13. Maggie

Maggie

T wo days later, I'm hunched over my computer, clicking my mouse as rapidly as I can manage. It's been a long, boring day at the police station, and I'm desperate for some action.

"Oh, come on, EpicTaco! You gotta heal me as soon as the power-up fades!" I scream just as my phone buzzes on the desk. Without looking at the caller ID, I put it on speaker.

"Yeah?" I snap.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" Grayson's voice comes over the line, and my face snaps to the screen. It's a video call. I lunge forward and hold the phone up.

"Erm, no. Not at all." Just as I say it, the enemy blows me up with a power-up, and my team loses. "Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

"You sure?" His eyes are prodding my face.

"What do you need, Grayson?" My heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice. Whenever he's around, I tend to lose focus on important things, like my job and how time with him is jeopardizing it.

"Tilly told me you called."

"Ah yes. Did she also tell you she hates me?"

"Yes." His blunt response brings a smile to my face.

I lean back in my pink chair, which squeaks with the movement. "And?"

"I have information."

I perk up, my mind racing through possibilities. I've hit a stalemate on his case and am desperate for any sort of lead. The tension between what I should feel and what I do feel stretches tight inside me.

"So can I come see you?" he asks, cutting through my thoughts.

"We're video chatting now."

"In person, Maggie. You know I can't talk over the phone." His voice has gone into the growling range, and the rumble sends a shiver through me. I hate how much I like it.

"Yes, when did you have in mind?" Though I hate it, my mind is already picturing us at another intimate restaurant, flirting over drinks and candlelight. This man has a grip on me, and it's impossible to fight.

I see on his screen that he's moving around, and my doorbell rings. "How about now?"

Oh, fuck. I take a quick look down. I'm in my pajamas, and they're not sexy. But since I'm currently on the phone with him, I can't exactly change.

"Detective Parker? Are you going to let me in?" There's that tone again, sultry and amused.

I open the front door, bracing myself for his reaction.

He takes a single look at me, and I can tell he's holding in his laughter. "Is that…Spiderman?"

I cross my arms and step to the side. "It is. I wasn't exactly expecting an ex-con to show up at nine o'clock." He looks fabulous as always in dark pants and a polo shirt that stretches over his wide shoulders. The way I'm dressed suddenly feels even more ridiculous, and a blush rises to my cheeks.

"This ex-con doesn't mind not sticking to a normal schedule. Especially when he has information."

He comes in and looks around. My face grows an even deeper red. My place is a mess. Boxes of old takeout litter the coffee table, and my work clothes from the last several days are spread around the living room.

"I must say, Detective, this suits you."

"What do you need that couldn't wait until tomorrow, Grayson?"

"I was in LA for work and figured this was easier than coming back again. It's a long drive."

The investigator in me takes over. My eyes narrow. "What business do you have in LA?"

"Looking at expanding our fleet of tour boats. I had a long meeting with a very aggressive woman." I roll my eyes. I bet a lot of women are aggressive around Grayson. His giant firm body and dark eyes are like an invitation for sex. I'm sure he has his pick of tall and leggy blondes. There's no shortage of them in California. My irritation skyrockets, picturing a woman with model good looks rubbing her feet up his leg under a boardroom table. Might as well be fucking right in front of me. Asshole.

"So what's your information?" I ask as he stops in front of my couch. It's covered in clothes, but so what? Not everyone can be a neurotic jerk that makes me feel like the world is tilted the wrong way.

He pushes some clothes to the side and sits. It bothers me. Him in my home, looking so comfortable. I want to simultaneously shove him out and jump his bones.

"Relax, Detective. I'll be out of your hair quickly. A man named Kip told me the gangs have joined in the fun."

"Carl ‘Kip' Jones? He's been on our wanted list for years." I scramble over to a box of files that is on the floor near my recliner. Thumbing through it, I find Kip and fish out his mug shot from a B&E a few years back. "This him?"

Grayson nods. "Yep. His real name is Carl? Huh, you think you know someone…" he trails off.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Of course not. If I did, I would tell you, Maggie. But he called from a blocked number. Said ‘Axe' asked him if he wanted to do the hit on me for $50,000."

Shit. Shit. Shit. I don't know an Axe off the top of my head. Scanning down Kip's file, I find his alias on a list of known associates. My eyes are moving too quickly to really read, and I have to remind myself to calm down. But when a case breaks open like this, you grab it by the haunches and hump it like the gift it is.

Reading aloud, I say, "‘Axe' is an MS13 gang leader. He got his name from his affinity for killing with blunt axes," I put a hand on my temple. "Gray, we need to get Georgie out of here. Preferably out of the state. You know how these guys work! They could grab him from daycare and try to use—"

His hand rises calmly. "Maggie, George is gone. He's with my in-laws, who have a different last name. Tilly reserved the flight, and Greg had an old FBI agent drive us to my in-laws' place. They've also promised to keep an eye on things up there."

