10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

RICHARD

I can’t believe it. I’m fuming, and I don’t care who sees it. I storm into the house, and there’s Lucas Brown, looking like he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The two cops stationed outside share the same expression of shame, and I don’t hold back.

“What the fuck, Lucas? You couldn’t contain an untrained civilian when you’ve got law enforcement training? Are you kidding me?”

Lucas mumbles something about things going south, but it’s not good enough. I can’t afford to have a liability like this. I don’t give a damn about his excuses. The Ghostface Striker is still out there, and if Izel is genuinely a victim, I can’t shake the thought of what he might do if he gets to her. The image claws at the back of my mind, and I can’t finish the thought.

I move past him. I can’t report this, can’t alert anyone. She’ll spend the rest of her days in prison, and for some reason, I don’t want that. Maybe it’s the way she looked at me, or maybe it’s something deeper, but I can’t let her down.

I’m out on the streets, scanning every corner for any sign of her. The city’s still buzzing, and it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. But I’m not giving up. I push forward keeping my senses on high alert. And then, I spot her. She’s a few yards away, and it’s a good thing she doesn’t see me.

I can’t let her see me, can’t let her know that I’m close. I’ve got to figure out what’s going on in her head, what led her to this point.

She enters a club, and I follow her inside. My gut tells me she’s headed for trouble, and I need to be there, whether as an ally or just someone to watch her back.

She’s at the bar, ordering drinks like there’s no tomorrow. I want to grab her, drag her out of this place, and bring her home. But I know I need more information. Is she here to meet someone?

I scan the room, searching for any familiar faces or suspicious characters. Every stranger she interacts with feels like a potential threat. I watch her closely, noting every detail: the way she leans on the bar, the anxious glances she throws over her shoulder.

A guy sidles up to her at the bar. But I don’t make a move; instead, I keep watching her. Why is this fool affecting me so much? It’s as if I’m jealous of him. I scoff inwardly, brushing the thought aside. It’s borderline stupid to even entertain such a notion.

She’s on the dance floor, and for the first time, I see her smile, a genuine, carefree smile that lights up her face. She’s beautiful when she smiles.

But that tool she met at the bar isn’t content with just dancing. He leans in for a kiss, and their lips meet. That’s it. I storm through the crowd, and in a split second, I reach out and grab her by the hair, yanking her away from the kiss. She gasps in pain, and her eyes go wide as she’s forced to look at me.

The guy, the tool who was kissing her, looks pissed. “Hey, man, what’s your problem?”

I don’t even bother with words. I release Izel and throw a punch that lands square on his jaw. He staggers back, his hands flying to his face.

“You better step the fuck away from her,” I growl.

Izel’s date for the night, who is now nursing a rapidly swelling jaw, finally gets the message. He stumbles back, looking equal parts scared and confused. But the confusion doesn’t last long. I move my jacket aside just enough to reveal the gun holstered at my hip. His eyes widen and without another word, he scurries away like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.

I turn back to Izel, and the sight of her nearly undoes me. Her hair is in disarray and her lips are swollen, red from what I can only assume was his doing, and I feel like beating the shit out of that asshole all over again.

She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. “We’re leaving, right now.” I grab her hand and start leading her away from the club.

Izel jerks against me, fighting to shake off my grip. “Let go of me!”

I can feel her nails digging into my skin as she tries to pull away, but I don’t let go. Not now. Not after seeing her with that idiot.

“You’re not making this easy,” I growl.

“Let go of me, Richard. You have no right to corner me like this.”

I’ve reached my breaking point. I don’t care about the consequences. I corner her against the wall in the club. The music’s pounding, people are probably watching, but I don’t give a fuck.

“Izel,” I snap, “I’m here to help you. I’m not here to hurt you, but you’re making it damn near impossible.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I can handle myself.”

“You’re not handling anything. You’re spiraling out of control, and I won’t stand by and watch it happen.”

She’s so close I can feel her breath on my face. “Let me go, Richard, or I swear I’ll scream.”

