The Drazen World: Torn (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Torn #1) (9 page)

              His body drops, covering my body.  I feel his breath heavy on my neck.  “Fuck princess.”  Going up on his elbows, he releases my wrists, rubbing feeling back into them.  “You okay?”  He gently kisses my nose.

              “Yeah.”  I pant, my eyes flutter closed.  My body is still quivering from the second orgasm.

              He stands, moaning as he pulls his semi hard cock out.  He grabs a Kleenex, removing the condom, “fuck, it broke.”  He disposes the torn rubber in the trash. 

              “What?”  My eyes snap open. 
What did he just say?

              “The condom broke.”  He runs his hands through his hair.  “Don’t worry, I’m clean.”  I watch as he tucks his himself back in his pants, and zips up. 

              I snort out loud, propping myself up on my hands.  “Really?”  I can’t hide my sarcasm.

              “Really.”  He shoots me a look.  “What?”

              “You have a reputation Johnathan.  It’s common knowledge that you’ve whored around with most of L.A.”

              “Jesus.  I’m not that fucking bad.”  He looks offended.

              I raise a skeptical eyebrow.

              “Fine, I’ve fucked my share of woman, but I’ve always been careful.  The only one I didn’t use protection with was Jessica.”  His facial expression changes.

             
Jessica? 
Suddenly anger floods my system. 
What they hell did I just do?  I know he’s still in love with his ex-wife, hell everyone knows that.
  “Oh god.”  I lay my head in my hands.  “What have I done?”  I go to slide off his desk, only to be held in place.

              “Stay put.”  He strides out of the room.  I hear water running and moments later he returns with a wash cloth and towel in hand.

              “Let me clean you up.”  Softly wiping my thighs, he runs the cloth between my legs.  You have a beautiful pussy.”  An evil grin creeps across his face.  Turning and tossing the washcloth and towel on the floor, he helps me off the desk.

              I shimmy my skirt over my hips, trying miserably to straighten the wrinkle. 
Not gonna happen.
  Then it dawns on me, my shirt.  “What am I going to do for a shirt?”  I eye him angrily.

              Holding up a finger he walks back through the same door, disappearing for a matter of seconds.  Reemerging he’s carrying one of his dress shirts.

              “I can’t wear that.”  I gasp.  “Everyone will know I’m wearing one of your shirts.”

              “It’s either that princess, or nothing.”  An evil grin creeps across his face.  “I’d prefer nothing…”

              “Fine.”  I snatch it from his fingers, slipping it on and buttoning it up.  “I must look ridiculous.”  I look down at his shirt, it hangs almost to my knees.

              A low rumble escapes his lips, his emerald eyes devour me whole.  “You look sexy as hell.”  I watch intently as his strong fingers roll up the sleeves to fit.  Without warning, he cups my face in his powerful hands and lowers his lips to mine.  His lips take mine in a knee buckling kiss.  “I meant what I said Princess.  Your pussy is mine.  I don’t like to share.”

              His words hit me hard.
Tony.  What the hell did I just do? 
“You can’t be serious.  This isn’t the stone ages.”  I turn on my heels and stride to the door.

              Suddenly, he’s at my side, his muscular hand slapping against the door.  “I’m deadly serious Princess.”

              “Move please.”  Too many emotions are bubbling to the surface.  I have to get out of this room.  “Please, move your hand.” 

              “Faith, don’t run.”  His warm hand wraps around the back of my neck.  “I’m sorry about the phone and Jessica.”  His eyes flicker with sincerity.

              “Stop.  Just stop it.  Do I look that dumb?  I know you’re still in love with her.  Shit, everyone knows you’re still in love with your ex-wife.”  My voice resonances through the room. 
Damn. 
“Don’t worry, I don’t want a relationship with you.”

              “Faith, I…”

              “Stop.”  I cut him off.  I really don’t want to hear his excuses.  “I need sometime.  Please Johnathan.”

