Page 14 of The Verdict

She wasn’t Eve; she’d been the apple personified. Pure temptation.A delicious sin.

I’d tried to go out. Tried to go to my usual haunts and pick up someone looking for a good time.I fucking tried.But the second I looked at another woman, my whole mood soured.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“I’m fine,” I said tightly, more for me than for him. “I just need a case. Anything.”

“I’m still finishing my preliminary workup on the Rossitrial.”

The Rossis were organized crime. One of the boss’s sons had been apprehended and was due to go to trial in two weeks, and, just like every other case the Feds tried to bring against the family, the star witness had mysteriously disappeared.

“No witness yet?”

“No,” he grunted and pointed to his screen. “There was chatter about a high-profile murder two days ago. They’re supposed to be releasing the victim’s name today,” he said as I saw the closed-circuit chat thread for SFPD on his screen. “I can’t imagine it’s anyone else but the witness. They’re probably trying to make sure the family is notified and safe before announcing it.”

“Probably trying to see if they can scrounge up anyone elseto testify because if the witness is dead, the case will be thrown out.”Just like all the others.“I can go up and poke around and see.” Anything to give me something else to focus on.

Ty made a low noise and hit a button that turned on the TV, the local news appearing silently on the screen. Not even a minute later, the chief of police appeared from inside the station, approaching the podium with an army of police and lawyers behind him.

“Strange the FBI isn’t making a statement,” I muttered.

“Is it?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here today to announce to the public that Dr. Les Wheaton was murdered inside his San Francisco home on Wednesday.”

Goose bumps raided my skin, the hairs on my arm standing on end.“Fuck.”

The word dropped like an expletive explosive, detonating in the small space.

Les Wheaton. Infamous plastic surgeon to the rich and criminal.

Illegal activity tended to leave memorable scars, andDr. Wheaton was an expert at removing physical… characteristics that made a person easily identifiable. More recently, we’d come to suspect he did more than remove scars and perform fancy facelifts we believed he was doing massive facial reconstruction to completely change someone’s appearance.

I’d been at his holiday party looking for one of his past clients—Ray Ivans.Another criminal who’d evaded justice for far too long.Until I saw her.

While everyone else tried to stand out based on how rich they were, she was the only one who stood out because she was real.Real, but hiding something.And I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to know more.

And like Adam, the temptation of knowledge had been my downfall.

I never should’ve approached her at the bar. Never should’ve tasted her wit or the undercurrent of her lust. And definitely not the warmth of her touch. When she walked away, I should’ve let her go and returned to my task. But if I had, I never would’ve seen the lumbering thug who followed her down the stairs with evil intent in his eyes.

I was no stranger to death. To killing. But I’d never killed a man like that before—without questions or consideration. With nothing but the pure feral thought that he’d touched her—harmed her—and now, he had to die.

I’d waited for my actions to frighten me; they hadn’t.

I’d waited for my actions to frighten her;they hadn’t.

I stood there—a fool for wanting to know her, a murderer for protecting her—but the worst was what I became when I tasted her.A prisoner.

One night. No names. It was standard for me. Ideal. But that night… that single bite had ruined me.

“Holy shit,” Ty rasped, about to turn the volume up on the TV when the door opened.

“Uncle Rhys!” A high-pitched squeal pierced the solemn fog of the room, and Ty muted the TV quickly.

The birthday girl—Poppy Pyle—sat on top of her uncle Harm’s shoulders, her toothy grin stretching from ear to ear. The sight was striking. My boss, with his stature and demeanor of a stoic soldier, reduced to the servant of a bubbly six-year-old. But time was passing—things were changing. Harm had always enjoyed his younger sister, Izzy’s kids, but ever since he’d fallen in love with Daria, it was like the whole of him softened. Lightened.

And I buried any part of me that could be mistaken for being jealous.

---