Chapter Twelve
Anne hadn’t slept at all by the time she got to the precinct. Between Michelle’s needling questions, and Evie’s tantrum, and Jeffers’ tantrum (via email and text), she’d barely had time to have a shower and change. Thankfully, she could leave Evie with Michelle today, with strict instructions not to let William in.
If he even wanted to come in. Anne was torn because the two of them clearly still had the same chemistry as they’d always had. She couldn’t toy with Evie’s life like that though. If they didn’t work out for some reason, and him getting sent back to prison was strongly possible, Evie would be worse off. Getting to know William and then losing him, whether he left her or was taken from her, would still be traumatizing. Anne understood that. Michelle seemed to as well. Anne hadn’t really told her what had happened at the gala, but she seemed to know, and for once, she hadn’t offered her opinion.
Anne came in and went immediately to the coffee maker. Jeffers followed her into the breakroom and stood there, arms crossed and eyes on her for an uncomfortably long time.
“Jeffers, I’m too tired to play guessing games. If you have a problem, say it,” Anne said as she prepared her coffee. “We got some good material last night, right? At least something to start with?”
“What? Yeah, okay, we got a little bit of intel, but you got something else!” Jeffers snapped. “And while you were getting something else, our killer took someone else out.”
Anne turned around. “Really? Who?”
Jeffers motioned for her to come with him and stalked out.
“During the gala? Or after?” Anne pressed as they walked down the hallway. “That matters.”
For the next hour, Anne sipped her coffee and stared at the crime scene photos of their newest victim. Gabe Brundle, another man with a less than perfect record, but not as built as Pigg had been. The team on the scene had made sure to look for the mark between the fingers of his left hand, now that they knew it might be there. Only this time, the victim wasn’t shot multiple times. His Achilles’ tendons had been cut, and he’d been tortured for some time before being shot in the head. This was Santiago’s signature, not Egerton’s. Santiago always tried to get information out of traitors and deserters before putting them down.
“It would help if we knew how Spencer was a part of all of this,” Jeffers said.
“It really wouldn’t.” Anne didn’t spare a look for Jeffers. He was being incredibly annoying, and if he spilled what he expected about last night….
“I may not be the sharpest detective in the VPD’s tool belt, but I can guess that if he didn’t put them there—”
Anne glared at him.
Jeffers raised his hands. “—which he couldn’t because you were with him when this happened, then he’s been targeted by our perp.”
“Spencer doesn’t fit any of the patterns,” Anne said. “He wasn’t shot five times. He hasn’t been shot once.” She lowered her voice. “Amazingly.”
“Yeah, I find that hard to believe, too. So then how—”
“He was stabbed. Can we drop this?”
Jeffers’ eyes widened. “Ohh. Then his relationship with the perp might be personal, rather than a hit.”
“I don’t know, Jeffers.” Anne blinked wearily.
“Guys?” DeWinter poked his head into the room. “Lopez wants to talk to all of us in the briefing room. Now. I’m pretty sure it’s about your case.”
Anne pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Hey. This case is getting big enough that they’d take it away from any one of us. Two is just not enough,” DeWinters said.
“That’s not much comfort come evaluation time,” Jeffers said.
“It should be. Sutton, you turned a single murder into multiple homicides, potentially closing a dozen cold cases.” DeWinters slapped her shoulder as she exited the room. “Be proud. Hell, you’ve helped us on cases. Let us help you.”
“I don’t think the captain notices when I help you guys on cases,” Anne said.
DeWinters was quiet for a moment, then scratched the back of his graying black hair. “I dunno. I think Lopez notices everything.”
Anne sighed and headed with them to the briefing room. Whatever was about to happen, she wasn’t going to like it.
***
“We’re closed,” William said irritably after the bell to his shop sounded. He stared fixedly at the pile of books he was sorting. Maybe he should’ve elected to run a comic book shop. Or an ice cream parlor. He blew the dust off of an old tome that someone had ordered but not picked up.
The sound of heeled boots came nearer, and he ignored them.
“William?” Anne’s soft voice floated toward him.
He said nothing, hoping that she would just leave.
“Look, it’s been a few days, and you haven’t answered your phone. They’re gonna send someone else down here if you don’t answer. I told them to let me try first since I’ve been your contact so far.”
“Oh, is contact what you call it?” William muttered.
“Will?” Anne peered around the bookshelf. “God, I was afraid someone had silenced that smart-ass mouth of yours permanently.”
“You’re a real sweetheart, you know?” William slammed a book down. “What do you want this time?”
“The department wants to put a man inside,” Anne explained, shifting her weight onto one foot. “Get some information from Egerton. We’re pretty sure we can link Egerton to seven hits at least, and if we bust him, the money dries up for his hit man. He might even roll on the guy to reduce his sentence.”
“And you, what? Want me to do the honors? Get on the inside, do your dirty work, help you arrest the old asshole?”
Anne shook her head. “No, that’s what the department wants. I wanted to be the one to tell you because I don’t want you to go.”
William brushed his hands together and stood. “Why?”
“You told me what Egerton said, what he’s like. This man is as insane as your father, even if he seems to like you a bit better.” Anne shoved her hands in her pockets. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“So you’re here to tell me you suddenly care oh so much.” William wiped his hands on his jeans. He tended to dress down for inventory, in nothing but an old pair of jeans and a worn-out T-shirt. “Well, it’s no skin off my nose if you lot put some other sucker in there to get information for you.”
“I care, William,” Anne insisted.
Turning swiftly, William fixed a withering look on her. She pulled her head back but didn’t move, so he stormed toward her and grabbed her wrist.
