Carter
Darcy’s call arrived as I pushed through the back exit of the building, leaving Jo behind in the restroom, hating myself for my weakness. I drew a shaking hand through my hair from forehead to nape. What the fuck was wrong with me? One minute I was sitting next to Jo, smelling her sweet cotton candy scent, and the next minute I was in a broom closet buried balls deep inside her. I scratched my beard. Now, I’d gone and broken my cardinal rule again: no repeats.
I let Darcy’s call go to voicemail. I needed a moment to pull myself together because, obviously, I was all kinds of messed up. The scent of sex followed me to the parking lot, Jo’s perfume clinging to my clothes. Part of me wanted to march back into the diner and take her again, make her cry my name loud enough for everyone to hear. The other part—the dark, fucked-up part—wanted to get in the car and drive until this restless, uneasy, relentless need disappeared. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Darcy, always persistent, called back immediately.
“What?” I barked, unleashing my frustrations on her.
“Don’t yell at me for doing my job,” she shouted back. We’d both been on edge for the past couple of days. While I’d been busy daydreaming about Jo, I’d let a forty-thousand-dollar bond slip through my fingers, and she’d yet to forgive me for it. “One of us has to hold this place together, and apparently that person isn’t you.”
“Sorry. What’s up?” I leaned against the door of the Escalade, gulping in cool air, and waited for her to continue. The lingering haze of orgasm continued to cloud and confuse my thoughts.
“You’re being a dick, that’s what’s up. I’m sick and tired of your grumpy attitude. Whatever is going on with you, you need to stop taking it out on me.”
Her words stunned me. Had I really been that bad? “I’m sorry. Really. You’re doing a great job.”
“Damn straight I am,” she said. “And?”
“And I appreciate everything you do. You’re the best, and I’m grateful. I don’t know why you put up with me.”
“Thank you.” The tension in her voice eased. We both exhaled in relief. Our squabbles were few and far between, but Darcy never withheld her opinions when my behavior got out of line.
“You’re welcome.” With thumb and forefinger, I gripped my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut, and tried to focus. “What’s up?”
“Taggart called. He needs a favor. He’s got a bond on a girl here. I guess she missed her court date or something. His wife is in the hospital and he doesn’t have time to track her down. He said it should be straightforward. She doesn’t have any priors or anything.”
“Give it to Baker.” Usually, nothing got my blood pumping like a new case, but not this time, and not a boring one. The easy ones went to the other guys. I reserved my time for the high-dollar, high-profile cases, or ones of special interest. Instead of working, I had the overwhelming desire to go home, sit in front of the TV in my underwear, and drink beer like Mr. H.
“Baker is in Spain, working on an international case. You know that.” The clacking of computer keys resumed in the background.
“What about Clyde?”
“He’s having his appendix out today. We went over all this yesterday and again this morning.” Darcy’s exasperated sigh transferred loud and clear through the phone. “What is your deal? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just…I’ve got some shit on my mind.”
“Girl problems?” Even though she was teasing, her question scraped over my raw nerves.
“No.”
“Carter, seriously, I’m worried about you. Have you thought about taking some time off? You’ve been acting weird all week. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love or something.” We both laughed at the absurdity of the idea; my laughter was hollow, hers genuine. Her tone turned motherly, soothing. “You’ve been working too hard. Maybe you should take a vacation. When’s the last time you got out of town?”
“I don’t know. A while, I guess.” Although Darcy’s suggestion made sense, it would take more than a vacation to get Jo out of my head. The best option was to throw myself into work, hit the bars later tonight, and find someone new to fill my thoughts and my bed. Except, I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted Jo. All of her. Stripped naked and writhing on my bed. And just like that, my dick stiffened—again. I’d been walking around semi-hard since the garage sex, and the constant arousal had me on edge. I got in the Escalade and slammed the door shut. “Fuck.”
“Excuse me?” Darcy asked. I could picture her eyebrows lifting higher.
