I lift the shoulder that’s not pinned under his hand in an innocent shrug. “Can’t say that it is. But back to that cologne. You don’t strike me as the type of man to waltz into a Sephora and sniff samples. Do you subscribe to Ulta magazine? Department store shopper, by chance?” I lift my hand in the direction of his shirt collar, which he very promptly grabs and pins against the wall above my head.
Barry MacGregor would have a field day with a shot like this. I almost wish he were here to capture it. I really wouldn’t mind looking at it from another angle.
The moment stretches on, the skin of his hand against my wrist burning an image into my mind of what it would look like pinning me to the sheets of my mattress.
“Detective,” I whisper. “Better be careful. Your desire is showing.”
He releases me immediately, taking a step back in the dimly-lit, narrow hall.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Stark. The only thing Idesireis to see you rotting in a six-by-eight cell for the rest of your life.”
He’s turning and walking away before I have a chance to respond. I really don’t know what I’d say to that anyway, besides what I do say to his back as he gets further and further away from me. “In your bedroom, by chance?”
Now that’s a punishment I could get on board with.
4
Colin
“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Alex gives me one last once over as he stands in the open door of his car. I continue past him toward my truck, mumbling a “fine” and quickly settling myself in the driver’s seat.
I didn’t drink other than the shot Chloe ordered us, which I only took because I thought it would cool my blood after I realized I was in the same building asChloe fucking Stark. God, it’s like the universe is rewarding me for coming back. Like it’s sending me a sign that I’m doing the right thing, pursuing her.
Alex didn’t drink much more, either, too focused on beating his high score from the last time we’d come to Mickey’s. And Micah is still inside, said something along the lines of wanting to see how the end of the league games were going to hash out. I stared at him for a long second before I realized he was serious, and then I gave him a sad clap on the back becausewho the fuck wants to see how a bowling league matchis going to end?
I wait for Alex to drive off until I get back out of my truck. I begin clicking the foreign key fob in my hand until the lights blink on Chloe’s ridiculous fucking Volkswagen Bug parked a few rows over from mine.
Crossing the parking lot with my head swinging in both directions to ensure there is no one else out here, I crouch to lean inside the driver’s side of the vehicle and slap the magnetic GPS tracker under the seat. I press what I assume is her house key into the clay mold Micah said I’d need to make a copy, before tossing the keys to the ground and returning to my truck.
I’d heard some guy who is obviously not familiar with The Terror Trio talking to the girls before I headed out, and I used that moment of them being distracted to dip my fingers into Chloe’s purse and snatch her keys.
Most of the time men try to talk to any of them they’re all eye rolls and crossed arms—but not this time. He and his friends challenged them to a match, and they took them up on it, so I know I have at least thirty minutes to get in and out of her house before she returns.
Chloe seemed especially interested in one of the guys, and the thought winds an unfamiliar feeling through my body, leaving my stomach feeling fluttery and empty and my muscles tense. As I pull out of the parking lot, I convince myself it’s fear I’m feeling. Fear for that man’s life.
Maybe I won’t leave her house at all. Maybe I’ll hide inside in case that man needs my help later.
I drive the familiar route to her house, parking at the curb and pretending I’m here on official business when the reporter in the only vehicle parked out front gets out of his car, approaching me.
“Detective Mills. Good to see you again.” The lean reporter makes his way to my vehicle as I step out, reaching an arm in my direction. I grip his lanky hand in mine and give him a nod.
“Barry.”
I should be nicer to him considering he’s the one who wrote the gleaming article about me in the paper. I amMurders Most Eligible Bachelor, apparently. But reporters piss me off, and he just had to include a couple sentences on my mother in there. How I was here while she was a town over withering away.
“You here about those missing persons?”
“You know we can’t talk active cases, Barry.” I lean a hand against the warm steel of the hood of my truck, trying to appear relaxed when I’m actually itching to get him out of here so I can get inside.
He smirks, lips parting to show one half of his smile, and I want to break his tortoiseshell glasses in half. He nods toward Chloe’s house, lowering his voice and leaning in close enough I can smell the sour lemon on his breath from the candies he’s always sucking on.
“Think she had something to do with it?”
I give him a rough clap on the shoulder. “Time to go, Barry. And pick up that trash.”
I wave a hand in the direction of the cellophane wrappers piling up on the street outside his car window before turning away to open the back door of my truck.Fucking litter bug.
“We’re allowed to be out here,” he argues. He’s not wrong, but goddamn, do they ever leave? Doesn’t he have a family that misses him at dinner time? A game to watch? I cringe, wondering if he has piled up bottles of piss in his back seat. “What if she comes back with the next missing-person-to-be? Don’t you want me to get something like that on camera?”
