Empathy (12 page)

“Why do we have to do all this over a drug dealer?”

We’ve been going over the surveillance tapes for hours; I just came in to watch Monday night’s. Fighting the urge to hit his head off the table I reply with incredulity, “It’s a murder! We’re homicide detectives. We investigate all homicides, Rossi. You can’t pick and choose based on the identity of the victim. He also wasn’t killed for being a drug dealer. It was random; he could have been anyone which means he may be the first victim with more to come.” I drift off on the final word when a figure appears on the screen. He is wearing a black hoodie, pulled up to hide his face, and black track pants. The victim is trying to piss up against the wall after just leaving the witness. His lips are moving in the assailant’s direction, making him stop in his tracks. The victim seems oblivious to the fact the assailant has scooped up a loose brick that was lying close to one of the adjoining buildings. He’s completely blindsided to the harsh, vicious attack. One blow to the skull takes the victim to his knees, another knocks him unconscious, but he continues to brutally slaughter him with blow after blow, some to the face, others to the upper body. The video shows the back door open and quickly close, catching the attention of the murderer. He calmly stands, walks over to the trash crate, opens the lid and picks up the victim with ease, dropping him in before walking slowly away.

“That was fucking sick,” Rossi says.

“He’s done this before.”

His eyes snap to me. “How do you know that?”

I tap the screen. “Any detective worth his badge can see it.”

WAITING OUT FORENSICS TO GIVE us a lead as the video didn’t give us an I.D, and handing over the case to more experienced officers was against my better judgement, but Melody was consuming my thoughts and I had the assignment of tailing her. Who am I to disobey orders?

She looks tired, her face free of makeup, her long mocha swirled hair piled messily in one of those top knots students favour. She’s been crying today; her eyes are puffy. She’s wearing yoga pants, tight as fuck, like latex hugging her figure, and a tee tight over her generous chest, flaring slightly at her toned midriff. A pair of worn-in Chucks complete her attire. She’s typing on a phone but her teeth are gritted.

I follow her, unseen, to a gym. I flash my badge to the receptionist to find out what she’s signed up for. Self-defence, which makes me smile. This smiling shit is happening more often than I should allow it but she’s taking control. She’s adjusting and learning from the hand life has dealt her. When your story is written on a piece of paper and that paper gets crumpled up and thrown into a shredder, you can piece the tatters back together although the damage remains. So does your story, you just have to continue to write even if the paper isn’t perfect.

Two hours pass before she emerges from the building. Night has claimed the sky, the moon full and proud standing in bright contrast against the darkness. She examines the sky, almost surprised night time has fallen, before her eyes dart around, her bottom lip disappearing into her mouth. She’s nervous, her body tense as she begins her walk.

I follow her on foot, keeping my distance but she’s more aware then I give her credit for because she senses me. Her legs pick up speed before she breaks into a sprint. I give chase, calling her name. I call her name four times before she slows to a stop, spinning to face me, her mouth agape. There’s a mist of sweat coating her skin, and her chest is rising in heavy pants as she claws at the air to fill her lungs of oxygen.

“You’re going to kill me,” she breathes. My footing stutters making me falter and step back from her. “You keep scaring the crap out of me. You’re going to give me a heart attack, I swear. What the hell is wrong with you?”

I take a step forward, gripping her shoulders forcing her back against the wall of the tall building she stopped in front of. Her eyes flare. This may be a shock for her, forward and without warning, but I need to taste her lips again. It’s not something new for me, it’s something that disturbs my dreams and occupies way too many of my thoughts. I need to sate the desire.

I crush my body against hers and enjoy her struggle as she tries to fight me off.
Good luck.
My lips claim hers without remorse. Her mumbled voice vibrates against my lips, she’s not granting me access but I swipe my tongue out anyway, tasting her rejection. I grind my cock into her pelvis, eliciting a whimper, her lips softening and opening for me. I release her shoulders and slide my hands into her hair, fisting two handfuls. Her arms wrap around my back, clawing at me, and one of her legs curls around my calf. Her body moulds against me, a soft mewing sound resonating from her; she can’t get close enough. It’s like she wants to melt into me, and fuck if I don’t want to absorb every drop of her.

Our tongues duel and dance together in a battle of lust and anger; I hate that she’s making me weak by wanting her, and she hates what type of man I am, yet the fire that smoulders between us is so hot it’s impossible to tread out.