“Not you. Sorry.” With a heavy sigh, I pulled my faculties together. “Have you sent the email yet? I don’t see it.”
“It’s sending now. Do you want me to book a flight to Rio for you? Or Mexico?” Darcy asked. “A long weekend on the beach might do you some good.”
“No. Thanks, but no. Not yet.” My inbox pinged as the email came through. “Okay. Got it. I’ll look it over and give you a call back if I need anything.”
I clicked on the envelope icon and opened the attachment. I stared at the picture and blinked, unable to believe my eyes. The girl in question was none other than Josephine Hollander.
At the office, I stormed past Darcy and slammed the door behind me. This was bad, so bad I couldn’t find enough profanity to express my feelings. I went straight to the window and glared into a gray sky heavy with rain.
Usually, the boats and clear blue water of the canal calmed my nerves. I’d chosen this office building with strategic care, investing a portion of my trust fund in the prime real estate of downtown Laurel Falls. The twelve-story building was centrally located, across from the courthouse and jail, with an impressive view of the canal from my patio. The upper floors were leased to legal firms and collection agencies. The ground floor held an upscale restaurant and nightclub. Their collective rents provided enough income for me to live out the rest of my life in luxury.
Behind me, the door opened and closed. “What. The. Fuck?” Darcy asked, enunciating each word with sharp precision. “You knocked the picture off the wall with your door slamming.”
“Did I?”
The frown slipped from her mouth. In a few short strides, she was at my side, placing a hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“That case you sent me—the girl who missed her court date—it’s Jo.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You mean the coffee shop girl?” I nodded. “So what? It should be easy to pick her up then, right?” My gut twisted at the thought of Jo in jail. The hard glare of Darcy’s gaze softened as she read my face. “Oh.”
Chapter 14
Jo
By the time I reached home, the sun hovered on the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. I should have been home hours ago, but I just couldn’t face the thought of sitting at the house, watching reality TV with Dad. Even though I loved him, I needed a few hours to myself, to clear my head and sort through whatever I was feeling for Carter—because I was feeling something.
My thighs ached, more from sex than walking the city. The skin of my chin burned from the scrape of Carter’s beard, and my lips felt swollen from his kisses. After unlocking the front door, I pressed two fingers against my mouth. No one had ever kissed me like that before, like he was going to die if I didn’t kiss him back. The memory made my pulse race.
The house was quiet, still, and dark except for the blue glow of the television from the living room. “Dad?” I flipped the switch in the hall and blinked against the light. “Where are you?”
Silence answered my question. I crept forward, my heart racing for a new and different reason. At the edge of the living room, I paused, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness. Dad’s silhouette emerged from the gloom. He was slumped over in his chair. I ran to his side, mouth dry, stomach twisting then breathed a sigh of relief to see his chest rising and falling.
“Dad?” I shook his shoulder, and he grunted. “Wake up.”
Judging by the stench of his breath and th
e scattered empty beer cans, he was drunk. Anger clutched my chest, squeezing my lungs until I wanted to scream. Then I saw the box of photographs in his lap, the pictures of Mom, of better days, when life held promise and laughter. I shook his shoulder again, this time with kindness. Although my father drank quite often, I’d only seen him truly drunk once before, the day after Mom had died.
“Julie?” He blinked up at me, brow furrowed in confusion, and my heart squeezed at the sound of my mom’s name.
“No, Dad. It’s me. Jo.” I withdrew the box from beneath his limp arm and set it aside.
“Jo? Where have you been all day?” Reality slowly dawned in his eyes. With it returned the pain and anguish he usually hid from me.
“I went for a walk.”
“That was a long damn walk,” he said, shoving upright in the chair. “I could have starved to death.”
