“Bullshit.”
“It isn’t.”
He cups my face with a hand. “Babe, you’re the most effortlessly sexy woman I know.” His fingers drift down my neck and over my chest, pulling down the sheet until he has my breasts uncovered. “These…” He cups one, bending down to flick the tip with his tongue. “…are perfect.” Sliding his hand down my belly, he presses a kiss on the slight swell. “Soft,” he mumbles as he slowly slides down my body, pushing the covers out of his way.
I force myself to lie still while he briefly plays his fingers through the neatly trimmed patch of curls before leisurely exploring every bump and dimple of my generous thighs. As a lights out kind of girl, this kind of close scrutiny should have me running for the hills, but his quiet, almost reverent, attention to every part of me is addictive.
My breath halts when he spreads my legs, fitting the width of his shoulders between them.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, almost to himself before he blows lightly. The touch of his breath on parts of me still sensitive has me inhale sharply and I reach for his head. His eyes shoot up to mine. “Lift your arms above your head, Lissie.”
I slowly do as he asks, bracing my hands against the wall.
Holding my gaze, he spreads me with his thumbs and licks along my crease, flicking the tip of his tongue over my clit, his beard lightly abrasive against my skin. I hiss at the electric charge it sends through my body. So sensitive.
“Effortlessly sexy,” he rumbles, and I can feel the vibration of his voice against me.
Not many men have gone down there, and fewer still left an impression, but even with Yuma’s barely-there touches, he’s able to pull me out of my head and place me squarely back in my body.
My mouth drops open when he licks again, paying more attention to that bundle of nerves as he inserts a finger. His other hand presses down on my belly, keeping me anchored to the bed when my body wants to buck against his mouth.
It’s sweet torture as he brings me to the edge with firm flicks, only to ease off when he feels my body tense.
“Please…” I finally plead, when I can’t control the trembling of my legs any longer.
I lift my head slightly to find his eyes still on me, satisfaction on his face as he penetrates me with a second digit. I close my eyes at the delicious stretch.
“Look at me,” he growls and I snap them open. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”
I don’t have a chance to react to his words because the next moment his lips close over my clit, sucking hard, and this time my own ears ring when I scream my release.
I’m still catching my breath when he climbs up my body, brushing his nose and lips over my skin before he covers my mouth with his. I taste myself on him as he kisses me deeply, feeling the rasp of his beard on my skin.
“No more thinking,” he says firmly before rolling onto his back, this time keeping me firmly in his arms.
I don’t even have the presence of mind to offer a return of favors before I feel myself drift off to sleep.
______________
The smell of coffee wakes me.
Even before I open my eyes, I know I’m alone in bed.
I woke up once during the night to use the bathroom and had a hard time escaping Yuma’s hold with half his body covering me, an arm wrapped around me. and one of his legs inserted between mine. I finally managed, though, Yuma grunting his complaint as I tiptoed to the bathroom. By the time I’d come back he was sprawled on his back on the mattress, snoring lightly, but the moment I got in beside him, he was all over me again. Like some heat-seeking octopus.
I blink open my eyes to find one of my mugs sitting on the floor beside me, a piece of paper tucked underneath.
Morning. Plumbing emergency unit 3.
Cute when you sleep. CUL
I can feel the dopey smile on my face, even as I check my mouth for dried drool. It doesn’t escape me, I’ve graduated from ‘talk to you later’ to ‘see you later’ in his sign off.
A quick look at my alarm shows six forty-five, and judging from the steam still coming off my coffee, he hasn’t been gone that long.
Mmm. I could get used to good coffee served in bed.
As I carefully sip, my mind wakes up and immediately starts analyzing last night. Determined not to let anything—not even my own thoughts—spoil an amazing time, I direct them to work and the things I want to cover today.
First of all, I need to catch up with that witness I was supposed to interview yesterday, and then I have those names Red Franklin gave me to run down. I quickly realize I have a busy day ahead and scramble out from under the covers, bringing my mug into the bathroom.
