Page 56 of Hooked on Trouble

“Fucking desperate for you.” She squirms against me, her teasing tone telling me she’s as hard up for contact as I am. I cup her breast and press her into the counter, leaning down to take her ear between my teeth. “You shouldn’t have gone to Hastings alone.”

“If you need to punish me, I won’t complain.”

I flip her around and cage her between my arms. “I’m still pissed, but I’m glad you found Rose.”

She grins so wide I have to kiss her. She tastes as delicious as she looks, like burned sugar, dark and addictive. Already, I’m half-hard. When I release her, I spot an open chocolate bar on her counter and pop a square in my mouth. “Where’s Rose?”

“Showering.”

“Then we have a few minutes on our own?” I’d like to taste her as the square melts on my tongue, the rich sweetness mixing with all things Raven. I grip her ass.

She pushes at my chest. “Back off, big guy. And stop with the sexy eyes. She’ll be out any minute.”

Sulking, I give her space. Then I notice the couch made up with sheets and Raven’s book on top of a pile of her clothes on the loveseat. The chocolate turns bitter. “You moved out of your room?”

She lifts one shoulder. “I wanted her to be comfortable. She’s been at the shelter for a month. It’s the least I could do.”

“How long is she staying?”

“However long she needs.”

“You know why she was at the shelter?”

“No. I haven’t asked yet. I didn’t want to pry.” She crosses her arms. “What’s with the third degree, Sherlock?”

Intuition is a gift. And a curse. When my sister brought her new boyfriend, Aaron, home, I had him figured out before he opened his mouth. Nikki ignored my warnings and overdosed in an abandoned warehouse. Sensing doom but not being able to prevent it is a special kind of hell. I haven’t met Rose, haven’t even laid eyes on her, but her presence here just feels wrong.

I shrink under Raven’s glare. “Just looking out for you, babe. That’s all.”

Footsteps thud behind us, the woman who’s infiltrated Raven’s life making her appearance. “I can’t tell you how nice that felt. It’s been ages since—” Rose stops short when she sees me.

Her dark hair is wet, her loose jeans and floral top not as bohemian as the outfits at our vegan potluck, but I can picture her swaying to the music. She’s paler than Raven with freckles on her nose and thinner lips. She’s skinnier, too. I zero in on her arms and thankfully don’t see track marks.

Wanting to get a handle on things, I stride over and hold out my hand. “I’m Nico, Raven’s boyfriend.”

Her smile falters, stained teeth flashing. “Rose. Nice to meet you.”

I grip her hand firmer than I should. “I’m a cop, so if you need anything, if you want to talk about how you ended up at the shelter, I might be able to help.” If Raven insists on rushing into things with her sister, I need to suss out the situation. Best Rose learns who I am.

She yanks her hand back and folds her arms, eyes darting, lips twitching. “Thanks. But it’s not that kind of situation.”

She breathes more rapidly, still fidgeting. The exact reaction I don’t want.

“He’s big but harmless,” Raven calls from the kitchen.

She can’t see the way Rose lifts her chin in challenge, how she sucks her teeth. “I’ve dealt with scarier,” she replies, but her double meaning is clear. She’s on to me.

And I’m on to her.

That’s all it often takes with me. One interaction. One exchange with a perp or possible victim to sense if they’re lying. Last week, Alessi and I were doing a compliance check, making sure a repeat offender, Marlee, was following her house arrest. Her father answered the door in nothing but his boxers, belly hanging out. He swore Marlee was asleep and Alessi was ready to go, but the man tapped his toe restlessly and blinked a few times too many. When I insisted he wake her up so we could make sure, his resolve crumbled. Marlee’s now faced with new charges.

It’s more than Rose’s demeanor, though. Her shifting life, Clara’s reaction, and Russ’s history are all marks against her. Living at the shelter could be nothing more than a woman down on her luck. Or it could be a woman grasping at anything to stay afloat, and I’ll be damned if she grasps on to Raven and drags her down. Better to be wary.

“It’s nice of Raven to have you here,” I say. “I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other.”

“Looking forward to it.” Her rigid posture says otherwise.

We hold eye contact, judging, assessing, then we make our way to the kitchen. Rose keeps her distance from me, remaining on the far side of the counter.