Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,1

Chief? Because if that’s what we’re doing, then you should probably start.”

Yeah, deflection. Easier than flat-out lying, and would hopefully take off some of the heat.

He flipped me off, obvious that I’d gotten under his skin and launched into a warning about me being respectful. The fucking irony. And while I listened to the man’s words, my head was somewhere else. On the sister of the guy sitting to the right of him.

Fuck.

And while we might have been cruising Queens looking for the shithead who clearly didn’t deserve Presley, my mind was having a hard time focusing on anything other than her.

Chief leveled me with a stare, my lack of concentration not hearing much other than his woman wasn’t a topic of conversation. And if not for the grin Tibbs had on his face, I’d have thought I was in trouble. I laughed, my own smirk making an appearance. “You’re such an easy target, Chief. And you know I’m a saint. Wouldn’t dream of messing with your woman, even as a joke. But, if Hayden continues to inspire the baking, I’d like to formerly request brownies. Double chocolate.”

Chief groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. “I swear you’re worse than preschoolers. How you guys made it through the academy is a mystery.”

“It’s ’cause we’re brilliant, Chief,” Tibbs added from the passenger’s side, his chin tip to me, making me feel like an even bigger asshole. Not sure he’d feel the same way if he’d known where I’d spent my night.

“Not to mention, fearless warriors.” I played along, coughing out the words.

Ironic that I felt anything but.

“And your own biggest fans, too. Let’s keep the appreciation society for later, like much later, when I’m not around,” Chief offered as he shook his head.

With no visual on Presley’s ex, and no idea where the shithead had been hiding, we pulled out of the parking lot of the Cineplex in Flushing we’d been sitting in. Despite one of the boys in 151 having seen Lewis the night before, there’d been no sign of him or his ugly ass car the entire night. Mack drove around the surrounding area, hitting places lowlifes tended to congregate, but there was nothing. So with no further leads, we called it a night.

“Presley working tonight?” The mention of her name had my head snapping up. Made me wonder if all those internal thoughts hadn’t been vocalized, not relaxing until I saw Mack was looking at Tibbs.

“Yep, but she promised she’s getting a ride home with one of the girls from the bar. We still don’t know if he did it just to mess with her or if he was looking for something. And I definitely don’t trust the guy.”

That was another thing Tibbs and I agreed on, my hand sliding into my pocket and finding my phone.

Presley and that fucking message.

My head was still reeling, my attempt to apologize not what she wanted to hear. And, fuck me, if I wasn’t confused and fucking hard at the same time.

Fuck . . .

I had to talk to her.

“Speaking of people we can’t trust. Either of you two clowns see Melinda?” Mack coughed out, shooting us both a look.

Tibbs glanced at me over his shoulder, tossing me completely under the bus on yet another subject I didn’t want to talk about.

Mack’s ex-wife, Melinda, was a psychopath. Crazy beautiful with the kind of vibe that would make you want to cup your balls whenever she was around. And, because Presley hadn’t been my only lapse in judgment last night, I’d had the fucking displeasure of talking to Melinda at the bar when we’d all been hanging out at Diablo. Who knew heading to Presley’s club would have turned into such a shitshow. Still, even with the facetime I’d endured with Mack’s crazy ex, couldn’t say I’d regretted it.

“Spill it. What did she say? And don’t try and tell me it was nothing because you’re terrible liars.”

“So, I saw her at the bar,” I admitted, figuring one lie was hard enough to keep. “I swear I didn’t say anything, but she walked up all the same and offered to buy me a drink.”

“And . . .?” Mack waved his hand, urging me to continue.

I blew out a breath. “And . . . to suck my dick.”

See, complete and utter psycho because there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d put my dick anywhere near her mouth. Even if I didn’t have a hard-on for Presley. Fuck, she’d been

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