The Widow's Frozen Secret

Is this about the murder?

A spam caller woke me at three in the morning, claiming I was tied to a major felony case and ordering me down to the precinct. I leaned against the headboard and asked if they had finally found the body.

Dead silence dragged over the line.

Who did you kill?

My husband. I twirled a loose thread on the blanket. "Stuffed him right into the chest freezer."

Half an hour later, I stood under the scalding shower, keeping my best friend on speakerphone to roast the scammer's pathetic lack of hustle.

A deafening crash obliterated the front door.

Wood splintered across the hallway. Heavy tactical boots swarmed the bathroom tiles.

Cold air bit into my wet skin before calloused hands slammed me face-first onto the freezing floor.

My bare cheek slapped hard against the porcelain.

Lungs empty.

Pulse pounding out of control.

Chapter 1

I write sweet romance novels for a living, but tonight I decided to smash my head against the wall trying to draft a thriller. I sat stuck on the same paragraph past midnight when an unknown number flashed on my screen.

"Is this Cleo? We've detected you are involved in a major felony case"

I gritted my teeth, gripping the phone tight enough to crack the case. A friend of mine got scammed out of tens of thousands of dollars by a fake IRS tax scheme, ruining her marriage. Now these bottom-feeders were trying to use a smooth, radio-host voice to con me!

God knows how many women fell for that deep baritone. I needed to make him regret dialing my number.

My eyes drifted to the stalled manuscript on my monitor. "Is this about the murder?"

Sharp gasps echoed over the line.

I sneered. Fucking cockroaches hiding in the gutter, pulling virtual cons.

"Who did you kill?" a deep voice demanded.

I grabbed my other phone and hit record. I pitched my voice up, letting out an unhinged, breathy giggle. "My husband."

"I stuffed him right into the chest freezer. But he just wouldn't listen. All the stuff inside his stomach ruined my floor."

A heavy swallow carried through the speaker.

"Why do you hate your husband so much?" he asked. "Was he sleeping around?"

I dragged out the silence. "Don't you guys already know? Why are you asking me?"

He hesitated. "Cleo"

"Call me again, and I'll kill you and stuff you in the freezer too," I snapped. "Get a real job, trash!"

I hit end and tossed the phone onto my desk. A massive headache throbbed behind my temples as I stared at my terrible opening chapter. I needed a shower.

Standing under the hot water, I put my best friend on speakerphone to roast the scammer. We hit a rhythm. She launched into a full-blown psychotic roleplay.

Her unhinged cackling bounced off the bathroom tiles. "The house smells disgusting. Just double-bag him in trash bags and throw him out tonight. I'm scared he'll leak."

A deafening crash obliterated the front door.

I stood there in my thin slip nightgown, hair full of lather, eyes burning from the cheap shampoo. Before I could even rinse the soap away, a violent force ripped into the room.

"Holy"

The word died in my throat as calloused hands slammed me face-first onto the freezing floor.

"Police! Don't move!"

My breasts were already tender from my period, and the brutal impact knocked the wind out of me. Tears pricked my eyes. What the hell?

Just last week, the local news reported thugs dressing up as cops to pull off home invasions. Are these serial killers breaking into my house, or just cracked-out junkies?

My best friend warned me about living in this sketchy neighborhood. She begged me to move in with her. But I saw this house had cheap rent and a run-down basement, the perfect environment for writing a thriller. So I bought the decrepit place anyway.

Regret tasted like bile. I just needed to survive.

"Look, man you want money, right?" I choked out. "My cash is in the master bedroom. Take it all. Seriously, help yourself"

My voice cracked and died.

A heavy, burning gaze dragged slowly down my spine. I thrashed against the iron grip holding me down.

"I said don't move!" he barked.

The muscles in his forearm flexed hard against my back.

I hiccuped, panic twisting my stomach into knots. "Listen, bro I've got nothing up front, nothing in the back. I'm flat as a board. I've got a family to feed. Please"

"Sweep the entire house," he ordered, ignoring every word I said.

Cold metal snapped tight around my wrists.

Something hard and metallic pressed flush against the base of my spine.

Chapter 2

Every news headline about brutal home invasions flashed before my eyes. A cold sweat broke across my neck. I forced myself to breathe. Behind the toilet tank, I had a can of bear spray hidden.

