“Need any help?”
His fingers stalled on the keyboard. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked Sylvia. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
She flashed him a visitor’s pass hanging around her neck. “What do you have to say about that?”
Joseph moved his notepad from his right side to his left. Wasn’t natural for that right-handed man, but it kept Sylvia’s eyes off it. “I have no idea how you got that, but no, I don’t need any help.”
“They took statements from me. You weren’t there. You were talking to the little girl.” Sylvia spun back and forth on her swivel chair, those curls in her hair gliding through the air the faster she spun. Good for you. You’re cute. Joseph had to be hard on himself. Otherwise he would get hard in other ways, and after what he heard in that interview room? Not something he was in the mood for. “How did that go, by the way?”
“I’m not…”
“…at liberty to say.” Sighing, Sylvia kicked back in the chair. Her eyes gazed across his keyboard and toward the yellow legal pad. How good was her eyesight? Because when Joseph wrote in English, it was with big, blocky letters. Easy enough to read if she put some effort into it. “Did you find any of the other people?”
“No. Two women are still at large, we believe.”
“Would it be a problem if they’re never found? They probably went to people they trust.”
“We would want all the statements and witnesses possible, so yes, they should be found. Right now we only have an eleven year old who doesn’t speak English as our witness. And she’s probably not here legally, so that complicates matters even further.” Heaven forbid if she was relied on for testifying in court. They needed to find more witnesses before Sheen covered his tracks in this mess. Good luck with that. They had one of his trucks smuggling women and children down the 205 freeway. He would definitely deny any involvement, but his company was tainted now.
“Shouldn’t you be out there looking for them?”
Joseph stopped typing. “Not my case anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“So… do you want some help? I can type 100 words per minute. That’s pretty good, yeah? I’ll even decipher your chicken scratch in record time.”
“That would not be protocol.”
“Well, darn, huh?”
Joseph went ahead and gave her what she obviously craved: his undivided attention. Bad idea. He didn’t know where she had been before they met that night, but she was dressed to kill a man in his sleep. Her little black dress hugged her hips and highlighted her breasts without daring to be vulgar. Smooth, white legs crossed one another, black strappy sandals showing off her pink toenails. Joseph knew he was losing focus when he lingered on the gleam of her skin and remembered how intoxicating it was to kiss her thighs and dive into her cleft.
“What do you want, Sylv?” Please don’t say me.
She readjusted the straps of her dress, wiggling back and forth in her seat, putting every asset of hers on full display. Because what Joseph really needed right now was to think about sex. With her. All night long and not necessarily in bed.
Too late.
“I’m trying to be helpful. It’s almost like I have some stake in this investigation.” She scooted closer to him. Crap. She was wearing pretty perfume. Gardenias. Fucking gardenias. Joseph’s stepmother had a small gardenia garden in front of her house that he used to roll around in as a kid. “I want that guy to go down. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Stay out of the way?”
“Ha. Ha.”
Don’t touch her, man. Don’t do it. Joseph’s hand twitched to wrap around her calf and indulge in how silky she felt. Because I remember, and I’m a fucking dumbass. There had been no closure between them, and that was his own fault. Cut her off like a thread hanging from his shirt, he had. No meaning. No explanations. No follow-ups. Cold, hard dumping that would probably get him yelled at by every woman he knew with the last name Montoya.
Sylvia reacted to his discomfort by eking backward in her chair. “Sorry. Maybe I want to talk. Guess that makes me stupid or something.”
“Now’s not a good time.”
“When will it be a good time?”
Joseph opened his arms to the chaos ensuing in the office. Agents who had gone home only to turn around again milled about in loafers and heels alike. One female agent was dressed to go to the theater. Another already had her jeans thrown back on. A male agent showed up in his gym clothes after being summoned without first getting a shower. Everyone kept their fair distance from him.
“That’s not an answer,” Sylvia said. “You’ve gotta leave sometime. Like I heard… you’re not even on this case anymore.”
