Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(8)

Polly sniffed. “I hate when we agree.”

Austin swept her tempting body with a look. “I know one thing we’d agree on if you’d only let me play.”

He had the satisfaction of watching her cheeks redden—just a touch. “And wake up fleeced of my possessions? No, thank you.”

His stomach knotted, but he grinned through the discomfort. “I’d leave you the essentials.”

“Drop dead, Shaw.”

Captain Derek Tyler chose that moment to enter the meeting space, shoving a box of doughnuts in Erin’s general direction. “Never again, O’Dea,” he growled. “You want doughnuts at these meetings, pick them up yourself.”

“Captain,” Erin responded, her voice muffled inside the pink box. “Do you have a nut allergy? If you die, I’d rather it were of natural causes.”

Derek threw an exhale at the ceiling, then looked at Sera—the only cop in the undercover squad and probably the one with the largest reserve of patience—who responded with, “New guy smells like peanut butter. The men are all a little touchy and it didn’t help when Austin dissed the almighty Series. We all knew he was a cop on sight, because, hello. Probably best to lead with introductions. I’ll pick up the doughnuts next time. You never pick anything with frosting.”

Bowen rolled his shoulders. “That’s my wife.” He looked at the new guy. “Who I’d like to point out is neither criminal nor con, as you put it.”

“Then what’s she doing here?” New guy rubbed his chin and leaned forward, considering an already-bristling Bowen. “I’ve earned a guess since you’ve all taken turns pegging me for a lowlife.” He swept Bowen with a discerning look. “Dragged her down with you, huh?”

Connor just managed to intercept Bowen in time on his charge toward the newcomer. Big as Connor was, Bowen knew every trick in the book and was more than capable of getting the drop on Connor, so Austin heaved a dramatic sigh and went to step in. “Now, Driscol. You’re upsetting your missus.” A fair amount of struggle went out of Bowen, even though murder still existed in his eyes. Thankfully, Austin knew exactly how to defuse the bomb, having started as a chiller when joining up with his partner. The one who calms the mark when he realizes he’s been had. “All right. If you insist on fighting…” Austin said for Bowen’s ears alone. “He’s got a limp on his right side, the pathetic f*ck. I’d go right for his knee if I were you. Exploit his weakness.”

As expected, Bowen’s irritation was handily transferred to Austin. “I don’t need to fight dirty to win.”

“It was merely a suggestion.” When Bowen shrugged off Connor’s restraining grip and returned to Sera, Austin lifted an eyebrow at the new guy. “Congratulations, you’re the new heat merchant in the group. Up until five minutes ago, it was me they hated most.”

“Don’t worry,” Polly said, perching at the edge of a chair and crossing her legs. “That hasn’t changed for me.”

“If you’re all finished ruining my morning, I’d like to get this meeting started.” Derek’s voice demanded everyone’s attention, even though he sounded flat-out bored as he studied the contents of a manila folder. “I don’t have a case to assign just yet, but I’ve got something brewing. So stay close and keep your phones on.”

“Don’t tell me you brought us down here for a meet-and-greet,” Austin muttered. “I could have made plans.”

Derek didn’t look up from his file. “Oh yeah? To do what?”

“Criminal type things. Clandestine meetings, hatching nefarious plots—”

“As I was saying.” Derek finally tossed down the file. “We’ve made it a policy to be honest with one another. Since day one, we’ve been open about our strengths, and it will be no different with our new addition, Henrik.”

Bowen snorted. “Henrik?”

“My mother was Dutch,” Henrik drawled without taking his eyes off Derek. “And I never agreed to this little trust exercise.”

“When you chose the squad over jail time, that’s exactly what you did.” The captain let that statement settle in the quiet room. “We’re already dealing with a lack of trust, but curiosity will pull even more focus.” Derek leaned back against the battered metal desk. “Henrik Vance worked under me in homicide before I was promoted. He was a good cop who made some grave mistakes and—”

“—and this is my punishment,” Henrik finished, spreading his arms wide. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But I’ll do my job and do it well. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Erin walked over to Henrik with the doughnut box and held it out. “Touch the bear claw and I’ll set you on fire. It belongs to my man.” She smiled, looking more like a Girl Scout than a convicted arsonist. “Welcome to the family.”





Chapter Three


Polly swirled the blue liquid in her martini glass while discreetly checking her blond wig in the nightclub’s mirrored wall. Disguises weren’t her thing, to say the least, but now that one of Reitman’s associates had peeped her—and been choked out on her watch—she wasn’t taking any chances.

Austin could have helped her with the disguise. The thought flitted through her head before she could stop it, making her grimace into the martini. He’d gotten way too close that afternoon. So close, she could still feel the imprint of his sturdy frame, his hard thighs. Powerful thighs. Thighs that had likely shoved open the legs of so many duped women, he’d lost count. She didn’t want to recall the way they’d flexed and rubbed against her, but her third martini was eroding the mental block she’d erected.