Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,46

fucking say it.” She drops her hands from around my neck and walks off. “I’m not going anywhere, but who’s to say that I still won’t get hurt in your care.”

I pause at her insinuation that I hurt her, that my continued denial will cause her more pain than anyone. It’s a blow. No, it’s a fucking nightmare.

She walks off, and I want to go after her, I want to reach out to her when Higgie continues to call, “Shanahan, get your ass in here.”

Twisting my whole body around, my heart a pounding mess, I walk toward the office and find Higgie leaning back in the chair. “What’s up, asshole?” I ask as I attempt to figure out if I’m pissed off at him for interrupting the kiss or appreciative of it.

“First, you have to say I’m a fucking genius.”

I need his humor, the moron, thinking I’ll compliment him, sight unseen. “Nah, but if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a sucker,” I reply.

“What an asshole.” He pushes across the picture of Annie Strickland and Sarah Mastille. “Do you see something, something worth telling me that I’m a fucking rock star?”

It stands out immediately. The pictures of Annie, strangled on the floor of the sunroom, her hands stretched out, wearing a brown beaded bracelet. The words in similar beads, but with letters reading, “You’re mine always.” The same type of bracelet is on Sarah Mastille’s left arm.

“Fuck me!” I call out. “We have Annie’s bracelet still in evidence, so this is a new one, he made just for the murders,” I explain.

“Yeah, this was my thought, too,” Higgins replies.

“How did I miss this? I lived and breathed this case.” The anger I have at myself is raging deep inside me, and I’m waiting for a response from my partner, but I don’t get one.

His one eyebrow pops up, a little higher than the other. “What?” I demand, my voice and pitch accompanying my annoyance.

“You’re too close to this case, old man.” I can’t even deny his claim.

“It won’t stop me from being a part of it.” My eyes silently challenge him.

“I’m aware of this, and I certainly wouldn’t ever suggest—now Vanessa, on the other hand, will shit her perfectly tailored suit pants.”

“Again, you’re not wrong, not one iota.” I’m not going to continue this conversation when we have finally found a break in this case. “So, what you need to do is get down to the evidence locker for the Strickland murders, then compare Annie’s bracelet to the evidence from last night.”

“Like right now?”

I bob my head up and down. “But it smells like she’s cooking something.” In the last five minutes, the aroma is wonderful and fills my home.

“Tough titty said the kitty. Go do what you need to do and get a burger from the drive-through.”

Not having him in the house after that kiss may be a bad idea, but this case comes first, even if I made a poor judgment call.

“I need your eyes on this. You know that. I mean, so you missed the bracelet, but you know this case inside and out,” Higgins begins.

“Tomorrow, when she’s at school, I’ll start looking at everything again.” I hate that the rookie is right, but I don’t let him know this. “Yeah, Higgie, even a broken watch is right two times a day.” He leaves without much more than goodbye, and it’s then, I realize I must leave this room and face the music along with the pissed-off woman in my kitchen.

Chapter 16

Malia

I’m dicing carrots when a flash comes whizzing by me. I look up to see Stewart leaving the house without so much as a goodbye. But he’s not the idiot I’m concerned with. The carrots are orange, but as I’m chopping them, all I see is red.

“Hey.” The voice startles me, and the knife slices clean into my flesh.

“Fuck, asshole, don’t sneak up on someone when they are using a knife.” My words come out as cross as I mean them to be. The pain of the cut is nothing compared to the remorse in his eyes.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He runs around the island, separating the kitchen and the living space. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He runs the water, placing my finger underneath. “Looks like I’m screwing up everything with you today.”

His words, the way the decibel lowers and he slows his speech, tells me how truly sorry he is.

“Um, not everything, Wells,” I reply, and my tone is certainly more flirtatious as I elevate my