Date with the Detective (Phoenix Police Book 3)

  Date with the Detective

  Phoenix Police Book 3

  Liv Brooks

  Copyright © 2019 by Liv Brooks

  Date with the Detective

  By Liv Brooks

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  1. Mason

  Nicki

  2. Nicki

  Mason

  3. Nicki

  Mason

  4. Nicki

  Mason

  5. Nicki

  6. Mason

  7. Nicki

  Also by Liv Brooks

  Thanks for reading!

  1

  Mason

  I park my car and get out, grimacing at the stiffness in my knee. It’s cold for this time of year in Phoenix, and the chill sinks straight into my bad leg. I shove the discomfort to the side as I duck past the police tape and head towards the door, only to see that it’s my worst nightmare standing right there with the log book. The log book I have to sign before I can go into my crime scene.

  Steeling myself, I walk up the handful of steps and wait for Nicki to notice me. When she does, her face breaks into the smile that makes my heart ache.

  She’s my best friend’s daughter, far too young for me, and gorgeous enough that she could be a model on the cover of any magazine. Dark hair always pinned neatly up, blue eyes that see everything, and a body that is both capable and curvy. It’s a dangerous combination. Even dressed in the standard uniform of a patrol officer, she’s distracting.

  “Detective Richards,” she says with a smart nod.

  I grunt, like the caveman I am. Or the caveman she makes me. I avoid looking at her as much as I can as I sign in and push past her.

  It’s rude, I know it. But the more time I spend with her, the more I talk to her, the more I want her. It’s just not going to happen. Even if she liked me, I wouldn’t saddle her with an old man like me.

  A broken man like me.

  I can feel her eyes follow me and I know I upset her. I hate dismissing her, not looking at her. But I can’t. I’m forty. I can’t spend the rest of my life pining over something I can’t have. Something I shouldn’t have, no matter what.

  When I get inside, my team members are crouched over the body. Michelle stands and looks at me, her eyebrow raised. “Really?”

  I grunt at her, too, which makes her roll her eyes. “Just get to work,” I say, not wanting a comment about my love life or lack thereof. As we start working, I can feel Michelle’s eyes on me.

  She manages to keep quiet for a grand total of ten minutes before she turns to me again. “Mason, can I talk to you?”

  “No.” I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want the lecture.

  Surprise flashes across her face, then she scowls. “You’re going to anyway.” She reaches down to where I’m crouching and grabs my bicep, pulling me up. Despite the fact I could probably bench press her, I let her. I even follow when she lets go of me until we’re in one of the further back rooms where no one else can hear us.

  I cross my arms over my chest. I’m much taller than she is, more intimidating, but she’s worked with me long enough that she just rolls her eyes. She’s not afraid of me. “What is wrong with you?” Michelle asks, crossing her arms over her chest to mimic my position.

  “A lot of things,” I say, choosing half a joke as an answer. It’s not entirely a joke. I could make a list.

  Seven years in the military until I almost lost my leg. Instead I was left with a gnarled mess of scars on my thigh and a limp, but my leg was otherwise intact. After rehab, I joined the force. Fifteen years later, I’m their best homicide detective. I’ve never gotten married. Had kids. Let myself fall in love.

  None of that is for someone like me. No matter how much I want it.

  “Seriously?” Michelle looks annoyed. “That girl looks up to you and you treat her like dirt.”

  I shrug. I hate how I sound. I hate how I look. “If she lets me get to her, is she really going to go far in this job?”

  For a second I think Michelle will slap me. I wouldn’t blame her. I want to slap myself.

  What’s even worse is I’m having dinner with Nicki and Aaron tonight. So after all of this, I have to go sit across from her. Smile. Pretend that I’m not avoiding her because I can’t stop thinking about her. Because she features in my dreams every night.

  Michelle straightens up, her eyes narrow. She’s staring straight at me like she can see through all of my defenses, but she can’t. I just meet her eyes with my steady brown ones. I’m not going to let her get anywhere.

  She shakes her head like she’s giving up. “You’re such an asshole sometimes,” she says before she turns and leaves the room.

  I let out a long breath once she’s out of earshot. “I know,” I say to no one. Then I head back to my job.

  Nicki

  It’s a unique type of torture, sitting at the dinner table with my Dad and his best friend. Dad and Mason have known each other since they were in the military twenty years ago, and when Dad’s life fell apart, Mason was there for him. He’s basically a part of the family.

  I’ve also had a huge crush on him since I was fifteen.

  Not that it matters. He’s only cordial when he has to be. He’s always been taciturn, but since I joined the force a couple years ago, he’s been almost cold. There’s no way he would look my way for anything.

  On the other hand, I spend way too much time looking his way. He’s got short brown hair, warm brown eyes, and is built like a god. He’s got broad shoulders and abs for days, and when he’s wearing something casual, his clothes look like they’re painted on. It’s hard not to stare. I want to know what those muscles feel like under my fingers. I want to know how far the hint of tattoos go up his arms. I want to know everything about him.

  But I never will.

  “How’s work?” Dad asks, taking a bite of meatloaf. I don’t cook often, since I’ve been working night shifts lately, but sometimes it’s nice.

  “Not bad,” I say with a smile. I try not to think about Mason’s dismissiveness at the crime scene earlier. The way he wouldn’t look at me. Sometimes I wonder if he hates me and only tolerates me because he’s friends with my Dad. I wouldn’t be surprised.

  Devastated, yes. Surprised, no.

  “Mason?” Dad asks, looking at his friend. We’re sitting at a card table, Mason as far away from me as he can get while still remaining at the table.

