Forbidden Attraction: A Contemporary Romance Box Set Page 12

  “Alright,” he said, nodding tightly. “You’re right. I won’t do any good here, especially since I’m on suspension and can’t help with the investigation. What are you going to do with those pictures?”

  “For now, I’m gonna keep them somewhere safe.”

  “Why don’t you burn them?”

  I tilted my head, thinking about that option. I finally shook my head. “No, they probably have copies. Wouldn’t matter if I burned them.”

  “You’re probably right. Be careful,” he said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Alright. Now get outta town, and quickly,” I told him. “I’ll deal with this. But for now, I gotta pick up—” I jerked to a stop, glancing at him to see if I could cover.

  “Your daughter?”

  I froze, fear and shock the only emotions I could process, until the anger clouded my thinking. “How the hell do you know about my daughter?”

  He actually stammered, so I must have looked fierce. “I—I saw her with you at that bakery where your friend works. I drove by…”

  “Forget about her,” I announced, standing jerkily and walking away. Without looking back, I ordered, “And get the hell out of town.”

  I reached my car, fuming, and climbed in and slammed the door. How could I have been so careless? He had seen Jenny, knew I had a daughter, but obviously he didn’t recognize her as his child. Good. But I’d have to be more careful. Sleeping with him had been a bigger mistake than I realized. Our relationship had to be nothing but professional from this point on, or I risked him learning who exactly Jenny belonged to.

  I watched as he walked back toward his truck. I sat in my car, grasping the photos in my hand. I needed to make sure I nabbed this person before they ruined Martin or me. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes and letting the sun beat down on my face. I needed a minute to compose myself. Seeing those pictures, knowing someone had been right next to me taking them, gave me a really sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had always been the cop, never the victim, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Especially if a truly dirty fellow cop was involved.

  The best thing was to continue investigating and have a conversation with Captain Riggs. That’s going to be fun.

  When my heart had stopped beating so fast, I turned on my car and headed to pick up Jenny. After school, she went to my dad’s until I could get home from work. She and Dad both loved it, and sometimes she just stayed there if I was going to be particularly late.

  If this really blows up in my face, what will I tell her? What will I tell Dad? My mind raced as I drove. Jenny and my father were the exact reasons why my relationship with Martin would remain professional. I wouldn’t be able to face either of them if I lost my job because I was screwing a possible criminal.

  I pulled into Dad’s driveway a few minutes later and found them on the front lawn, raking leaves. From the looks of it, they would rake, then Jenny would throw herself in the pile, then rake again. I smiled nostalgically, remembering doing the same thing with him when I’d been a kid. She would soon be too old to do silly things like this, I knew, so I was glad we’d moved back when we did.

  “Hey, guys,” I called as I climbed out of the car. “Having fun?”

  “Yes!” Jenny screamed as she ran and leapt into the leaves, emerging with leaves and sticks clinging to her hair and clothes. She laughed and ran toward me. “Wanna try?”

  “I’d probably break a hip,” I said with a laugh.

  “Your mother is old,” Dad added. “Ancient, even.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I rolled my eyes and heard Jenny giggle. “You have any homework?”

  “Just math, but Granddad helped me with it.”

  “Thank God,” I mumbled. I hated her math homework. “He’s better at that stuff than me.”

  “What’s for dinner?” she asked.

  “I put a roast in the crockpot, remember?”

  “Oh yeah!” She ran inside to get her stuff, and my dad and I laughed.

  “She loves roast,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “You wanna come eat?”

  “Nah, but thanks, honey,” he said, moving a little slow. “Your kid is killin’ me. I’m gonna be all stiffened up after all this raking.”

  “Ah, Dad, I’m sorry,” I said, concerned as I wrinkled my brow. “I can find somewhere else for her to go.”

  “You damn well better not,” he commanded. “I love havin’ that girl here.”