“The last I checked, you’re a grown man and perfectly capable of fixing your own meals,” I snapped. Since Mom had died, the frustration and resentment had been welling inside me. I’d bottled it up for so long that once it found a fissure to escape, it burst out of me like the cork from a champagne bottle. “Why is everything my responsibility? I’m sick of being the only person around here holding things together. It’s not my job to run the coffee shop. It’s not my job to take care of you. I’m not Mom. I’m not your wife.”
The words hung in the air between us, laced with the painful truth. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I just couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. My soul ached to be free from obligations that weren’t mine to uphold.
“Jo, I’m—” Dad began, but I stopped him with a wave of my hand.
“No. I don’t want to hear it.” My footsteps thundered down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom. I slammed the door so hard that the entire house shuddered. Part of me felt horrible for talking to my father that way, a man I used to respect and admire. Another part of me seethed with anger. When Mom had died, she’d left all of us, not just him, but I’d never been allowed to grieve. I had to be the one to pick up the pieces and hold the family together.
My vision blurred with tears. I stalked around the tiny bedroom, slamming doors and drawers, overcome with the need to scream. Instead, I threw my toothbrush and a nightshirt into a tote bag. I had to get out of here. One more minute within the confines of this prison, and I was going to lose my freaking mind.
“Where are you going?” Dad met me at the bottom of the stairs on wobbly legs, his face pale.
“Out,” I said. In truth, I had no idea where I was going. I didn’t care. I just had to get away.
Chapter 15
Carter
Darcy stared at me with round eyes, Jo’s case file spread across the desk between us. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Bring her in, I guess.” The thought turned my blood to ice. Sweet, sunny Jo didn’t belong behind the concrete walls of a jail cell. The coldhearted bastard inside me sat like a devil upon my shoulder, whispering in my ear. Jo was an easy capture. I could swing by her house, pick her up, drop her off at the jail, and be home before bedtime. She’d hate me with a passion afterward. If I wanted to sever the ties between us, a night in jail should do the trick. On the other hand, the softness of her lips haunted me, the sound of her sweet kitten moans when I drove into her, the way her nails dug into my shoulders when she came, the light in her eyes whenever I said something funny. This feeling, this unrest, compared to nothing else in my experience, and it all centered around her.
“The preliminary hearing was today, and it looks like the hearing has been rescheduled for next week, providing the defendant is caught.” The papers whirred as she rifled through the file. “There’s also a civil suit requesting a boatload of monetary damages.” Her exhaled breath ruffled the fringe of her bangs. “Somebody is really pissed at her.”
“Yep, well—” My feet felt like two-ton weights as I trudged toward the door. “Might as well get this over.”
“You’re seriously going to haul this girl in?” Darcy blocked the doorway, spreading her hands against the frame.
“If I don’t do it, someone else will, Taggart will be out his money, and I’ll lose face.” The contents of my stomach churned.
“Sometimes you’re so frustrating. Your ginormous ego isn’t the most important thing in the world.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head until the dangly earrings jangled. “There’s obviously more to this story than meets the eye. Let me do a little investigating and see what I can find out. In the meantime, go find this girl and talk to her, Carter.”
Apparently, Darcy had lost her mind. I stared at her, trying to work through her words. “Are you suggesting that I sit on this? You know I can’t do that.”
“No, I’m suggesting you hear her side of the story before you throw her to the wolves. I mean, obviously, you have feelings for her.” She stifled a chuckle then cleared her throat. “I mean, you’re friends, right? Give her an opportunity to clear things up first.” I nodded, some of the panic subsiding in my chest. “This might be a simple misunderstanding.”
“Okay. Makes sense.” Heat burned my face. I avoided her gaze, gathering up the paperwork. “Call Taggart and stall for me. I’ll go over to her house and see if I can sort this out.”
At least, that had been the plan. Halfway to the Hollander house, I had a change of heart. During my stint in the Marines, I’d stared down the barrel of an enemy rifle more times than I could count, but the idea of facing Jo’s disappointment turned this Purple Heart recipient into a sniveling coward. In that moment, I hated her for making me question everything I knew about women and relationships. I hated myself more for being unable to resist her, for caring more about her welfare than the business I’d struggled and sacrificed to build.
