Page 22 of Storm

She reaches out to stop me as soon as I’m next to her. Waiting until I glance down at her, she presses her lips together to restrain the anger she’s feeling for me.

“You’re worth so much more than they treated you. We’ll plan a dick shrinking ceremony in their honor, just for fun.”

Laughter explodes from my chest, and I shake my head. “Done. Tell me what we need and I’ll get us hooked up. We’ll have our work cut out because they were packing.” I hold my hands out to show her none of these guys were lacking.

It’s such a shame those beautiful cocks are wasted on ugly people.

CHAPTER 10

KEVIN

“Morning, Captain. You’ve got some messages I left on your desk as well as a fresh coffee. I remade the pot for you. The old one had to have been there for at least an hour already.”

I glance briefly toward Sandra, one of the receptionists who handles non-emergency calls, and dip my head in thanks. She’s a good employee, but has decided to take the role of a personal assistant of late. I don’t mind much, so long as her regular duties don’t fall to the side.

Scrambling to keep up with my long strides to my corner office, Sandra continues to rattle off every piece of information she can come up with. I don’t give a shit if a few of my officers were bickering over what calls they wanted to take, as long as they got done.

The phone is on its third ring when I sit behind my desk as she waits awkwardly in my doorway. “You going to answer that?” I ask with a raised brow.

With cheeks turning pink, she quickly nods, then blurts, “Your lawyer friend, Richard Leigh, left another message. He said he shouldn’t have to call three times just to get you on the phone.”

“I’ll call him.” Waving her off, she runs back to grab the phone. I wait until I know she’s not coming back in, then dial Richard’s number. He’s been calling me nonstop since last week when we discovered our partner, Miriam, dipped out of the cabin and disappeared.

Being left with only two angry texts because of a misunderstanding has been nothing short of frustrating. Obviously, she overheard us speaking about her, but she failed to pick up on the fact that Richard is a dick. I’m also struggling with my own guilt because I never explained to her what the money was for and it was meant more of a way to thank her for her time by easing some financial burdens rather than just soliciting sex.

Who am I kidding? It was thank you cash for spreading her legs and she’s absolutely right to be insulted.

As the phone rings, I settle on leaving her be to get on her with her life. I’m not really sure what I could say that would remove the wound she must have felt from those words.

“It’s about time you called me. Have you gotten a hold of the girl? I’ve texted her and tried to call, but she’s sending me to straight to voicemail. Or her phone is turned off, because it hasn’t rung once for me.”

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes. “Morning to you too. No, I haven’t tried getting in touch since the first time I called. Obviously, she’s blocked our numbers.”

A low, frustrated growl from Richard has me rolling my eyes. “That’s an immature thing to do.”

“No, it was a mature thing to do. She’s created a boundary after being thoroughly insulted by being equated to a hooker, Richard. Leave the girl be.”

“That’s why it’s rude to eavesdrop. Had she given us the chance to discuss things with her instead of running off after sending a couple of texts, it would have been cleared up.”

Sandra slides back to the door of my office and knocks softly, a stack of files pressed to her body. I hold up a finger, then ask, “Richard, was there anything else you needed me for? I’ve got a lot of shit to take care of here.”

“Yeah, hold on a second.” He mumbles to himself for a moment, then shifts the phone around. “Here it is. Will you send over a few incident reports to me?”

“Which ones?” I ask, grabbing a pen to write them down.

“IR900526 and IR900788. I also need the report from the Walston incident. I’m not involved in the criminal side of things, but I’ve got some clients who are suing someone indirectly involved on the civil side.”

The mention of Susanna Walston and her rescue a few weeks ago brings back memories of a tiny, dirty, green-eyed toddler clinging to my neck in a hospital back when I was fresh on the job. I make every effort to never let what happens on the clock affect my personal life, but sometimes bits and pieces cross over. Like Susanna, which led to Miriam. Another bubble of guilt settles in my gut.

A soft clearing of Sandra’s voice reminds me she’s waiting for me. Nodding at her, I hurry to end my conversation.

“I’ll have someone send it over. We getting lunch today?”

“Lunch will work if we can go a little later. Maybe around one.”

He’s already losing focus on our conversation, distracted by his never ending workload, so I confirm plans, then end our call. The second I set the phone down, Sandra rushes into the office.

“I’ve got some reports that need review, and I’ll put your lunch in on your calendar if you’d like. I also overheard that you need something sent to Mr. Leigh. Would you like me to take care of that?”

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