Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(39)

“No,” Austin whispered, the room crumbling around him.

The captain was looking at him again. “If you have something to say, Austin, speak up.”

Years of training gave Austin the outward appearance of composure, even though razor blades made mincemeat of his organs. “I said, no. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.” Find out as much as possible. Find out what Derek knows. Austin had a feeling it was more than he was letting on. “There must be a personal connection between them. Something that gave him an inroad to which he wouldn’t typically have access.”

“Such as?”

Derek didn’t have the answer yet. It was there in the frustrated set of his jaw. But Austin reckoned he only had a matter of days before the captain was in the know. He hadn’t underestimated Derek on day one, and he wouldn’t make that mistake now. Nothing happened in this city without their leader being fully informed. Austin ran a hand through his hair, turning it into a stretch. “I can’t work miracles, old boy. Give me some time.”

The captain inclined his head. “Had a feeling you might finally decide to be useful on this case.”

There was his answer. The captain was just as all-knowing as Austin had suspected. A silent communication passed between them, and Austin hated the gratefulness he felt as a result. Instead of outing him in front of the squad, Derek was giving him a chance to do what he did best, alone. But he wasn’t working alone, was he?

Derek handed him a packet from within the folder, likely a broken-down version of Reitman’s record. God, he hoped it didn’t contain a copy of his daughter’s picture. At the same time, he hoped it did. His head was going up in flames, just knowing what Reitman was capable of doing. He might never speak a word to the child he’d fathered, but knowing a single hair on her head was harmed in retaliation for what had taken place between him and Charles? Unacceptable. He couldn’t let it happen. Damn it all, he wanted to be back in the dark hotel room listening to Polly breathe. Feeling his way along the bumps of her spine. He wanted to go back to those stolen hours and never leave.

It couldn’t be a reality now, though. His past had come back to smother him and thus, Polly. Once she knew the kind of monster she’d allowed to touch her, she’d never look at him with anything less than loathing ever again.

“I’ll be checking in via phone for the next few days. Once Austin has something solid, we’ll meet and discuss our next move,” the captain said, before giving Austin a meaningful look. “That shouldn’t be longer than two days.” Chairs scraped back around the room, assaulting Austin’s ears like otherworldly shrieks. Dismissed. How easily they’d dismissed his potential tragedy without even realizing it.

His gaze found Polly where she still sat frozen in her seat. He wanted to touch her in some way. Any way. Ask her what she knew. What she wanted to know. Instead, he tucked the file under his arm and strode from the room.





Chapter Twelve


Polly’s chest felt hollow as she moved down the hotel corridor, the walls on either side close enough to cave in and smother her. Austin had vanished into thin air after the meeting, and she hadn’t questioned herself about coming here, to the place they’d been together only hours before. She simply knew he’d be there waiting, on the other side of the door. So why did fear attempt to slow down her legs? Without a conscious decision, she stayed close to the left wall as she walked, poised to turn around and run back the way she’d come. Why?

Because although she knew Austin would be inside that room, she had no idea which side of Austin would greet her. The cocky bastard for whom she’d spent months building a patent dislike. The lover who’d stolen her will and mastered her body in the dark. Or the man who’d finally let his exterior crack back in the squad room. Had anyone else noticed? Polly hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from Austin to make a judgment. The fractures in his veneer had been subtle, but on Austin, who never exhibited signs of anxiety, the tiniest difference was like a boulder dropping into a still lake.

She needed to know what that boulder represented. He’d agreed to help her. She’d confided in him. And she wasn’t about to let him hang her out to dry. Or use the information she gave him to bring down Reitman on the squad’s behalf. This was her mission. She hadn’t come this far to watch it go down in navy-blue flames in the hands of the police.

Polly stopped in front of the door and felt a punch of unwanted excitement dance through her middle, knowing she and Austin would come face-to-face in mere seconds. Who would he be? What would he do? The enigma of Austin used to increase her distrust, reinforce her hatred for his chosen profession. It still should. She needed to remember that. Needed to remember that despite what happened on the other side of the hotel room door, they would always have the potential to become opposition once they walked out.

She lifted her hand, noticed it was trembling, and took a deep breath, pleased when her knock sounded firm. Assertive. Not ready for any bullshit.

The heavy oak door opened approximately two feet and came to an abrupt stop, revealing the hotel room, bright and sunlit this time. Polly’s muscles tensed when a beat of heavy expectancy passed, opened her mouth to call out—

A blur of white shirtsleeve snaked out through the opening, strong fingers binding her wrist and dragging her inside. A decisive click signaled the door’s being closed, the breath propelled from her lungs when she was backed up against it. By Austin. Which Austin? Which one? Her mind tried to cloud over, an effect of his sudden presence, but she fought clear.