6. Mistletoe

SIX

MISTLETOE

DEREK

O ne of the best things about being a cop? Pesky fucking things like speed limits and rules of the road mean shit to me.

I’m a rookie. Veterans like Burns get to take their cruisers home with them while I rarely drive one myself. My mentor prefers to be a beat cop, going on foot when he can, but when we do drive? He’s always behind the wheel.

Tonight I take my personal car. If any of my fellow officers try to stop me, I’ve got my gun, my badge, and my blues on. They’ll let me go, and by the time they realize that I’m dressed like I’m on duty while I’m not, I’ll be on my way to Dove.

I check the tracker as I speed across town. Just like I thought, Dove’s going to her usual spot. I’ve timed her before. Both through the app and when I followed her here, watching over her from a distance, keeping her safe from her customers.

The first time I realized she was the seller in this sitch, not an unlikely buyer, I was surprised—then I was intrigued. I like how my deceptively innocent photographer has a dark side, just like I do.

More than that, though, I like how she’s made a bust like this just so fucking easy.

I never went after her before. In fact, I did my best to protect her. In Springfield, the Sinners Syndicate controls the weapons market. The Libellula Family run the drug trade. Their base of operation is on the East End, while the Devil Springfield lords over the West Side.

This part of the downtown area is firmly Sinners turf. So long as she doesn’t flaunt her business, the gangsters will leave her be. If one of the Dragonflies caught her and she didn’t have the trademark tat on her forearm, she’d be a casualty of the local mafias… but I won’t let that happen.

There’s only one thing about Dove I don’t know: why she risks her skin in a city like Springfield to deal without being affiliated with one of the local mafias. She doesn’t touch the shit herself. That, at least, is obvious. Eclipse is stronger than Breeze, and Breeze already is a hopped-up version of Ecstasy with addictive properties that rival heroin. She’d have to be an idiot to dip into her supply, and Dove is no idiot.

Considering how she probably triples her salary by making these trips to the alleyway, pushing Eclipse on a select few customers, I’d say she’s pretty damn smart.

But is that it? Could it be something as simple as money? I’ve got money. Thanks to Burns hooking me up with Devil, I’ve got plenty, and I’m not above buying her love and affection.

Just like I’m not above using my badge to get this woman right where I want her. And if that happens to be under me… well, merry fucking Christmas, Derek.

My badge is pinned to my chest. I purposely brought my service weapon in case the customer got in my way. Breeze addicts are unpredictable. Eclipse? Ten times worse. With a dirty supply they’re dead, but with the good stuff… they think they’re invincible.

Someone high on the junk wouldn’t hesitate to bum-rush a guy, cop or not. If they’re on the way up, they might try to fuck him. On the way down, they might lash out and stab.

Either way, I’m covering my ass—and Dove’s.

I know her selling spot. Parking a block away, I go on foot, clasping my cuffs together so that they don’t give me away. On Christmas Eve, it would be easy to mistake them as sleigh bells, but what if Dove thinks of her jingle bells and gets distracted while facing off with one of her customers?

No. Better to approach quietly, using one hand to silence my cuffs, the other to grab my weapon if necessary.

I make my steps as light as possible. Pausing when I reach the corner that leads into the alleyway, I dare a peek around the side.

First thing I notice is Dove. Obviously. She’s wrapped up in her coat, a tiny baggie full of white crystalline powder clutched between two of her Christmas nails.

My stomach goes tight when I see her customer is a man. About my age and Burns’s height, he’s rocking on his heels, looking like he’s about to lunge forward and grab the baggie from Dove.

That he doesn’t lets me know that I’m dealing with an Eclipse junkie desperate for his next fix. He’s not on the stuff at the moment, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous.

If he makes any sudden moves, I’ll fucking shoot the guy. And since an officer-involved shooting when the officer is in uniform but not on the clock might be too much for a rookie’s record, I decide to break up this little moment before it gets ugly.

Pulling my gun just in case, I take in a deep breath, then bellow, “Freeze. It’s the police.”

The junkie does a rabbit. I thought he would. He wants his Eclipse, but with his head clear of the potent drug currently, he realizes he could tap another dealer later so long as he’s free. In jail? He’s going cold turkey, and I heard that can be brutal for an Eclipse addict.

