Page 18 of Mistletoe Masquerade
My frustration and disappointment sour with anger. I don’t want to think poorly of Sachi or mar the memory of our night, but why else would she disappear?
Let it go, dickhead. She obviously doesn’t want more.
I don’t like it, but there’s nothing more I can do, so I head to the shower. All I can think about as I scrub down is that I should be washing her … and taking her against the shower wall. We were supposed to have the morning together.
No. I willnotlet it go.
If I were in the habit of letting things go, I wouldn’t be the detective that I am. I’ve never once stopped chasing something just because it was out of reach, so I’m not about to start now. I know I can locate her. I may not like what I find when I do, but I can cross that bridge when I come to it.
The department had a guest list for security purposes. Her first name isn’t common, so surely, I can at least get her last name and go from there.
I finish getting cleaned up withrenewed purpose and head to work. It’s Sunday, but the station will still be full of folks on duty. I spend half an hour making calls until I track down someone with access to the gala guest list. Once it’s emailed to me, I scour the names.
No Sachi.
Nothing even close to that name appears on the list.
I’m a little stunned. Did she lie about her name? She could have been a last-minute change, but it still seems odd. Even more importantly, finding her just got a lot damn harder. I’d be lying if I claimed the challenge didn’t intensify my desire to track her down. When an investigation leads to more questions than answers, that’s a sign to keep digging. Should I follow that philosophy when it comes to Sachi? Or am I just a desperate asshole clinging to something that wasn’t meant to be?
I’m slouched in my office chair, trying to swallow a harsh dose of reality when a fellow detective strolls in.
“Malone, you’re not going to believe this.”
“I’m all ears.” Whatever he has to say has got to be better than listening to my own depressing thoughts. Plus, Briggs is working with me on an investigation into a gang leader known as The Reaper. We’ve been trying to get intel on this guy for months. News on the case would be a welcome distraction.
“We got a successful trace on Reaper. We’ll need to check things out first, but I have an address.”
“Fuck yes. Show me what you’ve got.”
CHAPTER 9
SACHI
I have zero energy,and it has nothing to do with how much sleep I got, which wasn’t much. Even a shower this morning did nothing to perk me up. It took everything I had to run by the hotel and retrieve the bag I'd stashed away last night. I should be blissfully ecstatic about my multiple orgasms. I should be on the phone texting my friends all the details of my wild night, but instead, I’m hiding at home with my curtains drawn.
I’m not ready to share my night for multiple reasons.
First, I don’t want to tell my friends I slept with Dean—the man they know as DetectiveMalone. If I tell them about the sex but lie and say I never got the man’s name, they’ll demand to know why. It’s simply easier not to tell them about it at all.
Second, reliving the events only makes my heart hurt worse than it does already. The sooner I move on, the faster I’ll recover. Wallowing in the past, no matter how spectacular it was, will only bring me sorrow. To revel in the memory of the way I felt with Dean…
The spark.
The intensity.
The way he commanded my body like he knew exactly how to make it sing.
The way he manhandled me with such care.
I had no idea how incredible his brand of intimacy would make me feel, and now that I know, I’m not sure how to forget. Now I know what it’s like to truly connect with someone on another level physically.
I’ve tried all morning to reassure myself he’s not the only guy out there who knows how to make a woman scream. And that this sucky melancholy won’t last forever. It doesn’t do any good.
I feel like nothing will ever be okay again.
Dramatic?
Yes. Sue me.
