Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"What happened to my dad was the worst," she whispers, tracing the sunburst tattoo on my chest. "Even before he died, the man I worshipped was gone," she whispers. "He was just…trapped in his own mind. I don't even know if he knew I was there. A traumatic brain injury, the doctors called it. It felt more like hell to me."
I rub her back, resting my lips against her forehead. "He knew, kitten."
"I should probably go soon," she says a few minutes later, clearly reluctant.
"You should stay."
"My car," she reminds me.
"Do you want to leave?" I ask, tilting her head back so I can see her face.
"No."
"Then stay."
"I can't leave my car on campus overnight," she says, her eyes flitting across my face. "They'll tow it if it isn't gone by midnight."
"What's your license plate number?"
"I don't know. What's yours?"
I recite it to her, which makes her roll her eyes at me.
"Of course you know yours," she mutters.
"You drive a Miata, right? A red one?"
"I'm not even going to ask how you know that."
I just smile and rub my thumb across her cheek, knowing she doesn't really need me to tell her how I know that. She knows I've been following her for days. I shift beneath her, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
"Who are you calling?"
I grin but don't answer, instead dialing the number and then hitting the speaker phone button.
"UCLA Police Department, how can I help you?" a friendly female voice asks after the third ring.
"This is Detective Cameron Lewis with the San Francisco Police Department," I say, giving their dispatcher my badge number.
"Yes, sir. How can I help you?"
"I left a red Miata parked in the lot outside of the Alumni Center there on campus. My placard isn't in the vehicle, but I'd like to ensure it isn't towed if it's left overnight. You can check my credentials with Lieutenant Cook if necessary."
"Oh, that won't be necessary, detective," she tells me. "He sent out an email letting everyone know you'll be here for the next few days, following up on leads in reference to the Clark case. What color did you say that Miata is again?"
"Red."
"I'll let our guys know about the car so they don't have it towed."
"I appreciate it," I say and then hang up, turning to grin at Ivy. "Happy now?"
"What if they run my tags and see that it's my car instead of yours?" she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
"What if they do?"
She pulls away, glaring at me.
"Don't look at me like that. I told you I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." I climb to my feet and start gathering up the remnants of dinner. "This isn't my case and we're not doing anything wrong, so stop stressing out about something that isn't going to happen."
"Fine." She throws her hands up, giving up. And then she huffs. "I don't have clothes here."
"Where are you staying?"
"Um, not far," she mumbles and then grabs a couple of containers and hurries toward the kitchen to toss them in the trashcan. I watch as she immediately grabs paper towels and starts wiping down cabinets.
What the fuck? She doesn't want me to know where she's staying.
I stride across the room toward her, caging her in against the sink. "Where?" I growl in her ear.
"Mid-City," she says, giving in with a sigh.
I tense, my arms going rigid. Mid-City is a quiet, residential neighborhood in Los Angeles by day. By night, it has a violent crime rate 105 percent higher than the national average. It's not a great place, especially for a woman alone. "You're kidding me."
"I can't exactly afford to stay anywhere else. I've been placed on administrative leave," she says.
"Hell no," I growl, not in the least mollified by her reminder. "You aren't staying there. We're going to get your shit in the morning before we pick up your car. You can stay here with me until we head back to San Francisco."
"No." She pushes against my chest, forcing me to back up a couple of steps.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not staying here!" she shouts.
"Then I'll pack up my shit and stay with you."
She stares at me for a minute with her mouth hanging open. And then she snaps it closed with a shake of her head and storms past me. I watch in confusion as she heads straight for her clothes and scoops them up. She thinks she's leaving? Uh, hell no.
Before she can even put her pants on, I snatch them out of her hands and toss them across the room. And then I pick her infuriating, sexy ass up and gently toss her onto the bed, ready to get to the bottom of whatever she's pissed about.
I'm on top of her before she can roll off the side, straddling her so she can't get away.