Page 73 of Innocent Intent

“No, that will be all. Thanks for this.” He lifted the papers. She nodded and walked away. Davis headed to his car, too anxious to wait to check the statements when he returned to the station. Repeating his actions from leaving the first bank, he sat in the parking lot scouring through the paperwork, hoping to find something useful. He had come up empty the first time and felt sure he would again . . . until he made it to the last statement.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, eyes focusing on transactions from the current month. Four deposits of $5,000, each made two days apart, with the first one occurring two days after Williams’s death. The tricky part was that they were transfers made from an account that didn’t belong to Williams.

Who the hell is Benjamin Clark, and why would he have paid Tia $20,000?

“Hey, Cass, come on in.” Davis brushed a hand over his head as he stepped out of the way to allow Cassidy access to his home. It wasn’t his because he was renting, but it was close enough. After he locked them in, he watched Cassidy move around his space, running her fingers over the few items of furniture he had. The two-piece leather sofa set, rug, and tables could have easily been purchased as a showroom model set. The stand that held the TV and the small, poorly built bookshelf adjacent to it housed a handful of books he read a time or two. Cassidy’s open hand brushed the back of the sofa as she moved behind it, ending her tour. He couldn’t curb the satisfying feeling of seeing her moving around the room, exploring, no doubt trying to gain insight into things she didn’t know about him. At that moment, he realized Cassidy could have all of his secrets. He would gladly hand over those she discovered and the ones she couldn’t.

“So, this is you.”

Davis smirked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his sweats. He was dressed casually, having rushed home to shower and change before her arrival. He’d also grabbed dinner on the way since he wasn’t much of a cook. Since they were spending the evening in, he saw nothing wrong with dressing in his usual lounging attire of a T-shirt and sweats.

Cassidy must have felt similarly, considering she wore track pants, a matching jacket, and running shoes.

“Yep, all me. Well, in furniture form, that is.”

Cassidy turned his way, offering a soft smile that she paired with an arched brow. “There’s not much to you if we’re making the comparison to you in furniture form.”

Davis chuckled and lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Consider me a minimalist, at least when it comes to all this.” He removed one hand from his pocket and motioned toward the room. “I’m a pretty simple guy. I don’t need much.”

“Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Just simple observation. I might have overlooked my fraud of a husband and his potential mistress, but I didn’t miss that your ex-fiancée didn’t seem like the type to be okay with a minimalist kind of guy.”

“And you’d be right because she wasn’t. I simply didn’t care. I will only ever be who I am.”

He noticed the flicker of recognition in Cassidy’s eyes before he added. “And if we’re going by honest, you don’t seem like the type of woman who would be okay with a minimalist kind of guy, either.”

She arched a brow again. “Because of my lifestyle?”

“That, amongst other things. You’re a brilliant woman, Cass. Accomplished, decorated career. I’m a detective with no plans of being anything other than a detective. I’m comfortable here.”

“So, no aspiration of landing an office at Police Palace?”

He shook his head. “No, not for me. Not that I couldn’t or don’t feel I’m good enough because, I assure you, I am.” His heated gaze crawled over her body, and he enjoyed the way her muscles tensed with recognition. “But like I said, I’m simple. I don’t like the politics of it all. I’m good right here. Probably would have stayed a uniform if the hours and shift weren’t shit. Detective gives me a little more flexibility with my schedule and pays a little better. As you can tell, I’m living the good life.” He grinned, and hers matched his.

“I like your version of ‘the good life,’” she said quietly, eyes roaming again. “Feels comfortable. Real. Feels like you. Reminds me of living with Clara.”

“Well, damn. Not sure how I feel about that. You said her house was a piece of shit.”

Cassidy rolled her eyes. “I never said it was that bad. It was small, yes, and maybe not in the best shape, but it was home, and I miss having the security of a real home. This reminds me of that time in my life.”

And you remind me of what I want in mine.

Davis cleared his throat. “So . . .”

“Right.” She rolled her shoulders back. “You said you found something?”

“I did. Come take a look.” He pointed to the kitchen. “I ordered some pizzas. One meat lovers, and the other’s a veggie. Wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“Both are okay, but I’m more partial to the meat lovers, so I hope you’re okay with veggie.”

“I’ve eaten a vegetable a time or two in my life.” The teasing granted him a genuine smile from Cassidy.

After they ate, Cassidy sat at the table across from Davis. He would have preferred to have her closer, but the table was small, so she was still within reach. Close enough for him to smell the light scent of vanilla on her skin. A scent that he had begun to enjoy a little more whenever they spent time together.

He watched Cassidy as she stared at the bank statements he handed over after they settled at the table. She focused on them for a long moment, and Davis was about to ask if she knew what she was looking at until she finally lifted her head, features tight, eyes full of questions.

---