“Do you? Do you really care?”
“Ow,” she said with more annoyance than pain.
He dropped her arm but leaned in so close their noses were almost touching. “Why? Why would you give a flying fuck about some irredeemable criminal? And why do you expect me to buy that?”
“Because I love you, you jackass!”
William narrowed his eyes, sucked in his cheeks, and shook his head. “You don’t. It’s nice of you to say, but you don’t love me.”
“I knew you were arrogant, but it’s pretty extra to tell me how I feel,” Anne shot back.
“If you love someone, you don’t throw them away like garbage, love. And you sure don’t do it more than once.” William walked past her. “How ‘bout I show you the door?”
Now Anne grabbed his wrist and jerked him back. Hard.
“Ow,” he said mockingly. Though, it had hurt a bit.
“I don’t have just myself to think about,” Anne said.
“Are you looking for absolution here? For me to tell you it’s okay to jerk me around like this? Or did we just have sex after the gala because you felt sorry for me?”
“Shut up!”
William laughed. “That’s right. That’s a great way to handle an argument. We’re peak relationship goals right now.”
“I didn’t give you pity sex. I wanted it. I still want it.” Anne squeezed his arm again and stepped closer until he could feel her chest rising and falling. “And I want you, but I don’t know how I can have you. My life isn’t entirely my own to do whatever I want with.”
“Don’t you dare blame this on Evie. She’s purer than either of us will ever be. And you’ll always find an excuse not to do this. If you did love me, you’d find a way to work it out. You’d at least try.” William jerked his hand away and put it on his hip. “And last time, what was your excuse? Your job?”
“Last time was still about…” Anne trailed off.
William raised a brow. “About… what? Who?” His heart began to pound. “About Evie? Were you—?”
William wished he were the type of man to push away a woman who kissed him to shut him up, but he wasn’t. He could take down a man twice his size, sharp shoot, and survive almost anything, but he apparently wasn’t strong enough to tell Anne Sutton no.
The morning after the gala, William had been so certain that it had been their last time together that now every touch seemed precious. Today very likely was their last time. Afterwards, she would leave him again, maybe with an excuse, maybe not. Either way, he glutted his hands with the feel of her, moving them up and down her body as though he could fill up on the memory of her skin and bank it away for the long stretch without her that surely lay ahead of him.
She fell back against a dusty wall of books, and he unbuttoned her pants and jerked them down. In the seconds between breaking the kiss, unbuttoning his pants, and pressing another fierce kiss to her lips, he could see in her eyes how much she both wanted this and hated herself for having it.
William wished he could make her love herself. He wished he could make her choose happiness instead of endless sacrifice, but he couldn’t control her, and he wouldn’t have been happy if he could. Instead, he would love for her, at least at this moment, and he slipped his fingers into the already slick folds between her legs. She squirmed and then began to rub against him as he worked his magic between her satiny flesh. He bowed his head and took in her scent, kissing her neck and drinking her in like a fine wine. He wanted her ripe and ready before he took her fully, and his fingers were as nimble as ever.
He could feel her as she came, the wetness increasing, the hitch in her breath. His fingers chased along the sides of her lips, triggering a second, and third, orgasm just because he could, and he knew her body so well. Anne would fucking remember him; he would make sure of it.
William felt his eyes stinging as he pushed into her. The feel of her around him, their connection, made his chest swell, and he closed his eyes as he lifted her legs up and fucked her against the bookcase with every drop of passion he had in him. She shuddered again, clinging to his shoulders and moaning loudly. Her staccato cries were his music.
When he came, he held her more tightly against the books. She gasped and pressed kisses along the side of his face. The pleasure rose up and shot through him, and he groaned deep in his chest and let the sound reverberate through the old store.
When it was over, William slumped down to the ground. Anne reached over to one of the unused cloths he’d been using to dust off books and cleared cum away before wriggling back into her panties and falling back on the floor. William sighed, not wanting to be the first one to speak, and jerked his jeans back on.
“Oh,” Anne said softly.
“Are you all right?” William wanted to smack himself for the concern in his voice. Anne would probably always be a vulnerable spot for him.
Anne sat up, holding something in her palm. He leaned forward, his brows raising as he realized what it was, and then took it. It was his damn ring; it’d fallen off and rolled under one of these shelves.
“Bloody fucking hell.”
“Right?”
“If I’d found this a few weeks ago, you’d still be butting your head against the wall on this case,” William said, staring at the ring. It was his alright. He could see the worn spot. He knew how every groove felt. He slipped it back on. “None of this would’ve happened.”
“Do you wish it hadn’t?” Anne asked.
William wanted to say yes. He wanted to break her heart and send her on her way. But there was no harming Anne for him. Not really.
“I wouldn’t wish away a moment with you.” William ran his thumb over the fleur-de-lis pattern. “I love you, Anne,” he admitted with defeat. “Probably always will.”
Anne picked herself up and brushed the dust off of her pants. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this harder.”
“It doesn’t get any harder. It is what it is.” William looked up at her from the floor and sighed. “And if you ever change your mind, which you won’t, because you’re bloody stubborn.”
Anne laughed softly.
“But if you do…” William rested his head back against the books and watched her expression for a moment. It would’ve been easier to deal with anger than this resigned sadness. Passion had somewhere to go. Sadness just… faded everything out.
He glanced down at his hands and waited for her to leave. The sound of her heeled boots walking out of his life might’ve been the worst thing he’d ever heard. And there had been men who screamed at night in prison.
Then, William pulled his phone out of his pocket and returned Detective Jeffers’ call.