn’t. Nice, but it didn’t matter. Now that he had the initials it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. “Fine. Keep it to yourself. Just don’t be surprised when the first person I send Eden after is you.”

  “Pffth…” Molly brushed off his comment with a wave. “Gimme a break. Eden would never do anyth—”

  “All right, Molls, I think you’ve tortured him enough.” Archer folded the newspaper and tossed it to his desk. He stood, slipped his cell from his pocket and thumbed the screen, and something about the way he bounced his brows made Kelly’s stomach burn. “My turn.”

  Oh, fuck. He glanced between Archer and Molly. What the hell were the two of them up to?

  A second later, Kelly’s phone beeped with an incoming text, and he yanked it from his back pocket. A swipe to read the message, and his jaw dropped. What bullshit was this?

  His teeth met so quick, the loud clack echoed inside his head. He jerked his chin up, read the humor in Archer’s eyes, and the tenuous grip he had on his control splintered like he’d kicked in a dead-bolted door.

  In two precise moves, he grabbed Archer’s T-shirt, lifted and pinned him along the top of his desk. A tense silence slammed down around his ears, but Kelly didn’t give a rat’s ass if the whole precinct was watching. D’Avella could tap him on the shoulder and suspend him if she wanted, he wouldn’t give two shits.

  Archer had just crossed the line.

  “You have Eden’s private number?” Kelly jerked on the collar of Archer’s shirt and the cotton split like tissue paper under his fists. Jaclyn had lied. She’d faked a relationship with Kelly and nearly destroyed his career, leaving him emotionally broken in the process. Archer had better have a good explanation. And he’d better supply it pretty damn quick. “Care to tell me why?”

  Archer didn’t struggle. In fact, from the way he rolled his eyes, he wasn’t even pissed. “Shit, dude, I know you’re in love with her, but you need to chillax.”

  What? Kelly sprang back from the desk. Raking both hands through his hair, he storm
ed a few steps away, spun and got right back up in Archer’s grill.

  Teeth gritted, his rigid finger shaking in the tight space between them, Kelly fought to find the right comeback but not one syllable formed on his tongue. Fuck. He fisted his hand and backed off.

  Dammit. He paced the aisle between their desks, Molly’s focus tracking his progress back and forth. There was no denying Eden had become his everything. Rejecting that fact would only make him out to be a mammoth-sized ass. He huffed, reaching down to retrieve his cell from where it had bounced to the floor. As if he hadn’t done a fine job of that already.

  But, love? Seriously? He rolled his head back, cheeks expanding as he blew a harsh breath. He’d stopped believing in that particular emotion the second Jaclyn had cut him off at the knees. Though, to be honest, the resentment he’d experienced afterward seemed bland in comparison to the gut-fisting panic darkening his doorstep at the thought of losing Eden.

  Archer chuckled, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Face it, Riordan. You’ve been miserable since the second she walked. I hate to be the one to say it, but the woman’s got you by the balls.” He glanced down, fingered the tear by his collar and grunted. “Son of a bitch. You’re a real dick, you know that? This was my favorite shirt.”

  Like Archer had anything to complain about. Kelly darted a sidelong glance at his friend. He should sit down to a heaping plate of what Kelly was trying to digest and then he could talk.

  Regardless, he wasn’t about to stand here and hash out his feelings for Eden in front of the entire precinct. “Whatever my relationship status, it’s none of your business. Now stop trying to change the subject and just tell me why you have Eden’s number.”

  “Oh.” Archer lifted the folded newspaper and tossed it Kelly’s direction. “I helped your girlfriend work a little magic. Check page three.”

  He caught the loose sheets against his chest, shoved Archer out of the way and opened the pages over Archer’s desk.