Shit, again and times a million. Sending his son away is probably killing him. His hands settle on my shoulders. "He will be fine. Safe."

My chest tightens at how hurt he sounds. "I'm so sorry, Grayson." I can't help it, I throw my arms around him as he chuckles out an 'oomph.'

He's tense at first, but his body relaxes as I tighten my grip. "No one's fault but my own, Detective," he finally says as his hand rubs gentle patterns on my back.

I scoff. "Hardly."

He pulls back, but there's an affectionate smile on his lips. Sometimes, I can't believe this is the scowling man I met two years ago. My heart gives a little flutter at the thought that I brought this out of him. Even while his son is hundreds of miles away, he found a grin for me. He clears his throat and averts his gaze. "I'm sorry to bug you at home. But I figured this was easier than another long boring dinner."

The flutter turns to gut-churning in an instant. Our dinner had not been boring at all to me. He couldn't mean that. I eye him suspiciously, my hurt turning to anger in an instant. He's trying to push me away. It's perfectly clear to me all of a sudden. Fine by me. We shouldn't be anything more than cop and victim anyway.

I cross my arms. "I don't mind seeing you, Grayson. But I am curious, how did you know where I lived?" Not curious. More like concerned. If Grayson could find my place, more than likely others could too. Seeing him show up is fine, I trust him, but others I've arrested wouldn't be so welcome. Am I trying to pick a fight? Possibly. But it's true.

"The white pages online, Maggie. I'm not some dangerous criminal. You know that, right? I was a fucking accountant." His words are snappy.

I roll my eyes. "An accountant for the mob. The mob , Grayson. Whether you want to admit it or not, that makes being around you dangerous."

His fists clench at his sides as his eyebrows dip low. It's supposed to be menacing, but after getting to know Grayson, it's almost amusing to see the wolf come out now. "You think I don't know that? Ask me where my son is if you for one second think I've forgotten what being around me does."

My stomach sinks at that. Hearing him blame himself for anything negative in George's life is heartbreaking. Can't he see how great a father he is? If he'd known my dad, he would be buying himself trophies every week. "George is fine, Gray, because you made the right choice."

"Yes, he's fine. Because he's not with his mob accountant father." He's walking towards the door, and I rush to catch up.

"Whoa, you can't just drop that bomb and take off." His pace picks up, but I swerve around him to block the door. "Just stop!" Both my hands push against his chest. His rock-hard, delicious chest. He glares at the touch, but I don't let that stop me. "You care about your son more than anyone I know. Moody Grayson, building LEGOs with his son and tickling him after daycare."

His face goes stoic, and that only manages to piss me off even more. "Don't pretend like you're not hurt." I twist my face into an exaggerated scowl. "I'm a big man, I don't care that my son's gone."

Still, his expression doesn't change. "Are you through?"

I puff air out to get the hair out of my eyes. "Yes. But I promise you this, Grayson, I won't rest until we get the person that put a price on your head. I'll track down this Kip person and Axe and send them both to jail. I'm a damn good detective."

To my surprise, he scoffs. "Not that good. Weren't you listening? Kip warned me, and Axe said it was a hit given to the gang, not that he ordered it."

"Whatever! I'm trying to say I'll help you, regardless of who you worked for. Doesn't that buy me some level of trust?"

He purses his lips together. "I'm sorry I kissed you." He says it with venom, and my stomach clenches. I hadn't been sorry. It was one of the best kisses of my life. For some reason, I know that he's taking things out on me. I've done nothing wrong and yet he's trying his best to hurt me. Go for it, I think, I eat assholes like him for breakfast . That sounds weird, even in my head, but I ignore it and open the front door.

"Fine. Fantastic. Another man with regrets about Margarette. Get the hell out of my house!" It isn't the first time someone has called me a mistake. I'd probably need Harry's help to list out the men that have crushed me in the same way that Grayson is trying to right now. The difference is, I know how bad he's hurting, and I refuse to be his punching bag. Support is fine, but he obviously doesn't want that from me right now.

"Happy to, Detective." His words are bitter. I step to the side, and he walks out. When he's gone, I lean against the door, trying to calm my racing heart.

No. I'm not going to let some sexy jailbait of a man convince me I'm a mistake. I lock my door and stomp back to my computer desk, determined not to let him get under my skin. Whatever's going on in Grayson's mind, it's his issue to work out.

"All right, I'm back. Where's the objective?" I bark into the headset. Before long, I'm tearing through cartoon enemies like it's my only way to live. If Grayson Cardenas thinks he can get to me, he has another thing coming.