              He sighs heavily, the warm air caressing the back of my neck.  “Okay.”  He lifts his large masculine hand from the door.  “But, the neighbor...” 

              I fling it open, not letting him finish.  I step out into the hall, thankful that most of the people aren’t in yet. 

              I practically sprint to my office.  As soon as I shut the door, tears flood down my cheeks. 
Now what?
I’ve slept with two different men.  I snort out loud. “Who the hell am I kidding.”  I’ve done more than just sleep with them, I’ve
fallen
for both of them. 
Shit, I feel like I’m being torn in two
.

              My eyes snap to my phone as it vibrates against my desk.  Tapping the screen, it comes to life. 
The
bureau,
they want the pictures. 
The Des Moines Police Department? 
Why not FBI headquarters?
I wipe the tears from my
cheek
, can this day get any worse?

              
Faith

              Why the hell didn’t they set this meeting up at FBI headquarters?  Don’t they realize that the general public has access to this building, I could be recognized. 

              I step from the elevator, my eyes roam the walls. I’m guessing, what used to be a beautiful eggshell colored wall is now a dirty yellowish brown.  The smell of crime and cigarettes invade my nostrils,
god I don’t miss working the streets.

              I tuck my purse under my arm, Thank god I went home and changed before I came in.  I can just imagine the shit I’d take for wearing a man’s shirt into the office. 

              I round the corner, my eyes roam my surroundings.  Numerous metal desks are scattered in the center of the room, with copiers and coffeemakers are littered throughout the area.  The random sounds of squelching police radios, overpower the buzz from the florescent lights.  Officers, with weapons strapped to their side, type up reports and question suspects.  Offices line the perimeter of the room, I’m guessing Detective Reagan is in one of those.  I stop at the nearest office,
I need to ask for directions.

              “Excuse me, detective?”  I knock softly on the worn wooden doorframe.

              Slowly, a man with black thinning hair stops typing.  His face is molded into a scowl that lightens instantly as his eyes roam from my chest, to my face, then back to my chest.  A look of satisfaction settles in his eyes. I can read every deviant thought that’s running through his mind.

             
“My eyes are up here asshole.”
  I growl to myself.  This asshole has no idea who I am.

              He grins, his teeth stained by nicotine.  “Ma’am.”  His voice is raspy from too many years of smoking.  “What can I do ya for?”  His eyes tinkle with hope, licking his lower lip.

             
Not in this lifetime asshole. 
A frustrated sigh escapes my nose, I have to be on my best behavior.  “I have an appointment with Detective Reagan.  Could you point me towards his office?”

              The detectives smile melts like butter in a frying pan.  Judging from the look on his face, which now sports a sour scowl, I’d say he doesn’t like his fellow officer. 
Hmm,
I can’t help wonder way.

              “Over there,” he grunts.  His eyes fall back to his desk.  He motions apathetically toward the far wall lined with doors.  “Straight ahead,” he flicks his fingers in the general direction.  “He’s the fifth door on the left.  There’s a name plate.”  His face turns back to his computer, I guess I’ve been dismissed.

              “Thank you, Detective…”  My eyes search his messy desk looking for a name plate.  I notice a moldy, half-eaten tuna sandwich, a large number of foil rappers from various candy bars, and -
is that a banana?
Finally I spy an upside down name placard.  Turning my head, trying to read it upside down.  “Ah there it is.  Thank you
Officer
Joel.”  I emphasis the officer, I had addressed him as detective first, giving him a much higher rank that he deserved.

              I turn on my heels and head forward through the room.  As I weave through the desks, I can feel every eye scanning my body and landing on my ass. 
Next time I’m going to request we meet at our headquarters.

             
Four.  Five. 
I stop in front of the fifth door, eyeing the worn dirty wood.  Sure enough ‘
Detective Tim Reagan,’
is neatly engraved on a worn and smudge brass plate, that’s screwed to the door with oversized silver screws.   I laugh to myself, I can see the patched holes from the numerous other plates that have come before. 
They must have a large turn over.