I know this is wrong. If anyone in the club recognizes me, I’ll be in deep shit. But I don’t care. I’m pissed, frustrated, and I can’t let her continue down this destructive path.

I lean in closer, our faces almost touching. “Scream all you want.”

She glares at me but there’s something else in her eyes, something that tells me she’s fighting against herself as much as she is against me.

I can’t take it anymore. It’s wrong, but fuck, it feels right. I pull her in for a kiss, she struggles for a moment, but then, she kisses me back just as furiously.

Our lips crash together, a feral, primal kiss, all teeth and tongues and desperation. It’s like we’re trying to devour each other.

I pull her closer by tangling my hands in her hair, while she’s clawing at the back of my neck. I bite her lip, not gently, but with a hint of aggression. No, not a hint, but a lot of aggression. I am mad because she kissed someone else. I’ll ask myself later why it even matters.

My hands roam over her body, feeling the curve of her waist. I slide my hand up to cup her breast, feeling the softness and the rapid beat of her heart under my palm. Her nipple hardens under my touch, and I can’t resist pinching it lightly, eliciting a gasp from her that drives me wild.

She arches into me, her body pressing against mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders. My hand travels down, slipping under her sweatshirt to feel the bare skin of her stomach, tracing the lines and curves of her body. I push her shirt up further, exposing more of her skin.

My lips leave hers, trailing down her neck, sucking and biting gently, marking her skin. Izel’s head falls back, giving me more access.

“Richard,” she breathes, and abruptly, I pull away from her skin. It’s a risky move, and I know we’re both on the edge of something that could either save us or screw us over. I grab her hand, and we stumble out of the club.

She obeys without a word. I make a quick call to a cop I trust to take care of the stolen car. He’ll ensure it’s discreetly returned to its rightful owner. Then, I call Lucas, instructing him to call it a night. He’s done enough damage for one evening.

Izel and I get into my car, and part of me feels like I should apologize for what just happened, but fuck it, I don’t feel sorry. If anything, I want more than just a kiss, but I know that’s a line I can’t cross, not yet.

The silence is almost unbearable. I’m wrestling with my thoughts, trying to make sense of it all, when Izel finally breaks the silence.

“Richard,” she says, making it sound like she is about to make a request. “Let Liam go.”

I glance at her, and for the first time, I see a vulnerability that’s been buried beneath the layers of everything she tends to hide. The cop part of me screams that this is stupid, that I shouldn’t give in to her request. But something else tells me that this is the first time she’s asked for something instead of outright demanding it. Maybe there’s a reason she’s asking, a reason beyond her usual stubbornness. I know I should keep Liam under surveillance, make sure he doesn’t escape the country, but I find myself nodding.

“Alright,” I say softly. “I’ll see what I can do about it.”

The rest of the ride continues in the same uncomfortable silence. When we finally reach home, Izel doesn’t say anything. She just gets out of the car, walks inside, and heads straight for the bedroom without so much as a glance back. I wonder how many times she’s pulled off an escape like this. It takes guts, especially with three cops watching.

I try to focus on the case, but my mind keeps wandering. The madness of the club, that wild kiss, it’s all stuck in my head. And damn, I can’t shake this damn hard-on that’s been bugging me since the club.

I’m pissed at myself, wondering why I’m turned on when things are far from sexy. I can’t concentrate on the case with my mind in the gutter like this. So, I decide to take a cold shower, hoping it’ll clear my head of all the confusion clouding my judgment.

I step into the shower, turning the knob to cold, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to kill the heat burning inside me. My mind’s gone to a dark place, and no matter how much I try to push it away, it keeps going back to her. Izel. Her face. Her lips. Those beautiful hypnotic eyes. The way her body fit against mine like she was fucking made for me.

I can’t stop it. I don’t even want to.

My hand moves down, almost on instinct, wrapping around my cock as her image burns into my brain. I give in—fuck it—I’ve been holding back all night. This need, this urge to lose myself in her, it’s too much.

