Page 11 of Marked

Taylor shakes her head, but a smile curves up her lips. She knows that despite my crass words, I actually like Scott a lot as a person. “Maybe you two would get along better if you didn’t provoke him, Val. He may even be nice to you.”

“Lies. Filthy, filthy lies,” I accuse as we walk through the automatic doors of our building.

The wolf bursts out laughing, making me grin in return. We make our way through the lobby, which has a seating area to the right and a small beverage station to the left. Straight back is a tall reception desk with a wall of bulletproof glass protecting the person behind it. Directly adjacent to the desk is a security door that can be unlocked by the receptionist, or by our microchipped badges.

Still cackling, we wave at the receptionist in greeting before tapping our badges over the sensor. We wait for the buzzer signaling the unlocked door then walk down the hallway towards the elevator.

“Lunch?” Taylor asks as the doors slide open on the second floor.

“I’ll text you and let you know,” I answer as we step into the small lobby. There are a few desks lined on either side of the open area and closed offices down the hall along the right back wall. The hall down the left leads to the lab Taylor works in. “I have to go over the case with Mister Alpha.”

Seeing my friend’s eyes widen in horror at something behind me, I whirl around and nearly bump into Jack. Startling at how close he is, I jerk back in reflex. Unfortunately, my coffee collides with my ample chest, the lid popping off and spilling the contents all down my navy-blue blouse.

“Fuck!” I immediately try to pull the fabric back from my skin, trying to save both my flesh and my brand-new bra from the hot liquid. Someone takes the coffee cup from me, and I use both hands to pull at the soaked fabric. Stupid form fitting shirt!

A third hand joins my efforts while a fourth dabs a piece of charcoal silk along the saturated coffee. I look on in mild horror as the very masculine hands continue to wipe at the coffee, each sweep brushing over my breasts. I have to be seeing things. I must be because there is absolutely no way that Jack Khoury is trying to clean off my chest. There’s no way he’s that oblivious as to what he’s doing, right?

I force myself to look up at Jack’s concentrating face. I’m 5’10 so it’s not often I have to look up at anyone. Most of my coworkers are shorter than me, especially on the rare occasions I wear heels to work. I hear Taylor’s mortified squeak behind me, and it makes me sweep my eyes around the room to see that most of said coworkers are staring openly at us.

Blinking out of my stupor, I quickly bat Jack’s hands away, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “I think that’s good enough, Detective Khoury.”

His brow furrows until it finally seems to click as to what he has done. He quickly takes a step back and clears his throat twice before speaking. “My apologies, Detective Dalton,” he murmurs. He looks down at the fabric in his hand and sheepishly hands it to me. “Here.”

I snatch it out of his hand and turn slightly away from him so I can dab at the shirt. When I finish, I realize with disdain that it’s his tie. Balling it into my fist, I thrust it back at him.

He takes it without a word and tosses it into the closest trash can. His eyes are cool when he looks at me again, but his lips are pressed in a tight line. He must have felt the occupants of the room staring at us because he turns his head sharply towards them with a cold glare. “What?” He snarls out.

Everyone quickly turns back to their work at the snarl, but a few snickers still echo in the room.

I pinch the bridge of my nose before turning back to a wide-eyed Taylor. “Rain check?” Which really sucks because I could have used a drink. Actually, I just happen to have a mini bottle of alcohol in my desk drawer.

“Uh, okay.” She glances at Jack and then back at me. “Good luck,” she murmurs before scurrying off to her lab.

I take a deep breath and face the tall detective once again. Ire prickles when he simply stares at me. “Did you need anything, Detective? I mean, besides to cop a feel? Or is this your way of greeting your new partner? I have to say, it’s a bit tasteless.”

His cheeks tinge pink before he runs a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t my intention,” he replies in a low tone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I snip though I don’t mean it. Not yet.

He nods once before continuing. “I was wondering if perhaps you would like to get a start on the case?”

“I’m going to try to clean up a little and I’ll meet you in my office in twenty.” I turn and stalk towards the bathroom, not giving him a chance to answer.

Twenty-five minutes later, I stalk into my office with a slightly calmer demeanor despite needing a smoke. After making sure my nipple piercings were clear of coffee, I rinsed the shirt under the faucet and tried to dry it under the hand dryer. It’s still fairly wet and smells like coffee, but I have a hoodie in my truck that I can change into at lunch.

Jack’s sitting in the chair across from my dark brown desk, looking at the items that decorate my small workspace. There’s not a lot, just a few knickknacks my parents and younger sibling decide to mail me every year on Christmas, despite my lack of acknowledgement. Keeping people at an arm’s length is what I’m good at. Even if I feel guilty for doing so.

I shut the door behind me and head to my desk, slide off my holster as I do. After setting my service gun on the desk, I roll out my black leather chair and sink down into it. When I’m finally situated, I level my new partner with a blank expression. “So, where do we start?”

His eyes meet mine and my stomach somersaults at the look he gives me. How does he keep doing that? “I really am sorry, Detective Dalton. I reacted without thinking.”

Shrugging, I look away from him and those intense eyes. “Let’s just forget it happened. So, the case?”

He gives a terse nod and gestures at my computer. “I sent you the footage from the security cameras. I’d like for you to watch it and give me your opinion before I give you mine.”

“Alright.” I log onto my computer then my work email.

My phone pings, and I glance down to see a text from Taylor with about twenty exclamation points. Momentarily ignoring the message, I turn back to the computer and click on the email from Jack. A window pops up on my screen and begins to play the footage of the familiar dance area. The camera is at the back of the room, facing towards the entrance. It gives a clear view of the aisle and the people that come down it. It also happens to give an aerial view of the back booth Ruby was killed in.

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