3. Special K Finds More Than A Case

Chapter three

Special K Finds More Than A Case

W hat the hell was wrong with him? I waited a month for my application to be accepted, once I realized what I was waiting for. Hoped for a great match with an agent. And after getting my potential matches, spent time researching them. Doolittle seemed like the best pick. Though, I admit there wasn't much to go on. He was new, but even that was good. We could go forth and prove ourselves together! After meeting him, I wondered if I'd made a huge mistake.

First, he was clueless. Didn't even know how to get to the basement, what was down there, or what we were doing. All new agents in our unit had to start with cold cases. It was a long-standing tradition in many of the SPAM satellite offices. How did he not know that?

But even worse? Point number two. He was smoking hot. His broad shoulders under that sophisticated suit jacket and flat stomach made me want to see what was hidden beneath the business clothes. Even with his fuck the world attitude and his bumbling. The attraction was immediate and sizzling between us. And he was obviously ignoring it. Right. Well. He kind of had to. Didn't we both? We worked together. For now, anyway, but I was sure I needed to be transferred. This wasn't going to go well. Unless…

Maybe we could focus on something. A case. Solve it. We could do it. I bounced in my chair as I flipped through the cases, finding some that might be connected. When Doolittle came in closer and looked over my shoulder, my stomach flipped. Oh, Gawd. He was so close to me.

I couldn't control myself. I licked my lips and fluttered my lashes like a coy boy. Flirting wasn't my thing, but that didn't stop my body from going into pick-up mode. I had a pick-up mode? Oh, Gawd. Twenty seconds into this meeting and I was turning into a slutty slut.

I squeezed my thighs and butt together, trying to shut this shit down, but it had the opposite effect. Oh, Gawd. Now, I had a hard-on. I'd reverted to a teenager, popping wood on the bleachers watching the football team take the field. Kill me now . Though, high school wasn't as bad as it could have been, thanks to my brother. He'd been fantastic. On the football team. Star Quarterback. Dwayne protected me from the bullying I might have otherwise gotten. And by the time I went to college, well…I would have been a well-adjusted kid on his way to greatness if not for…those dark days I didn't need to be thinking about now.

Doolittle's breath was hot on my elbow. I was never washing that elbow again. He smelled warm and woodsy, slightly musky and masculine, with a little nutmeg and grapefruit and…his cologne smelled a lot like Gravité. Great. My ex wore that when he went trolling. The monster. Fuck me again.

Wait.

The entire time I was freaking out, I was also picking up details from these cold case files. "Huh."

"Huh, what?" Doolittle leaned in, dangerously closer. I could see the shards of ice shooting through the dark blue of his eyes from this close.

I cleared my throat. "I think I found something. Let me run this search program." I clicked in the parameters I wanted and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest to watch the results. My depraved dick forgotten.

"What is this?"

"Holy cold-cases, Doolittle. This is…these are…I think we have something here."

Doolittle leaned over me—touching my arm—and peered at the screen. "I don't get it."

"This." I tapped the mouse, pulling up the first few files.

But he didn't gasp. No, he grunted. "So…"

My eyes grew wide. I knew I'd found something no one else had. Something way more important than how hot Doolittle was. It left me unsure which source had these chills running down my spine. "I'll show you."