13. Raleigh

CHAPTER 13

Raleigh

I hear his voice, but I can’t believe it until I look up. Over my Bentley’s hood, Derrick Lindman is crossing the parking lot toward me. He’s in a police officer’s black uniform, and seeing him in this instead of a crisp Italian suit makes the moment feel even more unreal.

It makes him look… really, really good.

Wait, no, that’s absolutely NOT important.

What I should be asking myself is what the hell he’s doing here.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derrick demands, coming around my car. He stops too close and plants his hands on his hips, but I’m too stunned to back away.

His thick dark and gray hair is wind-whipped, his blue eyes captured pools of the sky. Has he tanned a little since I saw him last? It makes his eyes and his white teeth more striking.

I realize too late that I’m staring. I can’t help but think about the last time we were together, in his cell. His tongue… those lips. When he gave me oral sex, and he’s standing within three feet of me. I also remember that I’m supposed to be mad at him.

My stomach does a hard flip. Of longing, of guilt, of anxiety, I’m not sure.

Oh- and he’s asked me a question.

“I-I’m here for a drink,” I say, fighting hard not to step away from him, just in case it’s somehow glaringly obvious that I’m daydreaming about him and he’s about to figure it out. I try to keep my words breezy, but they stumble over each other.

Derrick looks from me to Cooper’s, probably the saddest building on the block, then back to me. “Bit out of your way, isn’t it?”

I tip my nose up at him, even though he’s nearly a foot taller than me. It’s the pose that counts. “Is this an interrogation, officer?”

Derrick’s eyes narrow a little, and he reaches for his belt. “Well no, actually.” He puts a hand on my shoulder- and turns me toward my car so fast I can’t brace against it. Before I even realize what’s happening, my arms are behind my back, and handcuffs are clicking shut around my wrists.

“What the fuck ?!” I spit. Derrick tugs me off my car by my upper arm and starts walking me toward the cruiser parked on the curb. “I haven’t done anything! This is fucking illegal!”

“I’ll deal with it,” Derrick says flatly. He opens the door to the back seat and stuffs me inside. I kick the partition separating me from the front seat, nearly twisting my ankle when my heel slips off. Derrick climbs behind the wheel and glares back at me through the thick plastic. “Behave, or I’ll handcuff your ankles too.”

“You remember what happened last time I was kidnapped?” I shoot back. I absolutely refuse to blush at the way he just said the word ‘behave’. “Iris killed a fuck-ton of people. I promise she won’t blink twice if she has to kill you too.”

“While you’re talking about your associates, care to explain what you were doing at a notorious mafia meeting spot with Silver?” Derrick asks, completely ignoring my threat.

Fuck, he saw Silver too?

I switch from threatening to deflecting. “Don’t you have to read me my rights? I’m not answering questions until I get a lawyer.”

“I thought this was a kidnapping,” Derrick counters. To punctuate that, he starts the cruiser with an angry twist of the key. “If you’re a kidnappee, you don’t have any rights.”

What. The fuck. Is going. ON?!

“Let me go,” I demand. “Let me go right now !”

Instead, he pulls off the curb and starts driving. “Not until you explain why the hell you went from being locked in a room by Silver to fucking working with him.”

My instinct is to tell him that that’s none of his business to know. But I’m handcuffed in the back of a police car right now, and Derrick seems unfazed by the fact that this puts him directly into the Warwick’s spotlight and that he’s made what I’m pretty sure is a false arrest. Without any way to threaten him, bluffing would just be stupid.

So I give in and tell the direct truth.

“I’m not working with Silver,” I admit sullenly. “I was at the bar to tell him to fuck off. It was supposed to be a final warning.”

“Right,” Derrick scoffs. “That’s why you went alone and unarmed, dressed like a 1950’s sailor girl pin-up.”

I flush from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. “The fuck did you just say to me?!”

His blue eyes glance back at me in the rearview mirror. “What’s really going on, Raleigh?”

“I said it already!” I snap. “I told Silver to stop walking all over Warwick territory.”

Derrick just shakes his head, dismissing me completely.

“Oh yeah?” I bristle. “What about you? How am I supposed to know that you aren’t working with Silver?”

I see his fingers clench on the steering wheel. Did I insult him or hit a little too close to the truth?

“I’ve been exhausting every resource to hunt him down since we were abducted by him,” he says stiffly.

“Nice canned response, sheriff. If you’re trying so hard, why didn’t you catch him today when you saw him leave the same bar as me?”

“Do you see two other officers in here with me?” Derrick demands. “Unlike what you’re claiming to do, I don’t make a habit of squaring off against my armed enemies without backup.”

“So you went after me instead, because I was the easier target,” I accuse. “ Wow , very impressive.”

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel now. Good to know I can get under his skin as much as he gets under mine. Unfortunately, he apparently decides I’m not worth the breath of his words anymore, because he doesn’t bother asking me any more questions.

I don’t realize until we turn into a gated community that Derrick isn’t actually taking me to the police station.

He’s falsely arrested me, and now he’s taking me to his house .

“What the fuck are we doing here, Derrick?” I ask.

He doesn’t bother looking back at me. “Something long overdue.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Derrick’s new neighborhood is more old-fashioned than the one before. The houses are all white Neoclassicals with wraparound porches, sprawling lawns, and a million windows. The garage door opens and once again, that gorgeous old Corvette is sitting there. Does he even drive the thing or does he just sit in it and mope about his life?

In complete contrast to the reality of the situation, Derrick’s monstrous dogs look thrilled to see us. Their tails wag and their tongues loll as Derrick hauls me through the house. At first, it looks like he’s going to plant us in the living room. Maybe he’ll tie me to a chair and threaten me with dog-based torture until I give up all my most embarrassing childhood secrets. At the last minute, though, he seems to change his mind, and our flight path.

He takes us to his bedroom and shuts the door, closing the dogs out.

Oh. This has suddenly taken… a turn.

The bed is at the center of my view, and it looks just as big and inviting as it did the night we almost fucked in it.

We’ve never actually fucked in a bed , I unhelpfully realize.

Was this all a ruse, an excuse to get a third shot at me? That’s pretty assumptive, considering he was the one who left me on my back with my legs parted in the first place.

I feel Derrick’s body heat at my back. His hands wrap around my wrists, loosely covering the handcuffs. His breath tickles the shell of my ear as he gently pulls me back. I have to lean into him, my arms and back against his chest- my palms on the erection in his pants.

The breath catches in my lungs. Derrick must hear it, because there’s a smile in his voice when he whispers, “No matter what you’re up to, I owe you better than what I gave you last time.” He presses his clothed dick into my hands. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s been haunting me all this time.”

Fuck him, but it does. I love the idea that he’s never stopped thinking about me, never stopped regretting walking out without fucking me the best that he could.

Does that mean I’ve got him wrapped around my finger? Or am I letting him please me too easily? Am I the one being used here?

I don’t care. It’s stupid, but I don’t care. I’m already wet, and he’s already hard, and there’s a bed feet away from us.

My hands cup his erection and squeeze . He hisses in my ear and buries his face in my hair to muffle the sound.

I’m breathless when I say, “Prove it.”