The heavy weight on my lower back vanished. I scrambled backward.

Just as my fingers brushed the cold canister, a series of voices echoed around the hallway.

"Bedroom is clear."

"Kitchen clear."

"Nothing under the bed."

Right as I braced to fight back, someone snatched a thick bath towel and wrapped it tightly around me. Rough hands hauled me up and dumped me onto the couch.

"Take her into the precinct."

I instinctively looked toward that deep, resonant voice. Before my eyes could focus, someone hoisted me over a shoulder and shoved me into the back of a wailing police cruiser.

The precinct's AC was blasting on full. I sat shivering and pathetic in the cold interrogation room. Two men flashed their badges, stated their names, and sat across the metal table.

The detective interrogating me wasn't a stranger. It was my very familiar ex-boyfriend, Vance.

My tremors worsened. Vance's dissecting gaze stripped away whatever dignity I had left. His voice cut like ice.

"Cleo, twenty-four, unmarried, residing at"

"We found a Starbucks coffee cup with your fingerprints and DNA at the murder scene last night"

"Neighbors reported you've been stockpiling criminal research materials. They heard strange noises coming from your house in the dead of night. We suspect you are connected to the homicide we are currently investigating."

"Where were you at two a.m. last night!"

The rapid-fire questions knocked the breath out of me.

Vance planted both hands on the tabletop and leaned in close, his eyes freezing over. "You'd better start praying your lawyer is tougher than I am!"

My brain flatlined. I was shaking so hard the metal chair rattled against the concrete floor. But it was nothing compared to the veins throbbing at the temples of the two furious detectives across from me.

Vance's spine was rigid. His eyes were entirely ruthless. He slammed his fist onto the table. "Cleo! Confess!"

I dug my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to breathe. My palms were slick with cold sweat. "I what am I supposed to confess to?"

I've written countless novels. I've covered cops, doctors, and college jocks. But I had never faced a scene like this!

I was just taking a shower in my own house. How did I end up in a police interrogation room?

"You said you killed your husband. Where is he hidden?"

I choked on my own spit. My eyes almost popped out of my skull, and my voice pitched up in absolute disbelief. "What what kind of bullshit are you talking about!"

"Who what I don't even have a husband to kill" Usually, I had a sharp tongue, but this terrifying setup had my words tying into knots. "No wait who did I kill?"

The detective next to him, Brody, tossed a thick stack of files onto the table, right next to a playback device with my phone call recording.

"I've seen plenty of your type," Brody sneered. "Pretty face, rotten to the core. Spill it."

A delayed thought slowly bubbled up in my sluggish brain. Did he just compliment my looks?

A nervous laugh almost escaped my throat, but the heavy atmosphere choked it back down. I lowered my head to look at the scattered documents.

It was my research notes for the thriller novel.

Last night, I tried to send them to my high school best friend who is a patrol cop, just to have him check for any procedural errors. I didn't realize I accidentally dumped the entire file into the neighborhood group chat.

On top of that, every night at two a.m., there were sounds of a hammer smashing and psychotic screaming laughter echoing around the neighborhood. It terrified the local kids to tears. So the neighbors banded together and called 911, reporting me for organized criminal activity.

And that whole crime scene thing My God, what did any of that have to do with me!

That scam call earlier? That was the cops running a bait line. By the time I picked up the phone, they had already set up a full tactical perimeter around my house.

Chapter 3

My head pounded as I scrambled to explain myself.

"I am an author. I write thrillers! I was looking up research materials to send to my cop friend, but I sent them to the wrong chat. I haven't stepped foot outside my house in days."

"My next-door neighbor even took my trash out for me. Check the cameras if you want! And that phone call? I only talked that trash because I thought it was a scammer!"

"And my house smells disgusting because the garbage disposal in the sink broke and backed up."

The two detectives across the table squeezed their eyebrows together hard enough to crush a cockroach. I rattled off my defense, cold sweat slicking my forehead.

Detective Brody typed my pen name into his computer and sucked in a sharp breath. "Vance, she really is an author. Look at these titles. Facial Recognition Failure, Keep the Baby, Trash the Baby Daddy, 365 Ways to Tame Your Husband."

