Bend ~ Molly McLain

by McLain, Molly

  Logging into Facebook, it doesn’t take long to find her profile. She’s set to semi-private, so all I can see are her pictures. Alone, she looks inconspicuous enough, but with her friends and all of their gang signs, she’s not someone to mess with. Fortunately she’s tagged a couple of her pals in some candid shots, so I grab preliminary checks on them, too. Interestingly, they each work along the Mile . . . and all three started their jobs about nine months ago.

  “Shouldn’t you be knocking on some poor woman’s door right now? It’s Friday night, you know.” Will sneaks up on me, looking about as rough as I feel. Knowing he had a shit week makes me feel better about mine.

  “Working tonight,” I remind him, flipping through a few more pictures on Tally’s profile. One image of her and a guy with neon green hair in front of the V Theatre catches my attention. They’re mocking the Zombie Burlesque poster . . . and both are wearing skimpy ass lingerie. I screen shot the pic and send it to my phone. Maybe Kinsey will recognize the clothing . . . or lack thereof . . . as something from Chloe’s line.

  “Actually, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” Will drops a stack of police reports on my desk. “We’ve had a few more reports of missing merchandise from stores in the Mile.”

  “Yeah?” I slide the reports closer, but the stores don’t match up to the one’s Tally’s friends work at. I’m making assumptions, of course, and that’s unlike me, but something about this whole mess screams bigger picture. But how and why, I’m not sure yet. “What do you think?”

  “Could be related . . . or could be a fluke. We get these reports every day, so it’s hard to say. I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Maybe you can check out the stores tonight before they close and then watch for any interesting behavior.”

  I nod. Nod a bad idea, just in case. “Anything ever come of your hotel homicides?”

  “Some security footage showing the same woman entering and then leaving each hotel fifteen minutes later. Can’t identify her though and somehow she only shows up on one other security camera. Same floor as the second vic, potentially around the time of death. No elevator footage, though. It’s really fucking weird.”

  “Stats on this chick?”

  “Tall and blonde. Stacked, too. I can send you a still shot next week.” Will stretches his arms above his head and yawns. “I gotta get home, man. I’m running on two hours of sleep.”

  “New lady in your life?”

  “Yeah. She’s about seven pounds and has more hair than an 80’s porn star.”

  I fold my arms behind my head and laugh. “A dog? You fucking sap.”

  “You couldn’t have walked away either. You’re a sucker for big brown eyes, too, apparently.”

  I don’t even bother pretending that I don’t know what—or who—he’s talking about. “You gave me the case, asshole.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to plan a dinner and a stake-out with your informant.”

  He makes it sound like I’m not taking this seriously, and maybe I didn’t at first. Then I realized Kinsey had a legitimate situation on her hands.

  I want into Investigations. Hell, I’ve wanted to be a detective since I was a kid. I recognize the opportunity I’ve been given, even if it isn’t major. It’s still a theft case and there’s an opening in the Metro Theft unit. I’m not going to fuck this up.

  And yeah . . . I like Kinsey. It has nothing to do with what happened last weekend, either. She’s a spitfire. She gives my shit right back to me, and I’m not used that. It’s a damn refreshing change of pace, at least coming from a chick. Kinsey and I . . . we could be friends. She’s sure a hell of a lot better to look at than Will and the clown posse.

  I have several reasons not to screw this up, and I’m determined that nothing will stand in my way.

  “Hey, you. Haven’t seen you on the floor in a while, especially not a Friday night.”

  Tucking a stack of new black and fuchsia panties into a vacant slot on the display shelf, I glance up to see Tally smiling from a few feet away. The stripe in her dark hair is teal this week and I notice she’s pierced her eyebrow again, which is a violation of Chloe’s Closet’s corporate policy. Then again, so is stealing merchandise. I think I’ll pick my battles.

  “You know this is my therapy.” I flash a quick grin of my own and move onto another empty slot. The small pile of navy lace I set inside feels amazing beneath my fingers and I hope that whoever eventually finds themselves wearing the pretty panties feels just as amazing.

