There was a pile of dirty blankets heaped up against the bottom of the streetlight. All different shades of pink—a small child’s security blankets, maybe—thrown away thoughtlessly by a parent—tread over and pressed into the slush and snow. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I wasn’t a parent—maybe I never would be—I had no way of knowing, or had any right to make judgment calls, but the small jumble of blankets angered me. Why would any parent take away a child’s security blanket and dump it in the trash? Why take the feeling of safety away from someone else? It just wasn’t right.

A car rounded the corner, tires splashing through the mud and snow. I jumped onto the curb as to not get wet, my heels wobbling a bit on the landing. I looked down at my feet as the headlights from the car reflected off the storefronts on the block. New shoes. They were already digging uncomfortably into my toes. Stupid girly shoes, I thought. Why did I even bother putting them on? I should have just discarded them on top of the abandoned blankets and walked back home barefoot. I could have spent the remainder of the night curled up on my bed watching Netflix, eating ice cream.

I used to love getting dressed up and going out.

Not anymore.

I definitely wasn’t the girl I used to be.

No longer did I feel feminine, or attractive; I didn’t even feel cute. It was nothing that anyone could pinpoint either, yet it was something that all my friends mentioned to me. I’ve changed somehow. I easily blamed it on my job and all the benefits I got from it, like, lack of sleep, poor eating habits, and tousling with people who resisted arrest. My closest friends and family knew it was probably all lies though. I was a good cop, I loved my job, but they saw whatever it was written all over my face like a stain. They just couldn’t figure it all out.

It was probably the way I walked now, head down, eyes averted. I most certainly felt it in my skin, as the bruises blossomed into the telltale neon sign that read victim. I think I was still in shock about what happened with our so-called relationship. More like disappointed in myself for not seeing it coming. How, with the person I was—the job I had—how did I not see it before it happened? Maybe I was just blinded by wanting to be loved. I just wanted to be a part of love.

Someone’s cell phone rang loudly behind me, jingling the iconic song of rings. He answered quickly, in a deep baritone voice that carried down the block. I hastened my pace, feeling that strange tingle at the nape of my neck.

My own cell phone vibrated in my purse. I ignored it, wanting just to get somewhere there was heat. The temperature was supposed to drop to below twenty degrees, and I was starting to feel the plunge.

The gathering I was to attend was on the corner, a few storefronts away. I saw it in my view, couldn’t have missed it, since there were hundreds of people spilling out of the front door, circled by a band of bagpipe players. The closer I walked, the more I heard the toot of a pipe and a prayer for the departed. It was a memorial service for a fellow officer, who we lost a few weeks ago, and that night we were going to celebrate his life.

I shivered from the cold and tucked my coat collar up to shield the wind. It was a relief when I got inside the bar, the warm air falling against my skin, and me smiling stupidly in the doorway. I must have looked like a cold-hearted idiot walking into a memorial party like that. It wasn’t that I really wanted to go to a memorial service, nobody wants to have to do that—especially at the rate we do on my job. In the political climate of today, funerals were almost a weekly occurrence. I was just glad I was out of the cold.

After checking my coat, I spun around, trying to find a familiar face.

All I found was the back of a familiar head, waiting at the bar, with a bottle of water in his hands. The head belonged to Detective Ryan Cage who worked in the same squad as my brother Dean.

I leaned against the wall for a bit, instead of saying hello to him. It wasn’t often you’d find Detective Cage quietly doing something. Most of the time he came off as an arrogant ass, but I’d give him this: he was really nice to look at.

Sharp, observant tawny brown eyes that contained a constant spark to them. His mouth always bowing up in a sexy smirk, some deep delicious smile was always on his face, like he was laughing at the world. His hair was dark, pitch black almost, and always cut to uniform standards. His body was thick and strong, tan skinned, and moved gracefully and smooth.

And absolutely everywhere he went, women would flock to him like love-struck idiots. Most of the time I thought he was a jerk. A painfully good looking one, but still a jerk. Maybe I was biased though, since all men seemed to be jerks to me lately. I felt bitter—bitter that I kept wasting my time on men who were still just stupid horny boys no matter what age they truly were.

My phone buzzed again. Whoever it was, was seriously impeding upon my stalking maneuvers. I glanced down quickly at my phone, thinking it might be my brother or his girlfriend, Liv.

Your legs look incredible.

