by A. D. Ryan
I should have known he wouldn’t tolerate my ignoring him much longer. “Brooke!”
Just then, David returned from watching one of the interrogations, and sat at his desk, watching me. “Thanks for all your help, Nick. I’ll find it on my own.”
Just before I replaced the phone on its base, I heard an irate “God damn it, Brooke!”
David must have heard it too, because his eyes widened, but before he could ask about it, I smiled. “Apparently, we were looking for clubs that were too obvious in the subculture,” I explained.
“What do you mean?”
“Nick told me that he and Bobby were approached about a club called ‘Gianna’s’ back in college.” I told him. “Said some woman claiming she let them use her like some sort of donor bag invited them.” He was shocked when I told him I’d actually been there, not knowing what kind of club I was actually in, but he refocused quickly.
“Did you get the address?” David asked. “Let’s head over there now.”
Shaking my head, I sighed. “Can’t. Nick said the location moves around a lot.” As I explained this to him, I wondered how Nick knew this. He didn’t say it moved around, but that it moves around. How would he know that unless he was in some way a part of it now?
“Brooke?”
I didn’t even realize I’d zoned out until David spoke up. “Sorry.”
“No worries, you just went kind of blank there. You feeling all right?”
Nodding, I stood. “Yeah. Fine.” Forcing my head back into the game, I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair and pulled it on. “I say we head back to these clubs and start asking the patrons if they’ve heard of Gianna’s. We’ll go undercover if we have to.”
For the next two days, we searched for this mysterious club. We asked around, but no one had heard of it. Donovan, the owner of The Dungeon, admitted to knowing of clubs like it, and even that his own had been modeled after them, but the name Gianna’s didn’t ring any bells.
None of the other three clubs had heard of it either, which only served to upset me further. It was frustrating as hell, but I refused to give up.
We worked all afternoon, trying to find the location of this place. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed at first, but eventually, the captain came out of his office, making his way over to my desk where David and I were still brainstorming. We’d just gotten off the phone with Donovan, who agreed to contact a few people in his inner circle, when my dad interrupted.
“You two should head out. You’ve been working this case around the clock. Go out to dinner,” he suggested. “You’ve got your phones. Someone will call if they find anything.”
“Sir,” I started, but he cut me off by raising his hand.
“No, Detective. Go.” His tone was stern, and not one that I was ready to go up against.
David looked from my father to me and shrugged. “Maybe he’s right.”
Pleased with David’s compliance, Dad scurried off back to his office, and I turned to David. “He already likes you. You don’t need to keep kissing his ass.”
Laughing, David grabbed our coats. “Come on, Detective. Let me take you out somewhere nice. What are you in the mood for?”
I thought about it for a second, weighing all my options before I decided. “Steak. Definitely steak.” Then I noted the hour. It was almost well after eight. “But it’s getting late.”
David sloughed off my concern of the time as no big deal. “I’m sure we can find some place.”
When we stepped out of the precinct, I had the distinct feeling like someone was watching me. My first impulse was to inhale deeply, and it surprised me when I picked up traces of something. It was woodsy and surprisingly comforting—but also concerning. I couldn’t negate that fact. My eyes scanned the darkness on the way to the car, but I found nothing. That didn’t mean I imagined things, though. While I could feel someone out there, I didn’t sense an imminent threat, so David pulled the car out of the lot.
We decided on J&G Steakhouse—my favorite—and while David navigated the streets, I called ahead and asked if we could get a table, even if it was a little late. The manager said that there were still several tables that were still ordering, so he didn’t have a problem getting us in.
After parking the car, David and I walked arm in arm into the restaurant and were seated quickly by the manager personally. We placed our drink orders and were given a minute more with our menus. When our server made his way over with our drinks, David took the liberty and ordered for the both of us to save a bit of time. “Can I get two of your prime rib dinners, please?”
“Definitely,” our server replied, jotting our order down. “And how would you like them cooked?”
“Medium-well,” David said, closing his menu. “And I’ll have the baked potato and—”
“Rare,” I interrupted. I don’t know why I had the sudden desire for my steak to be cooked any other way than medium-well, because the truth was, bloody steaks grossed me out. Or…at least, they used to. Now it sounded strangely appealing, and my mouth watered at the thought. The server acknowledged me with a nod and marked my change down on the paper while David eyed me suspiciously from across the table.
We both put in our side orders for our meals, and then the server read everything back to us. With everything settled, he left to put our order in, and David turned to me. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Why?” I shrugged.
“Brooke, you just ordered your steak rare. Even the slightest shade of pink usually has you sending your food back to the kitchen. What’s up?”
He was right, but I couldn’t explain the sudden change. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just in the mood for something different.” It seemed like David understood, and he let it go without pressing any further.
I picked up my wine and took a sip, looking across the table at a suddenly nervous-looking David. I’d never known him to be so fidgety, but seeing him focused so intently on his hands as he cracked his knuckles over and over again concerned me. Reaching across the table, I placed my hand over his, and he stilled.