I rush out of the apartment half an hour later, a travel mug and half-eaten bagel in my hands. I’m juggling both, trying to get my truck open, when a familiar hand appears from behind me and opens the door.
“Hop in, Babe,” Yuma’s deep rumble fills my ear.
When I’m seated, my mug in the cupholder, I turn to where he’s leaning into the cab, his face inches from mine.
“Thank you for the coffee.”
The small tug at a corner of his mouth is barely visible behind the facial hair, but it’s there.
“You’re welcome.”
“How’s the leak?” I ask.
“More like a plug than a leak,” he informs me, wincing.
“Yikes.”
“One of the less pleasant jobs managing a bunch of apartments.” He shrugs it off.
“What are the more pleasant jobs?” I fish and his smirk is back.
“Making sure certain tenants get a good night’s sleep.”
“Certain tenants?”
“One,” he quickly corrects. “One certain tenant.”
I find myself grinning back.
“Good save.”
“I thought so,” he mumbles, leaning in farther for an all-too-brief kiss. “Busy day ahead?”
“Looks like it might be.”
“Shoot me a message if you’re going to be home for dinner.”
“You planning to cook for me?”
Now I get a full-on grin. “I might.” Another brush of lips. “Get started on your day. I’ll see you later.”
With a rap of his knuckles on my roof, he backs away, shuts my door, and watches me back out of my spot.
I’m still smiling when I walk into the station.
Yuma
Nothing like a plugged up toilet to start the day.
Not even the plunger could dislodge whatever was caught down the pipes, and I had to call in a plumber. While waiting for him to arrive, I make a quick stop in my apartment to grab a shower. It pisses me off that the scent of Lissie clinging to my skin is now covered by the smell of sewage.
She’d been dead to the world when I set the coffee on the floor beside the mattress. She was on her stomach; her face turned my way, cheeks slightly squished, forcing her lush lips open. What I wouldn’t have given to crawl in beside her, but unfortunately with a tenant panicking with an overflowing toilet, I didn’t have time. I did, however, take a minute to pull away the sheet bunched up at her waist to take in her generous, very naked ass underneath. Made up my mind right then, next time I’d take her from behind.
The memory of her taste and those lush curves has me palm my reawakened cock and seek some relief. It’s not the same as the real thing, but it’ll tide me over until she gets home.
I’m just in time to meet the plumber outside unit three and let him in, glad to hand off that problem. Tse is just pulling in when I walk back to the office. I’d almost forgotten we have a couple more units to outfit with new windows.
“You draw the short end again?” I ask when he gets off his bike.
“Nah, Wapi’s better with the kids than I am. I volunteered.” I already know what’s coming next and brace myself. “Besides, wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to check out that sweet ass again.”
Tse isn’t much older than me and has been a brother for over twenty ye
ars. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to plant my fist in his face at his taunting. I know that’s what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it. Always poking. So instead of giving him the reaction he wants, I force a smile on my face.
“Sweet doesn’t do that ass justice. You have no idea.”
I immediately turn and walk toward the small storage unit where I keep my tools. I hear his boots follow.
“Lucky fucker,” I hear him grumble behind me, and I don’t make any effort to hide the smug grin on my face when I turn.
“Yes, I am.”
Without interruptions—other than the plumber letting me know he fixed the problem in three—we get all three windows installed before the tenant comes home. The door will have to wait until tomorrow, so with one more unit to go after this, we’ll need two days to get this job done.
Tse offers to come back both days, which is fine by me; we work well together. Always have.
When he’s gone I store the tools, quickly wash up in my bathroom, and put on clean clothes before heading out to the seniors’ home. I take my truck, because after seeing Momma I plan to grab a few things at the City Market, and getting groceries on a bike is a pain in the ass.
