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“I wouldn’t mind tapping that ass,” Carl continued. “I don’t think she’d be so high and mighty after a thorough fucking.”
Joel laughed. “I wouldn’t risk my junk near that woman. If she doesn’t rip your balls off, your dick would freeze if you managed to get it inside her. She isn’t called Häagen-Dazs for nothing, and it’s not because she’s sweet.”
Jackson didn’t need to ask who they were talking about, even before he heard the nickname. It grated on him. With Paula gone, the department had been bitter, insecure locker-room gossip about her. Just because every straight guy in the department had hit on her and been rebuffed didn’t make it right to discuss her as though she were a sex object.
He objected to that kind of talk about any woman. But about Paula?
Unforgivable.
He slammed his locker shut and walked over. “I think it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs. And it’s even ruder to talk about a colleague like she’s a piece of meat.”
He shot Carl a pointed look, he hoped was icy enough to make his dick shrivel to the size of his integrity.
Carl held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, dude, take it easy.”
Joel chimed in. “Yeah, man, what the hell? We’re not gonna fight over a woman. Besides, she must be gay. It’s the only reason no one seems to be her type. Her type comes with breasts and no dick.”
Jackson’s jaw tightened. “That’s not just ignorant. It’s pathetic. Whether a woman is into men or not is her prerogative. Turning down a few insecure assholes doesn’t make her a lesbian. It makes her smart.”
Joel blinked. “Jesus, chill out.”
Jackson didn’t. “You ever talk about a male officer like that? Ever speculate on whether one of the guys needs a good fuck to be less ‘high and mighty’? No—you wouldn’t dare. She’s a fellow officer. A damn good detective. She deserves the same respect as any man in this department.”
Paula wasn’t cold as ice cream—she was sweet and tempting.
“Maybe you should try not being a misogynist for five minutes. See how that feels.”
“Nah, man, it isn’t us.” Carl scowled. “Not when she turned down every one of us.”
Jackson sighed at the sadness of hurt male pride. “Or she just isn’t interested in dating police officers. Ever thought of that?”
“Nah”—Joel slapped his shoulder—“she turned down Eddie from finance, so it isn’t just cops.”
Jackson didn’t bother replying. He was too busy reminding himself that decking a colleague, no matter how well deserved, wasn’t worth the paperwork.
He grabbed his bag and left, the laughter behind him grating like sandpaper. The taste in his mouth wasn’t just from the coffee anymore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the previous day’s excitement, Jackson sat down to tackle his paperwork during the morning.
He studied the file on his desk, but his mind drifted for a moment to the latest news that had swept through the department like wildfire—Paula Stone was back.
She hadn’t called him, not that he expected her to, but word traveled fast in the PD. News of her return from an undercover assignment had sparked plenty of gossip, though no one seemed to have the full story. What everyone did know was she’d nailed the job, earning praise from the higher-ups. Typical Paula, Jackson thought with a mix of pride and frustration. She could conquer the toughest assignments but couldn’t pick up the phone.
Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention back to the file in front of him. A few months ago, Paula Stone’s partner had been involved in a family altercation that had turned into a drug bust.
Jennifer Miller and her boyfriend Ethan Young had been abusing Ms. Miller’s son to the point where he attempted suicide. When Det. Christopher had arrived with a social worker to notify Ms. Miller of her son’s whereabouts and condition,they’d found a house full of drugs and a picture of neglect. Both adults were in custody on charges of possession with intent to distribute, as well as child abuse and neglect. The narcotics portion of the case had ended up on Cagney’s desk.
Josh was in foster care with Jackson’s friends, James and Laura, and he dreaded what he had to do. Besides the fingerprints from the suspects, they had found several other sets, and they had to get Josh’s prints to exclude him from the investigation. Jackson hated that his continued investigation would likely scare the boy and upset his friends. He drummed his fingers on the desk. First, he would run the prints through the automated fingerprint index, or AFIS as the system went by among cops.
Jackson went downstairs to the dedicated AFIS computer system where he scanned the first set of fingerprints, and the answer came back immediately—a low-level drug dealer and his prints also connected to a hit and run that had resulted in death. No hits on the second and third sets. Then he put the last set in. Also connected to the hit and run.Damn!Jackson saw who the investigating officer was and sighed. This case just got more and more tangled. He closed his eyes for a moment and squared his shoulders before he went to find a certain detective.
A throat being cleared made Paula look up from the report she was writing. Jackson Cagney stood by her desk looking sinfully handsome in his black leather jacket and jeans.
Even the weeks away hadn’t dimmed the magnetic attraction she felt whenever he was near. Her time undercover had been grueling, but not even the constant pressure of the job haddulled her awareness of Jackson—not as a colleague, but as a man.
She hated to admit it, but she’d thought of him more times than she could count during long, restless nights alone. And now, standing here in front of her, all leather and confidence, he made her pulse race like no time had passed at all.
