Page 58 of Love After Never

I halfway wish she would, which is why I shove her against the hood of the car and kiss her. For a moment she’s still, with her hands frozen into claws between us. In the next she’s beating at me despite the way her mouth opens. Despite the flick and sweep of her tongue against mine.

She fucking loves it. And she hates that she loves it.

Too damn bad.

My stomach flips and my half-chub turns into a raging boner which I grind into the apex between her legs. The tension has been building since the moment I met her, tension without an outlet.

Or maybe not enough of an outlet.

When she’s out of breath and keening a little, probably hating the sound she makes just as much as she hates me, I break away and release her abruptly. Loving the way her eyes have grown even darker.

“We need to go watch the docks. See if we can find any activity over at Markee.”

Layla’s dazed and can only nod, eventually trailing after me with silent footfalls in the dark. I don’t need to tell her how to walk, or to be careful. We both fall into our old habits in an instant.

She might be out of it mentally but years of training, the kind that got her to the rank of detective, kick in without prompting. She’s stealthy, and the two of us creep close to the walls of the nearby buildings.

This area of town is not for the faint of heart.

It’s also much busier than it has a right to be, considering Broderick shut down Markee. I tug Layla into the shadows between buildings where I’ve perched and watched before, a better vantage point of the area and the wharf in general. Out here the breeze feels extra cold coming off the water. To the point where my nose hurts with each inhalation.

The scent brings to mind bilge water from a cruise ship, not that I've ever been on one. Too many people shitting and pissing in confined spaces plus rotting garbage, and that’s the stagnancy of the wharfs.

The rickety stairs lead to the flat roof of a building adjacent from the old Docks on Markee building.

Layla’s got her hands on her hips. “I can see this is one of your hangouts.”

“Does it just screamme?” I want to know.

Some of my old gear is still here, left over from the last time I had to use the nest up here to scope out one of Broderick’s marks. A ratty old rattan chair and a pair of binoculars.

Shit, it’s been years.

Not since Broderick shut it all down and gave me a raise and a new title within the Syndicate.

“I think you could do with a couple of plants up here.” She surveys the space. “Brighten it up a bit.”

“Too bad for me I’ve got a black thumb when it comes to plants. Doesn’t matter much to me. I have better uses for my thumbs.”

I might be imagining the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“It’s weird to be here with you,” she says finally.

My brow lifts to my hairline on its own. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve only had one partner. Devan just gets me.”

“You think I don’t?”

She purses her lips and says, “You think you do. We’ll see.” She shrugs delicately. “Then again, there are only two people who can stand me. My partner and Taney.”

“The girl from the club. With all the crazy hair.

Layla nods.

“How did you and Devan start working together?” I’ve got to keep her talking. When she’s talking, she’s not thinking about how fucked up it is for us to work together. Or about what we did on stage tonight.

If she’s talking, she’s calm.

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