Page 24 of More Than a Hero
She whimpered softly into his mouth, rocking slightly in his lap, and the sound nearly undid him. Heat spiraled low in his stomach, his pulse hammering as he deepened the kiss.
A sharp gasp broke between them, and she pulled back just enough to breathe, their foreheads resting together. Their chests rose and fell in tandem, and hearts pounded against each other.
“Damn,” he muttered, his voice rough.
She let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Damn.”
They groaned in unison, forcing themselves to separate. The moment she slipped off his lap, Pete felt the loss like a cold draft.
She stood, smoothing her hands down her thighs, then grinned. “I should probably walk you to the door before we end up repeatingthatten more times.”
He exhaled a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he followed her. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”
When they reached the door, she turned, her expression softer now. “Lunch tomorrow?”
His smile was slow and sure. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She leaned up, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to his lips before stepping back. “Good night, Pete.”
He hesitated, just for a second, then smiled. “Good night, Angie.” And with that, he stepped out into the night, already counting down the hours until he could see her again.
11
Pete and Jeremy sat at their desks, frustration thick in the air between them. The case was going cold, and both men hated that feeling.
"I know it sucks," Jeremy said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But they only got two prints off that old meth trailer. One belonged to a guy already sitting in a Norfolk jail.”
"And nothing on the other?" Pete asked.
Jeremy shook his head. "No match. Whoever it belongs to isn’t in the system.”
“I have a call in to the detective who worked the case when the first guy got locked up," Jeremy added. Just as he finished speaking, his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, a slow grin spread across his face.
Pete smirked. That wasnotJeremy’s work grin. “Go on, take your call,” Pete said, waving him off. “If the detective calls back, I’ll be here.”
“Appreciate it, man,” Jeremy said, already pushing out of his chair and heading for the hallway. As he answered, Pete heard the warmth in his voice. "Hey, baby."
Pete shook his head with a chuckle. His partner had it bad. The tough, sharp-witted medical examiner had made Jeremywork for her heart, but Pete knew his friend would guard it like his life depended on it.
Before he could lose himself in his own thoughts, their desk phone rang, jerking him back to reality. He grabbed the receiver. “Detective Pete Bolton.”
“Detective Bolton? I’m Detective Marcus Warner from Norfolk PD, gangs division. I believe I spoke to your partner earlier about Terrence Marley.”
“Yeah, thanks for calling back. And you can just call me Pete.”
"Sounds good. And Marcus will do for me."
Pete pulled out his notepad. "You got anything for us? You already know Marley’s prints were in that meth trailer, but there’s no telling when he was last there. That place looked like it hadn’t been touched in months.”
Marcus exhaled. “Yep. We arrested him five months ago for cooking meth in an old house in Norfolk. Took us a while to pin him down—he was slippery. But we had an informant give us his location, and once we got him, that was it. He’s been locked up ever since. Sentenced to seven years, but he’ll probably serve four.”
Pete tapped his pen against his notepad. “So he hasn’t been anywhere near that trailer in at least half a year.”
“Right. You said there was another print, but no match in the system?”
“Yeah, nothing. You have any idea who Marley was working with over here?”
“No names,” Marcus said, “but I can tell you he had ties to the Bloods. That’s not their usual MO—they don’t cook. They move the product and distribute it. If someone else was in that trailer, it might’ve been a transporter, maybe someone Marley was trying to recruit.”
