16. Derrick

CHAPTER 16

Derrick

Goddamnit, she’s running ?!

It’s been a minute since I’ve been involved in a foot chase, but she’s in heels and I take a run every morning and every night with my dogs. Raleigh makes it all of halfway down the block before I’m on top of her. Her heels clatter against the pavement, the sound sharp in the quiet street. I reach for her arm- but she suddenly veers to the side, throwing herself into a narrow alley. I almost shoot past her, my shoes skidding on the cracked sidewalk.

Are you fucking kidding me-

My hand instinctively goes to my walkie-talkie, but I flex my hand instead, forcing myself to keep chasing her. The thought of calling for backup makes my stomach churn. I’d rather be hit and backed over by the semi truck I passed than deal with the fallout from that.

Besides, this alley doesn’t even connect to the street. She’s running blindly. As she rounds the corner ahead of me, I hear her gasp a curse when she hits the dead end- a solid brick wall, looming high above her. I nearly crash into her as she spins to escape.

Again, I reach for her, and this time she throws herself away from me so violently she stumbles, her feet slipping out from under her and she falls right on her ass. She lands hard on the ground, breathless, her palms scraping the rough pavement. The sound of her fall reverberates in the confined space. For a split second, everything stills- and all I hear is her labored breathing and my pounding heartbeat.

What the fuck is happening right now? The last thing I knew before I fell asleep, we were both completely glutted on sex. I’d kissed her first, yes, but she’d joined in with equal energy. At no point did she give any sign that she wasn’t having a damn good time.

Then when I wake up, I’m alone in bed, it’s dark, and there’s an engine running in my garage. By the time I pulled some pants on and got to the door, my Corvette was gone, and only one person could be responsible.

And now, she’s so opposed to being touched by me that she’ll run from me and throw herself on the ground to avoid me.

“I’m not going back with you, Derrick!” she cries out, scrambling to her feet. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

She might as well have slapped me.

All I want to know is why . Why was she here with Silver earlier? Why did she throw herself into sex with me if she actually wants nothing to do with me? Why steal my car? For revenge? For fun?

At the same time, I know it’s a useless question to ask. She’ll lie about any involvement she has with Silver because it’s mafia business. And it doesn’t matter why she rejected me after the most intense sex of my life, because it really shouldn’t have happened and should never happen again. As for my car-

God, why’d she have to steal the fucking Corvette? What the fuck did she do to it? At least the cruiser could be replaced on the department’s dime.

“The hell I will,” I say. I’ve hardly run at all, but my anger is enough to make my breathing heavy. “You stole my fucking car!”

The fact she doesn’t even try to deny it tells me she’s not sorry. Instead, Raleigh holds out her hand, even though she’s still standing several feet away. She’s reaching for something, but it’s not me. “Give me back my phone,” she demands, nonsensically.

Wait, her phone? Where the fuck is that coming from? She was standing outside Cooper’s for god knows how long before I found her. Did she go inside for a drink and a half first?

“I don’t have it,” I tell her evenly. “Either you do, or you lost it somewhere. Now come with me.”

She crosses her arms tight over her chest. “Are you actually going to arrest me now?”

At this point, I’d love to, but we both know I can’t because her brother is Thomas fucking Warwick.

“Just do what I say , Raleigh,” I order, my jaw clenched.

“No way. I’m not going anywhere with you ever again.”

That would arguably be for the best. So why do the words make me want to punch the building beside me?

She stomps past me, as if I’m going to let her just walk away, then whirls back to face me. At least that sharp turn in those heels tells me she can’t possibly be drunk. “If you don’t have my phone, then let me use yours.”

“No way in hell.” She’d probably call Iris, and then I might as well ring up the grim reaper himself.

“Well I don’t know if you’ve fucking noticed,” Raleigh spits, “but my car is gone!”

Ah yes, her car. The one I’d had impounded earlier, fully anticipating keeping Raleigh in bed at least until tomorrow morning. How silly of me not to anticipate that she’d steal and then spirit away my car.

“Your car is fine,” I tell her. “It’s at the impound lot. We can go and get it whenever you decide to tell me what you were doing here with Silver.”

Raleigh’s mouth falls open in stunned rage. “You impounded my Bentley?!”

“I did. Now let’s go back to my car so we can have an actual conversation-”

But she’s already walking away. She stalks off down the alley going back to the street. Going fucking nowhere. I storm after her, nearly reaching her before she rounds on me again. Accusations fly from her mouth like shots being fired.

“You kidnap me, you impound my car, you won’t let me use your phone to get a ride-”

“You come out of a known mafia spot with a wanted criminal,” I snap back, “you lie to an officer, impede a police investigation, steal my car-”

“You’re damn right I did!”

“And where the fuck is it, Raleigh?!”

“I drove it into a fucking ditch!”

Now I turn away from her, so angry I need a second to breathe without her watching. I pinch the bridge of my nose, counting down from ten, then look back at Raleigh. She’s still standing there, uninterested in walking away now that she can glare triumphantly.

This is done. It has to be. Maybe we’re physically compatible, but whenever we cross paths, chaos, danger, and bruised feelings are the only outcome.

I take a last bracing breath and ask, as evenly as I can, “Are you or are you not working with Silver?”

