Page 63 of The Hunted
It was time for the cooling off period.
It was time to sit back, watch, and assess how the media and Santino moved. They just hoped they could keep the urges at bay long enough to keep the game in play.
The sound of an alarm going off made the Reaper roll their eyes. They’d have to get back to the videos later.
It was time to go to work.
Amra’s jaw cracked around a yawn as she headed into the office. She kept her head high, even though she was internally screaming at showing up here in the same clothes she wore the day before. It wasn’t uncommon for the men to wear the same thing two days in a row, but she prided herself on being pristine.
She had appearances to keep up. She had a change of clothes in her car, always kept them there. They weren’t work clothes, though, and wouldn’t be caught dead in them here.
She smoothed down her shirt and checked her hair before she strolled in, greeting the front desk officer who gave her a warm smile. She waited for the usual once-over most male officers gave her, and when it happened she waited for the pull of his lips when he realized she was wearing what she’d left in. But it never came and she breathed a little easier, until she uttered the next words out of her mouth.
“Did Alvarez or Martin come in yet?” She held back her wince at the mention of Martin’s name.
Please say they aren’t here yet.
“I haven’t seen Alvarez, but Martin walked in not that long ago. He should be at his desk.” The officer smiled and went back to whatever he’d been working on.
She peeked around the corner, finding empty desks, but the clatter told her the office was filled with people working and trying to solve cases. There was one case she was sure she had the perfect suspect for but tying him to the bodies hadn’t been an easy feat.
“Did you need something else?” The officer’s voice made her flinch. She shook her head and walked into the main floor, doing her best to steady her rapid heart.
She knew exactly where Martin was and hated how her body seemed to hone in on him. He was hunched over a desk too small for him. He discarded his suit jacket and from where she stood, she could see he had rolled up the sleeves to his shirt—a shirt she had peeled off his body in a haze of anger and lust.
“I’ll let you pretend tomorrow, Amra. You can go back to being aloof and pretending you’re prim and proper. But right now, you can’t deny what I do to you. You can’t deny how good this feels.”
Her steps faltered. She hated how the memory of him lingered on her skin. She didn’t even like him but he’d said the right things and pressed all her right buttons, and she wound up in his bed, begrudgingly, thoroughly satisfied.
“Look at you. So eager and greedy.” Martin chuckled. “Who would have thought Amra Benson would be desperate for my cock?”
Amra sucked in a sharp breath. A heavy ache settling in between her legs. The phantom feeling of what happened between them caused her body to heat. She tried to ignore it as she put one foot in front of the other, but the closer she got to Martin, the more her mind replayed their time together.
“Should have never gone home with him,” she whispered under her breath. Her misguided attempt to get information out of him about his partner or even plant seeds of doubt, since no one seemed to have bad thing to say about Alvarez, had gone sideways.
“This is the closest you’ll ever be to him.”
She clenched her hands at her sides. The reminder that both Martin and Alvarez’s little girlfriend had seemed to think she wanted Santino made her angry.
She didn’t want him.
At least not in the way they both assumed.
Was he attractive?
Sure. If you enjoyed the dark eyes, full lips, and tattoos. He had an air about him that made him seem untouchable. A hint of bad boy charm that seemed to have people gravitate toward him. But there was something else to him, lurking underneath the quiet standoffish behavior. Something that made her want to keep her gun close, and it annoyed her that no one else noticed.
“Back so soon after last night? That’s a new record.” The deep timbre of Martin’s voice made her grit her teeth and close the remaining distance between them. If she heard him, and she hadn’t been close, that meant the desks surrounding him heard him too. The last thing she wanted was for people to know what she did after work hours.
“You don’t have to shout,” she snapped, looking over his shoulder at the paperwork on his desk. It was a list of clients from Mercer and Son. The same law firm Denise Miller had been employed by.
“What are you doing?” she questioned, curious to see where his mind had taken him.
“Work. Though I’d say it’s hard to concentrate when I can still taste you.” She could hear the smirk in his voice. Her palms itched to smack him in the back of the head.
“You must love sitting in HR.” There was enough bite in her voice to convey she was serious about going to complain. Whatever they did outside of work did not bleed over into their working relationship.
Martin chuckled. “Still in a mood, I see.” He leaned back. “Just going over Denise Miller’s client list to see if she represented the other two vics we found.”
