Part 10 (1/2)

Frankie's leaving is f.u.c.king with my head. I close my eyes and try not to breathe in through my nose. This dumpster is rank. Resting my head against the ice-cold brick wall, I mentally lecture myself on how stupid I am for letting this happen.

This was a rookie mistake. And I'm embarra.s.sed by it.

I spot lights brightening the alley and I move to stand. I don't want to be here a second longer than I need to be, although I'm dreading the lecture I know one hundred percent I'm going to receive from Bob on the way home.

Still standing by the dumpster, I'm suddenly blinded by a bright light.

My eyes burn. I quickly lift my hand to block out the harsh a.s.sault on my peepers. I spot the gun before I get a chance to run. That's when I hear the words I never thought I'd hear in my lifetime.

”Hands up!” No, no, no! ”You're under arrest.”

Well, today just keeps getting better and better.

The light s.h.i.+ning in my eyes, I try to blink away the white spots that blur my vision but it's a futile attempt.

”Raise your hands where I can see 'em.” The rough voice does nothing to calm my racing heart. ”Now slowly, making no sudden movements, I want you to lower the mask. Can you do that, Miss?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallow hard and nod.

My left hand gently pulls at my mask, uncovering my face for the officer to see.

An annoyed huff. ”f.u.c.k. I knew it was you.”

The light lowers and I open my eyes. They don't want to cooperate. I blink a little while before my vision clears. And I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. I chuckle humourlessly, ”You have got to be kidding me.”

Marco smirks. ”Nice to see you, too, baby.”

The humour flees my face with such speed that immediately the air feels cooler around me. ”Don't call me that.”

His face quickly becomes expressionless. He clears his throat. ”You have something to do with the murder of a squatter just up the way?”

I glare at him.

There's no point in answering. He already knows.

He scratches at his chin with the b.u.t.t of his gun. ”Wanna tell me why she deserved it?”

Because she was feeding drugs to her babies to keep 'em quiet while she did her begging routine during the day.

I continue to glare at him. He loses his cool. ”Dammit, Cat, I can't help you if you don't talk to me.”

My eyes roll of their own accord. I add in a scoff for good measure.

He takes a step closer to me. I wish he hadn't done that. He smells amazing. Not to mention the way his uniform hugs his body makes me want to repeat history. Stupid, stupid history. I tell myself that's just the adrenaline from the kill. Neither I nor my brain believe that.

He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. ”You think I'm gonna snitch on you, honey? Maybe you should ask yourself why you're not in jail right now and why the f.u.c.k I've been demoted from detective to late night patrol and desk work.”

Jerking my chin from his grip, I think on that for a second, never taking my eyes off of him. ”You didn't give us up?”

”No, ma'am.”

I don't understand. ”Why? You don't owe us anything.”

His gaze moves down to my lips. My heart skips a beat as he mutters distractedly, ”I'd do anything for another taste.” Shaking his head, he answers with, ”I know I don't owe you a d.a.m.n thing. But it just didn't feel right.”

Why can't I just be a normal teenager sometimes? ”Listen, if this is because of the s.e.x-”

His eyes narrow as he cuts me off with a dangerously calm, ”It was more than s.e.x and you know it.” He regains composure quickly and adds, ”It was because I support what Mirage is and what you do there. I'm a cop. I know how often people can get off on a technicality. And it's not right. You fix what I can't.”

I can't help it. A part of me is so desperate for contact right now. When I reach out and place my hand on his chest, he wraps an arm around me. He lowers his face as I close my eyes. Our lips close, he runs his nose down mine.

My stomach flutters. But something isn't there.

He pecks my lips, softly, before pulling me closer and taking my mouth in a deep, controlled kiss.

Hmm.

This isn't how I remembered it. Eyes closed, an image is suddenly projected in my mind's eye. Xavier pulling me close in the kitchen, laughing out loud. What little feeling I had towards Marco immediately dissipates.

The hand against his chest pushes and he steps back. He watches me cautiously. ”Sorry. Old habits, you know?”

I nod but remain silent.

After a moment, I ask more out of curiosity than anything, ”So... you're letting me go, right?”

He lifts a hand and scratches at his short hair. I learned this is something of a nervous habit for Marco. ”Yeah, honey. I'm letting you go.” He looks away and mumbles, ”Again.” He walks away from me, but before he hits the street, he turns and states, ”If you ever need help, any help at all, you call me. I'm at the precinct. My surname is Watts. Officer Mark Watts.”

As he hits the street, I hear Marco call out an annoyed, ”Put it away, Bob. I didn't hurt her. f.u.c.k, man. Get a grip.”

A car starts then takes off. Not a second later, Bob is by my side, holding me up. ”You okay?”

I don't answer but wrap an arm around his waist as he walks me to the car. We get in and go along our way. Halfway home, Bob asks, ”You want to talk about it? Any of it?”

I speak into the window as I lean my forehead on the cool gla.s.s. ”No. Thanks.”

”Okay. But you know I have to ask.”

”Marco?”

He sighs, ”Yeah.”