“What’s up?” I asked. “You’re freaking me out here.”
David chuckled; it wasn’t a jovial sound, but hesitant instead. “Well, I’ve been waiting for the right time to bring this up, and I thought maybe now was perfect.”
I inhaled a sharp breath at the seriousness of his tone, remembering the last two times a man said almost those exact words. Just like then, it could only mean one of two things: he was ready to end things between us or he was about to propose. Considering we’d spent almost every waking moment together—except for the few times he had to go back to his apartment for a few things—indicated that it was likely the latter. Were we ready for that? After everything with Nick, was I ready for that?
“David—”
David swapped the positioning of our hands so his encased mine, and his blue eyes glimmered with nervous excitement. “These last couple years have been unbelievable,” he began his thumbs moving back and forth over my hands. “And this last week, with us finally being able to open up to those close to us about our relationship and spending so much time together has only brought us closer, I think. So, I was thinking that maybe it’s time we took the next step and—”
“David, I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“—move in together.” The excitement in his eyes extinguished, and his hands fell slack around mine, releasing them. “You’re not ready? But—”
I shook my head quickly, mentally chastising myself for misreading the situation as a marriage proposal, and I took his hands back in mine. “No. Wait. That wasn’t what I thought you were going to say.” He didn’t seem reassured.
“So, had this been a proposal, you’d have said no?” he asked.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache come on. “But it wasn’t, so that doesn’t even matter.”
“But if it was?”
“Yeah, I guess I would have,” I answ
ered honestly. “But it doesn’t matter, because clearly you’re not ready either if you didn’t ask. So this whole thing is a non-issue.”
David contemplated what I was saying before his rigid posture relaxed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Relieved, I smiled. I could tell he was still a little hurt by my answer to what I assumed was happening, so I decided to give him this one. Not that it was a hard decision to come to. “And in answer to your question, yeah, I think us living together is a great idea.”
“Really?” Positively beaming, David stood and pulled me into his arms, kissing me and hugging me and drawing the attention of the other patrons. When they started clapping and congratulating us, I blushed. “This is going to be so great.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I agreed. Admittedly, living together never really crossed my mind over the last few months, but being with David made me happier than I’d been in a long time. Besides, we’d already been practically living together since the night of my attack last week, so it sort of felt like it was the next logical step.
David held me tighter, and I looked out the window behind him and up at the sight of the almost-full moon in the clear sky. The way I was suddenly drawn to it confounded me, but, at the same time, something about it felt almost essential to a part of me that stirred just below the surface. While I couldn’t quite explain what this new sensation was, I knew that I was both anxious and eager for whatever was coming next.
Chapter thirteen | lead
When I woke up the next morning, I felt a little queasy and jittery. The only thing I could link it to was the steak at dinner. While it had tasted absolutely amazing, maybe in hindsight, ordering out of my comfort zone wasn’t such a bright idea. David had tried to tell me—even asked if I was sure I didn’t want to send it back to be cooked a little more. At the time, I was glad I didn’t, because the minute I cut into that steak, its savory scent practically hypnotized me, and I devoured it.
During dinner, David suggested that we stop by his house after work the next day and pick up a few of his things to bring over to our house—it was still a little strange to call it that, but equally as thrilling. We then talked about what he should do with his apartment—rent it out or sell it—and I really had no idea. While I didn’t foresee anything going wrong between us, would it be bad luck to sell it…you know, just in case? We eventually decided to think it over for a few days before revisiting the topic. It wasn’t like we had to decide right that second.
I didn’t know if it was the romantic setting, our new living arrangement, the wine going straight to my head, or the intense need to release the stress of the last few days, but as the minutes ticked by, I found it hard to focus on anything but how badly I wanted to get David home and into our bed. While he ate, I had focused a little too intently on his soft lips, imagining how satisfying it would be to have them on mine or anywhere else on my body. Every time he picked up his wine glass, my gaze would drift to his hands, fantasizing about the warmth of them setting my skin ablaze as they roamed over my skin. When he spoke, I imagined him whispering in my ear as we made love.
My eyes were instantly drawn to his bright blue eyes, and the desire that was reflected back at me made me realize just how long it had been since we’d made love. Not for lack of either of us trying; it just seemed like every time things started to heat up between us, something important happened like our new case and the attack, or my hospitalization and concurrent recovery. Naturally, David was the kind of guy who would never push—which of course only made me want to remedy this immediately and show him my appreciation.
The feeling only grew with every minute that passed, and we’d barely made it through the front door before I accosted him against it, crushing my lips to his and unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as I could. Kissing ravenously, lust clouding the air we struggled to take in, we moved down the hall toward the bedroom, stumbling and leaving a trail of clothes in our wake like breadcrumbs. When we were within inches of the bed, David eased me down onto it and hovered over me dominantly.
Something in me shifted unexpectedly when his eyes locked with mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist, rolling him onto his back and pinning him to the mattress, my hands around his wrists while I kissed his jaw and neck. My nose brushed against his throat, and I inhaled deeply, taking in his unique fragrance until it fogged my brain. He smelled so amazing—so tantalizing—and I couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
I wanted to devour him.
