“You’re an introvert at heart?” I guess. I know the type.
She nods. “I recharge when I’m alone, and being social drains me. At work it’s usually just me and my partner, Travis, and I know him well, so it’s fine. It’s comfortable. With my job I have to be confident at all times, and speak to people on a daily basis, so I can do it. Just that if I had my way, I’d prefer not to socialize.”
The only thing I focus on in that sentence is the name Travis.
Have the two of them ever fucked?
“Just how close are you and your partner?” I ask, unable to help myself.
Instead of getting offended and telling me to mind my own business, like I thought she would, she just laughs. “He’s like family to me. He’s good-looking and everything, but we don’t see each other like that. I get asked to hook him up with women a lot. They rave about his ‘very, very blue eyes.’ Apparently they’re hypnotic.”
“That’s more information than I needed,” I mutter under my breath, making her laugh again. “So you don’t . . . have anyone you’re sleeping with right now?”
I can’t take my eyes off her, especially when she laughs. I don’t think I’ve ever been so attracted to a woman in my entire life.
“No,” she says, ducking her head. “I’m not sleeping with anyone. How about you? Or do I even have to ask?”
“I think you’d be surprised,” I say, gaze lingering on her upturned lips.
“Bikers have a reputation.”
“So do cops,” I add, smirking.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t throw wild parties and women don’t throw themselves at you.”
I choose to ignore that comment, because it’s true, although not for some time.
“I haven’t slept with anyone in quite a while,” I admit, licking my suddenly dry lips. “No one has really appealed to me.”
“Oh,” she says, eyes widening.
“Yes, oh.” I grin, and then add, “Until now anyway.”
She smiles, then looks down at her hands. “Sometimes I feel guilty for smiling, or for laughing. How can I laugh at all, when fuck knows what Elizabeth is going through right now?”
Her words bring me back to reality, sobering my thoughts. All of this must be tough on her too. But she can’t really admit if she’s struggling, because it would make her seem insensitive in comparison to what her cousin is going through. That doesn’t mean her feelings aren’t valid. She’s a strong woman, and I can see that she’s trying to hold it together. Yes, she’s a cop, but at the end of the day she’s still a person.
“You’re doing everything you can to save her, Jo. And you’re not giving up on her, and you won’t. I won’t either. That’s everything. It’s okay to laugh; in fact, it’s required. It’s hard on you too, and you need to do whatever you have to do to make it through this.”
It’s the first time I’ve called her Jo out loud, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. Maybe everyone calls her that.
“Yeah, I guess,” she replies. The food arrives, and both of us dig in. I personally think she should eat more, but I don’t voice my opinions. I don’t think they’d be appreciated.
“So how did you get brought onto this case?” she asks, breaking the silence. “Is this something you do on the side or something? It’s a little unusual, don’t you think?”
I wipe my mouth with my napkin, then answer honestly. “This isn’t something I do, no. And it’s not something I’ll be doing again. Faye asked me for my help, and here I am.”
“Are you and Faye close?” she asks, looking interested.
“We haven’t actually known each other for long,” I say, wondering the best way to explain this. I never give out a lot of information about my club, and now isn’t an exception, especially with her being a cop. I want to share everything with her, but I’d be stupid to tell her anything that could bite me in the ass later.
“Really?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. “Have you ever been . . . more than friends?”
“Definitely not,” I say, unable to stop the laughter that escapes me. “She’s been with her husband for a long time, the two of them are the couple of all couples.”
Jo smiles, watching me. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, isn’t she?”
“That’s an understatement,” I say, lips twitching. “She grows on you.”
“Like a fungus?”
I nod. “Like a fuckin’ fungus.”
She grins and takes a huge bite of her croissant.
Fuck, I’m in trouble, because that grin hits me right in my chest.
NINE
WHEN we get the call that the results are in, we rush back to the station. Jo looks over the paperwork while the man who handed it to her starts to explain. There were four different fingerprints on the car. He ran them in the database, and one belongs to the owner. Two belong to two other men. One belongs to Elizabeth. He found different DNA in the car, as well. So if we find a suspect, he can do a test to see if the DNA from the car matches.
“So we now have two names to work with,” Jo says, glancing up at me. “Are you ready for this?”
I nod. “More than ready.”
? ? ?
It’s completely inappropriate, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life as I am right now, watching Jo get ready for battle. Watching her check those guns, knowing exactly what she is doing, is making my dick strain against my jeans. She’s in full professional mode, testing the weight of each gun in her hands, sliding knives into secret sheaths and making sure we have enough bullets. I don’t even know what to say right now. All I can do is watch as she does her thing, hoping she doesn’t see how it’s affecting me. She tucks a knife inside her boot, then raises her head, her blue eyes landing on me, her blond hair falling over her cheek bone.
I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.
“All you’re taking is one gun?” she asks, arching her brow. “Do you want any other weapons? I probably shouldn’t be offering, but I want you to be protected.”
I shake my head. “I’m not just taking one gun. I have these too,” I say, flexing my biceps.
She makes a sound of amusement deep in her throat. “I don’t think anyone else would joke in a time like this. We’re about to raid someone’s house,” she says, straightening and flexing her neck from side to side.
“You obviously don’t know Faye very well,” I mutter, standing from the table I was resting on. She makes jokes at the most inappropriate times. “How many men are you bringing with us?”
“Men? You mean officers. Some of them are women—don’t be sexist,” she says with no heat in her tone.
I walk up to her, so our bodies are almost touching. “You know what I mean.”