My face burned hotter with every word he read out loud. "You really don't have to read those."

He practically yelled at the screen. "Pink Chainsaw Sweetheart, you have two million followers?! Holy shit, Vance. Do you know how much money she makes?"

His eyes lit up like laser beams, sending a fresh wave of panic down my spine. I pressed my lips together. I wanted to choke him out.

Did this idiot not know that a writer's anonymous pen name is exactly like Victoria's Secret lingerie, forbidden to be stripped off in public?

The heavy interrogation room door swung open, revealing an older detective.

"Vance. Out here."

The older detective, Douglas, muttered something to Vance in the hallway, and Vance's jaw locked tight. Both men peered at me through the crack in the door.

I stared hard at Douglas and read his lips.

"We caught the guy. The suspect went through her neighborhood and grabbed that bag of trash."

I dug my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to breathe.

Douglas and Vance stepped back inside, the older cop shooting me a comforting smile.

"Your neighbors made a mistake. That noise in the middle of the night was just a horny raccoon stuck in your air vents. Animal Control just hauled it away."

"It was all a misunderstanding. Cleo, you are free to go."

Vance flipped through the file, a deep crease forming between his brows. Two minutes later, he stepped up to unlock my handcuffs. His aggressive, hot scent hit my face, forcing me to flinch backward.

The base of my spine slammed against the metal chair, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

Vance stared down at me with freezing eyes. "Watch what you say online. Don't waste police resources."

I swallowed my anger and rubbed my raw wrists. What kind of precinct calls a civilian at two in the morning anyway? Using the exact same script as a cheap scammer, no less!

"Maybe you should look in the mirror," I muttered under my breath.

Douglas saw me shivering and let out a gentle sigh. "Don't be scared, kid. He's always like this."

He immediately spun around and glared at Vance. "Why are you acting so damn hostile? You dragged a terrified girl in here. Apologize to her right now!"

"Dragging her all the way down here in the middle of the night. With an attitude like that, you're going to die alone!"

Douglas turned back to me with a warm, grandfatherly smile. "This kid is stubborn as a mule. He needs someone to yell at him to keep him in line."

A nerve twitched in my forehead. I had absolutely no desire to keep him in line. I was terrified he would be the one keeping me in line.

Douglas elbowed Vance hard in the ribs. "You dragged her in here. You drive her home."

The muscles in Vance's jaw feathered. He stared a hole straight through me, the air between us turning thick and suffocating.

I glared right back at him. What, did he think he could intimidate me with a staring contest?

Vance pressed his lips into a hard line. "I have paperwork. I'll get someone else to do it."

"Paperwork, my ass!" Douglas hissed, grinding his teeth before turning to me with an apologetic look. "Cleo, I'll have Brody drive you back."

Douglas shifted his gaze between me and Vance one last time before heading for the door. "Some guys drag their feet so much, their future wives end up running in the opposite direction!"

Chapter 4

Eyes from all over the precinct turned toward the interrogation room.

Brody voiced the gossip everyone was dying to know. "Douglas, whose future wife is that?"

"Your Captain Vance, obviously. He pines over her every single day, but the second she's right in front of him, he turns into a total coward. Serves him right to be single."

"Oh, damn! So Cleo is the girl Vance keeps locked in his heart?!" Brody's eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

Vance's hands froze over the case files. His spine snapped rigidly straight, and he pivoted on his heel, preparing to walk away.

The simmering anger in my chest finally boiled over. "Vance, don't you dare move a muscle!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. The sharp click of his boots echoed in my ears. He turned his head slowly, his expression entirely blank, his gaze maddeningly distant.

"Is there something else, ma'am?"

Always that same goddamn look!

Back when we were dating, whenever he faced me during the day, he always wore that exact, emotionally bankrupt expression! A bitter lump lodged in my throat, and a hot sting prickled behind my eyes. I dug my fingernails into my palms to ground myself.

I forced my voice steady and leveled a death glare at him. "When your team busted down my bathroom door, which one of you felt me up?!"

The precinct fell dead silent.

The entire squad took a synchronized step backward, their index fingers shooting up to point directly at Vance.

"Captain!"

Vance stood in the doorway, his face darkening like a thundercloud. A thick vein throbbed at his temple. "It was an accidental tactical contact!"

