Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(40)

“Fine.” His mother held up both hands. “Keep all the fun details to yourself. Don’t entertain a single woman with something interesting for once.” She sucked her teeth. “All I got is Dr. Oz, son. You can’t blame me for wanting the gossip. Damn.”

Erin’s lips twisted, but Connor could see the smile underneath. “You want to hear about the time I rented a limousine to be my getaway driver?”

Joanna leaned forward. “Now we’re talking.”





Chapter Thirteen


Erin glared at Connor from across the squad meeting, twirling a Bic lighter between her fingers. She’d purposefully sat as far away from him as possible. His day of zero pleasure had passed and he still wouldn’t give in. Last night after they’d returned from Joanna’s apartment, she and Connor had traded bedrooms so she could be near the fire escape. Every time they’d passed in the hallway while transferring their things, she’d brushed a hand over his ass or planted kisses on his neck. Any minute now, she’d thought, he’s going to beg for me. Beg for me to take away the visible ache in his pants.

Nope. Nothing.

So she’d slipped into bed behind him one minute past midnight and trailed her hand down his stomach, her palm already lathered with lotion. Her body had been humming with the anticipation of stroking his heavy length, feeling his big body shudder against her when he finally came. She thought he’d welcome her, welcome the pleasure he so obviously needed. Instead, he’d turned over onto his stomach and growled at her to go back to bed.

This morning, he’d been dressed and ready to leave before she’d even stumbled out of her bedroom. He’d handed her a cup of coffee. And winked.

Someone really needed to remind him he lived with a pyromaniac with a social disorder.

It probably didn’t help her street cred that she’d failed to shock his mother last night. She even kind of sensed that Joanna…liked her. As if her son bringing home a convicted felon was right up there with winning the lottery. She’d sensed no judgment. Only a desire to know her better. She couldn’t really describe how that made her feel. Nervous she’d end up being a letdown. Kind of hoping she would be so she could pretend not to give a shit. Relating to other people whom she didn’t stand to gain anything from monetarily was confusing as all get-out. Especially when the man she was doing it for refused to let her touch him—

Ohhhh. Her teeth clenched. Clever motherf*cker.

Giving her a taste of her own medicine, was he? That kind of…hurt. The best part of meeting Joanna had been the way Connor looked at her afterward. Like he wasn’t ashamed or regretful over bringing her home to Mom, the way she’d assumed he would be. Knowing he’d been plotting to turn the tables on her sucked. Hard. It made her trust in him waver ever so slightly. God, in the last twenty-four hours she’d dealt with so many unfamiliar feelings, her periscope had sunk below the surface. She couldn’t see where the hell she was headed anymore.

One thing she could do and do effectively was formulate a counterattack. As soon as they got out of this pain-in-the-ass meeting, she was going to institute it. She’d already gotten a head start by wearing the shortest skirt in her closet. As Derek called the meeting to a start, she hopped up on a waist-high file cabinet and crossed her legs, pretending not to notice Connor shift in his seat.

“Thank you all for being on time. Isn’t progress a beautiful thing?” Derek scanned the room, his mouth tightening when his gaze landed on Austin. He looked like he’d been out the night before, his head buried in his hands as if they were holding his skull together. Polly sat beside him shaking her head primly. Derek turned his attention to Sera. “How was your first day at campaign headquarters yesterday?”

“Pretty uneventful. Stark didn’t make an appearance.” She consulted her notes. “There was one thing, though. Around two o’clock, a silver Hummer pulled up to the curb and honked. One of the staffers ran out and handed something to the driver. I couldn’t see through the tinted windows, but I got the license plate number.”

“Great.” Derek waited as Sera handed him a piece of ripped-out notebook paper. “I’ll run this back at the station. If it happens again today, I want you to follow him, Bowen.”

Bowen’s smile was stiff. “As long as there’s someone to take my place watching Sera.”

“I wouldn’t leave her exposed,” Derek assured him, showing a rare patience. “Polly, did you get anything useful from Stark’s financials?”

“Other than him having an expensive appreciation for European orgy porn? Not really.” Her voice was serene, as if she weren’t admitting to hacking into a man’s bank records. “He’s got his money somewhere else. Tied up in assets listed under a different name…maybe an offshore account. I’m working on it.”

“Keep working.” Derek aimed his pen at Erin. She propped her hands under her chin and fluttered her eyelashes. The captain only shook his head. “I know it was a long shot, Erin, but did you have any luck finding out how May weaseled his way out of Cook?”

“Yessir, I did. But before I begin, I’d like to request coffee at these meetings.” She flicked the lighter on, drawing an invisible pattern in the air. “Maybe some doughnuts. Aren’t you cops lousy with doughnuts? Sharing is caring.”