I pull back and glare down into her pools of green, desire oozes from them, saturating me in her need for release. I want to embrace it, I want to swim in the essence of her but I need to rein in my stupidity. I’m on the job, we’re in public and she’s so fucking young, and in reality, a threat to me. She is the daughter of a mark. She walked into a crime scene with me still in it. She became part of the underworld I dwell in. My hand has been tight around her neck; she wore my mark in the form of a bruise. Fuck, that’s just making me harder; I need to shut my brain off.

“What the fuck are you doing walking around alone at night? Do we really need to go over the rape/murder conversation again?” I growl.

Her body stiffens and pulls from mine, her tiny fists pounding at my chest. An angry burst of mumbled profanities spill forth for a good two minutes before she lets up. Nose wrinkling at me, she huffs and waltzes off.

I swallow the impulse to knock her out, shove her in my car and throw her in her room for the night, and instead I jog to catch up to her. “I’m sorry… sort of.” I wince when her angry glare penetrates me. “You need to be careful. You’re reckless and it annoys me.”

I stride a few feet in front of her before I realise she’s stopped walking. Turning to face her hostile stance, I lift my hand to ask why she stopped.

A laugh without amusement bursts from her. “You are unbelievable. What the hell do you want? Why do you even care? Why are you here right now?”

Hmm fair point, the little brat. “It’s my job to keep an eye on you,” I tell her like it’s obvious.

Her head jerks back, her mouth popping open. “What?”

I close the space, reaching for her wrist, my thumb stroking over her pulse. “You’re in our jurisdiction now and believed to still be in danger so we have to keep you safe.”

Her face crumbles, her eyes closing then springing back open; the jade pools glitter from unshed tears. “So you know.”

I tilt my head to study her, to show her the softness she needs right now. I want to comfort her, take away the pain rippling through every fibre of her being. I’m mute, struggling to deal with these emotions crashing into me; it’s like my feelings are waking up after being dormant. The rush confuses and terrifies me. I don’t want to give them access but my system is being rebooted with a virus I don’t have the firewall to protect myself from. It’s just flooding in, seeping into my bones, my blood, my mind, my heart.

I find the anger quickly at the girl who is forcing this shit on me, and I hold onto it and anchor myself. “I know you witnessed evil, felt the nature of a beast wrap itself around you, and yet you must crave danger because here you are putting yourself at risk.” I step into her, shadowing her frame with my own. Tears leak free running a delicious trail down her tinted cheeks. “You don’t need to go looking for it. It’s looking at you.”

She pulls her hand free from me. “You’re a bastard.”

A chuckle, dark and deep, pulls from my chest. “Best you remember that, Puya.”

Narrowed jade irises pin me to the spot. “Puya?”

I nod in the direction of her wrist. She turns it to look at the tattoo there. Shaking her head she starts to speak “It’s a moonflower, a…”

Night-blooming cereus, I know,” I finish for her, annoyed by her assumption I’m stupid and couldn’t tell. In reality I’d fucking Googled it when I saw her tattoo and learned a whole lot about rare blooming flowers. I internally cringe at the lengths I’ve gone to find out everything about her. Googling her tattoo? I’m worse than a woman. I seriously need to whip out my junk and check I still have any. “But it should be Puya. Now get in my car.”

Her hand drops. “No!”

I rush her, bending, my shoulder connecting with her midriff as I lift her over my shoulder, my arm wrapping around her thighs to steady her. Her breath disperses against my back in hot puffs as she struggles from the fireman’s hold.

“Oh my God, put me down. This is police harassment.”

A genuine laugh splinters the air. Shit, she’s funny but her squirming is making me rethink not knocking her out. Her obvious arousal from our make out is so close to my mouth I can smell her scent and it’s so divine my teeth bite down on her upper thigh. Her squeal then heavy breaths tell me I shocked her but also turned her on.

“Stop moving or I’ll bite harder,” I warn, hoping she’ll wiggle her body all over me.

I reach the car and lower her to her feet. I pull open the door and gesture for her to get in. When she doesn’t move I grasp her head and push down and back like I would a perp, forcing her into the car. I wait for her to drag in her feet before I slam the door, making her flinch.

I enter the driver’s side, holding up my hand when she goes to speak. “Listen Melody, I don’t like this shit any more than you do. Trailing some chick looking for danger is not my idea of fun.” Her mouth does that popping open thing again, forming an O. “I don’t like you and you don’t like me but hey, here we are, so stop being a brat and we’ll get along just fine.”

I reach for the button on the radio, cranking the volume to drown out any comeback she fires at me.

She barely lets me stop the car before she jumps out and races into her dorm. I bite back the unsettling feeling of seeing Ryan sitting on her steps waiting for her. I drive away before I have to watch him go inside with her.