  “I do.” She goes to work on another section of the shelf, rearranging colors and sizes for optimal exposure and shopping ease. “So you know about me and Ben, huh?”

  Ugh. “It’s really none of my business, Tally. He and I broke up a while ago.”

  “I should’ve said something. As a friend, telling you would have been the right thing to do.”

  Oh, honey, we are so not friends. “It’s fine. Really.” I mean, yeah, I cared a lot about Ben and I gave him almost a year of my life, but I think I always knew he wasn’t the guy I’d spend forever with. There’s power—and consolation—in that knowledge, although I won’t deny being more than a little confused about his taste in women. Tally and I are nothing alike.

  “Good.” She smiles, but it’s not an expression of relief. In fact, she seems . . . disconnected. Then again, who I am to say? I wouldn’t have pegged her for the type to steal, so I clearly don’t know her as well as I thought I did. “Are you sticking around for the evening or . . . ?”

  Ah, now we get to the real reason we’re having this heart-to-heart in the middle of the store.

  “Oh, no. I just have a hair appointment in a half hour. No sense in going home just to come back.

  Her grin is more genuine this time, and I’m not surprised. “Anything special you want me to do tonight?” she asks.

  Not swipe any of these pretty new undergarments?

  “Nah.” I give her my best put-on smile and finish up the last of the restocking. “I’m sure you’ll be busy enough.”

  At a quarter to nine, I pull into Kinsey’s parking lot. I could easily text her that I’m here early, but knocking on her door and making her panic is too tempting. I probably enjoy making the princess sweat more than I should, but I don’t care. It’s fun and I like seeing that spark of exasperation flare to life in her eyes.

  An older woman is watering plants in the lobby when I enter the building, and she gives me a polite, albeit curious, smile. I get it. I’m a stranger and it’s getting dark. She’s smart to be cautious, and I don’t want her to worry, so I take out my wallet and flash my badge.

  “I’m here to see Ms. Malloy. A friend of her dad’s. Any chance you could let me in?” I ask, nodding to the security door. I could hit the intercom, but then I’d lose the full impact of my early arrival.

  “Oh, of course, dear.” She punches her code into the keypad—14435—and the door unlocks.

  I pause for a moment, debating whether or not I should give her a lecture on her overly accommodating behavior, but then I remember the woman upstairs and the whole point of wanting to get here early in the first place.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Be sure the door locks tight behind me, now.” I wink and she flashes a sweet smile.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I get to Kinsey’s third floor apartment quickly. She’s probably going to wonder how the hell I knew which one was hers, and I welcome the confrontation.

  She opens the door on the second knock and my plan to catch her off guard dissipates like rain in the desert.

  Her hair is down. Long and dark and gorgeous as fucking hell. I instantly want to run my fingers through it. Stick my face in it and just breathe. Shit, I want to push her up against the wall and kiss her fucking senseless before I mess her all up again.

  But I don’t, because I shouldn’t.

  At least not right now.

  “You’re early,” she says, with narrowed eyes, trying to hide the fact that she’s checking me out. Nothing fanc
y about a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and boots, but the way her gaze travels up and down my body makes me want to puff my chest. Maybe flex my biceps a little.

  “Sorry,” I lie. “You’re a little overdressed for a stake-out, aren’t you?” We both glance down at her fluttery, yellow dress and sandals, and I try not to groan out loud. Goddamn, those legs. Not only are they stunning, but I’ve had them wrapped around me. Spread open before me, too. I know what she’s got to offer and, fuck, if I don’t want it again. Right now.

  “I like this dress,” she explains, her tone unnecessarily defensive. I’m only giving her shit because I want her to know that I noticed her effort.

  “I’m not complaining, princess. I’m just reminding you that hanging out with me while you’re looking so hot might be dangerous. Know what I’m saying?”

  “That you’re a pig?” She makes a sour face, but there’s a sparkle in her dark eyes. “Yeah, I figured that out a while ago.”