Her mouth presses into a very thin line, her eyes flashing even in the dim glow from the street lights. “Aren’t you?!”

“I told you I’m not!” I snap.

“And I told you I’m not!” she shrieks back.

For a moment, we glare at each other over the cracked asphalt. We both deny working with our mutual enemy, and yet neither of us can trust each other enough to believe it.

Raleigh must see that I still don’t believe her. She shakes her head. When she speaks, her voice is shaking like I’ve never heard. “It doesn’t fucking matter if you believe me, okay? I don’t give a shit what you think, Derrick Lindman. I came here today to remind Silver who the rulers of this city are. And guess what- he didn’t believe me either!”

Her mouth twists, her nose scrunches. I realize suddenly that she’s trying not to cry. And these aren’t crocodile tears. I hear in the tremor of her voice and see in the whites of her knuckles that she’s genuinely distraught.

Fuck. I’ve made Raleigh Warwick cry.

“Why should he?” Raleigh goes on. “I’m just some stupid bitch who’s never had a say in anything in her life! No one at home takes me seriously either, so why should I expect any different from him? Or from you?!” She puts a hand over her mouth, then over her eyes, but she’s not regretting her cutting words. She’s just trying to hide the shape her face makes when she cries. “This was my one chance to prove myself, and I fucking failed, so just leave me alone. No- let me call a fucking cab so I can go anywhere but here!”

Anywhere but here.

I know that feeling all to well. I’ve said those exact words more times than I can count. It takes me back to my childhood, sneaking out the front door whenever my dad’s temper boiled over, trying to slip away before his fists started flying. Eventually, he was the one slamming the door in my face. And he never let me back in.

So, while I don’t know exactly what’s making Raleigh want to run, I get it. I know what it’s like to want to escape.

Slowly, like I’m approaching a wounded animal, I step toward Raleigh. She doesn’t lift her head, doesn’t move her hands from her eyes. Her shoulders are trembling. The gasps of her sobs sound painful.

I take her by the shoulders and pull her into my arms.

She immediately tries to twist away, so determined to hide her tear-stained face that she won’t accept comfort. I don’t let go.

Something tells me that if I do, she’ll disappear forever.

Raleigh sucks in a shaky breath, her whole body tensing- then she slumps against my chest, her face buried in my collarbone. I hold her tighter, tangling my fingers in her hair and fisting my other hand in her blouse. My chest aches at the sound of her cries and the vulnerable shaking of her body. I realize I know very little about this woman, but I know she doesn’t cry like this in front of others. She bluffs and flirts and feigns ignorance, but she doesn’t claim her own weaknesses even if they’re bared right in front of her.

Either I’ve hurt her so deeply she can’t keep her usual composure, or something about me makes her comfortable with showing me this emotion.

I truly hope it’s the latter, or I’ll put myself in front of Iris’s gun of my own free will.

“You’re not a failure, Raleigh,” I say into her hair. “You don’t have the experience, that’s all. That’s not your fault. It just means the people around you haven’t supported you well enough.”

“Don’t be nice,” Raleigh moans into my shirt. “I’ve disappointed everyone I know. And now I-” She stiffens suddenly, cutting herself off, but she still doesn’t pull away.

I’m ready to lift her off her feet and carry her back to my car, but I don’t want to startle her. “It’s late, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed.”

Raleigh takes a last trembling breath. I don’t know if she’s aware of it, but her head is resting on my shoulder, and it’s torturing me. Finally, she nods and lets me lead her out of the alley, and back down the street to where I left my cruiser.

I don’t open the back seat for her this time. Instead, I let Raleigh climb into the passenger seat of the cruiser, the Corvette will have to wait until tomorrow. She sits quietly as we drive back to the house. Her tears have eased, but she still keeps her thick hair pulled forward like a veil between us. By the time we pull back into the much emptier garage, she’s composed herself- like she never cried at all.

The dogs greet us at the door, and Raleigh is too tired to even grimace at them. I get her a glass of water, which she hardly touches. Then I hear her stomach growl, and realize what part of the problem might be.

“Do you like Thai food?” I offer, and Raleigh just nods.

She’s never been this quiet.

I hate it.

I get in an order just before the Thai place closes. It takes half an hour for our takeout to get to us, and we eat in silence standing at the kitchen island- until Raleigh suddenly looks up from her noodles.

“If you’re really not working with Silver, then I’ll pay to get your car fixed,” she suddenly declares.

I almost cough up my own noodles. “I’m really not working with Silver,” I tell her. “But I don’t need your money.”

She gives me a withering look, and it’s so much more normal than anything else she’s done in the last hour that I feel a wild sense of relief. “You’ve never turned your nose up at Warwick money before.”

I bark a laugh. “Fine then,” I say. “I’ll call to get it towed tomorrow.”

She nods, and apparently that means the matter’s settled.

When we’re done eating, the exhaustion of the day closes back in. We go straight to the bedroom and strip to our underwear. Before she climbs into bed, Raleigh catches something on the floor and picks it up.

It’s the pair of handcuffs I put her in.

Looking me straight in the eyes, she clasps one of the cuffs to her wrist, then reaches for my hand. Fascinated, I give it to her, and she closes the other cuff on me.

“Just in case you still think I’m working for Silver,” she says simply.