Nope, it was just an asshole. I dropped my hand, phone clasped in it tightly, to my side, dismissing the text instantly.

I affixed my gaze back on Ryan, as people pushed past me, making their way toward the bar. Soon, I would have to make my own way there and swallow down at least one drink and pretend to be sociable. My feet didn’t move though, because I still just kind of wanted to stare a little more at him.

Then, as if he heard me say his name, he straightened up and looked over his shoulder, right into my eyes. And my breath sort of whooshed out of my body, and everything around me just stopped, except for the tugging of my lips into a smile—that for the life of me I could not control.

I’ve always been attracted to jerks. I was never getting married at this rate.

Light from the small candles set on the bar top flickered strangely in his eyes. He did a double take, spilling his bottle of water as he tried to set it on the counter, accidently dousing out the candle. He smiled at me, a heart stopping sort of smile that reached from ear to ear, poking dimples deep into his cheeks. I laughed and quickly lowered my eyes, suddenly embarrassed he’d caught me watching him. My eyes focused on a small pretzel crumb on the floor, until the tips of his shoes came into my view.

“You’re going to give one of these old guys a heart attack with that outfit.” I could hear the flirty smile in his voice, and feel the heat radiating from his body with how close he stood next to me.

“Look at you, all cleaned up and pretty,” I teased back, lifting my gaze to meet with his.

“Pretty?” He grimaced. “That’s a shitty thing to say to a man. Hot. Sexy. Fuckable. I’ll even take handsome. But never pretty.”

I tried for my most innocent smile—the sexy one, my best friend Liv had taught me—and blinked up at him. “I’ll give you handsome.”

“And I would give you,” he said smoothly, slowly dropping his gaze from my eyes to my lips, “absolutely anything you asked me for.” A devilish smile tugged at his lips.

“Smooth, Cage. Really smooth.” My phone pinged five more times, quickly. I sighed and darted my eyes over its screen.

I miss my cock in your mouth.

And your tight pussy.

You have such a tight pussy.

I miss hearing you cum.

What we had was great. I want it back.

I thumbed back a short response.

Please stop.

“You want a drink?” Ryan asked, placing a hand on the small of my back, before leading me to the bar. The slight pressure of his palm against me was like a pinpoint of fire that spread out in gentle pulsing waves along my spine.

I walked dreamily next to him, seemingly having lost all control of my mind. I cleared my throat and continued to smile straight ahead, nodding in answer. My tongue, it appeared, had lost the ability to form words. This wasn’t good.

Ryan escorted me further along the bar, and pulled over a stool, patting the seat with his hand. “Go on, sit that gorgeous ass down.”

I did as he said, stiffly, and placed my purse and my cell on the countertop. It went off three more times.

I can’t stop.

I can’t stop thinking about you and about us.

You never thanked me for the flowers.

I shoved my phone away angrily. I broke up with that asshole four weeks ago. I broke up with someone who never thought they were even in a relationship with me. Yet, he’d been sending me enormous bouquets of roses; so many that my entire house smelled like a funeral home. For weeks now.

My screen lit up again, and I stared at the words spelled out across it, from where I left it.

Don’t you miss me?

Don’t you miss us?

Yes, unfortunately, I did. I missed the times we spent getting to know one another and falling for each other, but what he did to me at the end was unforgivable. I was still shocked it happened. There were no signs of it coming. He just didn’t like something I said and boom, he thought he had the right to put his hands on me. Nope, I don’t play that way.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ryan asked, next to me, his eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, why?” I said, dropping my phone into my purse, so I wouldn’t hear it any more. I looked up to see him watching me closely.

He tilted his head and leaned in closer, making me gulp back a gasp. Up this close, Ryan Cage was absolutely breathtaking. “You’re getting upset over whoever is texting you,” he said, tapping his fingers on my purse.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing really.” I leaned back, the scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and I needed air—being so confined in the crowded bar with him smelling that good was making me dizzy.

His eyes lingered on mine for a long, intense drawn out moment. Around us, the crowd blended into blurry colors and muted to low background murmurs. Slowly, one corner of his lips tugged up in a slow, sexy smile.

He rubbed his thumb over the edge of my seat, and both of us looked down at it, watching the slow movement. The thought of his fingers so close to my legs sent shivers through my shoulders, and I physically shuddered on the stool.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, leaning closer to me again.

“Ex,” I breathed out, wetting my lips. They were so dry. Why were they so dry?

