“What’s up, boss?” His deep timbre was thick with a Jersey accent.
“I need you to put a few guys on someone.”
“Sure thing. Who?”
I closed my eyes, knowing he would put the pieces together as soon as I told him. “Sophie Reyes. Detective in Newark. Third Precinct.”
“TheSophie Reyes?”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. I thought about her black hair and dark eyes framed by long lashes, her short frame and petite curves, how nice she smelled and how she rubbed her thighs together when she stepped away from me.Shit, stop thinking about that right fucking now.
“That would be the one. I want eyes on her at all times. I need to know what she’s up to outside of her job. I want to know when she leaves home and gets to work, where she goes for cases, and every fucking thing in between. Don’t. Lose. Sight,” I gritted out between clenched teeth, because my cock was still hard and aching for release and that was so goddamn infuriating because I could fuck whoever I wanted, and I somehow only wanted to fuckherright now.
“You got it. Dangerous?”
I stared at the wall I’d pressed her against. “Don’t know yet.”
3
Sophie
Éstupida.
My behavior last night was unacceptable. I put myself in unnecessary danger and caught the eye of someone I could only assume was a perverted criminal.
And yet, even as I thought it, my cheeks heated.Ugh.
I fumbled with my purse as I crossed the street toward the Third Precinct. Technically I was half an hour late, but no one would notice. Not since my previous captain had been fired after his indiscretions came to light… at the behest of my best friends’ safety.
The precinct was still inside out. It didn’t feel like a comforting work environment anymore. My best friends were gone, and I had parted ways with my ex who was only a quick drive away. So really, what was I still holding on to here?
I came to a halt at the bottom of the steps leading into the precinct, my hackles rising as I got the distinct feeling of being watched. Slowly, I pivoted, my eyes scanning the sidewalk opposite me. There was only one man talking on his phone, his eyes catching on mine momentarily before he turned away. I committed his profile to memory before scurrying inside, wondering if he was affiliated with the stranger who half assaulted me the night before.
You let him, my brain reminded me. Which, to be fair, I did because he had a gun to my head,notbecause I wanted to. Or did I? Fuck, I was confusing myself.
When I got to my office, I peered out the window, as if that would somehow help me find who was watching me, but all I saw was the same man from minutes before leaning against a lamppost… staring up at me with a wry smile.
I skirted out of view before collapsing at my desk. My gut was telling me I was being followed by my stranger’s lackeys.
My stranger.
Dios mio.
***
Three men rotated on shifts to watch me. From home to work, out in the field on cases, back and forth on leads. Every. Single. Fucking. Day.
They kept a considerable distance, never close enough for me to confront without making a scene. Yet they were there. Eyes on me at all times.
Clearly this man was powerful and dangerous enough that he had hired men to keep tabs on me. What I couldn’t figure out was why. What about me caught his attention? Why did he care? And how did he know who Iwas?
The questions bothered me all day and night, for weeks. Plaguing me until I was restless at night and distracted at work. Then one late evening I was walking home from the bar. One man—my favorite, whom I had nicknamed Scar because of the raised skin slashing down one gorgeously dark-skinned cheek—had waited in his car across the street, subtly watching me.
Maybe to a normal person they wouldn’t notice being followed at a distance. But in my job? It was pretty fucking hard not to notice.
It had been three weeks, and what had started as a morbid curiosity to see if Mr. Suit's interest in me would fade quickly turned into a simmering anger that my privacy was being violated.
I left the bar, choosing to walk home rather than call an Uber, and darted in and out of the shadows. Only the occasional sound of another set of steps alerted me to the other man’s presence—not even so much as a shadow followed Scar as he stalked me through the dark, damp streets of Newark.