With Momma being the amazing cook she was, I never really had the motivation to expand on the few convenient dishes she taught me to make. One is bacon-wrapped meatloaf and roasted vegetables, so that’s what I’m cooking for Lissie. Seems like a safe choice since discovering she likes her meat as much as I do.
Nosh is sitting at the small table in Momma’s room when I walk in. Momma isn’t here.
“Where is she?”
“Fucking dance classes. Can you believe it? Momma? Never wanted to set foot on a dance floor, and now she’s fucking twinkle-toes.”
I bust out laughing at his disgruntled face.
“She any good?”
“Fuck no. Couldn’t stand to watch for more than five seconds. If she had any sense she’d be mortified.”
I get it. It’s a tough pill to swallow when not only does your loved one not recognize you, but you also no longer recognize them either. It’s a loss. A goodbye when they haven’t even left yet.
“Was she smiling?” I ask, and his eyes narrow on me.
“Yes.”
I don’t say anything else but hold my father’s gaze until he finally looks away.
“Fuck.” It’s rare he uses his voice. He never was able to enunciate words well, so he doesn’t bother. This one I understood clearly.
I sink down in Momma’s chair.
“What’s with the piece?” he asks, and I tamp down my irritation at his choice of words. Nosh is old-school, and other than Momma, and maybe Luna, he’s never shown a particularly high regard for women. Something I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t done much of either.
“She’s got a name, and I like her.”
“She’s a pig.”
Oh, yeah. The old man is trying to get a rise out of me, using his preferred slang for cops.
“She’s a cop, yes.”
“She know you’re a boozer?” He takes great care spelling out the last word and I nod my response. “Can’t be very smart then.”
Christ, he gets on my last nerve. You’d think I’d be relieved he’s no longer on about my shortcomings, but that would be preferable to listening to him coming down on Lissie.
“She’s sharp as a tack. Why don’t you go back to picking on me?”
Surprisingly that shuts him up. At least for a beat or two.
“You like her.”
I drop my head back and raise my eyes to the ceiling, but my hands sign. “Yes. I like her.”
He draws my attention with a knock on the table.
“Never fucking thought I’d see the day.”
I have to dig deep, but there’s a compliment hidden in that statement.
When Momma walks back in the room a few minutes later, she’s all smiles. Even when she looks at me.
“Who are you?”
CHAPTER 11
Lissie
“JEFF LANSING.”
I look up from my computer screen when Ramirez walks in, a smug grin on his face.
“Who’s that?”
He tosses a sheet of paper on my table. The name he mentioned is printed at the top, with a picture depicting a guy—probably in his forties—underneath, along with a physical description.
“Professional engineer. I was finally able to get a hold of with that contact of Red’s in the developer’s office, Phil Becker. The guy insisted on meeting in Cortez.”
“Isn’t Arches Homes’ office in Monticello?”
“Yup. Turns out, he had a good reason not wanting to chance being seen with law enforcement.”
Immediately my interest is piqued. “Oh?”
“He’s nervous. He says he cautiously approached Lansing a couple of months back and discovered the man had his own misgivings about the project, but wasn’t ready to go into too many details. Then four weeks ago, he asked Becker to meet him at the site one night but never showed up. The company line was Lansing had received an unexpected opportunity he couldn’t pass up on a project in the United Arab Emirates. He tried getting information from the office but was shut down. Then he tried to do some digging on his own, only to discover Lansing seems to have vanished. He’s a little jumpy. Swears someone’s been following him and his work computer has been accessed. He spent the entire time looking over his shoulder.”
“He thinks Lansing is our victim?” I ask, almost eagerly. We’ve been struggling to get ahead on this case and I’m ready to sink my teeth into a good lead. Identifying the victim would go a long way in opening up this investigation.
“He does and we need to find a way to prove it.”
I turn to my computer and throw his name into the system. Half an hour later we have an address, a two-year-old Ford pickup truck registered to him, and the name of a sister in Las Vegas. Ten minutes after that we’re in Chief Benedetti’s office and have him caught up on the new information.