“Then if you want to help, you should go find my mother.”
“Yikes. I’ll pass.”
“Go home. If they have any follow-up questions, they’ll call you. Besides…” He pretended to be transfixed with his work. “It’s Friday night. Don’t you have work?”
Sylvia scoffed in disbelief. “Really tactful, Joseph.”
“I’m serious. Big night at the strip club, I’m sure.”
“Oh. Thought you meant the other night work.”
Joseph shook his head. “I tend to not think about that.” Thinking about what Sylvia did to make some extra money left a bad taste in his mouth. Why, though? It never bothered him before. So what if she did that? As long as he wasn’t forced to arrest her for it, it didn’t mean anything to him. It’s because I can’t stand the thought of her doing it. They weren’t a couple. They had never been a real couple. The closest they got to solidifying a relationship was based on casual sex anyway. Sylvia had her job to do, and Joseph was busy with work. There was no room for love in either of their lives.
Even so, had she been on a date tonight? Had the man been respectful of her? Had he paid her to do things she had never even offered Joseph? Had she enjoyed herself, or was it another job? Was it like… with Sheen?
Joseph couldn’t type anymore.
“It’ll take me about a half hour to finish this up,” he said. “There’s an empty office over there. Meet me there in thirty minutes, and we’ll talk for as much time as I can spare.”
Sylvia stood up as gracefully as a ballerina. Her nimble legs shuffled in her constricting skirt, and her hands – bedecked with genuine gems – grazed his cheek. “Fair deal. I’ll see you later. Good luck with your thing.”
Joseph took a minute to regroup his thoughts and refocus on his work at hand. Stop thinking about that distracting woman. How sad was he, anyway? Every time he was around Sylvia, he turned into a slobbering dog. What kind of spell had she cast on him? Was it part of her job? Or did she naturally ooze seductive charm? Was it because he remembered how good she felt wrapped around him? How good it felt to be inside of her? How easy it was to want her, to have her? She would probably be my girlfriend if I asked. A demanding girlfriend, to be sure. Always wanting his playful attention. Always wanting to be spoiled. Damn. What a hard life.
On the other, she was like a slinky cat: always on the prowl. If it wasn’t Joseph, then it would be some other man. As sweet as Sylvia was, she wasn’t the kind of woman Joseph could rely on for anything more than casual sex. Great, mind-melting sex that was as passionate as it was cathartic, but always casual. Sylvia couldn’t offer him the type of relationship he craved or, well, monogamy.
All he could count on was having someone to be with until he found a more permanent partner, whenever that would be. Not only did that feel wrong, but Joseph wasn’t sure he could emotionally handle any relationship that had no chance of progressing toward marriage and children. Thanks, Angelica. You set the standard. Joseph was too empathetic for his own good.
It took him longer than half an hour to finish up his transcript. Sylvia was constantly on his mind, and he made so many mistakes that it was a miracle his mother didn’t come breathing her icy breath down the back of his neck. But Joseph didn’t let h
imself rest until he had saved his transcript to his cloud and sent a copy to his mother’s work email. By then, the office had thinned out a bit, most of the agents either at the hospital or out investigating other leads. Joseph had nothing else to do unless otherwise assigned. Time to go meet Sylvia.
She was where he told her to be, sitting outside the empty office. Sylvia covertly played with her phone while it was shoved in the bottom of her bag – open use of cell phones was prohibited to visitors, but nobody would care right now. It kept her quiet and out of the way.
Joseph glanced around the office before opening the office door. Nobody ever thought to look in when it wasn’t occupied. “Come on,” he grumbled in Sylvia’s direction. “I’ve got a few minutes.”
“Ooh, a few minutes. I’m a lucky girl.” Sylvia followed him with alacrity.
