Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore Page 0,32

Fuck, but he looked like the villain in that moment. I was completely at his mercy. He could do with me what he wanted. And then his phone rang. I watched as the mask slipped back into place, his hand moved, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Kade.” Something dark moved across his expression. “I’ll be there in an hour.” He disconnected and said with regret, “I have to cut the day short.” He cupped my chin to hold my gaze on him. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Disappointed wasn’t a good enough word, but to him, I nodded and said, “Thank you for today. This was amazing.”

He studied me; his voice lower when he said, “We’ll pick up where we left off.”

I was breathless when I replied, “That plan…definitely on my bucket list.”

Nine

Molly

The following morning, I was on fumes. After Kade dropped me at home, I spent some time in my room with my vibrator and fresh batteries, taking the edge off my lust. Then I worried about what had called him away because the change in him was not just notable, but a little alarming. I hadn’t heard from him, though I wasn’t expecting to. After a sleepless night, I was grateful for the case to get my mind off Kade Wakefield.

“I can’t even find next of kin for Jason Benjamin,” I said, standing from my desk and tossing my pen on it. “No one, no cousins two times removed, nothing. It’s like the guy never existed.”

“I’m not having much more luck with people he worked with, most are either dead or have nothing interesting to tell. There is one producer who is willing to meet with us. He’s coming to New York in the next two weeks, so we’ll set something up,” Zac offered.

“Whoa, wait a second. An actual Hollywood movie producer has agreed to talk with us?”

“Are you seriously fangirling right now?” Zac asked, shaking his head.

“It’s a Hollywood producer. Which one?” As if I knew all of the Hollywood producers by name.

Zac shook his head again, but he moved some papers around and pointed at a page. “Russell Bleaker.”

“Never heard of him.” Okay, I was hoping for Steven Spielberg, Michael Bay or Steven Soderbergh, but I would be looking into Russell’s work.

Zac pushed back from his desk, spun his chair to face me. “Milton’s comment about Jason changing names, I wonder if he’s onto something.”

And we were back to the case. “It would explain why we can’t find him.”

“Maybe the forensic team has something. I’m going to run down there. How about you get us lunch?” He gave me the look, as close to puppy dog eyes as a man like Zac could muster. It was ridiculous, especially on him. I chuckled. “Fine. Sandwiches from Duke’s?”

“The spicy one you got last time,” Zac said, and pulled out his wallet.

“Don’t want your money. I’ll be back.”

Duke’s was a little gem in Manhattan. I’d stumbled onto it a few years ago, shared what I learned, and now, it was a cop hangout. The owner, Duke Alamode, made wicked sandwiches stuffed with meats and cheeses and offered so many different condiments, it made your head spin. Just one of his sandwiches could feed a family of four. I never finished mine, but I did try.

I definitely intended to introduce Kade to Duke’s. The thought of bringing him a sandwich and our lunch ending with us on that sofa he had in his office was what was running through my head when I yanked open the door. My cop senses went on alert immediately, as my hand moved to my gun.

“Don’t fucking touch that.” My eyes meeting the blurry gaze of the meth head who’d shouted that warning. Only someone whacked out of his head would holdup a cop hangout. “Money in the bag, man,” he ordered Duke. I scanned the shop to the half dozen scared customers in the back; my gaze shifted, and I caught Duke’s eyes, before I settled my focus on the perp.

He pointed the gun at me with a shaky hand. “Over there,” he ordered, to where the other customers were huddled. I moved, keeping my eyes on him. I studied him for tattoos, any identifying markers, because he was high. I wasn’t risking taking him here, and I wasn’t thrilled with taking him once he got outside because there were more civilians on the street. He had startling blues eyes, and with his fair coloring and his size, several inches over six feet,