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I sincerely doubt it, or I’d be cuffed and in the back of his car.
“Stay away from Rue Anderson.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Hask. You see, we’re dating, and after coming home and hearing the awful news,” I shake my head. “I’m sure you can understand why that won’t be happening.”
“She doesn’t need you messing with her head.”
“And you’re helping to keep it clear, right? No ulterior motives at all. You think you see me?” I mock him, getting to my feet so I can remind him I’m taller than he is.
“You have a hero complex. Saving a damsel in distress gives you a hard-on. A hard-on you’d love nothing more than to thrust inside Miss Anderson’s sweet pussy. And it is, you know, sweet.”
He lunges at me, but I move, laughing at his attempt. I use his distraction to slip his credit card into his jacket pocket.
“Police brutality,” I say. “Honestly, I expected more.” I step closer and lower my voice. “With a killer on the loose, you get to play the hero over and over again. You fucking live for that shit. Hmm… I wonder if that could be considered a motive.”
“I’m a cop,” he snarls.
“Not a very good one if you’re back in my office again, accusing me of being a killer when we both know I have alibis for over half of the murders.”
With a snarl, he stalks away, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “She has been through enough. I don’t know how she’s even functioning right now. So if you really cared for her,you’d stay away because your brand of fuckery would probably finish her off.”
He yanks the door open and leaves. I watch as he storms past Fauna’s desk without uttering a word.
“Nobody has any manners these days,” she mutters to herself, making me chuckle.
“The files are ready for you on my desk. I’m going to head out.”
“Hot date?” she teases.
“Maybe.” If I can convince my woman that I’m not trying to kill her.
Chapter Thirteen
Rue
Itake another bite of pizza and turn the page, freezing when I hear the sound of footsteps. I jump up, the pizza falling to the floor next to the book I was reading. Straining my ears, I listen, praying it’s my stupid, overactive imagination when I hear it again.
Before I can react or grab a weapon—not that there is anything in here, aside from my book and a pizza box—Valen walks in with two bags of groceries. My two bags that I’d left at his house.
“Hey, you forgot these this morning.”
I back up as he moves closer until the sofa stops me.
“Are you okay?”
“How did you get in?”
He places the bags on the floor near his feet before he shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a key.
“My key? I gave you a key?”
“Sure. You only have one front door key, so you gave me one for the back door instead.”
I shiver, remembering I’m only wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top, no bra.
“No memory,” I remind him and watch his face fall.
“Right. I’m sorry, I’ll go.”