“Fancy a trip to Vegas?” He’s looking straight at me.
“Me? Not particularly.”
“Someone’s gotta go talk to the sister,” he responds with a shrug. “I have a contact in the police department, let me give him a call and see what they can do.”
I listen in on the conversation, mentally crossing my fingers. I have no desire to go to Vegas just now, life is getting exciting here in Durango.
The past two days have been crazy busy. I solved my first solo case—the assault. I finally got around to interviewing that witness, and her information helped ultimately catch the guy last night.
Unfortunately, my crazy hours also meant I didn’t get see a whole lot of Yuma. He wanted to cook me dinner—even went shopping—but there hasn’t been an opportunity yet. I have my mind set on tonight, so I really don’t want to be sent to Vegas.
“You’re in luck,” Benedetti says to me. “My buddy says he’ll swing by her address tonight and see if she’s home. He’ll bring a DNA swab, just in case.” I let out a relieved breath. “Now where are we on the concrete guys?”
“With the site still shut down, the crew’s been disbursed on other jobs,” Blackfoot informs him. “I’ll head out tomorrow.”
“Good.” Chief points his finger at Tony and me. “Tomorrow, one of you connect with our colleagues in Monticello. Get them up-to-date and let them know we’ll want to get into Lansing’s apartment. We won’t be able to do much until we confirm he’s the victim, but as soon as we get the word, I want to get moving.”
Blackfoot heads home right after the meeting; while Ramirez follows me back to the bullpen.
“Aren’t you heading home?” he asks behind me.
“Just grabbing my bag and then I’m out of here.”
“I meant to tell you; good catch yesterday,” he says when I bend down to grab my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk.
“Thanks,” I mumble, pleased with the easy compliment. I’m not used to pra
ise.
“We may have gotten off on a bit of a rocky start, but I just wanted to let you know I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a real asset.”
“The rocky start was on me,” I admit. I had a lot of preconceived ideas when I first arrived and hadn’t been particularly friendly. Mostly out of self-preservation, given I’d just left a very hostile environment, but it hadn’t taken me long to see things are different here. “And I really enjoy working here.”
“Glad to hear it. Hey, I was gonna head over to The Irish for a quick drink. You wanna come with?”
I’m not sure what drives me—maybe it’s because in a few words he accepted me as one of the team—but I suddenly feel the need to come clean about something.
“I actually have dinner plans, but also; bars are a bit of a challenge for me,” I admit, watching him carefully for a reaction. “I’m an alcoholic.”
It costs me to say it. The only person who knew was Joe Benedetti. Apparently it was marked in my personnel file from Albuquerque. He’d called me and asked me straight up if I was dry. We had a long talk on the phone and I ended up with the job. It shocked the hell out of me, but he said my record was otherwise impeccable and he would give me the benefit of the doubt.
“Really?” Tony seems genuinely surprised.
“I should probably have said recovering alcoholic, but I’m told that’s a misnomer. I haven’t had a drink in almost a year.”
“Good for you.”
“And I never drank on the job,” I quickly add. It feels important he know that.
He just nods in response, turns off his computer, and shrugs on his jacket as he starts walking out of the office. I’m still standing by my desk, wondering if I’ve made a mistake telling him, when he turns his head.
“Let’s go, we’ll grab a coffee at Durango Joe’s instead.”
_______________
It smells incredible when I walk into my apartment.
My stomach immediately starts grumbling after sitting at the coffee shop, trying to ignore the sweet bakery smells. I didn’t want to spoil dinner, so instead of indulging there, I got some pastries to bring home for dessert.
Tony was a surprise. He shared a little about himself before asking about me, and I found myself telling him a bit about my background. Not much, but enough to give him some insight. By the time we walked out of Durango Joe’s, Tony had shifted from being a colleague to being a friend.
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