              I firmly tap three times, the heavily frosted glass in the door rattling loosely. 
Damn, this place could use some good old fashioned TLC.
 

              “Come in!”  An agitated voice bellows through the thin wood.

              Squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath,
I always hate dealing with police detectives.
For some reason they hate the FBI.  More specifically the hate any investigator that is assigned to one of their cases.  We’re thought of as unwanted intruders.  I grab the doorknob, the palm of my hand landing in something greasy. 
Shit, I hope I have disinfectant wipes.
Opening the door, I step in and let it click shut behind me.

              “Detective Reagan, my name is FBI agent Haylee Nichols.”  Grabbing a Kleenex off his desk, I wipe my hand.  Reaching into my bag, I carefully pull out my badge and hang it around my neck.  I extend my hand only to have it eyed with distaste. 
And there it is,
the huge divide between the FBI and local law enforcement. 

              “Next time wear that around your neck when you’re in my department.”  He snaps, briefly shaking my hand like a wet noodle.

              Anger bubbles from my chest,
asshole
.  He has no idea what undercover means, or he doesn’t give a shit because I’m not one of his.  “Sir, I am undercover and will not be wearing my badge in the public areas of this building.  The last thing I need is to be made by some perp you have chained to a desk out there.”  My voice firmly fills the room with an empty threat.

              I watch his eyes flare with anger, then quickly go blank.  “Sorry Agent Nichols, this meeting was not my idea.  Federal Agent Oliver was called to another scene unexpectedly.  He ask me to get the evidence you have for him.”  His monotone voice is laced with a hint of annoyance.

              “Not a problem detective.”  I set my bag on the chair in front of his desk and grab my phone from its pocket.  I use my finger nail to pop the tiny chip from its slot.  I’m hoping I found the evidence that will break this case wide open.  I feel a pang in my chest, hoping that I’m not turning in anything that will hurt Johnathan.  That thought has me stopping cold. 
When did he get in? 
I can’t allow myself to have feelings for him or anyone I’m investigating.  I mentally slide my walls of protection back into place.

              “Here ya go.”  I smile, holding the tiny chip in the palm of my hand.

              He plucks the small chip from my hand.  “Let me grab a plastic case for it.” 

              I watch as Detective Reagan rummages through his cluttered drawers,
this could take a while
.  I stand quietly, eyeing the numerous dusty pictures hanging on his wall.  I notice one of him shaking hands with the Mayor, holding a plaque. 
Hmm, I wonder what that was for.               
Suddenly his door flies open and in walks the last person I want to see.  My ex-boyfriend, and FBI agent Xander Meyer. 
What the hell is he doing in town?

              “Sorry I’m late.”  His blue eyes twinkle suggestively.

              Bile rises in the back of my throat, all I want to do is drop the fucker.  The whole time we were dating he couldn’t keep it in his pants.  I should have done all the women in the world a favor and just cut his dick off and stuffed it in an evidence bag.  “Agent Meyer.”  I impassive try not to notice him.

              “He sexy,” he winks playfully.  He turns to Detective Reagan, “Sir, Agent Oliver asked me to come down on his behalf and retrieve the evidence that Haylee here has gotten for us.”

              “That’s Federal agent Nichols to you.”  I hiss, he never took my career seriously.

              He chuckles, amused by my attitude.

              My eyes watch as the chip is passed to Xander, boxed, then stuffed in his front pocket.  “I’ll get this to the lab right away and we should have the results in a few days.  Hopefully sweetheart, you did your job right.”  His eyes hungrily roam my body.

              “Fuck off Xander.”  I hiss.  

              I turn my gaze back toward Detective Reagan, who has an amused look on his face. 

              “If that’s all Detective, I have real work to do.”  I slip my badge over my head and place it back into my purse. Walking to the door, I cringe as I reach for the handle.  I open his office door and freeze. 
Fuck.
  I quickly step back, shutting the door.  “Son of a bitch.”