Heat rushed to my face. I ground my back teeth together. "You're a creep and a pervert! I need to go to the ER to get checked out! I'm suing you!"

The peanut gallery instantly erupted with unhelpful advice.

"Captain, that's just bad form."

"I know it was a breach, and things happen, but Captain, your hands have a mind of their own"

"Hey Cleo, maybe you should just accidentally feel him up as payback?"

"Yeah, a man's gotta take responsibility. Captain, how about you offer yourself as tribute?"

"Come on, Cleo, Captain's hands aren't that heavy."

My breasts were genuinely still aching. I glared daggers at the main culprit, my tone dripping with pure sass. "I'm just a delicate civilian. I'm no match for the big, bad detective."

I tugged the edge of my towel down just an inch, exposing my collarbone. "Heavy-handed brute. I'm already bruising"

Every pair of eyes in the room went wide.

Before anyone could even crane their necks, he closed the distance in two rapid, long-legged strides. His imposing frame forced me a half-step back. He roughly, yet protectively, threw his oversized black tactical jacket over me, wrapping me up tight. The aggressive, unmistakable Alpha scent of him instantly swallowed me whole.

"What the hell are you doing?" I thrashed against the heavy fabric. "You're ruining my reputation!"

His large, calloused hands clamped down on the edges of the jacket, trapping me. His massive frame eclipsed me from the rest of the room.

The squad couldn't stop running their mouths.

"I told you he was staring at a photo every day."

"Exactly, the edges are totally frayed, and he never lets us see it."

"Whenever a girl hits on him, he claims he's married to kill the vibe immediately."

"I thought it was just an excuse. I didn't know the Captain was hiding an absolute knockout."

"No wonder he keeps asking me how to pacify angry girls."

"We finally get to meet the boss lady."

"Captain, are you driving her home? Because if not, I volunteer!" Brody jangled his cruiser keys, looking way too excited.

My ears burned. I peeked up at Vance through the collar of the jacket. He pressed his lips together, stubbornly avoiding my gaze to play it cool, but the tips of his ears were flushed a deep, betraying crimson.

Vance snapped his head toward his squad, his voice a low, threatening growl. "If you all have so much free time, get the hell out of here and write me a twenty-page neighborhood patrol report from last night!"

Brody shot me a wicked wink. "Scatter, boys! The Captain is about to offer his body as an apology. Let's give them some privacy."

"Cap, is an hour enough time?"

"If not, I'll come get you for a meeting in two, haha!"

Vance's heavy tactical boot swiftly kicked Brody square in the ass.

The heavy interrogation room door slammed shut.

Chapter 5

Vance's heavy gaze dragged over me. His invasive stare made my scalp prickle, dragging my brain right back to the past.

Every time we went too long without seeing each other, he would use that exact same look. He would stare until my knees went weak, then slide his large hands around my waist to hold me up, his low chuckle vibrating against my earlobe.

"Giving up already? Hmm? Don't run from me later, sweetheart."

A shiver ripped down my spine. I snapped my head up, crashing straight into his slightly flushed, darkened eyes. "Vance, let me go!"

Vance poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek. His gaze swept over me, his voice dropping into a raspy, magnetic gravel right next to my ear. "You've grown a spine, Cleo."

I thrashed, snapping my teeth at his hand, but he just scooped me up by the waist and shoved me into the passenger seat of a massive black Chevy Suburban police SUV. He caged me in, his massive frame looming over me. "Don't move."

His face was inches from mine, draining every ounce of fight I had left.

Back then, I dropped the breakup bomb and ran for my life. Now that I was trapped in his territory, he was going to absolutely destroy me.

I gripped the edges of the towel, shaking like a leaf. "V Vance!"

His intense gaze traced every inch of my face. His large hand slid down to the curve of my waist. His lips hovered a fraction of an inch from mine.

My lungs stopped working. "Don't get crazy! We're in a car"

A treacherous heat spiked immediately in my veins.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. His hot breath brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. "If not in the car, then where? Hmm?"

That raspy, desire-soaked hum sent my brain into absolute overdrive. The blood rushed straight to my head.

A sharp click broke the tension.

"Always buckle up, otherwise" He pulled back and slammed the heavy door shut.

"Otherwise what?"