So the guy bolts. Dove? Proving that while she’s been occasionally dealing drugs on the side since I’ve been stalking her, she’s not made to be a true criminal, she actually obeys my order. She freezes, barely blinking as I quickly close the gap between us before she can recover.

The gun goes away. I never want to frighten my Dove, and I know I have nothing to fear from her. My naughty dealer is still a good girl deep down. I won’t need to threaten her with my weapon to get what I want.

Not when I have other, more persuasive ways…

She gulps when I step up to her. “Office, I can explain?—”

I search for a hint of recognition on her pretty face. Her eyes are a little stark, torn between being afraid of what’s going to happen now that I caught her red-handed and desperate to get out of this before she can get into trouble, but that’s about all.

Burns was right again. She doesn’t see Derek. She sees a cop and that’s it.

Fine. For the moment, then, that’s exactly what I’m supposed to be.

“Who do you work for?” I demand.

“It’s my friend,” Dove says, and I expected as much. She might sell the stuff, but you need to be high up in the drug trade to produce an Eclipse that doesn’t kill you. “They’re the one who gave me this.” She closes her fingers around the baggie. “I was helping them out.”

Dove’s being careful not to identify this friend of hers, I notice.

I push a little more. “A Sinner? Or a Dragonfly?”

She visibly pales beneath the meager moonlight above. “Me? I’m not either. Neither is my friend.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “Snowflake, then?”

Her brow furrows. “Snowflake? What?” She glances up at the dark sky. “I thought the snow was done for today.”

Okay. Maybe she doesn’t know about the latest operation trying to infiltrate Springfield. Run by some upstart called Winter, he nearly took out the head of the Libellula Family earlier this year. He targeted Devil next, and all because he has his own crew that produces Eclipse and runs guns throughout the midwest. He wants a stronghold on the East Coast like Springfield, but Devil’s made it clear: any Snowflakes caught in Springfield are to be interrogated on the whereabouts of Winter, then eliminated.

Like a cockroach, Winter just won’t fucking die. He keeps rearing his head again, disappearing for a few months, then coming back even stronger. I don’t know what I would do if Dove got mixed up with the Snowflakes—and that’s a fucking lie, is it?

I’d protect her. From the Devil of Springfield himself, I’d protect her… and she would have no choice but to let me.

She has no choice now, either. Poor Dove. She’s been so careful. I know what she’s been doing, but it took me nearly three months to figure it out. At first, I thought she was hiding a secret lover or something—and I was already plotting where I was going to bury the guy’s body when I got my hands on him—before I snooped, put the pieces together, and realized it was drugs.

Getting caught dealing Eclipse? Even if she’s not the distributor and her so-called friend is, she’s looking at hefty fines and a good amount of jail time for possession with an intent to distribute.

Unless…

I jerk my chin at her.

“Let me see your stash.”

“You can have all of it,” she says hurriedly, dipping one of her hands into her coat pocket.

That’s okay. “Just one bag for now, if you would, Miss?—”

“Yarrow,” she cuts in quickly, and because it’s Dove, I’m charmed by just how quick she is to give me any information that might help me, even if it does incriminate her.

“Mm,” I say, making a non-committal sound. Do I go along with my earlier plan and say the name sounds familiar? Remind her that we’ve met before? Or do I just say ‘fuck it’, tell her that I know her first, last, middle, and fucking confirmation name— Elizabeth— because I’ve made it my mission to learn ever single thing about her than I can?

Except for why she’s risking her life, peddling small bags of Eclipse on Christmas Eve…

She holds out the baggie with shaky fingers.

I take it, then hold it up to my eye. It’s hard to make out in the dark, but though the nearest street lamp isn’t as bright as it could be, I can see the imprint of the dragonfly symbol on the plastic.

“You’re not a Dragonfly, but you sell their drugs for them? That is, Miss Yarrow?”

From what I learned since I got hired on the force, the Libellula Family is made up of mostly men. Women are objects to be owned and protected; like, they’re literally called ‘property’ on the East End. On the West Side? Devil deals in the skin trade, too, selling girls at the Devil’s Playground—the Sinners’ nightclub—but he’s no pimp. More of a broker between ‘wallets’ and the girls who milk the schmucks for everything they have, that’s how Burns explained it to me.