On the countertop my purse exploded with the sounds of texts and calls from deep inside. The sounds were making me furious. They were totally cutting into my Ryan Cage fantasy time.

“I kind of feel bad for the guy,” Ryan said, nudging his chin toward my bag.

“Why?” I asked, suspiciously. If he was going to start ranting about giving my ex another chance while eye-humping me right now, I might just die.

His gaze slowly trailed down my entire body, taking in every inch of me sitting in front of him. He leaned back, bit his lip, and gradually drew his eyes back up my frame, until they were once again fixed on mine. He took a deep breath in and slowly released it. “I’d have a hard time letting you go, too.” Then, he barked out a huge laugh and relaxed his shoulders. God, he was such a tease. How could any woman take him seriously?

“Shut up,” I laughed, straightening my posture.

“What? Why?” he flirted.

“You think you got game. Coming up on me with your sugar-coated words,” I laughed. He was just messing around with me, nothing serious, he wasn’t really trying to start anything. It’s okay if I teased and bantered back.

“Game? You want to play a game? How about we go somewhere dark and play what part of you is in my mouth?”

I couldn’t help laughing. Loudly. God, the way Ryan Cage looked at you was the way all women dreamed of being looked at. It was silly to get all squirmy in my seat, but it was innocent enough. I knew nothing would happen between us, so a little flirting and having a smile on my face was nice. It had been a few months since I could flirt openly with someone I was attracted to.

When the crowd of people ordering drinks next to us left, I saw my brother and his girlfriend sitting together in a small booth near the end of the bar. They’d been together for two months, starting back when I was with the asshole. It killed me not telling them what was happening. Now I hide it like pure shame.

They were holding hands, and Dean’s face was buried in her neck. Her smile was amazing. I waved to her when her glance crossed mine, and she smiled wider, waving me over.

I stood up and stretched, grabbing my purse off the bar. But before I could tell Ryan about joining Dean and Liv, a heavy hand grabbed me around my elbow, pulling me back. “Detective Cage,” the voice rumbled haughtily. “And Officer Fury.”

“Sir,” Ryan greeted the man behind me with a respectful smile and nod.

I spun around, lifting my face to the Captain and offered up a humble, friendly smile. His hand unhooked from my arm immediately. “Captain Anderson, How are you, Sir?” I waited for him to nod his head and continued. “Ryan and I were just about to get a drink with my brother and his girlfriend. Will you excuse us?”

“Yes, of course. You both have a good night,” he rumbled, nodding his head.

Yanking Ryan by the arm, I dragged him toward the back of the bar where Liv and Dean sat. There was a flurry of hellos and hoots as more people from their squad joined us, and I slid into the booth, pulling Ryan in next to me.

As the conversations spun around us, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” His breath was hot against my skin, making goose bumps pucker out all over my neck.

I leaned into his warmth and found myself staying there, telling myself the bar was crowded and no one would notice. “He just gives me the creeps.”

He chuckled low and nodded. “Yeah, I hear a lot of people say that.” He didn’t shift away. The side of his body was flushed up against mine in the booth, and I found myself wanting to run my hand along his arm to see how he would react.

He’d probably jump three feet away from me.

This is what I did all the time. I read signals wrong. It’s how I thought I had a three-month long relationship with someone who was just having a prolonged one-night stand with me.

“So where did you grow up, Cage?” I asked, clearing my throat and scooting myself away a few inches. I didn’t want to sit and talk about creepy men or think about ex boyfriends or serious shit. I wanted to just talk about mindless stuff, have another drink, and make my escape home. Alone.

Ryan shifted himself in the booth and moved closer, closing the small distance I had blatantly put between us. Once again, the left side of his body was crushed against mine.

I needed a drink. Or to leave, because I was aroused so suddenly by his closeness, I actually contemplated climbing over his lap and dry humping him.

Instead, I lunged across the table and grabbed Liv’s drink, taking a huge sip from the straw and choked back a cough. It was sweet and bitter and bright yellow. Liv shrugged and pushed the drink toward me even more. Lord, she is such a good friend.

“Brooklyn,” Ryan answered, suddenly focused on something behind me.

I cocked my head over my shoulder to figure out what he was concentrating on and felt him skim hot fingertips softly over the expanse of skin that peeked out between my shirt and skirt as I had bent forward.

His touch sent a spark of electricity off between my legs, and I almost fell forward across the tabletop.