He shot me a loaded, dark look through the glass.

The realization of what I had just said finally hit me. I wanted to slap myself. Why did my brain instantly dive into the gutter the second he got close?

I sneaked a glance at him while he drove. His long, sculpted fingers gripped the leather steering wheel. Thick veins popped along his taut, muscular forearms. He took a sharp turn, palming the wheel with a casual, effortless dominance.

Absolute eye candy. I zoned out staring at his hands. I had never realized driving could look this incredibly hot.

He slammed on the brakes.

I pitched forward, my chest crashing violently against the thick arm he instantly threw out to protect me.

"Ow" Tears sprang to my eyes, and I hunched over.

Vance grabbed my shoulder and ripped the tactical jacket open. His hand reached right for me.

"Vance!!" My scream nearly blew the roof off the SUV. I slapped him hard across the face.

His head whipped to the side from the impact. The tips of his ears flushed dark red. His Adam's apple bobbed in a harsh, completely inappropriate swallow. "I just wanted to check if you bruised"

"Check my ass!!"

Wait, that sounded wrong too.

I stayed completely on guard until we finished at the ER and finally got back to my house. The front door had already been fixed by his guys.

"I'm thirsty." He had stripped off his jacket from the heat, wearing only a tight black muscle tank. He leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed dead on me. "Can I come in for a glass of water?"

Like hell I'd believe that. His gaze was way too predatory for broad daylight. He pulled this exact same trick on me every single time.

"Get out! I need to sleep!"

Right on cue, a dispatch call rang through his phone and dragged him away.

Chapter 6

I was sleeping like the dead when my best friend kicked down my door, sobbing about her latest breakup and dragging me out to a club to drink away the pain. I highly doubted a notorious serial dater like her was actually heartbroken.

The club was an absolute ocean of eye candy. We squeezed through the crowd in our tightest bodycon dresses, acting like kids in a candy store, practically drooling over the sea of broad shoulders and sculpted chests.

A damp, heavy hand suddenly grabbed my waist.

"Hey gorgeous, wanna come party in my VIP booth?"

The greasy middle-aged guy leaning into my space made my stomach churn. A foul mix of cheap stale tobacco and unbrushed teeth washed over my face.

I swatted his hand away. "Back the hell up before I slap you across the room!"

The creep bared his yellow teeth and lunged.

A massive hand shot out of nowhere, clamping down on his wrist like a steel vice. A tall guy, completely layered up in dark clothes, shoved me firmly behind his broad back.

"Get out."

The creep took one look at him, cursed under his breath, and scurried away.

Under the strobe lights, my savior's eyes burned exceptionally bright. The bass was too loud, so I leaned in close to shout a thank you. He shot me one long, dark look before someone tapped his shoulder and pulled him into the crowd. I waved enthusiastically at his retreating back.

My best friend was already working the room, completely in her element.

Up on the DJ booth, the MC grabbed the mic, screaming that the main event was about to start and telling everyone to enjoy the show.

My best friend gripped my arm, her eyes practically glowing like she was completely wasted. "This is it! Welcome to absolute heaven! Don't you dare blink, and get your cash ready!"

I rolled my eyes. "It's just a club. They think I'm actually gonna throw money at them?"

The stage lights instantly killed.

The entire room went dead silent.

Heavy, amplified breathing instantly echoed through the massive speakers.

Deep, raspy voices purred out.

"Hey, baby."

"Look at me, sweetheart"

Heat rushed straight to my face. My toes curled in my heels. I whipped my head toward the stage and immediately let out a feral, ear-piercing scream.

Under the frantic strobe lights, towering musclemen ripped off their biker vests in a wild striptease. Pure testosterone exploded off the stage. Their aggressive, heavily sculpted muscles flexed, and every single violently sexual move sent the entire club into absolute hysterics.

One of them, incredibly tall with a god-tier physique, leaped right off the stage and landed directly in front of me. He had a black baseball cap pulled low and a dark mask covering the lower half of his face.

But based on my years of writing romance novels This guy. Was top-tier Alpha material!

The MC roared over the bass. "If you like what you see, tip him and the hot guy will invite you for a private dance!"

I squealed, stomping my heels. I dug a wad of cash out of my purse and shoved it straight toward the waistline of the eight-pack abs standing right in front of me. The second my fingers grazed his rock-hard stomach, he froze.