I can almost see her on her knees in front of me, looking up at me with those wide eyes, waiting for me to give her what she wants.

I let out a groan, gripping myself tighter, stroking slowly at first. I let my imagination run wild with the way she’d wrap those lips around me, her tongue swirling at the tip, tasting me. I’d grab a fistful of her hair, guiding her, forcing her to take more, to take all of me. She’d gag, her throat would tighten around my cock, but she wouldn’t stop. Fuck, no, she’d be desperate to please me, to have me fill her mouth, to hear me lose control.

The water hits my skin harder now, like it’s trying to snap me out of this, but I don’t stop. My hand moves faster, stroking harder. I imagine her pulling off, gasping for air, spit trailing down her chin.

I can see it so clearly. Her lips would be red and swollen from how rough I'd be with her, her tongue flicking out to taste me, teasing the tip before taking me in again. The water’s hotter now, steam starts rising around me, clouding the glass door, but I don’t give a shit. I’m too far gone.

All I can focus on is the image of Izel on her knees, her lips stretched around my cock, her throat swallowing every inch of me like she can’t get enough.

“Fuck, yes,” I grunt at the pleasure building inside me. I can feel my balls tightening, that familiar ache spreading through my body as I imagine her mouth sucking me dry, taking everything I have to give her.

My head slams back against the glass as I picture her lips sliding off my cock, her hand jerking me off as she looks up at me, her tongue darting out to catch the come dripping down her chin. She’d smile, knowing she fucking owned me, knowing I’d do anything to feel her mouth on me again.

The climax hits me and my whole body shudders as I explode, come shoots from my cock, splattering against the glass. I groan, my hand still working me through it, milking every last drop as I picture her licking it off her lips, swallowing every bit of me like she’s starving for it.

I lean against the cold glass, gasping for breath. The water’s still running, scorching my skin now, but I don’t move. Izel’s still in my head, her name is still hanging in the air like a fucking curse.

And I know, no matter how many times I try to wash her out of my system, she’s not going anywhere.

I’m sipping coffee, trying to regain some sense of composure. But before I can settle into any semblance of normalcy, there’s a sudden loud banging on my front door. I curse under my breath and hurry over to see what’s happening.

A delivery person stands impatiently with a package. I sign off on it and take it inside, catching a whiff of the lingering scent that’s been messing with my head. I'd spent three hours last night, lying about needing to meet my CI for some bogus intel, just to comb through countless body lotions. I scoured every damn shelf for the exact scent—lavender and cinnamon—that had lingered on Izel the first night I met her. I must’ve tried over a hundred different lotions before finding the one that matched.

The thought crosses my mind as I take the package in the direction of her room: it’s only because I want her to feel comfortable here. Not to have her scent lingering around like a memory I can’t shake. But who am I kidding?

Izel, just awake, is tidying her bed as I enter her room. Seeing her in those skimpy shorts with her ass on full display, is enough to make me want to fuck her hard. But that’s a problem to tackle later.

I clear my throat, just enough to break her focus. She glances up, catching sight of the package in my hands. Her eyes narrow a little before softening as she takes it.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” I reply, stepping back and crossing my arms, aiming for a look of disinterest.

Her fingers tear into the box without a second thought, ripping through the tape, and then she freezes, staring down at the lotion bottle with this ridiculous grin spreading across her face.

“Oh my god!” She screws off the cap, sniffing the lotion, her eyes rolling back a little like it’s the best thing she’s ever smelled. “Thanks!” She beams up at me, then tilts her head. “Wait, but why’d you get a new one? You could’ve just grabbed mine from the dresser.”

I stare at her, trying not to give away the complete idiocy I’m feeling right now. “Your dresser?”

“Yeah, where I keep my body lotion. You must’ve used it as a reference to get this, right?” She shakes the bottle.

My face heats up instantly. Three hours of combing through lotion bottles, and I never thought to check her damn dresser? Trying not to look as idiotic as I feel, I straighten up. “I can’t just go grabbing stuff from your dresser. That place is technically a crime scene. Evidence and all.”