He never once complained while we made love, but he did try to reposition us a few times, only to be thwarted by my newfound strength and unwillingness to be in any kind of submissive position. At one point, I did allow him to sit up, and he pushed my hair back off my face, threading his fingers into it and holding it in place as we neared the precipice of our release.
I smiled at the memory of last night, my body tingling all over as my desire ignited again before vanishing just as suddenly, giving way to a much less pleasurable feeling. Suddenly, every muscle in my body tensed, leaving me on-edge and jittery. My skin tightened over my body, my heart raced, and my head pounded. This was the first time in days that I’d felt this out of sorts, and I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned. While it was an unusual sensation taking over my entire body, it didn’t seem particularly life-threatening, so I decided to wait it out and see if it passed on its own. I’d hate to go to the doctor just to find out it was mild anxiety or something.
The tension in my body increased, forcing me from bed before dawn, while David was still sound asleep. I figured I could at least get an early start on the day, so I quietly padded down the hall toward the kitchen and started brewing the coffee. I really hoped that whatever I was feeling went away once I’d eaten.
The smell of coffee infused the air, and I heard David stirring in the bedroom. It was still a little strange to hear every little thing, but over the last few days, I’d grown accustomed to it, and had even learned to use it to my advantage. I tried doing the same with my other senses, but the ability to smell every little thing had yet to grow on me as much as the others.
I listened to see if David was awake, but when I heard his soft snores, I knew he wasn’t. Not surprising considering it was only five in the morning, and it was rare if he woke before six.
Without any warning, my stomach cramped painfully, forcing me to grip the countertop as I doubled over. It was hard to distinguish whether it was due to nausea or hunger, and it only strengthened the more I focused on it. Thankfully, it passed as quickly as it had come on, and when my hands shook afterward, I determined the cause to be hunger. I yanked the refrigerator door open so hard, I almost tore it off its hinges—literally—and I dug through it until I found the bacon and eggs. Once I located them, I grabbed my frying pan and turned the stove on so I could cook breakfast before David woke up. My mouth salivated as I eyed the raw bacon, but I mentally chastised myself for even entertaining the idea of it being edible like that.
No sooner had I started cooking, when I heard David’s soft footfalls in the hall. He was trying to be sneaky. I could tell, because, instead of the usual heal-toe footstep, I heard a slower, tiptoe-like shuffling over the hardwood floors. He was so adorable sometimes, and I just didn’t have the heart to ruin his fun, so I carried on with breakfast, humming to let him think I was none the wiser. When his hands grabbed my waist, I pretended to be startled, jumping slightly and gasping.
“Good morning,” he said, pressing his lips to my shoulder as he wrapped his arms all the way around my waist and rocked us both side to side. “Sorry if I startled you. You been up long?” His hands continued to travel south, toying with the waist of my skimpy sleep shorts.
“Mmm,” I hummed, looking toward the digital clock on the coffee maker. “Not really. Less than an hour.” Abandoning breakfast for a brief second, I turned in his arms to greet him properly, and he gripped my ass, pulling me against him. “Why are you awake so early? I figured you’d sleep in after last night
.”
Smirking, David leaned forward and kissed me softly. “So did I,” he replied quietly. “I thought you’d sleep in a bit today, too.”
“That would’ve been nice,” I agreed, stretching my neck when it felt tight again. “I guess my body figures it needs to be up before the sun now. It’s normally not so bad, but today I think I could have used the extra sleep.”
Worry quickly filled David’s eyes as they darted between mine, and he forgot all about his not-so-subtle seduction. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Um, kind of,” I replied honestly. “I’m a little jittery…almost like I’m anxious about something, and I was a little nauseous this morning before I got out of bed.”
David placed the back of his hand to my forehead, and his eyebrows pulled together. “You do feel a little warmer.”
“Weird.” I turned back to plate breakfast. “I don’t feel like I have a fever.”
I started eating right away, the heavenly smell making my stomach growl. I was suddenly ravenous, unable to get enough. It was a stark contrast to the nausea I experienced earlier, and while this should probably concern me, something about it definitely didn’t feel off. In fact, it felt as natural as breathing—like it was my body’s way of preparing for something. Something big. What, though? I had no idea, but I felt like I was just supposed to go with it, so I did.
While David and I sat at the table, his cell phone rang. After a couple rings, he picked it up. It was O’Malley. Apparently a young woman had come into the station after an odd exchange the night before, and as soon as the word “Gianna’s” left her mouth, O’Malley put her in an interrogation room with a cup of coffee and called us.
My hands trembled for an entirely new reason after that.
David and I rushed to get ready, agreeing to worry about the dishes when we got home that evening. By the time we were headed to the station, I was still feeling a little off, but the strange cramps and rolling in my stomach had subsided. I was still pretty anxious about something, but I couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was. All I knew was that I felt the deep need to be outside.