So, on the one hand, I’m glad she’s selling Eclipse with a dragonfly mark on it instead of a snowflake or some other brand. In Springfield, we usually look the other way when it’s a Dragonfly’s supply.

Usually, I think to myself, but not this Christmas.

“It’s my friend. The guy they’re dating has the dragonfly tat. They get the bags, and I just drop them off. I swear.”

Still very careful not to implicate her friend, I notice. Of course not. That’s something else I appreciate about my Dove: she’s loyal to a fault.

Now, I can guess who this friend is. She doesn’t have many in Springfield, and most of the ones she is friendly with are either co-workers with her at Waverly’s or part of her photography circle.

Nadine, I think. To be fucking a Dragonfly and using Dove as the face of their op… yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s Nadine. At least I know from Dove’s records that she’s getting paid pretty damn well to meet junkies in empty alleyways, so even if it’s a three-way cut, it’s gotta be worth it, especially if Damien Libellula and his men wouldn’t go after Dove for dealing without Dragonfly permission in their city.

I run the pad of my thumb over the imprint before offering the bag to Dove.

She looks surprised. “You’re going to give it back to me?”

For now. Dragonfly-sanctioned or not, this stops tonight. Most of Dove’s dealing took place at Waverly’s, with customers coming for a ‘picture’ and leaving with an addition to their personal stashes. On the few occasions when she had to come down to this empty alley, I was never in time to break it up—until tonight.

After seeing that Eclipse junkie looking like he was about to jump her for the drugs, I’m beginning to realize just how dangerous of a game she was playing. Fuck, no. Never again.

She’ll understand that soon, and if I have to use my job against her to get her to give it up, I will.

For now, though, I’ll use the promise of what I could do to her to get her to give me what I want.

And what I want more than anything this Christmas?

Is Dove .

I push the drugs against her palm. “If I take it, it goes into evidence. I’ll have to arrest you. Book you.” I wait for her to close her fingers around the bag. “Take you downtown, Dove.”

I’d been so careful to call her by her last name, especially after she supplied it. But, fuck . It’s so formal to refer to my future wife by the surname she’ll shed as soon as she takes mine. Calling her Dove, though? It’ll do until I can call her mine .

She blinks, slightly stunned. “You know my name?”

I know everything .

She frowns. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

No. She didn’t.

Dove takes a step closer to me, peering at my face. “Hang on… don’t I know you?” Her gaze dips down to my nameplate. “‘Coleman’,” she murmurs before her eyes go wide. “I do know you! You’re the cop that helped me when that crazy chick punched me in the face at work!”

Ah. I swallow my grin.

So she does remember.

Something changes in the air. It feels charged somehow, and I’m not sure if it’s me or if it’s Dove. It’s like some of her nerves disappeared as quickly as she vanished the baggie of Eclipse into her coat pocket.

Her lips twitch, a hint of a smile appearing on the corner of her mouth. “You were nice. Helpful. Thank you for that.”

“It was my pleasure,” I tell her—and I mean it.

Dove tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “So… since you gave me my supply back… is it okay if I just go?”

Oh, Dove. You know better than that.

“I wish I could let you off as easy as that,” I tell her, my tone mournful even as my heart races in anticipation once more. “But this isn’t like running a red light or a stop sign. I can’t just give you a warning and send you on your way. This is serious. I’m sure you know that.”

She drops her eyes to the dirt, but not before I see the flashes of frustration and annoyance. “I… yes. I do.”

“Exactly. So I’m sure you understand that I’d be a real shitty cop if I didn’t do something about this. Then again,” I add, smirking slightly when Dove’s eyes shoot back to my face, “it’s almost Christmas. The paperwork alone… maybe we can come to an agreement.”

Her tongue darts out, dabbing the corner where her lips meet. “Look, I think I can guess what you’re getting at.” She exhales softly, resignation flashing across her face. “You’re a cop, but you’re also a guy. What is it you want? Head? Sex? If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

I’m sure she will. In fact, I intend to take everything she has to give me—but not like this. Not when she can consider anything that passes between us pure blackmail and not desire.