Her eyebrow shoots up. “My body lotion is evidence?”

“Well, yeah. Anything in there is part of the investigation,” I say, doing my best to sound serious.

“If you say so, Agent.” She rolls her eyes and sets the bottle on her nightstand, turning back to smooth out the pillows on her bed.

“Hey, hold up,” I say, stopping her just as she finishes fluffing the last pillow. I pull out a second package and toss it to her.

“Another one?”

She rips open the parcel to reveal a set of clothes. “I figured you might need more clothes.”

Izel eyes the contents warily, pulling out the pants with a look of mild annoyance. She holds them up, her lip curling slightly. “I don’t wear pants,” she mutters.

“Well, it’s not like you have an option. I couldn’t find the shorts you wear.”

It’s a lie, of course. I know exactly the kind of shorts she prefers, but I can’t have her parading around in those barely-there garments.

“Thanks, I guess,” she mumbles with a hint of sarcasm. She doesn’t look at me when she says it, though.

Izel puts the clothes aside and continues fixing her bed. I take the cuffs out of the drawer, the metal clinking softly as I do.

Her head snaps toward the sound, and I’m struck by the fear shining in her eyes. The blue one reflects a sharp wariness, but the brown one betrays her. It holds a shadow of panic she’s trying to bury behind her bravado. She's putting on a front, but I know it’s there. After all, she did try to escape yesterday, and it’s clear she’s not giving up on that idea.

“Izel,” I say, holding the cuffs in front of her, “we need to talk.”

Her gaze flicks to the cuffs and then back to me. “Talk about what?”

“About how you stole my gun and a licensed car. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten into? It’s a good thing I’ve got connections within the system, or else you’d be looking at some serious jail time.”

She shrugs, clearly not giving a damn. “Underwear drawer tip: don’t hide your gun in there. Not the smartest move.”

She’s impossible. Just when I think I’m about to lose it, she smirks and says, “What? You want me to show some gratitude? Fine, here: thank you.”

“No,” I snap, shaking my head. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened last night.”

She raises her pinky. “Pinky swear.”

I can’t help but feel like this is pointless. She’s clearly not taking any of this seriously. But I can’t just let it go, either. I hold up the cuffs, bringing them closer to her.

Izel's eyes widen slightly. “I know I messed up, okay? But I'm done running. I...I won't do it again,” she tries to rationalize.

I take a step closer, wanting to keep the conversation between us. “I know you’re scared, and I understand why. But I need you to cooperate.”

Her eyes shift from fear to a hard, mean look as she realizes there’s no way out. “So, what? You’re going to cuff me now?”

“If that’s what it takes to make sure you stay, then yes.”

“You can’t force me into cuffs if I don’t want to wear them.”

“I’ve got a badge that says I can make you do whatever I want. Care to test how far that power goes?”

Without waiting for her response, I grab her wrist, spin her around, and shove her down onto the bed. Not too roughly, but with enough force to make my point. She falls onto her stomach, and I grab both her hands, pulling them behind her back. I know I’m crossing a line, but I can’t let her run free.

Over her shoulder, Izel glances back at me. “Careful, Agent,” she purrs, a smirk curving her lips. “Cuff me like that, and I might just get too turned on to behave.”

My grip on the cuffs falters for a split second, just enough for her to catch it.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.

Shaking my head, I snap the second cuff into place, tightening them against her wrists. It’s necessary to keep things under control, and I hope she understands it’s for her own safety.

I straighten up, but before I can take a breath, the vixen flips onto her back. I am pretty sure those cuffs are digging into her wrists, but she spreads her legs just enough to make her intention clear. That damn smirk is still on her lips is daring me, testing my resolve.

Heat rushes through me, and for a split second, all I want to do is wipe that look off her face the way I know best. But I can’t.

I let out a sharp breath, then turn on my heel and walk away, forcing myself to leave before I do something we both won’t be able to come back from.