Bad Behavior(136)

We sat with Luke for about an hour, trying to figure out Tyler's last whereabouts and any more known associates we could question. Luke didn't tell us anything we hadn't already tracked down, and I didn't want to keep questioning him when he was so clearly grieving.

After offering more condolences, Wash and I left him and returned to the office. The talk with Luke had gone well, all things considered, but we had more to worry about. The trip to the morgue and the visit to Rowan would each be pivotal. Wash and I spent the rest of the day going over possibilities, discussing what could happen to the case either way. There were several loose threads, problems, and difficulties. But the one thing that bothered me the most was the obvious question Tyler's death left. If Tyler wasn't the killer, then who was?

It was getting late when Kennedy strolled through Wash's door, unannounced as usual. He had a fading shiner under his left eye and his usual infectious grin.

"What happened there?" I asked and began straightening up my papers.

"Turnbull. He kept bitching about his nose, so I gave him one free hit to shut the fuck up. Popped me good. You owe me." He pointed to Wash and plopped down in front of his desk.

"You know how many times I've had to take up for your sorry ass? You got off easy. You still owe me, little brother."

Kennedy loosened his tie and peered out the door. "Speaking of getting off easy, is that Corinne chick working late?"

Wash slammed an accordion file on his desk. "It's Yvonne, and no. I'm sure she's gone home for the evening. Stop preying on my associates."

I held in my snicker, barely. Kennedy didn't. He tapped my upper arm with the back of his hand. "Hey, Caroline, hear that? What is it they called this in law school? Some kind of doctrine of handsy something?"

I laughed. "Doctrine of unclean hands. One cannot come into court and ask for relief when his own hands are dirty. But I think you're going more for a pot and kettle analogy." I stood. "You two figure it out. I have an early morning."

Kennedy rose and whipped his tie off, draping it over his shoulder. "I'll walk you out."

"Sit down, little brother." Wash flipped Kennedy off and hustled me out the door. "I'll be back in a minute."

Kennedy's laugh followed us down the hall and to the elevator.

Wash carried my file for me. It was cute. With his hair all ruffled, jacket off, and shirt unbuttoned, he looked like a harried law professor late to a class. Totally kissable.

He stood close to me in the elevator, our thighs touching as we eyed each other's reflections. The parking deck was deserted this late at night, so I was happy to have some company.

"If you have any trouble tomorrow, call me. Okay?" He walked me to my car.

"I will. But I won't have any trouble." I took my file from him and put it in the backseat.

When I shut the door and turned, he was close and moved closer still, pushing me against the car door. I looked up at him, wanting him but unsure if I could withstand the damage he could do to my heart. He put a hand on my cheek, and I closed my eyes at his touch.



       
         
       
        

He kissed me lightly at first and then put his hand at the small of my back, pressing me into his hard body. His lips became insistent, demanding, and my knees went weak. I gripped his shirt at the waist, fisting the material as warmth built between my legs.

He broke the kiss but kept eyeing my lips as if he wanted to do it again. "I've needed to do that all day. My apologies."

I smiled. "I've needed you to do that all day. Apologies accepted."

He smiled. Hello, dimples.

"All right. I've got to get back to Kennedy before he finds some unwary female associate who's working late."

He backed away and crossed his arms as I got in my car. Before I closed the door, I batted my lashes at him. "Oh, and Wash, if you have any trouble tomorrow, call me. Okay?"

He smirked and nodded.

I watched him disappear in my rearview and ignored the pain in my heart. Why was it so hard to leave him? I'd been with him all day. Hell, married people didn't see each other as much as we did. But I still wanted more. I realized I probably always would. And wasn't that just a bitch?

The next morning, I rolled out of bed at an ungodly hour and got ready for work. I'd left my voice recorder at my desk, so I'd need to stop by the office on the way to the morgue. Great.

The apartment was so quiet without Terrell. I missed him terribly, especially when I realized I would have to do my own dishes while he was out. Bummer. The Lynch Lane wine didn't taste as good without him to share it with, either. But I still drank it, of course.