I’m not offended that she’d jump to that conclusion, either; that I’d let her go if she let me have her. Dove’s not the first perp to offer favors to me or Burns to get us to look the other way. Most only make the suggestion once before realizing it’s pointless. If there’s one thing the criminals in Springfield learn quickly, it’s that Burns is fanatically loyal to his wife. I’ve seen him book a hooker for promising him a quickie when he would’ve let her go if she hadn’t gestured flippantly at his wedding band before mentioning that what his pretty little wife didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.

Burns is too devoted to his wife to entertain the idea. Me? Maybe before I met Dove, I would’ve… but now the only woman I want in this world is this one.

But not like this. It’s blackmail, sure, but when I fuck her for the first time, it’ll be because she wanted to welcome me into her luscious body, not because I made her… unless I have no other choice, that is.

“It’s Christmas,” I say again. “There’s no mistletoe out here, but I’ll take a Christmas kiss anyway.”

There. That’s harmless enough. And if I don’t tell her that I’m feeling magnanimous enough to accept just a kiss because she already gave me an orgasm earlier tonight when I came watching her fuck the Christmas dildo I gave her, well… there’s a reason I’m on Santa’s naughty list, too.

I expect Dove to go up on her tiptoes and press a quick kiss to my lips—but she doesn’t. Instead, lips parted as she gazes up at me, all she does is breathe out, “Who are you?”

“I thought you remembered me,” I say, not quite able to keep the flirtatious tease out of my voice. I can’t help it. I’ve spent months imagining how my first conversation with Dove would go, when I got to introduce myself to her, and while it wasn’t quite like how I planned, it’s better because it’s really happening.

“The cop from Waverly’s?—”

“Officer Coleman.” I finger my nameplate so she can see what it says again. D. Coleman . “But call me Derek.”

“Officer Coleman—” she begins.

A muscle ticks in my cheek. No. This is important. I need to hear her say my name. “Derek, Dove. Please.”

She hesitates. Her gaze roves over my face before dipping down toward my hip. I wish I could say her eyes traveled toward the front, trying to get a glimpse of what I’m packing under my uniform pants, but unfortunately, all she seems focused on is my standard carry weapon. She gulps. “Derek.”

I grin. Fuck, that’s beautiful. Sweeter than any Christmas cookie, and more melodic than a Christmas carol, the sound of my name in her voice is just what I needed to put me back in the holiday spirit. “That’s my good girl. My precious Dove.”

Mine .

There’s no denying the possessiveness in my voice. I didn’t bother hiding it, either. What’s the point? As soon as I kiss her, she’ll know that this isn’t about some pervy cop using his position of power against her.

Oh, no. This is about the cop obsessed with her finally getting his first taste of the woman he’ll do anything to claim.

She can see it in my face. In my eyes. In the curve of my lips. In the way that I loom over her, laying my chilled fingers against the side of her face, the heat of my arousal warming me up from the inside out.

“Who are you?” she asks again, softer this time, almost breathless as she stares up at me.

I cradle her jaw, digging my fingers into her skin just hard enough to have her gasping slightly. “I’m going to be yours .”

And to prove my point, I slant my mouth over hers, taking that kiss before she can give it to me.

I know instantly that I made the right decision in pushing her to this point tonight. Dove’s taste isn’t like anything I’ve ever had before, but it’s fucking ambrosia . I could get drunk on her kiss if given the chance. It’s that good. Knowing that she steps closer, melting into my arms instead of struggling to shove me away from her? Makes it that much better .

She whimpers. The possessive need to consume this beautiful creature takes over me at the sound. I deepen the kiss, dropping one hand to the small of her back to push her up against me. The softness of her round belly does nothing to blunt my raging need. It actually makes it more uncontrollable. Bracing my legs, I crouch just enough to angle my hard-on against her heat.

If we were both naked right now, I could push myself right inside of her and Dove? She wouldn’t stop me. It’s in the eagerness of her response, the way she’s clinging to my uniform shirt as she kisses me back, her tits a cushion against my chest as I clutch her tightly.

But as much as I want to, I draw the line at fucking her in a back alley in my SPD blues while she’s worried that I’m going to arrest her on Christmas Eve for dealing.

So I take my kiss instead, and if I mimic fucking her so that subconsciously she knows what to expect the next time we meet, I can’t help it.

This woman drives me crazy, and I’m more than happy to let her take the wheel.