Page 5 of Vermilion Desire

His alcohol tolerance is legendary, and no one has ever won against him in a drinking game. It’s dangerous for competitive people, and they want to win against him, but no one has been able to. It doesn’t help that reckless Cal likes to egg people on by poking at their pride.

I hated having him as my partner at the beginning, but ten years have passed, and sometimes I still hate him. He’s family now, but family can have playful resentments.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Cal mentions briefly. “They just have to preserve the evidence.”

I flip another page of the infuriating crime. We have the suspect, and we knew damn well it’s him who had done the crime, but there is contradicting evidence to the forensic reports and his statement.

“Let’s take a break.” I close the files and pinch the bridge of my nose before pressing the heel of my palms to my eyes.

The words were starting to blur, and it won’t yield any new results if I force myself to read the entire case over. I have everything memorized, and I just keep hoping something would jump at me.

The family deserves justice, and I want to give that to them because their daughter had been brutally taken from them by a man who has money and a rich dad supporting him. We have to make an iron-clad case, or he’s going to go free.

The court case starts in one week, and it’s going to take as long as it takes because the district attorney and everyone in the precinct know that rich boy and his family will drag the case for so long that it will prolong the pain of the victim’s family.

The rich family of Braxton Berkshire is a well-loved family in the eyes of society. They can’t do anything wrong just because they have stayed out of the drama and donate to charity.

When the news broke out that Braxton has been arrested for the sexual assault and murder of eighteen-year-old Lana Addison, everyone defended the young man with fervor and blamed the deceased victim for her own death.

Humans are blind and despicable, and they are more than blind when faced with evidence that they don’t want to see. In their eyes, he’s a genius pianist and the perfect husband-material for the women who are obsessed with him.

First glance, he’s a clean-cut and outstanding young man with award-winning performances and academic achievements. Everything on paper is perfect, a little too perfect, in my opinion. Before this case, I have only briefly heard him on the news, and nothing about him brought too much attention to me.

He was just another child prodigy like my precious little red. She is something special, and he doesn’t compare to her. She shines brighter than anyone I have seen, more beautiful and more brilliant than everyone.

Nothing can change my mind.

Braxton is just a murderous brat hiding in the façade of perfection. After being bailed out during the hearing, the Addison family was wracked with tears while the rich Berkshire family walked out to the media to explain that the police just wants to make an example out of Braxton and use him as a scapegoat.

I don’t know where the hell he got the idea, but he believes that this frame job is orchestrated by someone who wants to smear the good Berkshire name. I can’t believe the media brought the damn lawyer’s words.

I guess it is what he’s being paid for. To bullshit and to shift attention to the murder seems like it’s a no big deal as if it’s just a robbery.

There are many criminals that I have come across that I want to punch; Braxton makes it to the top of the list along with his ‘No comment’ and ‘Don’t answer that’ hundred-dollar an hour lawyer.

“Go wake up that sleeping pig; she shouldn’t sleep so much.” Cal grunts, dragging his hand down his face.

He’s exhausted, and so am I. A whole night of looking over the same information took a toll on us, and I need to recharge through the touch of my lovely girl in red.

I stand from the chair and make my way to the bedroom while my ears pick up the sound of pans hitting the stove.

The door creaks open as I slip in quietly to not disturb her. It’s close to ten in the morning, and she’s a sound asleep. The rise and fall of my blanket mark the curve of her body as she fits perfectly in the center of my bed.

I sit on the edge, running my hand through her red hair and rubbing her scalp. She purrs in her sleep, murmuring my name in her pink lips and sighing in peace.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I resist the urge to bend down and kiss her. It would be easy, just one kiss, and it would sate the constant itch to possess her.

I can’t. I shake my head. She’s too young for an old man like me. I’m the last person that should defile her innocence. Being in the force for more than ten years, I have experienced the worst of humanity, and some of the evil lingers in my heart.

These bloodied hands have no right to touch her beautiful body and taint her purity. I want to, though. I know every man that looks at her wants to have her for themselves. Five years of containing myself and using my hand as relief, it’s a constant battle with myself to just give up that control to allow the beast hungrily to devour her.

It’s tempting.

“Morning,” a raspy voice greets.

I peer down to the drowsy girl, smiling at her adorableness as she sighs. She has no intention of leaving the lump of warmth as I keep my run a constant movement in her hair.

I’ll have to get a mattress on the ground for me to sleep on. Scarletta is not sleeping on the floor; her body is meant for my bed, and I’m not too keen on her taking the couch either.

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