Chapter 2

AMELIA

The previous night had been a success.

I’d been after that son of a bitch for months, that damn Montgomery Braeburn, and it was a good thing I knew he had a soft spot for women—specifically easy women. It was the only way I was able to reach him.

Men.

They were all so similar, so much alike. Put an offer for sex on the table and it would soften at least ninety percent of them. That was my experience anyway.

When people looked at me or first met me, they never knew what to expect, and that was my advantage—being unpredictable. My appearance fooled others, just like it had fooled Montgomery. He’d lapped up my act of being interested in him weeks before when I followed him to the gym and pretended I’d lost my purse.

With his gaze fixed on my breasts, I didn’t have to do much work, and it made it even easier for me to run into him in the park two weeks later. A cup of coffee and a drink at the bar later, I had him accepting my dinner invitation to a restaurant we apparently both loved.

I’d been going to Atalas every Wednesday to spy. That was where he met the others, the guys I was hoping he’d lead me to. I never actually saw them, but I knew he’d meet them there most weeks. He’d have his dinner at about seven, and then at eight he’d either leave or go into the back room near the Staff Only door, and I wouldn’t see him come out again until the restaurant closed.

The night had been a mundane one, which was why he’d made time for me, and the asshole had looked so shocked when I faced him after handcuffing him and gave him the news that he was under arrest.

Today, I walked into the Los Angeles Police Department filled with energy and vigor. Ready for war. My team and I had been working this case for months, and I didn’t like loose ends or things worsening on my watch. It was well past time I wrapped this investigation up, and it was getting to me that I hadn’t.

Things were actually spiraling out of control, and I didn’t like it.

Ricky Sanchez’ gang was at the height of their terror on the streets with all manner of shit happening on a daily basis. There had been another murder the previous week, more gruesome than the others because they’d chopped the guy up and burned off his fingers and toes so we’d have a hard time ID’ing him. All we knew was that the victim was a man. That was it. I had no guesses as to why he’d been murdered in such a gruesome manner.

What always got me, though, was that the victims, alive or dead, were always left in a way that showed off the gang’s superiority, like they were saying they couldn’t be touched by the police.

Fuck that.

I’d get them soon. I just had to think outside the box.

“Hey boss lady.” Sinclaire’s bright green eyes greeted me as I approached.

I wasn’t his boss, I just acted like I was, and I supposed while we ranked the same in seniority, I had more planning experience.

“Hey yourself.”

He had his feet up on his desk while he stretched back in his chair, looking more like he was at home than at work.

The grin on his handsome face showed off his perfect white teeth, and the glint in his eye brightened as I got closer. It was always there whenever he looked at me, especially after that kiss we’d shared.

I must have lost my mind giving in to a man like him. We called him the playboy because he was one.

On that night, I’d gotten drunk. I was having one of my nostalgic days—not the good kind that left you longing for the good old days but the other type where you wished your past were different.

It was on the anniversary of my mother’s passing. I always crumbled on that day, every year, and it never got easier.

“Max manage to get anything out of him?” Max was my partner on the job and in crime.

That guy was my lifeline and my rock. I lived with my best friend, Gigi, who was like family to me, and Max was as close as that to me too. We’d known each other for close to six years, and I’d had the privilege of being his partner for three. That was a long time.

He was five years older than me, his wife couldn’t stand me because she thought I was trying to steal her husband, and they had the most adorable little girl.

“Max left about an hour after you did last night,” Sinclaire answered, eyes still fixed on me.

“Really?” That was weird. Max had told me he was going to interrogate Montgomery. I’d only gone home because of that, and because I was tired—exhausted, more like. I hadn’t slept in two days and was running on far too much caffeine.

“And he’s not here yet?” I glanced at the clock behind Sinclaire. It was approaching ten, which was late for me but allowed considering I spent ninety percent of my life here.

Max was always in by nine at the latest.

“Nope. Something weird is happening though.” Sinclaire shifted, taking his feet off the desk and sitting up straight so his massive shoulders were squared. “Some new hotshot went into Roose’s office about an hour ago.”

Roose was our captain, and I hadn’t heard anything about anyone new starting. We rarely had new starters, and when we did, we were notified well ahead of time.

“New hotshot?” I raised my brows.

“Pretty boy, walked in like he owned the place.”

I smirked. “You thought he was pretty? I didn’t know you were into guys now.”

Sinclaire frowned. “You know I’m not.”

“We have a very liberal environment here. It’s okay if you are, and if anyone messes with you, just point them out to me and I’ll deal with them.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Detective Amelia Taylor, don’t make me give you a reminder of how much I’m into women, or into you.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You aren’t into me. You only think you are because you can’t have me.” I smiled, rolling my sleeves up.

Maybe it was true—maybe he was into me—but he was the kind of guy a girl couldn’t trust to be loyal, and there was also no chemistry between us. I needed chemistry, and that had only ever happened to me a handful of times.

Sinclaire leaned back in his chair, continuing to stare at me.

“You got some balls on you, you know that?”

“Yes,” I replied with ease.

He laughed. “Right, noted. I only think I’m into you.”

“Yes, Sinclaire, you’d do good to remember it and stop hitting on me. It won’t get you anywhere.” I smiled and arched my brows.

“Yes, Boss Taylor.” He motioned his hands up and down, pretending to worship me.

Taylor.

It was kind of amazing. It didn’t matter how many years passed, I still couldn’t get used to the name. It felt like wearing a mask, slipping in and out of myself, who I used to be and who I had become.

Taylor was a name I liked from a character in one of the stories my mother used to write. She’d never published anything, said it was her personal pleasure. She had wanted to get lost in her world without criticism. She’d written mystery novels, and Taylor was the name of the sleuth, a real badass woman who solved all these bizarre mysteries.

I supposed I hadn’t just taken the name. I’d also become the character by being a detective in the organized crime unit, although the organized crime part was closer to home than I wanted to even think about. It was just hard not to…

The door of Roose’s office opened across the room from where we stood and he walked out, taking his usual authoritative stance that compelled you to stand to attention. A man came out after him, catching my eye the way it probably would with most women, because he was drool-worthy gorgeous.

I may have usually hardened up and reined in my emotions when it came to men, but I could appreciate a deadly handsome man when I saw one.

He had jet black, unruly hair that could have done with a haircut, but he carried it off well. It was that messy, sexy, I woke up like this style that made me think he grew it out to that length and kept it that way on purpose for the look.

He was taller than Roose, standing well over six feet tall, and packed with muscle like a marine. Those muscles stood out beneath his white button-up shirt and black pants. He carried an air of authority, too, which I usually found attractive. I knew I had been staring for far too long, longer than I normally would if I wasn’t trying to intimidate someone.