Page 32 of The Perfect Deception

“So fucking hot,” I growl and sink my teeth into her shoulder. “Mine.” I hold her close while I press soft kisses to her overheated skin until her breathing evens out. She’s half asleep when we make it back to the penthouse.

I lie awake for hours wondering why I’m still in bed listening to her soft, even breathing instead of being out in the dark city.

Hunting.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Frankie

I rush into the precinct, weaving through uniformed officers holding cups of coffee and shooting the shit about their weekend plans. I keep my head down, careful not to spill the twograndecups of black coffee in my hands while steadfastly avoiding gazes and therefore—I hope—comments.

“If it isn’t Cinderella,” one officer calls out. “Where’s your ball gown?”

“I put it back in your closet where I got it, Gomez.” I flash a smile over my shoulder and pick up the pace, eager to get to the war room and away from the harmless teasing. Truth is the teasing doesn’t bother me. I’m sure they all saw me on the red carpet last night.

And might also have to do with the fact that last night with Damien was unbelievable. Every night with him is better than the last, but after the awards show something was different.

I was different, and I couldfeelit wafting off Damien’s broad shoulders. Maybe it was seeing me interact with his friends orequals, or maybe he’s finally catching up to my feelings. Either way, the night was pure bliss.

And then this morning, the reason I’m late and armed with a big cup of Jay’s favorite Java, I woke up to find Damien’s beautiful face buried between my legs while he fingered my ass.

And then he ate my ass, which I would’ve said I didn’t like and had no interest in, until his tongue touched that bundle of nerves and I begged him for more.

Even now, a flush creeps up my skin just thinking about it.

“I don’t even wanna know what the fuck you’re thinking about,” Jay groans as he stands, relieving me of one of the coffee cups. “You’re late.”

“There was a long line at the coffee shop.” It’s an easy lie and like most lies, stupid.

“Bullshit.” He’s right, so I don’t bother denying it. “We got company.” He nods to the chair in the corner where Ezekiel is sitting and looking totally uncomfortable.

“Zeke?” I say and set down everything but the coffee. “Did you remember something?”

His blue gaze never leaves mine, which is the only sign of confidence he shows. He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head before answering. “Sort of.”

I wait him out because that’s usually the best way to get as much information as possible.

“After you leveled that threat at me, it got me to thinking.”

“It wasn’t a threat,” I clarify. “Just a warning.”

“Whatever,” he grunts, rolling his eyes at the semantics. “I wasn’t fully truthful when you showed up at my house. I wasn’tjustinto computers back then, but they were my favorite thing to do. Games and software cost money, so I’d take photos. I’d hop on my skateboard and head down to the pier or the parks around the city and take photos for tourists, making a few bucks here and there.”

None of that sounded ominous or worth a trip to the police station but I keep that to myself. “You have photos of the victims?”

He shrugs. “Probably.” Zeke opens the green backpack on his lap and pulls out a plastic accordion file. “These are the ones from my time at Hope House. I’m not sure if they can help you. I haven’t looked at ’em in years, but after you left, I dug ’em out of my garage.”

His words seem sincere, but there’s something about his body language and his lack of eye contact that keeps me on edge. “Thanks, Zeke. I’m sure this is going to be helpful.”

He stands, but Jay puts a hand on his shoulder. “You said?—”

“You’re not in trouble,” I rush to remind him. “But we’re going to need your help to identify everyone. Can you do that for us, Zeke? We’d really like to make more progress before we get called to another crime scene.”

He’s unconvinced. “I don’t wanna get involved.”

“You’re already involved,” Jay tells him. “If you don’t end up a victim, you might be one of the few people who can tell us who might be a suspect.”

“What about the girls?” I ask as I start removing photos and placing them on the copier. “Since all the victims so far are male, maybe it’s one of them?”

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