  I laughed and nodded my head. “Okay, Dad. How ‘bout this? I’ll tell her she has to actually rake the leaves tomorrow since she got to have fun today.”

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That’d be nice. And I’ll pay her.”

  “You don’t have to pay her.”

  “Girl needs to learn the value of a dollar,” he decided. “For each bag of leaves, I’ll give her five dollars.”

  I glanced around his front yard, calculating she’d make about twenty-five. “She’ll love having her own money.”

  “It’s settled then.” He hugged me and headed for the front steps as Jenny ran out. “Bye, sweetie. Tomorrow, bring your working gloves.”

  I watched as he explained his plan to her, and she seemed eager to do the job. We waved goodbye and headed home, and Jenny jabbered the whole ride. She loved her new school, she loved hanging out with her grandfather, and she was already making new friends. Her chattering improved my mood exponentially, and by the time I pulled into our driveway, we were both giggling over a story she told from school.

  After dinner, Jenny went upstairs to get a bath and get ready for bed, I grabbed Martin’s envelope out of my bag. When we’d got home, I’d automatically looked around as I got out. No one suspicious had been lurking about, but I couldn’t be too careful. I’d checked the mailbox nervously and found a plain white envelope with no stamp or address, similar to the one Martin had received. Fuck.

  I hadn’t looked at the pictures in the new envelope; I hadn’t wanted to ruin my evening with my daughter. But now I was alone, and the time had come. When I pulled the pictures out, I could tell they were different. Luckily, they weren’t as bad as the first ones—they didn’t catch my smeared lipstick so well, and from that angle I could have been in any parking lot. I handled them on the edges and set them down, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from my case. I flipped through them again, looking for clues, finally stopping at the worst of them: me walking with Martin into his apartment, a hungry smile on my face as I followed him inside.

  Electricity shot into my chest thinking about what had happened after we had disappeared into the complex. I was relieved that the pictures weren’t as bad as the ones he’d been sent. Sure, to me they looked bad, because I knew what happened after we went inside. But to anyone else we were talking as we walked into a building. The bewildered look on my face could have even been construed as anger.

  But it’s still fraternizing with a suspect in an IA investigation. If this gets back to Brass, I’m fucked. And if a cop did this, they know the rules. Which is why this has me dead to rights.

  I picked up the envelope and looked inside, making sure I hadn’t missed anything. Inside was a piece of yellow paper folded in half. I pulled the tweezers out of my case and carefully pulled the paper out, unfolding it and setting it on the counter. There was a scribbled note in marker, the handwriting barely legible, reading, “Find him guilty.”

  The words made my heart skip a beat. Oh, son, you just fucked up twice, even if you did think to write this note with your off hand. I knew this was the evidence I needed to prove that Martin was innocent. Someone was trying to control the investigation from the outside, and I would be damned if I let that happen.

  I walked out on the porch and retrieved my trash bucket from the side of the house. I grabbed the lighter fluid off the grill and dumped the pictures sent to Martin inside. I poured the liquid on them and lit one of the long matches I used during cookouts. I stared down in the bucket at my face on film and then dropped the match, watching the pictures go up in fla
mes.

  No one needed to see those, even as evidence. With the package from my mailbox, we would be able to prove someone was trying to force us to accept the framing of Martin. When Martin’s pictures were destroyed, I went back inside and sealed the note and the other images in an evidence bag and put it in my work bag.

  Apparently, whoever had sent those pictures to me was getting desperate. They knew I was on to the fact that Marvin wasn’t guilty. They knew they were running out of options to cover the crime if I continued to thoroughly investigate rather than just decide Martin was guilty. I was going to use that desperation to my own advantage. If they were getting more desperate, they would surely make another mistake very soon.

  I returned to the porch to douse the bucket with a cup of water just as I heard Jenny heading toward the kitchen. I stepped back inside and smiled as she handed me her comb. She plopped in the chair, and I began running the comb through her hair, our nightly ritual. Soothing for both of us, we usually headed to bed afterwards.

