A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(4)

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?” I shot Kelly a look, taking my badge off and putting it back in my purse.

Then I studied myself.

I was normal weight, normal height. Five six. I kept myself in shape and conditioned, because it would be stupid not to be for my job. Especially being a female. Since I’d decided to go this career route, I’d been married to my job. Had to be, but I also had to roll with the punches, or the caseload.

A decent rack.

Some ass behind me.

I liked my body. I liked that it wouldn’t break if I got into a situation, but I knew I was easy on the eyes too. A heart-shaped face that was a little long but fresh. Guys tended to like how I looked. An ex once told me it was my eyes, how dark they got, and he groaned every time I walked into a room. Said my legs were the type that guys longed to have them squeeze around their waist.

I became aware of Kelly studying me as I had been studying myself. “What?”

She shrugged, a secretive grin tugging at her mouth. She shifted, resting one shoulder against the wall. Her eyebrows went up. “Nothing. You wanna finish the game or get out of here?”

“What’s the score?”

“Kansas City scored two while you were in there. It’s going to be a blowout.”

Shit. “Yeah. Let’s take off.”

“You want to head home?”

It was Thursday night. I had a full day tomorrow. Normally, yes. I’d be in bed by ten, but something different was in me tonight. It was that guy, I knew it, but I was going to ignore it.

“Nah. Let’s go to Octavia.”

“Nice! Why not Katya?”

I shook my head. Being a PO didn’t pay all my bills, so I bartended at Katya every Friday and Saturday night in Manhattan. I didn’t want to go where I worked; I wanted a full night off, and Octavia was just that. It wasn’t a new club, but it was dark and sinful and anonymous.

I was thirsting for some of that sin tonight.

Or maybe it was the guy I just met.





CHAPTER THREE


TRACE


We were heading out to our Escalade when Caleb asked us to hold up. “I need to double-check something real quick. My apologies, Mr. West.”

Ashton came to stand next to me. We were best friends—had been all our life and would be when we both left this world. Every step of the way. It was how we were.

Because of our history, we weren’t friends that needed to speak. I wasn’t waiting with a nervous employee or business worker, and probably because of that silence, we heard the shriek of laughter that sounded from farther down, outside the main arena’s entrance.

It was her.

I would’ve recognized her voice anywhere, and I was ignoring how that was alarming to me when I looked over.

My body locked up, and I lifted my head higher.

“You a cop?”

“A parole officer.”

She’d been intriguing at first glance. A longer look and I wanted to fuck her, but it was more. I wanted her for a full weekend. I wanted to twist her in so many different positions, introduce my dick to so many enjoyments of her body, but that badge. Everything went cold in me when I saw that.

She said a PO, but she was a cop. A fucking cop.

But seeing her again, and not even that, hearing her again. Her laugh got my attention.

I wanted her.

I couldn’t have her, but I wanted her anyway.

This was going to be a problem.

“The blonde or the dark-haired one?”

Of course Ashton would take notice.

“The dark-haired one.”

I kept watching her, but I knew Ashton was giving her a more studious look.

“You know her?”

“No.” I looked at him as Caleb came around and opened the back door. “Find out who she is.”

Then I got in, and Ashton was pulling his phone out even as he got in behind me.

He had the quicker connections. He’d have her name within an hour.





CHAPTER FOUR


JESS


Dancing and drinking at Octavia had been a good decision, but the morning after, my head was pounding a whole different decision. Coffee, coffee, coffee. I needed all the espresso shots I could get in, and still, six shots later, it wasn’t enough.

Parking my state-issued sedan, I was walking in when I heard from the side, “Incoming, Montell.”

I ignored him. If I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. I was using my four-year-old reasoning.

Unfortunately, he started walking next to me. “Stopped at Cleo’s, huh?”

I groaned. “Go away, Travis.”

“Why didn’t you get me anything to drink? I could use coffee. Was up late covering your ass, after all.”

Those were fighting words. I ground to a halt and faced him. “What are you talking about?”

The same Derek Travis I texted last night. A PO for the last three years, and I was so beyond his gripes. He was decent with others, so I had to give him that credit, but he went out of his way to make my job difficult.

His smirk was next level. He was wearing shades and his usual work attire: khaki cargo pants and a black long-sleeved shirt under the vest we all wore. “One of your parolees violated last night. He got picked up, tested positive for cocaine and meth. You messed up, Montell.”