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“I disagree . . .”
“Harper, let’s go. We have the lead we’ve been waiting on.”
Davis’s eyes moved past Harper to where his partner waited a few feet away, watching their exchange with a hard expression locked in place.
“Looks like you have somewhere to be.”
“Fuck you,” Harper ground out. “You’re gonna need me, Davis, and when you do—”
“I won’t,” Davis retorted. He would do whatever to ensure needing Harper would never be an option. In the event it was, he’d still find an alternative, at least until Harper was willing to hand over the respect he so arrogantly demanded. With one last heated stare, Harper turned to leave. Davis felt eyes on him and looked up in time to find Reese glancing his way, sporting a smug expression. Reese smiled, shaking his head before he lowered it and went back to banging on his keyboard with very little finesse.
Davis shrugged nonchalantly, realizing that Reese wasn’t the only one with eyes on him. He caught the captain’s disapproving stare seconds before he turned, entered his office, and closed the door.
I guess he isn’t a fan of my actions today, either.
At this point, Davis was more concerned with finding another suspect because if he didn’t, he would have no other choice than to circle back to Cassidy. The more time he spent around her, the more he found himself wanting to believe that she genuinely hadn’t been the one who killed her husband. Instead of allowing his thoughts to go there, Davis leaned over his desk and began shuffling through the bank statements he had for Jerrod Williams. He’d learned early on in his career to follow the money. It would always lead to something or someone who had answers.
By eight that evening, Davis had enough investigating for the day. After spending hours traveling in circles, only to come up empty, there was no point in further torturing himself. He also had a few more questions that needed answers, which was why he found himself pulling up unannounced to the last place he should be. Had he been honest with himself, he would have settled into the fact that he could have initiated a call, but that would have cheated him of the opportunity to look into Cassidy’s eyes to gauge her answers. Finding truth to her responses wasn’t the only reason he had a strong desire to gain access to those maple-brown orbs. Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to cross those lines, he couldn’t seem to deny himself the pleasure of her company.
“Uh, Detective Davis, what are you doing here?”
“Hope I’m not interrupting . . .” He suddenly had the urge to look past Cassidy when thoughts of her not being alone found their way into his subconscious. She hadn’t seemed like the type to cheat, but her husband was dead, and that husband had betrayed her. Maybe there was someone new.
Nah, too soon.
Why the hell do I care?
“No, I just finished putting dinner away and cleaning the kitchen.” Her brows pinched as she stared at him.
“Yeah . . .” He lifted a hand and massaged his chin, briefly looking down uncomfortably before he gave her his eyes again. “I had a few more questions.”
Cassidy squared her shoulders, narrowing her stare. “I thought we covered everything earlier.”
Davis smiled smugly when he noticed the annoyance that quickly altered her mood. He was immensely enjoying the many layers of Cassidy Evans. “We did, at the time, but I came across something and wanted to run it by you.”
She relaxed slightly. “Oh, well, would you like to come in?”
Yes.
No.
Fuck.
“If you’re sure I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Nope. Nothing that can’t wait.” She moved back, offering space to welcome him into her home. Davis accepted and stepped inside. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon subtly tickled his senses and created a sense of familiarity.
His eyes moved around as if trying to decide which way to go when Cassidy decided for him by pointing to his left. “Living room.”
Davis offered a nod and followed Cassidy into the living room. “Please.” She motioned to the sofa, and he settled on one side while Cassidy stood a few feet away. “Can I get you anything? Water, wine, coffee.”
“Coffee?” Davis questioned with a smug grin, which had Cassidy’s brows pinched.
“What’s wrong with coffee?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing. I’m fine, I won’t be long. I have to feed myself at some point this evening.”
“Detective, is there some hidden meaning to offering someone coffee I’m unaware of?” He realized she hadn’t understood the reference and decided not to elaborate.