  Smart girl.

  “You want to come in, Sergeant? I have a few things to finish up before we go.”

  Hell, yes, I want in. Those things she needs to do, though? Not happening.

  As soon as she closes the door behind us, I press her against the wall in her little hallway.

  She gasps, but hangs on tight as I slide an arm beneath her ass and lift her, pinning her in place with my hips. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “The fuck we don’t,” I rasp in her ear, already sucking that sweet skin between my lips while her hands slide beneath the back of my shirt. “That’s why you invited me in, isn’t it?”

  “No . . .” Her voice is coy and cute as hell, despite the way she gropes me like a starved woman. “I was just being polite.”

  “That was your first mistake,” I chuckle, greedily dipping my fingers beneath the thin band of fabric running down her ass. “Never let a strange man into your place, Kins. Ever.”

  She groans when I graze her tight little pucker and then find her pussy, already so wet.

  “I think you lied to me.” Nipping at her lips, I steal a quick kiss. “Unless you have another explanation for being so fucking drenched.”

  Her pretty eyes glaze over as I do nothing more than tease her slippery slit. “I got myself off a few minutes ago. Knew I wouldn’t be able to last the night if I didn’t.”

  Well, imagine that. She really does know what she wants, doesn’t she? “What’d you do?” I demand, gripping her chin and making her look me in the eyes.

  “Vibrator.” She swallows hard and licks her lips. “Maybe a couple of fingers.”

  She has no idea how sexy she is, does she? “Maybe?”

  “Just two.”

  The mental image of her leaning back against her pillows with her legs spread wide manifests quickly, and I’m instantly hard.

  “I want a taste,” I growl before I carry her to the living room and lower us both to the couch. A second later, I’m on my knees before her, pulling her thong aside. “Ah, look at you, princess. So fucking pretty.”

  “Trent . . .” Her hands slide into my hair and her hips come off the cushion as I lean in and lick from the bottom of her pussy, all the way to the top. “How do you know what I need?” she moans. “How?”

  Because we share the same fantasy, Kinsey and me. I blame mine on a fucked up need to prove myself capable of giving more than I take, and I don’t even want to know where hers comes from. I won’t make a claim on her outside of moments like these, but I sure as hell don’t want to think about someone else fulfilling her dirty fantasies either.

  “Don’t know, princess,” I say, sliding my hands beneath her ass so I can hold her to my face and lap up every bit of her honey. “But I don’t think you really care, do you?”

  Her fingers tighten their grip on my head when I tease the tip of my tongue around her clit, then dive in when she least expects it, giving her the full of my mouth. More of that everywhere at once stuff she likes.

  “Yes, Trent, God, like that . . .” Shoulders pressed against the back of the couch, she throws her head back and grinds hard against my face. I should remind her that I’m in charge right now, but I love this good girl gone bad version of Kinsey and I’ll be damned if I’m going to ruin the moment.

  I do, however, pull away just long enough to ask, “You like when I suck on your clit?” and her answer is a long cry followed by a rush of sweetness against my lips.

  Mmmmmm. Not only is Kinsey stunning when she comes, but she tastes like heaven, too.

  I lap up everything she gives me, before I make my way up her body and kiss her. Long and slow and deep, making sure she tastes it, too.

  “See how sweet you are, princess?” She shudders beneath me and I smile. “Now that I’ve tasted you, there’ll be no more getting off without me, is that clear? You want to come, you come for me. I’m more than happy to oblige as long as that’s my reward.”

  A pretty blush seeps into her cheeks and I love the potent combination of hunger and innocence in her eyes. “Be careful what you ask for, Sergeant. I like to get off daily.”

  Thank fuck for that. “Like I said . . . I’m happy to oblige.” When I wink and try to steal another kiss, she pushes me off of her with a laugh.

  “We’re going to be late,” she says, straightening her dress and fussing with her hair. “Maybe this will go fast and we can come back and finish what we started.”

  Sounds like a plan to me.