While I waited for the stoplight to change from red to green, I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I’d never forfeited a bond by choice. Never. Not once. It was one of the reasons I excelled in my field. I’d built a reputation of being ruthless and relentless and unforgiving. Benson and Clyde often joked that I’d turn in my own mother if it came down to it.
Raindrops splattered on the windshield. From the corner of my eye, I caught the flash of blond hair. Jo crossed the street in front of me, heading toward the bus stop, head down, hands shoved into the pockets of her sweater. If she was wearing the wig, she must be intending to stalk her ex-fiancé. I punched the steering wheel. A few hours ago, we’d had the best sex of my life, and now she was obsessing over some other guy. The thought should have thrilled me. No strings. No expectations. Just the way I liked it. I could take her into the jail with a clear conscience. But I didn’t like the idea of her wanting someone else. Especially someone who’d treated her so badly. The situation echoed my mother’s life too closely. My temper simmered. Conflict burned inside my chest.
The car behind me honked its horn. Sometime during my musings, the stoplight had changed colors. I hit the gas, tires squealing, and raced through the intersection. I don’t care. I don’t care. I. Do. Not. Care. But I did care—more than I wanted. What if, by some circumstance, she ran into this douchebag? What if he took her back? He’d be crazy not to want her. The notion turned my stomach. She was too sweet and too nice to end up like my mom. Even worse, some other bounty hunter might pick her up. How could I trust her care to the callous hands of a stranger?
I circled the block and came up beside her. I lowered the window on the passenger side. “Hey, you want a ride?”
She glanced over her shoulder, startled, like someone might see us. “Um, okay. Sure.”
I leaned across the seat to open the door for her. She hopped in. Her short skirt rode up her legs, offering a flash of trim thighs, the thighs I’d been between earlier. My dick stirred to life. I’d been inside her a short time ago, but I wanted her again. I wanted more. Twice wasn’t enough, and I had sneaking suspicion that three times wouldn’t be enough either.
“Going stalking, are we?
” Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t curb the jealousy in my tone.
“No.” She pulled the wig off and fluffed her hair with her fingers. “I just— The rain— I thought—” Her words stopped abruptly.
“It’s getting ready to storm. You should be home.” To keep from betraying my thoughts to her, I stared straight ahead, concentrating on the road. If I looked at her, she’d be able to see the jealousy and turmoil tormenting me.
“No. I’m not going back there. Not tonight.” The urgency in her voice brought me up short. “You can drop me at the Winthrop Hotel.”
The Winthrop was a seedy, second-class establishment famous for clandestine affairs and drug deals gone wrong. I’d captured more than my fair share of fugitives in its dingy halls. The bar on the ground floor had proved an excellent place to pick up a one-night stand. I exhaled, thinking of all the reasons I should keep my mouth shut and all the reason I shouldn’t. The exit to the jail approached with frightening swiftness. I needed to make a decision and fast.
“Why the Winthrop?” With great effort, I kept my tone neutral, disinterested. “Do you go there often?” A new and disturbing thought took root. Maybe she was meeting someone there. My heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t worry about it.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed, like she was hugging herself. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get away from home for a bit.”
Just a few more blocks, Carter, and you can be rid of her. I made the turn to the jail. Its beige limestone façade loomed in the distance, menacing and absolute. No more second guessing myself. No more late-night phone sex. No more cotton candy perfume. And no more chances of losing my mind over a girl who shouldn’t matter.
Three blocks. Two blocks. One block. My hand trembled as I signaled to make the turn into the jail parking garage. This was it. Now or never. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Did I want to be that guy? The one who took a sweet, hardworking girl to jail for something she may or may not have done? If I did, I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror. How would I face Rhett and Bronte? Her father? Finally, my good conscience won the war. The entrance to the jail came and went. I kept driving.
Pretty Broken Bastard Page 9