Chapter 8

AMELIA

Sometimes Sinclaire would stop by before work with some pastries for us, but I knew it wasn’t him. When I thought of who it could be, my cheeks flushed.

Luc. He’d insisted on picking me up.

“Detective Gorgeous.” Gigi beamed. “Go get the door.” She waved her hand at me.

I frowned and stood up, deciding I’d go.

I hated the scatter of nerves that danced across my body as I opened the door and saw Luc standing there. The smile that inched across his sensual lips instantly gave me thoughts I definitely shouldn’t have had. It was a smile that held unspoken promises of sin—at least that was what I read from it.

“Morning.” He grinned, looking me over with interest.

“Morning. I’m not going with you.” The last thing I needed was to feel like this—hot and bothered, getting all weak-kneed over my partner. At work, we were at work, and I didn’t need to talk to him about anything else besides work. Alone in his car driving to work was different.

“I’d beg to differ. There’s no reason you shouldn’t come with me. I’ve offered, I’m here, and my car works perfectly.”

“It’s a Ferrari—of course it works.”

“You don’t like the car?” Although he narrowed his eyes, there was a hint of mischief in them.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying it’s a Ferrari.” I folded my arms under my breasts, and my skin heated all the more when his gaze dropped to my cleavage then climbed back up to my eyes. I had to swallow hard to clear the formation of a lump in my throat.

“I’m taking you to work. I’ll go wait in the car while you get your things.”

“I like this guy, Amelia,” Gigi said from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw how pleased she looked.

“Good morning, Miss Gigi,” Luc said with a curt nod, exuding more charm.

“Morning, Luc. Now I like you even more because you called me Miss Gigi. Come have breakfast with us. Forgive Amelia’s manners—she’s ruder than usual at this hour.”

I scowled at her. “I am not rude.”

Yes, actually, I am. I just didn’t like being called out on it.

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to impose.” Luc smiled then returned his gaze to me. It was that look from the day before, before all the shit happened, that look of interest. It sparked a connection I wanted to ignore.

It was chemistry.

“Why on earth would you think that?” Gigi mused, coming closer. “Amelia told

me what happened yesterday, how you saved her life. The least we can do is invite you to join us for breakfast. Right, Amelia?”

I looked to her again, seeing her point, but also seeing that she was up to something.

“Yes, that’s right.” I pulled in a deep breath, looked back to Luc, and gave him a forced smile. “Join us for breakfast.”

“Are you sure you want me to?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure I want you to,” I replied, mimicking his emphasis.

He gave me a once-over sweep then the smile of mischief followed, along with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gigi chuckled as he came inside.

I knew from the day before that this guy was going to be trouble, but not the kind of trouble I should be focused on, like Montgomery and his gang.

As much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, with his cocky smile, piercing eyes, and instant understanding of how to handle me, Luc was the type of trouble I didn’t want to entertain.

***

LUC

Playing nice wasn’t me.

I hadn’t been fake or insincere initially, I just hadn’t been fully me—or rather it was weird because it had been a while since I was required to play nice in a way that mattered.

The obvious thing to lean on was the billion-dollar fortune I had at stake if I didn’t play nice, but if I was honest, I had to admit that Amelia was starting to rub off on me in a way where I was starting to see what worked with her.

Stepping up a level when she argued worked. Her friend’s insistence helped too, and all contact with her was good.

She didn’t speak much during breakfast and barely said anything on the drive to work. We stopped at the hospital to see Sinclaire, though only briefly as it wasn’t visiting hours, and that didn’t really help. I watched her sink into that depressive mood I’d grown accustomed to falling into back home when there was nothing left to do, nothing anyone could do but wait.

We’d been at the station for a few hours now, and silence hung over our office in such a thick cloud it was stifling. She’d handed me a stack of files on the gang and the investigation to go through then positioned herself behind the computer on her desk.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was nearly time for lunch.

“What do you want for lunch?” I asked, looking over at her.

She raised her eyes and looked at me like she’d just remembered I was here.

“Nothing.” She went back to staring at the screen.

I got up and walked over to her. At least she’d looked at me—quizzically, yes, but she’d acknowledged my presence.

I didn’t need to be told that Sinclaire was on her mind. He’d looked worse this morning.

“You have to eat. Investigation requires strength.” It did, although in my world we’d be actively hunting for those assholes like a pack of wolves out for blood and guts, not sifting through paperwork.

“As you know, I had a big breakfast, but thanks for your concern.”

Ah, the brushoff.

I smiled. “This how you always are?”

“Yes. Get used to it or leave.” She tilted her head to the side.

“Not going anywhere, and I’m not going to get used to it.” I gave her a dark smile, the predatory kind I gave when I was toying with someone.

“Whatever.”

I sat on the edge of her desk, much to her annoyance, but what I did next made her blush.

I loosened my tie and started undoing the buttons on my shirt.

“Why are you taking off your clothes? Someone could walk in.” Her face was classic, a mingle of surprise and curiosity. Curiosity I liked.

“I wonder what they would think we were getting up to,” I taunted, loving the bewilderment that filled those eyes of hers.

“Nothing. What is wrong with you?” she snapped.

I laughed.

I most certainly would have preferred to be under different circumstances with her in this room, preferably naked with her on her hands and knees and me devouring her fine ass, but I’d save that fantasy for another day.

“Nothing.” I mimicked her tone and moved back the soft white cotton of my shirt so she could see the tattoo covering the gunshot wound that had nearly taken my life. “This is what I’m showing you.”

I pointed to the tattoo in question, and I loved that her eyes scanned over the sharp bulk of muscles near it on my abs, desire filling her beautiful gaze.

“You’re showing me a tattoo? It’s unusual.” Her gaze flicked up to meet mine.

The tattoo was unusual: the top of a woman’s face over my right breast with wings for the lashes. Unique, I supposed, but a deeper look showed much more and told a whole story in itself.

“Nah, I’m showing you a bullet wound.” The tattoo artist had done an impeccable job of covering the wound with one of the eyes. When I pointed at it, Amelia’s lips parted in surprise, and she stood up to get closer, to get a better look.

“What happened? That was close to your heart.”

Close to my heart indeed.

“Took a bullet for my brother.”

She looked at me like she didn’t know what to say. “Oh God.”

It was a day I didn’t like to think of, but it was part of me. Claudius had gotten himself mixed up with the wrong people. The two of us came as a duo, but that time he’d taken matters into his own hands and hadn’t wanted to involve me. As a result, the Salvatore’s killed a friend of his. I’d gone after him and taken the bullet that would have killed him.

“That’s honorable,” she said, her voice barely audible.

I was about to answer when she reached out and touched the edge of the tattoo, fingers gliding along the eye, making my skin tingle.

I watched her in fascination, becoming more fascinated when she looked up to me. The guarded look in her eyes dropped for a few seconds as she touched me, but then it returned and she stepped back.

“Have faith that your friend will survive,” I encouraged. “Sometimes that’s all we can do, but it’s enough.”

She pressed her lips together and appeared more at ease, though still somewhat on edge. “I’ll try.”

I hoped she did, and I hoped Sinclaire pulled out of his coma. Him getting injured was not in the plans. Put simply, it complicated things for me, because it would be much more difficult to reach her if she was worried about another man.