Page 23 of Sighs By the Sea

That draws a scoff from Harry. “Ah yes, the wife of a mob rat is ‘missing’ for four years. I thought you were a detective?”

I press my lips together and look down at my paperwork.

I’m not naïve. The woman is probably dead and tossed in Griffith Park in a shallow grave. The idea gives me a small shiver. Though the family has been taken down, they still manage to intimidate me. But Grayson? I can’t picture him being intimidated by anything. Even when we were getting shot at, he remained calm and protected me.

The way his body felt surrounding me, firm and comforting. That makes my body tingle all over. I almost yell out 'stop!' aloud. Traitorous body. Then again, he literally shielded me, putting himself in danger.

Being protected is not something I’m used to. My entire life has been about looking out for myself. Deadbeat dads and drug-addicted mothers tend not to care much if their daughter has a good meal and a bath. Then in foster care, well, they tried, but by then, I hadn’t needed much.

When my silence has gone on too long, Harry’s smile grows. “You know, who was that last guy? The car thief?"

"Ben," I say with a groan. Stop reminding me of that mistake.

"And then there was the pill popper…" he says, letting that awful memory resurface too.

"Jimmy," I say, putting my head in my hands.

"Yes, I'm curious about him. With a name like Jimmy did you really not know or do you just like being tortured?"

My head snaps up. "He was charismatic! How was I supposed to know it was Vicodin induced? Some people really are that happy!"

He's staring at the ceiling and tapping his chin, pretending to be lost in thought. "Oh, I have the best one."

Do not say Kevin. Do not say Kevin.

"The wife beater, Calvin, right?."

"Kevin." I roll my head to the ceiling. "And, if you remember correctly, I arrested him as soon as I knew he had a warrant out!"

He laughs like my dating history is the funniest thing in the world. It's not, and I want to arrest this man on account of excessive asshole-ness. "Okay, what's going on with you and Vicki then, Detective?"

His face sours. "Not cool. She's a friend. That's it."

I'm shaking my head. "So you can dish it out but can't take it. I see how it is." I shuffle papers around like I'm busy but decide to add more. "And there was Luke, who was a total sweetheart, took care of his mom—"

"Lived with his mom." I ignore him and continue. "And Flynn who worked with special education kids."

He holds up a finger. "Ooh, that one, I concede. Flynn was a great man." Yes, the great man that asked every two seconds during sex if what he was doing felt good. I'm all for sensitivity, but that was a little much. And little was how I would describe a lot of things about Flynn. All of which Harry knows. "Poor man," he says like Flynn has died and isn't just bad at checking under my hood while working with small tools.

"Is there a point to this postmortem, or are you just trying to make me feel like shit?"

"Well, you seem to swing both ways." I glare at him, not amused at his attempt at humor. "Super douche or super safe. And you know what excites me?" I shake my head. "Grayson is neither. This might break your streak, Detective." My eyes go hazy as I replay what he's said. Fuck it all if he isn't right. "So, good luck tonight. Try to remember to ask about his cousin while staring into his dreamy eyes."

My leg kicks out at him, connecting firmly with his shin. He feigns like it broke him in half with an exaggerated yell. "Oh, go arrest a drug dealer or something," I say, flapping my hand in his direction. He holds up both arms, pretending like he’s terrified. "I swear, officer, I had no idea that thing was loaded!" He points at my foot.

I slap my palm on the desk. "Harry! Most of us do work around here!" He's cackling at my annoyance as I go back to my filing. But the flutters in my stomach only grow every second that passes. The closer it gets to my evening with Grayson, the more I know it's a terrible idea. My hands are already itching for another touch, and my lips feel entirely too dry without his covering them.

A fling with a known criminal? Maybe. It would be stupid, though. I know that in my soul. There's nothing that screams fling like a single dad whose son I've already met. Hell, I've bonded with George. He's pretty freaking awesome. One night around the pair of them and I know that much for certain.

That's relationship stuff. The real deal, sort of thing. That isn't just dangerous. It would be stupid. So, so, deliciously, foolish. I bet he's an animal in bed. The man's wolfish demeanor would translate to beautiful things in the bedroom, that much is certain.

Not much to do except let this play out. I'll have to do my darndest to keep my wits about me. But like hell am I going to miss another opportunity to see Grayson again. In any capacity.

Grayson

The inside of my car feels too small. Spending two hours in traffic to get to LA was not at all fun. I insisted we meet away from the police department. It wouldn’t do well to be seen there when I've already pissed off the Ukrainian Mob. But that’s still a source of confusion.

As far as I know, the fact that I gave them up is fiercely protected. No one outside of my small group of confidants knows. The story is that the DEA finally caught up and seized all my work because of Tia.

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