chalky green linoleum, fake-wood-paneled walls, and chipped brown trim. After forty years of cleaning, the heartiest of dirt had moved into every crack and fissure, and the grime wasn't coming out without a spray gun or some toothbrush action.
And maybe a vacate order from the court.
The cops were really good to her when she arrived. As soon as she set foot in the building, they started fussing over her. After talking them down off the walls while trying not to get teary eyed, she went to dispatch and chatted with a couple of the boys behind the counter. They'd had a few folks brought in for soliciting or dealing, but otherwise it had been a quiet day. She was about to leave when Butch came through the back door.
He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a button-down and had a red windbreaker in his hand. Her eyes lingered on the way his holster crossed over his wide shoulders, the black butt of his gun flashing as his arms swung with his gait. His dark hair was damp, as if he were just starting his day.
Which, considering how busy he'd been the night before, was probably the truth.
He came right up to her. "You got time to talk?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I do."
They walked into one of the interrogation rooms.
"Just so you know, the cameras and the mikes are off," he said.
"Isn't that how you usually work?"
He smiled and sat down at the table. Linked his hands together. "Thought you should know that Billy Riddle is out on bail. He was sprung early this morning."
She took a seat. "His name's Billy Riddle? You're kidding me."
Butch shook his head. "He's eighteen. No priors as an adult, but I hacked into his juvie file and he's been a busy boy. Sexual assault, stalking, some petty theft. His dad's a big shot, so the guy's got one hell of a lawyer, but I talked to the DA. She's going to try to plea him hard so you won't have to testify."
"I'll take the stand if I have to."
"Good girl." Butch cleared his throat. "So how you doing?"
"I'm fine." She wasn't about to have Hard-ass play Dr. Phil on her. There was something about the radiant toughness of Butch O'Neal that made her want to appear strong. "Now, about that car bomb. I hear it was probably plastics, and the detonating mechanism was blown sky-high. Sounds like a professional hit."
"You eat yet tonight?"
She frowned. "No."
And considering what she'd pulled down at lunch, she should be skipping breakfast tomorrow morning, too.
Butch got to his feet. "Good. I was just going to hit Tullah's."
He walked over to the door and held it open for her.
She stayed put. "I'm not having dinner with you."
"Suit yourself. Guess you don't want to hear about what we found across the alley from that car, then."
The door slowly eased shut behind him.
She was not going to fall for this. She was not going to -
Beth leaped out of the chair and went after him.
Chapter Eight
Standing in her pristine cream-and-white bedroom, Marissa was unsure of herself.
As Wrath's shellan, she could feel his pain and knew by its strength that he must have lost another of his warrior brothers.
If they'd had a normal relationship, there would be no question. She would go to him and try to ease his suffering. She would talk with him or hold him or cry with him. Warm him with her body.
Because that was what shellans did for their mates. What they got in return, too.
She glanced at the Tiffany clock on her bedside table.
He'd be heading off into the night soon. If she wanted to catch him she'd better do it now.
Marissa hesitated, not willing to fool herself. She wasn't going to be welcome.
She wished it were easier to support him, wished she knew what he needed from her. Once, a long time ago, she'd spoken with his brother Tohrment's shellan, hoping Wellsie could offer some hint as to what to do. How to behave. How to make Wrath see her as worthy of him.
After all, Wellsie had what Marissa wanted. A true mate. A male who came home to her. Who laughed and cried and shared his life with her. Who held her.
A male who stayed with her during those torturous, mercifully rare times when she was fertile. Who eased her terrible cravings with his body for as long as the needing period lasted.
Wrath did none of that for or with her. Especially not the last