Joseph didn’t turn on the lights, but left half the blinds open to let in the greater office light. Five stark lines of light illuminated Sylvia’s face as if they were in a classic film noir matinee. What am I, then? Some deadbeat detective? Probably. He needed a cigarette and a trench coat. Instead, Sylvia got a wrinkled dress shirt and his incredible urge to chew on the inside of his cheek. I don’t smoke, anyway. Not since he thought he was a cool kid in high school, as short lived as that bad decision was.
“This must be personal.” He cleared his throat. “Am I wrong?”
Sylvia’s cocky half-smile went straight to Joseph’s loins. Oh, for fuck’s sake down there… This was worse than when she surprised him with a blowjob in his car. Now he sort of expected it. No, no, we’re not doing that… Joseph had made enough brash decisions recently. All of them concerning this woman who had some inexplicable hold over his head.
And heart.
His damned heart.
“Why did you break it off with me like that?”
He expected a question like that. What he did not expect was the tone it was asked in. Aggressive, yeah. Hurt, sure. Not some strange combination of both. Sylvia was wounded and refused to let it show. Except it did show, right there beneath the edge that cut her tongue and stabbed Joseph in his throat.
“It was rather unprofessional of me.”
“Fuck professional.” Sylvia’s crossing arms put up a barricade between them. For the best. Joseph didn’t need any real temptations now that they were alone. “I’m talking about a personal thing. We were talking about having something between us… and then the night you basically save my ass from a fate straight from my nightmares you cut off all contact and I never hear from you begin.” Sylvia may have pouted, but her voice was tragically firm. “I don’t want to admit this, but it hurt. Fuck you.”
Joseph didn’t know what was worse: her saying those words, or saying them with nothing but lethargy in her soul.
“If you wanted to break up,” she cut him off the moment he tried to speak, “you should have said so. I can handle it. Just none of that cold turkey bullshit. Did I do something?”
Worst of all, that was doubt hanging between them. Sylvia cast her eyes downward, feet scuffling, fingers twitching against her bent arms. Joseph sighed. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I wish I had a proper excuse for you, but I don’t.” Nah, he couldn’t make eye contact either. Not when she looked like that. “You want the truth?”
Her glare kicked him in the groin. “Uh, yeah?”
“I never contacted you again because I was afraid I was making a huge mistake. You and I weren’t supposed to happen, Sylv.”
Although her lip trembled, Sylvia did not yell or cry. She stiffened, and that was enough to tell Joseph that the truth really was not what he was supposed to say, no matter if it was the right thing to convey. “Weren’t supposed to happen? What’s that mean?”
“You know…”
“No, I don’t. Please enlighten me, though. I’d love to know how I’m not good enough for you.” Hair as limp as her posture fell across her face. “Is it because of my history? It’s your family, huh? Shit, Joseph, I was never serious about us… not like… marriage serious…”
“Stop.” Dare he touch her? Put his hands on her shoulders, if only to steady her? To get her to look him in the eye? Why are hers so full of rejection? Oh, right, because he had gone out of his way to reject her. Again. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’s not like that at all. But after I blew our cover that night, I had to pull back and think about a lot of things. Namely my ability to do my damn job.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have played along with Sheen so you didn’t freak out and do that…”
“What? For real, Sylv?” How the hell was she blaming herself for this? “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I wasn’t going to let that asshole hurt you. We would – will – find another way to get him. This accident tonight was terrible for him. We’ll get the evidence we need, I promise.”
“I don’t care about that.”
Joseph released her. “You don’t?”
“Well, yes, of course I care about that, but it’s not what I’m here to talk about. I want to talk about us.”
“What is there to talk about?”
“Is there even an us?”
Joseph’s sagging shoulders could not have been making his wrinkled shirt look better. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. We’re not compatible, Sylv. It’s a terrible time for me, what with work and my recent dating history…”
“So I was a rebound? Tell me I was a rebound. I can handle it.”
If that’s what she wanted. “You were a rebound, Sylvia. Sorry.”