  “WHERE’D YOU GO TO COLLEGE?” Trent asks from the driver’s seat of his truck. We’re parked in the row across from Tally’s car, but down a few cars and hopefully out of sight.

  “I’m a Rebel, baby.” I shoot him a wink and pop an almond into my mouth before glancing back to the elevator. Fifteen minutes until Chloe’s closes and we can finally see what Tally’s been up to.

  “What was your major?”

  “Business and romance languages, and don’t you dare laugh about that.”

  He does. Loudly. “That’s one hell of a combination, princess.”

  “One was practical and the other was just for me. It’s called balance.”

  Trent just shakes his head.

  “Don’t judge, Sergeant. You’re cuter when you just go with the flow.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He kicks back in his seat, looking sexy as hell. “But for the record, I wasn’t judging. Just trying to figure out why a smart girl like you never left Vegas.”

  Oh. Well, strike another brownie point up for Hardass. “It’s actually not very exciting,” I tell him with a shrug. “My mom died when I was twenty-one. I stuck around to make sure my dad would be okay.”

  Trent blinks at me. “He’d be pissed if he knew that, Kins.”

  Yeah, well, too bad. “It’s not like I hate retail. I mean, I know that I could be doing more than managing a department store, but there’s something powerful about playing a role, however small, in making women feel good about themselves. I guess that’s the romantic in me.”

  Just like that, his doubt turns to amusement again, those eyes dancing.

  “Oh, that’s right—you know all about that, don’t you?”

  He winks. “I plead the fifth on that one, princess.”

  “Oh, that’s original.”

  “What do you want me to say?” His grin slants to the side deviously. “That I know how good I am?”

  “That’s exactly what I expect.” His honesty is what makes this thing between us so easy. “Don’t make this weird. Just be real with me.”

  He makes a wry sound, and then rests his head against the back of his seat, eyes on the ceiling. “I know how chicks work, Kins. You’re not any different.”

  “Excuse me?” I swing the back of my hand into his chest and he laughs again. “I don’t expect you to call me in the morning, Sergeant. Or ever for that matter.” I’ll be the one who picks up the phone. Maybe he’ll answer, maybe he won’t.

  Rolling his head to the side, his gaze locks on mine. “Don’t you think you deserve better than a tempora
ry fuck buddy?”

  “I know I do,” I say without hesitation. “But that’s not what I want right now.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “I can draw the line, Trent. Just because I wear pretty dresses and sell sexy lingerie doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

  His grin stretches wide again. “Believe me, princess, I know.”

  “Good.” I toss an almond at his face and he rolls his eyes. “Now let’s talk about something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Anything.” As long as it’s not my reasoning for hooking up with him, because I’m not sure I fully understand that either.

  “Favorite movie?”

  “Huh?”

  “Favorite movie?” he asks again. “Don’t overthink it.”

  “Zoolander.”

  He laughs so hard, the truck shakes.

  “Keep on judging, asshole.”

  Instead, he snaps upright and flashes me the blue steel glare. And then I’m the one making the truck rock.

  “What’s so funny, princess? Huh?” Reaching across the console, he tugs on a lock of my hair.

  “You!” The giggles keep coming until they turn into tears. Damn him. He’s not supposed to be jaded and adorable.

  “Told you I’m not always a dick.” Winking, he takes a pull from his fountain Coke. “It’s like a ninety/ten split. Maybe eighty-five/fifteen on a good day.”

  “Well, that’s generous.”

  “I try, princess.”

  I giggle all over again, knowing I’m edging closer and closer toward dangerous territory, even though I just said that wouldn’t happen. “Favorite football team?”

  “Uh, the Broncos, obviously.”

  “Eww. And here I was thinking we might be friends someday.”

  “Let me guess—you’re a Cowgirls fan.”

  “Damn right. America’s team, baby.”

  He makes a face and sits back again. “Probably for the best that we’re not friends.”

  “Eh. You’re a cop. It’d never work anyway.”

  “You and that cop hatred. You got some unresolved daddy issues, or what?”