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I’m frustrated and miss him.
His smile. His touch. The way only he can make me come, and the tension left in his absence continues to grow.
I haven’t touched myself either while thoughts of the last time we were together keep me awake. No toys or replicas of his cock. No release for this tension. And it’s not just the sex; I need our connection. This all-consuming nirvana that his mere presence gives me. It’s raw and sweet and us. But was it ever real? Or was it all an act?
“Amberlyn?”
The way he says my name snaps me out of my thoughts and I refocus, giving him a professional smile. “It’s already taken care of.” Taking my seat, I pick up the oversized white mug and take a few small sips since it’s still very hot. “Now, what did you want to show me?”
“Does this mean you’ll be taking the case?”
“I’m here, Detective.”
“I need a yes or no answer, Miss Ibarra.”
“This is me giving you the chance to explain yourself and gain my interest,” I say instead while sitting back in my seat. For the first few seconds, there’s quiet. He’s studying me, and I flick my gaze around the semi-empty establishment before meeting his stare head-on. Detective Jaime Uriel is tall, and I’ll admit many would consider him to be handsome with his tan skin, chocolate-colored eyes, and sharp jaw currently sporting a five o’clock shadow. Yet, he does nothing for me. Not so much as a twinge. Will I ever be attracted to anyone but Ivan? Can I move on? “That’s the most you’ll get from me at the moment.”
“Noted.” Tone terse. A hint of annoyance.
“Or we can end this here. This isn’t my headache.”
“Why are you being difficult?” he hisses, hands tightening into fists. There’s also the restless leg, that moves him and rocks our table a bit.
Something about his presence isn’t right. I’m a believer in following my instinct—heavily in tune with that tiny voice inside blaring out in warning, and I place my cell phone face-up on my lap. My father and mother are at the office today and will get here quickly if something were to go wrong. That, and I’m carrying my weapon in plain sight for him to see.
I caught him looking at my cross-body shoulder holster and the loaded SIG inside.
I’m not afraid to shoot. Have a damn good aim, too.
“What you decide to share is up to you, Detective. However—lie, and you’ll make an enemy out of me.” Again, the skin around his dark eyes becomes tight and this time, there’s an added tick to his jaw. “Are we clear on this?”
“Are you threatening an officer of the law? Do you understand the implications—”
“I don’t make a habit of saying things I don’t mean.”
A grin stretches across his lips at my response and his body relaxes, amusement coloring his features. “You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?”
In return, I level him with an impassive stare. “If I am or not, I don’t see how that pertains to what I’ve been cited here for. Am I wrong?”
“You are correct.” Bending to the right, he lifts a work bag and undoes the zipper before pulling out two yellow folders and placing them atop the table. No names on them, but one of the papers sticking out does have the city embossment in the corner. “We’re here for business, and I apologize if I—”
“You’re fine. I’ve had a few rough days, and I’m not at my peachiest.”
“Are you okay?” While his tone is sincere, I’m still not sold on him. The man’s job as a detective is to investigate, not pawn off work on a bail bond office and their bounty hunters. Bullshit seeps from every pore of this meeting, but I’ll see it through. If he’s a threat, I’ll find out and deal with it myself if it comes to that. “Anything I can help you with?”
“No, but can you explain the need for my services?”
“Of course.” Detective Uriel opens the first folder and shows me the picture of another police officer. Below his name is a handwritten note with the word rookie. The guy is of Latino descent and from the picture, he has a slim build with a recognizable tattoo of praying hands on his left forearm. His bio is short, having been officially on the force for a few months, and works in the Hialeah precinct. “This folder is on the rookie and the other is on the man I detained.”
“Tell me what happened.” I’m skimming down the few notes, nothing large. He’s dependable, a likable guy by his peers. No wife. No kids. “I’ll need full details, please.”
“I was just having a couple of beers with a few friends, watching a Marlins game, when the fight broke out. It wasn’t near me; I was on the opposite side but jumped in to help when it got too rowdy for the employees to contain.”
“And you noticed this from across the establishment?” Opening the second folder, I skim down the perp’s details. Young, male, and again of Hispanic heritage. Not much on him either, not even a speeding ticket. “Who was involved in the altercation?”
“After separating the two men with the help of my friends, I asked the owners what the issue was and if they wanted the police called.”
“And they said yes.” My gaze lifts to meet his. Uriel nods.