His massive hand shot out, swatting my fingers away. He stood completely still on the riser, acting like a pristine virgin forced into the sex trade.

"First time on the job, hot stuff?" I asked, playing the completely understanding patron. I smirked. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Next to me, my best friend was already aggressively grinding against her dancer. My guy was still standing a solid three feet away like a brick wall.

The tequila shots finally hit my bloodstream, and irritation flared. "Not enough cash? I've got plenty!"

I grabbed the thick leather of his belt and forcefully yanked him right against my chest. I shoved a few more crisp bills down his waistband, making sure to brazenly run my hands over those ridiculous abs. "Dance for me!!"

The second the words left my mouth.

Every single overhead fluorescent light in the club blasted on.

"Everybody get down!"

"Nobody move!"

"Bring them all into the precinct!"

Those sharp, authoritative commands ripped through the club's sound system in a dangerously familiar, deep baritone.

My tequila buzz instantly evaporated.

The sharp, mechanical clicks of weapons cocking echoed around us.

"Caught red-handed."

"Wrap it up!"

The god-tier dancer standing right in front of me slowly ripped off his black mask. He shoved his baseball cap onto my head, then leaned down and wrapped his dark overshirt tightly around my bare shoulders.

Two sharp metal clicks snapped around my wrists. He secured the handcuffs with mocking gentleness.

"Still want that dance, Cleo?"

Chapter 7

Holy shit, how did the god-tier Magic Mike stripper turn into Vance? Since when did the precinct's golden boy moonlight as a male escort?

Same freezing interrogation room. Same suffocating tension.

Brody leaned against the doorframe, grinning like an idiot. "Hey, future boss lady. We've gotta stop meeting like this." He winked. "So, how'd you like the show? Me and the Captain put in the work at the gym, right?"

I tipped my head back and stared at the flickering fluorescent lights. My best friend was currently sobbing over her ex, while I had successfully managed to get myself arrested twice in less than twelve hours. A new personal best.

Vance slammed his file onto the metal table, the aggressive crack echoing just like last night.

"Cleo. Twenty-four. Unmarried. Residing at"

He ground the word unmarried out from behind locked teeth. The sheer hostility in his tone made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

He planted his hands on the table. "Start talking, or I'm making this as painful as possible."

The tequila hijacked my brain. I tilted my head, letting my gaze drop deliberately below his belt buckle.

A thick vein throbbed instantly at his temple.

"Cleo, sit up straight."

I really wanted to, but the alcohol had turned my bones to jelly. I kept sliding down the slick metal chair. Figuring I knew the drill by now, I started my defense.

"My best friend got dumped. She dragged me out to blow off some steam."

Vance crossed his arms. "Blowing off steam at an underground strip club?"

"There's no law against drinking away a heartbreak"

His dark eyes narrowed into lethal slits. My voice died in my throat.

Wait a second. Why the hell was I acting so guilty?

I pushed myself up, throwing my shoulders back to look intimidating, completely forgetting I was wearing a plunging deep-V bodycon dress.

"You're the one running a sting operation on a stripper pole, Captain! If you hadn't been up there grinding and baiting me, do you really think I would've shoved twenties down your pants?"

"I'm a tax-paying citizen. I didn't break any laws, so am I not allowed to have a little fun?"

Snap.

Vance snapped the plastic ballpoint pen clean in half.

I flinched. But the tequila was doing the heavy lifting now, making me completely reckless. I raked my gaze over his massive chest with obvious mockery.

"Since we have history, I'm gonna need a refund. You don't charge your exes for a lap dance."

"I copped a feel. Big deal. Stop abusing your badge to get revenge. If you're that mad about it, just feel me up and we'll call it even."

The muscles in Vance's jaw feathered. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and threatening in the quiet room.

"Keep talking, Cleo, and I'll throw you in a holding cell for the next forty-eight hours."

Brody choked back a laugh, coughing into his fist. "Captain, the boss la"

Vance shot him a lethal glare.

Brody instantly cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Miss Cleo, we've reviewed the situation. You aren't tied to the underground trafficking ring we were raiding."

Vance kept his eyes narrowed, aggressively flipping through a file folder.