“Nice splash pad,” he smirked, tracing my ink with the pads of his fingers.

“Splash pad?” I asked, laughing. “My tattoo?” I pulled my shirt down and sat back against the cushion of the booth, pursing my lips. I needed to get the heck out of here before I did something stupid, like fall in love.

“Yeah,” he smiled, flicking his fingers at it. “Sexy as hell.”

“Why are you calling it a splash pad?”

He winked and smirked deeper. “Think about that for a moment.”

I’ve heard it called a tramp stamp but never a—oh, yeah I got it. God, he was so dirty. And why did it have to turn me on so much?

“I’m going to use the restroom,” I said, thinking I needed to distance myself from him for a little bit. I liked the feeling of his fingers on my skin, and my back was tingling. I didn’t want to even acknowledge how wet my panties might have been. And I really was too messed up in the head to figure out what men wanted right now, and I…I just needed to leave.

“No, don’t go yet,” he said, he shoved his hand deep in a pocket, pulled out his phone, and checked the time on it. “I really only came to show my face for a few minutes. I have to be somewhere in thirty minutes.”

“Hot date?” I asked, relieved. I was right. He wasn’t really interested; he was just being flirty.

“Why? You jealous?” he asked with a smile.

“Not a chance,” I said, smiling back. “But I really do need to use the bathroom. I’ll see you around work,” I said, standing up.

He poked at his phone and winked up at me, “Okay, you can walk away now.” His phone was facing me as if he were about to snap a picture of me.

“What are you going to do with your phone?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Recording that perfect ass walking away.” Oh, damn.

“What? Why?” I laughed, red-faced.

“For later. That shit’s pure porn.”

I flipped him the finger as I walked away, but I felt the heat of his gaze on my backside and found my hips swaying a bit more than usual. I couldn’t help smiling to myself at the attention he’d given me. Maybe a few mindless nights with Ryan Cage would get me out of the rotten man funk I’d been in. I’d have to talk to Dean and see if Ryan was involved with someone or if he was single. Single meant fun, and that’s exactly what I needed after the intense relationship I had just gotten away from. The relationship that wasn’t a relationship at all. I would protect my heart though and just have fun. That’s it. Really.

I rounded the corner into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms, and walked right into Caption Anderson.

“Fury,” he rumbled, grabbing me softly by the arms. “You look beautiful tonight. And I’m really sorry, baby.”

My shoulders slumped. I just wanted to get away from him and use the bathroom, but his hands felt…so warm and familiar.

“I want you Brooke. I’m crazy about you, and I miss you so fucking much.”

“Please, let go of me,” I whispered. My words were as weak as my resolve. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t mean to do it. Maybe he did have too much wine that night and was too stressed about work. Maybe I did deserve it; maybe I was nagging him too much.

“I’m sorry for what I said, okay? We had a nice thing.” He licked his lips and tilted his eyes to the bathroom door and back to me quickly. “Come inside the bathroom with me. Let me show you how much I missed your pussy.”

What a jerk.

“How much you missed my pussy?” I hissed, stepping away from him. “That would be a ‘hell no,’ thanks anyway.”

He stared at me stunned, and then stepped back with a snarl. “What? You fucking Cage now?”

“No.” I ground my teeth together.

“Well, you looked pretty comfortable together,” he snapped, leaning his face closer to mine.

“We’re not doing anything, and it’s none of your business anyway. It’s over between us.”

“I’m not done with you,” he ground out.

Fear prickled along my scalp as his hands squeezed tighter around my arms. “I could make your life a living hell, Fury. I’ll hurt everyone around you. You’re brother, his squad, and your new little friend, Cage, that loud-mouthed prick.”

“Nothing is going on between us,” I said.

“That’s what we used to say too, remember?” He leaned in even closer and took my ear between his lips and sucked. “When I was deep inside your hot, little cunt, and you were pretending you weren’t fucking your boss every day at work.”

“Stop,” I said, pushing my hands against his chest. His vulgarity was making me sick. My mouth flooded with saliva, and I couldn’t swallow fast enough.

“Come on, Fury. I thought you liked the fast track I had you on to promotion.” He let go of my arms and grabbed my chin hard. “I seem to remember how much you liked it, how hard you rode it, all the while screaming my name.”

“That’s not why I was with you—”

“Get the fuck in the bathroom, then.” He said, shoving me through the bathroom door by my chin. “You can tell me all about it.”