Page 10 of Captive

"Anyhow, I know she's a good friend." Tiffany has not dropped the subject yet. "Why don't you just suggest it? Or maybe Ishould. . ."

"No," I say sharply and soften my tone when I see her eyes flicker. "Bad idea, Tiff." I kiss her again to stop her suggestions. "I've got to go," I say to hurry heralong.

Margaret stops Tiffany on her way out to look at the ring one more time. The rock sparkles as she waves at me from thedoor.

I think about Tiffany's comments. She's always trying to find ways to fix people, people she decides need fixing. But she's wrong. She's wrong about Ten. "I wouldn't change one damn hair on her head," I mutter to myself before heading over tointerrogation.

News travels faster than the internet in the precinct. I'm stuck stumbling through questions about wedding plans and honeymoon locations on my way to the interrogation room. I end up with a business card for a cake baker. Officer Trent's sister is apparently the best baker in town. A sticky note from Gina in the forensic lab with a phone number for her cousin's florist is stuck in my palm. I thank everyone and shove the phone numbers into my pocket. The wedding is the last thing on my mind. Spending the next few hours questioning slimy Vinny isn't high on the listeither.

My phone echoes through the narrow hallway leading to the interrogation rooms. I know it's Ten before I even grab the phone from my pocket. "Ten," I say quickly, but she talks before I can saymore.

"Just tell me. And I want a simple answer not some big, long bullshit response. When did you stop trusting me? When did you decide you couldn't count on me to have your back?" There's a slight waver in her voice, and it makes me squeeze the phone in myhand.

"Never, Ten. That's not what this is about. Fuck, you're the best detective on theforce."

She laughs but it's not her usual laugh. "Obviously, since you can't wait to pawn me off on some other poorsap."

"I'm not trying to pawn you off. You're beingdramatic."

"Then what the fuck,Maddox?"

Earlier, I'd followed her out to the parking lot to explain everything, but the truth was, I couldn't explain a fucking thing. I had nothing then and I have nothing now. I have my life and she has hers and that was the way it had to stay. I was asking for a new partner for self-preservation and sanity reasons, but not in the way shethought.

"I guess your silence says it all. Later, Maddox. I'm off to getlaid."

I'm thankful she can't see me flinch through the phone at the idea of her naked in some other guy's arms. "We'll talk more tomorrow,Ten."

"I think we've covered the subject just fine." The call isended.

I fight the urge to throw my fist into a wall and unlock the interrogation room. Vinny is leaning his head on his forearms taking a nap. He lifts his pinched, pale face and skewers me with bloodshot eyes. "Bout fucking time," he grumbles. He looks past me. "Hey, I'd rather talk to the red haired babe with the sweetcurves."

He startles when I slam the door shut hard enough to rattle the one-waywindow.

"You picked the wrong fucking day to get yourself arrested, pal. There ain't no good cop or bad cop today. No red haired, curvy babe. There's justme."

Vinny's face blanches as I swing the chair around and sit down onit.

6

Angie

Iam breakingmy number one rule about guys. Somehow, I talked myself into showing up at Brodie's place for a surprise afternoon tryst. Only the sex I'd been imagining probably had just a bit too much hair pulling and ass spanking to be labeled something as frilly as a tryst. Brodie, the guy I'd been dating off and on for three months, was a longshoreman. His shift at the docks ended at noon. It's a short but strenuous work day. And dangerous. But the pay is good so he's content. We didn't have much in common except great sex, and the day had left me feeling so empty I just wanted to get lost in a good round offucking.

The disappointing call with Maddox, where the jerk couldn't even be bothered to make up some fake lame excuse for wanting to ditch me as a partner, made me more determined than ever to end the day sweaty and satisfied between the sheets. Hell, there didn't even need to be sheets. The floor, kitchen table or shower wall would do justfine.

Brodie lived in a neighborhood of tract homes, the kind where every house looks the same and the only thing that sets them apart is the landscaping. Some houses have dressed up the otherwise monotonous neighborhood with nicely trimmed hedges, roses and flowering trees. I turn the corner onto Brodie's street. His house is at the end with its brittle lawn and empty planters. His truck is in the driveway. There's another car parked out front, a green Volkswagen Jetta. The sun is reflecting off a glittery string of beads dangling from the rearview mirror. It seems my surprise plan, my breaking of the guy rules, is about to slap me in the face. Fortunately, I'm so numb from the day, I can barely feelit.

Movement at the house carries my focus to the front door. It opens. I pull my car to the curb under the shady cover of a tree and wait. Brodie is tall and built but not like Maddox, I decide and quickly want to smack myself for the comparison. But it seems I'm being screwed by both tall, well-built men today. And not literally, like I hoped. A pert brunette in shorts and a sweatshirt walks out onto the stoop and then stops to turn around for a kiss before hopping down the steps and skipping to theJetta.

It is official. My day went from fucked to super-fucked. I pull away from the curb and drive slowly past the house, wanting to make sure Brodie sees me and to let him know that I certainly see him. It is my passive-aggressive way of letting him know it's over. It takes him a second to recognize the woman behind the steering wheel of the car cruising past his house. Our eyes lock for a second. His mouthtightens.

I turn the corner and drive through the dull neighborhood with the cookie cutter houses. My phone rings as I turn the next corner to head back to the freeway. It's Brodie. I let it go straight to voicemail. The one good thing about discovering Brodie's other woman on a day where my heart has been ripped to shreds and stomped on by my partner, is that I don't even have enough emotion left to give a damn. I briefly consider calling Brodie back thinking maybe I can keep him around just for sex. But that seems like too much effort for a man who is not all that great inbed.

I head back to the freeway. The tires chirp on the car as I slam my foot down on the gas pedal. A flurry of ideas run through my head, a drive to the beach, a run through the park, sitting on the couch watching reruns of Friends and downing raw cookie dough. The last one sounds like thewinner.

I near the off-ramp for the precinct and a new idea pops into my head, one that doesn't include overdosing on Ross and Rachel or cookie dough. My mom always told me it's never a good idea to make a big decision when you're angry or upset. And my day has left me far past angry and upset. Even though my mom makes the best brownies this side of the Rockies and when I was a kid she knew exactly how to braid my hair before a track meet, she was wrong about the big decision thing. An impulsive, rash decision sounds way better than a drive to the beach or a jog through thepark.

7

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