ADDISON

What starts out as two days of paid work, now quickly turns into two days of torture. This man is relentless, and totally not what I bargained for.

The arrogance in him is astounding. He’s narcissistic, and obviously a total prick. I mean, he referred to himself as Prince Charming, for God sake!

So, why am I still sitting here stealing furtive glances toward him, feeling something clench deliciously within me as I wonder what the tattoos beyond his shirt cuffs look like?

I’m picturing the NYPD Chief of Police naked; that’s a new low, even for me.

He asked me about my hometown, and I suppose my dismissive answers don’t exactly help to highlight his best conversational features. Hell, maybe I’m bringing out his asshole-ish tendencies.

I wonder what other side of him I could bring out? Maybe the good, maybe the bad, and maybe the downright dirty.

Addison! Stop it!

I don’t talk about my past. With anyone. There’s no one in New York who knows where I’m from, what my childhood was like, or that the last name I use is actually my mother’s maiden name. It’s not hard to keep any of it secret, especially when I’ve got no real friends anyway. I’ve never wanted any, so I’ve never tried to get any.

So, small talk isn’t my thing. And talking about my past really isn’t my thing.

But now I feel bad for being a total bitch to him. And I feel bad for calling him an asshole. Kind of. He also kind of deserved it.

“New Hampshire.”

The car is silent save for the sporadic crackling of the radio and spurts of police codes and voices that come across on its airwaves. Because of that, my voice sounds loud in comparison. Dominic doesn’t turn toward me, and I don’t expect him to while he’s driving.

“That’s where you’re from?”

“Yes.”

I try to act like talking about it is no big deal, but from the corner of my eye I see his shoulders lower ever so slightly. My answer is a peace offering of sorts. A truce called between enemy lines.

He seems to mull over his answer before he speaks again. “Did you always want to be a photographer?”

His new line of questioning calms me a bit. That’s an easy one to answer. “Always.”

“You studied it in college?”

I shrug. “Never went to college. I’m self-taught.” I stumble on the last sentence. Mostly because it’s a lie, if I’m being truthful. “Well, actually, my mother taught me the basics.”

I see his eyes flicker toward me for only a split second, hardly ever leaving the road. “She must love the fact that you made a career out of it, then.”

“My mother’s dead.”

I don’t know why I say it. It would have been easier to just nod and tell him a lie by omission. Instead, the truth falls from my lips before I have any chance to swallow it back down into the darkest pit of my soul where it belongs.

Dominic visibly winces. “I’m sorry, Addison.”

I reach for my coffee in the cup holder, now ice cold. I take a drink anyway, needing the moment of reprieve. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

I’m thankful when the conversation lulls again. I’m petrified what else I might actually tell this man, seeing as he seems to have a knack for making me speak about things I haven’t spoken about in years. Not only is the truth too horrific for anyone to want to hear about, but the man I’d be admitting everything to is the Chief of Police.

And there’s no way I can tell the police chief that I’m a wanted man’s daughter. Or that my father murdered my mother…in front of me, no less. Or that I know things that should have been confessed to the DEA and police years and years ago. And worst, I can’t tell him that my father is looking for me right now, and if he has his way, the secrets that I hold will be buried with me in a shallow grave where no one will ever find them…or me.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by without any crazy or terrifying calls that we have to speed toward, and I’m glad. Being the police chief, I’m sure Dominic is privy to more frightening and disgusting things than I would ever want to know about, but I’m sure as hell not hardwired like that. With the childhood I led, if I ever have to deal with anything classified as horrific or terrifying again, it will be too soon.

“That was a lot quieter day with you than I expected,” I admit.

Dominic pushes the driver’s side door open and gets out, ducking his head back inside the car to look at me. “That’s because I had to force you to talk.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything.” And you wouldn’t have to use force, you beautiful man. “Besides, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Dominic rolls his eyes as he waits for me to get out of the car and slam the door. A bleep announces that the doors have been locked, and I fall into step beside him as we head back into the precinct to get the bag of camera lenses I’d left in his office. “It was a quiet day because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I called in a 10-6 when we got into the car.”

“What does that mean?”

“Busy, unless urgent.” He offers me a sexy grin as he holds the door open for me. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“You mean, I was stuck in a vehicle with you all day, and you weren’t even technically on duty?”

“If shit hit the fan, Addison, I’d have punched the gas and turned on the lights and sirens. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if you were in the car or not. Believe me, I was on duty. I am always on duty, and don’t you forget it.”

“Always?”

“Always.”