Brody rubbed the back of his neck. "So she's free to go, right?" He subtly jerked his chin toward the door, signaling me to make a run for it.

Vance didn't say a word. He just slowly lifted his dark, freezing gaze to lock onto mine.

But I was still hyper-fixated on my stolen cash.

Acting purely on liquid courage, I leaned all the way across the metal table, completely exposing my cleavage. I grabbed Vance by his sharp jaw, pulled his face close, and planted a sloppy, loud kiss right on his lips.

"Come on, Captain Vance~" I purred.

The edges of Vance's eyes instantly darkened to a dangerous, flushed red.

"Or do I need to dig my hands down your pants to get my money back?"

His pupils blew wide.

In a blur of motion, he ripped off his tactical jacket and threw it over my exposed chest. His massive, calloused hand clamped down hard on my waist, effortlessly hauling me over his shoulder as he marched straight toward the door.

I shrieked, scrambling to lock my arms around his thick neck so I wouldn't fall.

Brody shouted down the hallway, "Captain! We really skipping the official statement?!"

I peered over Vance's broad shoulder and shot Brody a wicked wink. "Don't wait up, Brody! The Captain and I have some very private business to handle!"

The massive hand gripping my lower back dug in so hard I gasped. The heat radiating off his body was suffocating.

"I am taking the suspect in for a private interrogation," Vance growled, his voice completely deadpan.

As he carried me down the precinct corridor, my drunk brain caught the sound of someone calling his name. I tried to peel my eyes open, but Vance instantly shoved my face deep into his chest, completely shielding me.

But just before my vision went dark against his shirt, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a gorgeous woman standing in the hallway.

Chapter 8

The second the front door clicked shut, Vance slammed me flush against the heavy wood.

"Don't move," he ordered, his voice dropping into a raspy, gravelly warning.

The tequila hijacked my brain. I hooked both arms around his thick neck, pulling myself up to crash my lips against his.

His massive hands clamped down on my wrists, effortlessly peeling me off before tossing me backward onto the living room couch.

I didn't let go. My arms stayed locked around his neck, dragging his massive frame down with me until I was wrapped around him like a koala. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, letting out a soft, dragged-out hum against his skin. "Vance"

He never could handle it when I acted like this. Silver moonlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating the thick, throbbing veins on the back of his tightly clenched fists. He gritted his teeth, forcibly peeling my arms off him again.

"Cleo!" He braced a hand on the back of the couch, his chest heaving. "You really think a little sweet talk is going to make me forget what you did?"

Oh, wow. A whole year apart and his standards had actually gone up.

I slid my hands right back up his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles. "What if I put a little more effort into it?"

The muscles in Vance's jaw feathered dangerously. A lethal, storm-warning intensity brewed in the absolute pitch-black of his pupils.

"A year ago, you swore if we ever saw each other again, you'd bark like a dog!" His breathing turned jagged. "So why the hell did you dump me!"

I blinked up at him, entirely innocent. "You're too big."

Honesty is always the ultimate weapon.

The furious tension radiating off his body flatlined instantly. A violent, dark red flush swallowed the tips of his ears. He stared at me like I had lost my mind.

"You dumped me because I was too fucking big?" A rough, involuntary curse ripped from his throat. "What am I supposed to do, shrink myself?!"

Back when we were dating, he would act so impossibly rigid during the day, maintaining complete professional distance and pretending he barely knew me. But the second the sun went down, he turned into an absolute, insatiable animal. He was ridiculously demanding. I had been dragged through the wringer so many times that I eventually hit my breaking point with his relentless Alpha attitude, dropped the breakup bomb in a blind panic, and ran for the hills.

Vance snatched both my wandering hands, pinning them against the cushions. His eyes were entirely bloodshot, refusing to let it go. "What the hell is too big?!"

All my pent-up frustration spilled over. I forced one hand free and started ticking off my fingers right in his face.

"You're older than me. Your frame is way too big. Your temper is massive. And even little Vance is"

The rest of the sentence was violently swallowed.

The living room curtains twisted into tight knots in the silver moonlight. The plush cushions of the couch completely caved in under his oppressive weight. Vance pressed a scalding, heavy kiss against my collarbone.

"Keep your hands still," he warned in a rough whisper.