              “What wrong sweetness.”  Xander wanders over peeking through the blinds.

              I harshly jab Xander in the ribs making him grunt.  “That perp there, at the far desk on the right.” I point to the blue eyed, bow lipped man being handcuffed to a desk.  “He’s my neighbor’s best friend, Paulie.  He can’t see me walk out of here.  They think I work in business.”  I turn and throw the detective a furious gaze.  “This is why I wanted to meet at headquarters.”  I gently run my hands over my eyes.  “Now what.  It could take hours to question him.”

              “We’re just going to have to arrest you.”  Xander immediately spouts.

              “What?”  I shoot him an evil glare.

              “Well, not for real sweetheart.  We’ll make it look real.”  Xander grins.

              “Arrest me?  You’re joking?”  I scowl.

              “It’s the only way to get you out of here without blowing your cover.”  Detective Reagan interjects.

             
Damn, I know he’s right. 
“Arrest me for what?”

              “I don’t know, pick something.”  Detective Reagan chimes, he’s clearly on board with Xander’s idea.

              I take a few seconds, running through my options.  “How about overdue parking tickets.”  I watch as they both raise a questioned eyebrow.  “A LOT of unpaid parking tickets.”  Jesus, do I have to spell it out to them.

              “That could work.”  Xander grins.  “You’ll have to put up a fight.”  He grins a wicked grin.

              “This is serious asshole.”  I growl.  “You’re going to have to make this look real.”  I hiss at Xander.  “You’re going to have to cuff me out there and drag me down to a holding cell”

              “Don’t forget finger prints sweetness.”  He wiggles his eyebrows.

              “Oh screw you Xander.” 

              Holding up his hands.  “Hey you said you wanted real.”

              “Fine.”  I turn, and poke him in the chest.  “I’m going to argue with you to make it look real.  Play along if you remember how.”  I scoff.

              I watch as Xander walks over to the door resting his hand on the knob.  “Ready when you are Haylee.”

              “It’s Faith Winters jackass!” 
This isn’t going to work, he’s going to blow my cover.

              “I know, just yanking your chain.”  He chuckles that chuckle I used to find cute.  Now when I hear it, all I want to do is smash in his face.

              “Let’s do this, Faith.  I have a lunch date.”  He glances at his watch.

              “Of course you do.”  I roll my eyes.

              “Pleasure to meet you Agent Nichols.”  Detective Reagan’s lips twitch with humor.

              Xander opens the door and roughly grabs my elbow.  “This way Ms.”

              As we step through the door I go into character.  “Take your hands off of me.  I’m not going anywhere with you.”  We struggle, attracting the attention of the room.

              Next thing I know, Xander has my arm twisted behind my back, and slams my face onto the desk.

             
Fuck.
  I see stars. 
Shit that hurt.
I lift my head, turning it toward the room.  I feel something warm trickle down my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye I see blood smudged on the desk.
Assholes gonna pay for that
.  “This is crazy!”  I screech.  “It’s just fucking parking tickets.”  I struggle.

              “A lot of parking tickets Ms. Winters.”  He kicks my feet apart, pinning my wrists to my back.  He grabs his handcuffs and snaps them around my writs.  “Faith Winters, you have the right to remain silent.  If you give up that right, anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.  You have the right to an attorney, if you can’t afford an attorney the court will appoint one for you.”  He purposely kicks my feet farther apart, slamming me to the desk harder than before. 
Asshole is enjoying this. 

              “Do you understand these right as they’ve been explained to you Ms. Winters.”

              “Yes.”  I mumble into the paper on the desk. 
I’m gonna kick his ass.

              “What was that Miss?  Do you understand these rights as they’ve been explained to you?”  He roughly moves me against the desk.

              “YES!”  My voice carried across the room. 

              I feel his front rest against my back as he whispers in my ear.  “How am I doing Faith?”

              “Asshole.”  I whisper back, trying to jab him with one of my heels.