The ex-cop ran a hand over his shaved head, glancing away. “I never agreed to the catch, if you’ll recall.”
“Ah, Jesus,” Bowen interjected. “That’s a total cop move.”
Austin cursed. “You know you’re married to a cop, don’t you, Driscol?”
“Fuck yeah, I am,” Bowen murmured.
Henrik’s jaw remained tight a moment, before his breath released in a long gust. “Destruction of evidence,” he finally said, voice low, challenging. “And I’d do it again. What do you think of that?”
“Money is a powerful motivator,” Connor spoke up. “Makes men do things they didn’t think they were capable of.”
Henrik shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck about money.”
Austin had the story now, the dips and edges defining themselves. “Ah. A woman. There was a woman involved.”
The ex-cop turned his sharp gaze on Austin. “Keep the drink.”
Henrik didn’t look back as he left the bar.
As the door closed behind their new squad member, Austin picked up a dart and tossed it toward the dartboard, landing a quarter inch south of the bull’s-eye. “That’s how it’s done, chaps.”
Chapter Nine
Polly sat at the polished hotel bar she’d chosen as the meeting spot with Austin, her nerves too jumbled to drink the glass of sauvignon blanc untouched beside her right hand. She’d positioned herself strategically, across from a mirror that gave her an uninterrupted view of the hotel’s revolving door. Any minute now, Austin would walk in, dressed to kill in a dapper business suit. She really should have picked the cop uniform for him to wear. Maybe having him dressed as her least favorite profession would have turned her raging river of lust into a koi pond.
Yeah, right. He could dress as a clown and she’d be itching to get him naked.
On second thought. She picked up the wineglass and drained the contents, giving the bartender a thumbs-up when he lifted the bottle up. More?
Yes. Oh, yes, there was going to be more tonight. With a man she’d despised on sight. After the last forty-eight hours, however, she’d begun to question that dislike, wondering if it stemmed from the stirring he inspired beneath her belly button and between her thighs. The way he challenged her mind at every turn. The way he seemed to crave her challenging him back.
Thinking past tonight wasn’t an option. She’d made that decision on the seemingly endless walk home from Austin’s apartment. Already she was overwhelmed by the role she’d taken on in their relationship. Total control. She felt the power all the way down to her fingertips where they brushed back and forth over the smooth bar. Perhaps it was unwise to approach tonight without an exit strategy. What if she enjoyed what took place between her and Austin so much that she couldn’t stop? They worked together. And as of this morning, he was helping her with Reitman. A sexual relationship could jeopardize both of those situations, and nothing could get in the way of getting justice for Kevin. Justice had driven her since childhood, had dictated every decision that had brought her to the present, and she wouldn’t let the importance of her mission fade one iota.
Polly got lost in the clear liquid sloshing into her wineglass, courtesy of the chatty bartender. She was only half listening, nodding during the brief pauses, as seemed appropriate. But she ceased all movement, inside and out, when Austin walked into the hotel. Sounds grew heavy in the bar, the lights seeming to dim. Immediately, she knew he’d been watching her, maybe from across the street or just outside the window. His gaze was locked on her before he was fully inside the lobby. He wore the suit, but no prosthetics on his face, a fact she found herself relieved about, but didn’t care to explore why. He’d paired the suit with a fedora, pulled low over his forehead. His mannerisms and walk were different. Polly found herself marveling at his skill in becoming an entirely different person, but as he approached, her thoughts fled, replaced with the image of him, hands braced on the doorframe as they’d been that morning. Waiting. Was that an order, sweet?