  The next morning, we were running late. I had slept late, which meant Jenny had slept late, so we ate bananas in the car on the way to school and work. She made it with time to spare, calling out I love you as she hurried out of the car. I waved to the teacher on duty outside and headed to the station. I didn’t want to talk to anyone but the captain, and it had to be in private. I didn’t know who could be trusted.

  The forty-minute drive from Mapleton felt like a century. But I maintained my poise when I walked into his office without announcing myself. “Captain,” I said, smiling at his secretary. “I need to speak with you in private.”

  “Of course,” he said with a curious look. “Thank you, Janet. Please leave the messages on your desk. I’ll collect them when I’m done here.”

  “Yes, Captain,” she said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

  I turned and closed the blinds. I didn’t think anyone had noticed I was with the captain, but I couldn’t be too careful, especially if the person was working in this precinct, which I was beginning to think was the case. I turned and sat down in front of him.

  “Closing the door and the blinds,” he murmured, eyebrows up. “Must be important. What’s this about?”

  “Captain, I am now certain Detective Ferrel is innocent,” I announced without preamble. “That being said, we need to start looking at who may be guilty, and who they’re working with to frame him.”

  He stared at me for a moment, thinking. “Have you told your captain?”

  “No,” I said, hesitating before dropping the next bomb. “The thing is, I believe it may be someone inside the department. So we have to keep this between us.”

  He blinked and glanced at the blinds I’d closed, then leaned back in his chair. “Go on.”

  “I received an envelope in the mail today. It had pictures of Martin and me walking into a building and a note threatening me if I didn’t find him guilty. I have it locked in an evidence bag in my briefcase.” I braced myself for his reaction.

  “What were you doing talking to him outside of work?” His eyebrow furrowed, and I dug my fingers into my palms under the table.

  “I suspected he wouldn’t speak candidly inside the station due to his suspicions, and I was correct.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “Martin and I have a plan to draw the perp out so we can identify and apprehend him or them. I sent Martin to his grandmother’s cabin to get him out of the city. The perp is getting desperate enough to hand me evidence of their existence, and I’m confident they’ll show their face.”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” the captain agreed. “It bothers me that someone in this department is trying to sabotage one of their fellow officers. Whoever he is, I want him out.”

  “I agree,” I said. “If we play this smart, we’ll be able to figure out who they are fast.”

  “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll do anything I can to help you. Just tell me what you need, and I’m on it.”

  “I appreciate it, Captain,” I said. “I only need one thing from you. I need you to trust me. This person is desperate, and there’s a chance you’ll hear things that aren’t true. When they figure out I won’t help them frame Martin, they’re going to attack me with everything they have to get me thrown off the case. When that happens, I need to know that you have my back. No matter what you hear, I need to know you won’t fall into the trap.”

  He was quiet for a moment, staring at me, debating internally. After a stretch of silence that gnawed on my nerves, he nodded. “You have my support, Detective Cole.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, relieved. I rose to shake his hand before walking out of the office.

  I was playing a dangerous game with this perp, and it could cost me my job. Things might get worse before I could draw them out, and I had to be prepared for that both mentally and emotionally. Whoever this was, they were starting to panic, realizing their frame job wasn’t very stable. They would come for Martin and me, and I wanted to be prepared.

  It was the only way I would be able to catch the perp and close the case. And once all this bullshit was behind us, I could figure out what to do about my feelings for Martin.

  Martin

  I’d always loved being at my grandmother’s cabin; it was the only thing I had left of her, and it made me feel close to her again. Being there usually put me at ease, but when I started my morning, I could feel the anger pulsing through me. After a night here, I wasn’t feeling any better about my situation.

  I made some coffee and opened all the cabin’s windows. I pumped Led Zeppelin out through the speakers and strolled outside, stretching my arms high into the air. It was a beautiful day, but that wasn’t helping me feel any less angry. I didn’t have a gym to go work out at, so I decided on the next best thing, chopping wood.