“Sure. Okay. And you were a rebound for me, too. It was nice to actually feel wanted for once. You know, real wanted.”
Another slam to my balls. This was not going how Joseph wanted. But what did he want? A clean breakup, no hard feelings? Sylvia could say she didn’t care how he truly felt all she wanted. It clearly hurt her. What, did she think she was going to walk up to him, grab his cock, and subdue him into bed forever? That wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how he worked.
Even though he wanted her. Right now.
Don’t cry. Don’t feel bad. I’m sorry. I’ll make it right again. That’s what he would’ve said before, to any other woman. Back when he was desperate to hang on to his girlfriends, the women he had convinced himself were the loves of his life. Even that real rebound Stella had a hold on his heart for longer than was kosher. I was so heartsick that I latched onto her too quickly. Would he ever get over Angelica enough to move on to other relationships? He didn’t want to hurt Sylvia. Because from the way his heart had begun to ache around her, he figured they were on the fast track to making too many mistakes that they would regret when it came time to part ways.
“Kiss me.”
Joseph snapped himself out of his thoughts. “What?”
Arms lowering, Sylvia looked like she was about to march into a boardroom and bust some corporate balls. Or launch into a briefing room and scare the wrath of God into some slacking agents. But her ire and determination were not for other men. They were for Joseph, who stood stoically before her.
“I told you to kiss me. I dare you to kiss me and then tell me that you don’t feel anything. Because you’re not leaving again unless you’re damn sure that you can stand to be without me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy? I want to kiss you, Joseph. Is that really crazy? Does my having affection for you make me crazy.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“To hell it wasn’t. Now, are you going to kiss me or not?”
No.
Yes.
No title could be attributed to the war waging between Joseph’s head and his heart. The generals had been summoned, the treaties drafted, and the kings waiting on their thrones with bated breath, yet both armies remained at a critical impasse. His head demanded that he walk away. That he be the bigger person, the smart man, the one undaunted by a pretty woman who made his heart flutter and his lips twitch into the first real smiles of the year. Don’t f
all for it. Just because Angelica made you feel like this doesn’t mean another woman will. It’s wishful thinking. She’s not even the right type of woman. You know what she does for a living? Sure, she talks about stopping if she finds someone she wants to be with, but what makes you think you’ll be that man? She likes businessmen. Tycoons. Heirs to crazy fortunes. You know, the kind of fortune you’re never going to inherit, you fucking bastard.
His heart, on the other hand, was a petulant, vindictive child still desperate to love and be loved. Blood thundered in his head whenever he looked at Sylvia. Enough to drown out his thoughts? Was that how his heart was going to win? By pounding the drums of war until his brain could no longer be heard?
However it was going to win, the fact was that it won at all. Joseph pulled Sylvia to him and kissed her.
Don’t feel anything. Don’t feel anything? Might as well have asked him to stop breathing! That was the problem with kissing Sylvia. She was a living stimulus, the kind of woman that made most men fall down to their knees and promise her the moon and its children the stars. She deserved love and pleasure. Deserved them! What better man to give that to her than Joseph? He knew when to be tender. He knew when to ravage. That’s me right now. He couldn’t be tender. The moment his lips crashed against hers, his tongue instantly forcing her teeth apart so he could explore the world that existed within her, tenderness fled.
She had teased him before about being a dramatic kisser. She wasn’t the first woman to tell him that. Because when Joseph Montoya wanted a woman, he kissed her until she knew it. No quirky little pecks. No brushes, dancing around the edges, or grazing the surface. No, no, no. The only way to let a woman know that a man loved her was by kissing like a criminal with one night of freedom left. Joseph had so much to offer that he often feared he would lose a piece of himself every time he kissed somebody new.
And the more dramatic he became, the needier his actions were.
“Joseph,” Sylvia whimpered when he was foolish enough to allow her a single breath. “What if someone sees us in here?”
Damaged Goods Page 26