A harsh ringtone shattered the heavy atmosphere.

I arched up, completely oblivious to the danger, dragging my fingertips along his waistline. "Who is calling at a time like this?"

Vance ripped himself away, shooting straight up from the couch. The raw hunger in his eyes instantly dissolved into a razor-sharp, terrifying tension I had never seen before.

He hit accept on his phone. "Understood. I'm on my way."

He leaned down, crushing his mouth over mine in a punishing, bruising kiss. "Emergency call at the precinct. I have to go, but I am dealing with you the second I get back!"

I let out a breathy laugh, boldly squeezing his bicep. "See you later, hot stuff~"

He sucked in a sharp, jagged breath. His massive hand locked onto the back of my neck, dragging me flush against his chest so hard my ribs ached, as if trying to permanently embed me into his skin. "You are going to regret that."

The heavy front door slammed shut, and I eventually dragged myself into the bedroom, curling around my pillows until the alcohol finally dragged me under.

Vance's tall silhouette flickered through my dreams like a vintage film reel. From our sandbox days all the way through college graduations, my entire twenty-four years of existence were saturated with the overwhelming presence of him. Every single time I ever bothered to look over my shoulder, he was already there, standing right behind me.

That cocky, reckless teenager with the arrogant smirk. He was the very first boy to ever clumsily wipe away my frustrated tears with the rough pad of his thumb.

He was the one who marched into the pharmacy with a bright red face to buy me tampons, relentlessly tying his favorite jacket around my waist to cover up the stains, hand-washing my ruined skirts, and always making sure I had a steady supply of ibuprofen and heating pads.

He was the one who sat through a screening of The Notebook with me, letting me completely soak the shoulder of his shirt in gross, ugly-crying tears while simultaneously barking at me to stop being so dramatic.

"I'm your first love, so stop crying over some other guy on a screen." His voice drifted through the hazy dreamscape, young and fiercely possessive.

"You're the girl who's supposed to read the eulogy at my funeral and tell everyone I lived a good life!"

The memory shifted, his teenage voice dropping into a desperate, absolute vow.

"Cleo, if it's not you, it's never going to be anyone else!"

A blinding, suffocating white fog suddenly swallowed the warm memories.

The towering, adult version of Vance stood in the middle of the haze. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a devastating, quiet smile as he slowly raised a hand to wave at me.

"Cleo, I have to go."

Chapter 9

My lungs dragged in a razor-sharp breath of pure ash, the sheer lack of oxygen ripping me straight out of sleep.

Pitch-black smoke banked against the ceiling. A deafening roar. Walls of ravenous orange flame consumed the living room.

I hacked violently, my throat burning like battery acid, as my shaking hands desperately clamped a soaked rag over my nose and mouth.

"Cleo!"

"Cleo!"

Down in the courtyard, the heavyset white woman from downstairs, Karen, was screaming hysterically. "Officer, please! You have to save my precious baby boy! He's still in there! He's only a year old"

A monstrous wall of fire erupted from the balcony, devouring the curtains in seconds and plunging the entire apartment into an inescapable inferno.

I scrambled back into the master bedroom on my hands and knees, frantically shoving wet clothes into the crack beneath the door.

It didn't work. The blinding, toxic smoke poured in backward through the shattered window frames.

My skull felt like it was splitting open in a vise. My limbs turned to dead weight as I dragged myself across the scorching tiles into the bathroom, desperately cocooning my body in heavy, soaking-wet towels.

The fire must have started in Karen's unit, the fierce updraft pushing the flames directly into my floor.

But my brain misfired through the panic. Karen didn't even have a one-year-old son!

I tried to crawl toward the exterior ledge to climb down.

The glass shattered. A violent fire tornado instantly sucked into the room.

Jagged shards ripped into my forearm. The sickening stench of my own burning hair filled my nose. Where the hell was the fire department? If this kept up, I was actually going to die in here.

Tears of absolute terror evaporated against my blistering skin as my fingernails dug ruthlessly into my thighs to stay conscious. My vision tunneled into a pinpoint. "Vance, if you don't come right now, you're never going to see me again."

Right as the terrifying, suffocating darkness dragged me under.

Vance's frantic, roaring voice shattered the roar of the flames.

"Cleo