  I walked to the shed, grabbed the ax, and strolled out to the pile of wood I’d collected the night before. Nights were getting chilly enough that I needed fuel for the wood stove, so at least I was burning my anger on something useful. I placed a log on the stand and raised the ax high over my head, swinging down with force and speed, splitting the log in half.

  Ever since I was old enough to use an ax, chopping wood had calmed me. When I’d been a hormonal teenager, angry over something, my grandmother would send me out to the woodpile, and I would split logs for hours, sometimes until my hands bled.

  This time was different, though. This time I had a target. Instead of seeing an old weathered block of wood, I imagined the head of whoever was trying to ruin my life. I picked up the pace, chopping the wood faster and faster, the blocks splintering, spitting out shards that flew through the air around me. I went from piece to piece, blowing through them with the sharp edge of the ax. My arms were burning, but I didn’t care. I needed to get as much rage out as I possibly could. The more wood I chopped, the less likely I was to kill the son of a bitch when I finally caught him. The guy had to live to go down in my place.

  I had never been scared of perps coming after me, and I still wasn’t. But this son of a bitch made Rene a target. My seduction of her, while at first meant to win her to my side, now meant just a little more. I legitimately liked her, and the fact that I’d thrown her into the fire to burn with me drove me crazy. Whoever was blackmailing her knew that Rene meant something to me. They knew she had the power to decide my fate, and they were now going after her as hard as they had gone after me.

  Fuckers. I made a mistake and now they’re taking advantage.

  Rene knew those pictures were meant as much for her as they were for me, if not more. This dipshit was trying to scare her into convicting me, but they didn’t know her if they thought she scared easily. The tactic wouldn’t work on her. She was a good cop with a strong sense for justice. Which was why my seducing her was stupid to begin with.

  Still, we were being attacked. And what was the first thing she asked me to do? She wanted me to pretend defeat. She wanted me to go against every instinct I had and shelter away in the w
oods so this asshole couldn’t get to me, couldn’t drive me to the point of insanity. It might have been too late for that, though. I felt like I was going insane with anger.

  Everything about the situation pissed me off. I was being forced out of my job, out of my life, away from the woman I just realized I cared about. And what about her daughter? I couldn’t let anything happen to Rene; she had a child to think of. I pictured the two of them in the bakery, smiling the same smile at Bobby with the fist of iron. I smirked; the dude had got the drop on me when I was eighteen, and now that I was older, I understood that I had deserved that. I’d fucked his best friend and walked away without a glance back.

  Frowning, I paused in my wood chopping as I pictured the little girl again. She looked a lot like Rene, especially her facial expressions, but her hair was dark…like mine? I nearly dropped the ax as I realized the girl looked to be about eleven or twelve years old, and if she was twelve, that meant she’d been conceived about thirteen years ago.

  “Fuck me,” I said allowed, wracking my brain. Could she be mine? No way, no, Rene wouldn’t keep that from me. Would she? As I thought about it, I realized I had completely deserted her after sleeping with her. Did I dare ask? Maybe the kid wasn’t mine. The only way to find out was to ask, or to get Lopez to do a quick background check, look at the kid’s birth certificate. Matter of public record, after all.

  I shook my head, returning to chopping wood. That would be an incredible invasion of privacy. If she and I got closer, as I kind of hoped we would once all this shit was behind us, she’d tell me about her daughter. She was obviously protective of her and didn’t want to talk about her. But none of that would happen until my name was cleared.

  I wanted my life back. The one where I was a cop skirting the lines, catching criminals, and hanging out with my partner. And possibly starting a relationship with Rene, if she would have me after the assholey way I’d treated her. I swung the ax high over my head, splitting a log and watching it fall to the ground. The wood was piling up around me, and my shirt was soaked through from the sweat. I swung again and again, my hands tingling as they clung to the wooden handle.