Prologue

prologue

Nixon Hayes

"You heading home?" my partner asked across from my desk. I shook my head.

"Not yet."

"Man—" He was going to start on me; I didn't have the time.

"Save it, Jase. Go home." I pointed to the door. He simply shook his head.

"You need to find a life," he said quietly, and when our eyes connected, I ignored the concern staring back at me. I glanced away because I was an asshole, but Jase was also my best friend. We literally trusted one another with our lives day in and day out.

"I had one of those. Wasn't a fan," I muttered, and I didn't have to look at him to know he'd rolled his eyes.

"Kathia and you weren't right."

"No shit." My lips twitched.

I had no idea if it was the time that had passed that let me be able to laugh about my failed marriage or the fact I was a cynical son of a bitch. But being a cop, now a detective, for so long, seeing the shit I did on a daily basis would do that to you. No one blamed me. Not even Jase.

The asshole had lucked out, though, and I was happy for him. He had a pretty wife waiting for him at home, keeping his bed nice and warm. And she was the real deal, too. They brought out the best in one another. I looked up, and sure enough, there he was frowning away.

"All I'm saying is, maybe stepping away from your desk, getting out in the real world, taking in some sunshine, maybe meeting someone, I don't know… would do you good. Make you less of a dick to everyone."

"Meeting someone?" I chuckled. "You want me to download an app now? Swipe up and get my dick wet?"

"It's swipe right, dumbass. And you know that's not what I mean. You have a shit ton of PTO. Why not take it?"

"Because what's the point, Jase?" I sighed, taking my wire-rimmed glasses off my face and pinching the bridge of my nose. "I meet someone, and we're good until we're not. Not everyone hits the jackpot like you did."

The asshole at least had the grace to shut his mouth as quickly as he opened it. He shrugged and smiled. "You're right. No way you could get as lucky as me." He pointed at himself, and I laughed.

"Fuck you." I flipped him off with a shit -grin.

"Yeah, fuck you, too. Try and get some kind of sleep, okay? No reason to have a heart attack before you turn fifty."

"Jesus. Okay, Mom."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right." The moment waved him off, my attention moved to my computer screen, putting on the fucking readers I had to wear now when I worked on my laptop. Getting older fucking sucked. I stared at the screen for so long the letters started to blur and I started to get tired.

"Coffee time," I muttered to myself. It was a little after three in the morning. I should have been home hours ago but avoided going home like the goddamn plague. There was something about stepping into an empty house that I never took to. Especially one that was in the middle of being renovated.

As I moved through the precinct, I noticed just how quiet it was. The soft lull of music caught my attention, and for some reason, maybe because of how tired I was, I followed it as it led me to one of the far break rooms. I stood to the side watching someone from the cleaning crew walk through the hall. This was normal even if I didn't recognize who it was.

As I watched her, something about the back of her form made me blink.

Slowly, and unknowingly, I catalogued everything about her. Every detail. I sidestepped so I could watch her without her noticing me. Not that she would. She had earbuds in her ears, and from what I could tell, they were on the highest possible volume setting. A prickle of possession washed over me .

Didn't she know blasting music like that wasn't safe?

What if there was an emergency?

What if some asshole tried to creep up on her?

Like you? a voice whispered through my mind. I shook the thought away.

There was something about her that made it impossible to look away. I hadn't seen her face, but just from the back of her form, I knew she was new. Her dark hair tumbled down her back in cascades of soft milky chocolate brown that looked so silky I had to shove my hands into the front pockets of my pants. Half of it was pinned up with the sweetest, prettiest bow that swayed with every move she made. The bow was a contrast against the utilitarian navy-blue jumpsuit she was wearing.

"Shit," she whispered and bent at her waist to pick up the cleaner she'd dropped.

Her ass in the air for a split second was all it took for my body to react. I hadn't felt anything like it since I'd been a teenager. My heart started to pound in my chest. I'd moved up in my career the way I did because I'd always followed my gut, and now my gut was not only yelling, the fucker was shouting!

Something big was about to happen.

Before I could turn and get the hell out of there, she straightened and turned. The profile of her face surged way too many emotions to the surface. Shit I had never, not once, felt. Not even close.

Possessive need to protect and cherish pounded against me and seeped past my heart and right to the marrow of me.

All from seeing the profile of her face.

I didn't even know her name. For a moment, that cynical, jaded part of me tried to rein me in, but it was too late.

When she turned fully around and our eyes connected, it was game-fucking-over. The only thing that ran through my head, the only word that bounced and repeated when my green eyes locked with her hazel ones, was mine .

"Sorry." She blushed and stepped to the side, ignoring me. I managed to move to the coffee machine and refill my mug while watching her through the reflective material in the break room. They were abstract reflections of her, but it was enough. And as quickly as she'd appeared, she was gone.

The break room was clean and quiet. But my heart didn't settle. Neither did my head.

Without sharing a single word or finding out her name, I wasn't the same man I'd been five minutes earlier.

I had to find out more about her.