  He shrugs. “People still murder each other,” he says, his dry tone making me laugh. I cover it with a hand, but his eyebrow arches. I see a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, like he’s trying to fight a smile of his own, but as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

  “I’ve put in for a transfer to narcotics,” I say, spearing some of the roasted potatoes. Silence reigns at the table for a long moment. I hadn’t told either of them, and had forbidden my superiors from doing so. It’s a surprise. “They think I’ll get it.”

  Dad breaks into a grin. “That’s awesome.”

  I grin at him, unable to hide my excitement. I’ve enjoyed being a patrol officer, don’t get me wrong. But after seeing Mom fall prey to drugs, get addicted, and then pass away from an overdose, I want to do more. I want to get drugs off the
street, even if I can only help a little bit.

  “What would you be doing?” Dad asks. He’s not on the force himself. Instead he works in technology, something security-related that he doesn’t like to talk about.

  I shrug. “Probably grunt work at first,” I say, trying not to look at Mason. “Eventually I’d like to work undercover.” I grin. “All the guys talk about it.”

  Dad frowns. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not some damsel in distress,” I point out. “I was top of my class. I can take care of myself.”

  “I guess,” Dad grumbles, the overprotective bear he is. “What do you think, Mason?”

  I deliberately keep my gaze away from Mason, instead turning to dinner. I’m not sure I want to know what he thinks. Because it matters. It really shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want his approval. I shouldn’t want him to smile at me. But I do.

  I’m such a sap. Stupidly, hopelessly in love with someone who will never love me back.

  “More dangerous than homicide,” Mason says, although he doesn’t look at me.

  I roll my eyes. “How difficult can homicide be, anyway?” I say, although I’m teasing. “Your victims are dead.”

  This time Mason does look at me with an arched eyebrow and a pointed, disapproving look. I just grin, which seems to surprise him. Finally he grunts and turns back to his dinner, like that’s all he wants to say in the matter.

  I smile to myself, to my dinner, but inwardly my heart is sinking. Is this really what the rest of my life will be? I need to get over him. I need to move on.

  I just wish I knew how.

  2

  Nicki

  “What do you mean—“

  “I’m sorry,” Detective Reese says, but his tone is curt. “Maybe in six months we’ll have another opening.”

  I’m left standing there, my mouth gaping open, as Detective Reese walks away. Apparently I wasn’t just rejected, but rejected so badly that I won a personal rejection. That Reese had to come all the way to my cubicle, just to tell me I didn’t get the job.

  The job that, last week, I had such high hopes for.

  Tears burn at my eyes and I want to kick my desk, but I don’t. All I can think about is what happened. What did I do? Did I do something? Did someone else do something? I’d heard from several sources that the job was as good as mine. Maybe they were lying.

  I can feel my coworkers looking at me. It’s obvious I’m upset. Instead of facing them, I turn and flee, shoving open the back door before turning to lean against the wall. I need to finish up my reports and go home, but it’s hard when I’m trying to fight back tears.

  “Fuck,” I hiss as I turn and kick the wall. Pain explodes in my foot, but I kick the wall again until the pain makes me stop. It serves as a good distraction.

  I’m taking deep breaths to calm the throbbing in my foot when one of the detectives comes out. I recognize her vaguely. Her name is Katie, and she used to work in homicide. Now she works financial crimes. She’s a curvy woman with red hair and green eyes, and those sharp eyes are fixed on me.

  “I heard what happened,” she said, her voice sympathetic.

  I turn away from her, aware it’s rude but not sure what else to do. Great. My rejection is already first-class gossip in the station. Everyone’s going to know what happened by the end of the day.

  “Look.” Katie lets out a long breath. “I came out here to tell you something.”

  Some of the embarrassment has turned to curiosity, so I turn to face her.

  “You didn’t hear this from me,” she says, and the seriousness in her face makes my stomach churn. What’s bad enough that she’s coming to find me? “Mason interfered with your transfer.”

  Ice thrums through my veins. It’s like an out-of-body experience, like I literally can’t believe or comprehend what she just said. “What? Why?”

  Katie shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

  Then she disappears back into the precinct, leaving me standing there. The ice from the upset is starting to thaw, replaced by an anger that I don’t want to hold back. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s not enough that he has to ignore me, but he has to hold back my career, too?

  Instead of going back to my unit, I head for homicide. I should stop. I should take some deep breaths. I should wait until work is over, confront him privately. But I can’t stop.

  I won’t stop.

  I knock on the unit door since my keycard won’t work. I don’t know if Katie prepped someone I was coming, but one of the homicide detectives, Michelle, opens it maybe ten seconds later. “He’s in his office,” she says, stepping back and letting me in.

  It’s not the time, or the place, but I don’t care anymore. I give her a sharp nod and head down the corridor, checking each door I go past. I’ve only been to his office a couple times, mostly when Dad visited, but I remember where it is.

  I don’t bother knocking before I shove the cracked door open and step in.

  Mason looks up from his desk, alarmed, before his expression shifts. It’s like he’s pulling a mask on, like he’s hiding what he’s thinking.

  “What is wrong with you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low. I don’t want the entire unit to know about it. At least not yet.

  “I don’t know—“

  “Mason.” My voice is sharp, like it could cut steel. “Cut the bullshit. I know what you did.”

  His brown eyes are intent, brows knitted together like he can puzzle out what I’m talking about. I don’t believe him for a second.

  I struggle to get my breathing under control. I want to scream at him. I want to slap him. It’s immature, it’s reckless, but it’s hard to explain. It’s bad enough that he doesn’t like me, but now he’s trying to ruin me. Break me.

  “Did my Dad ask you to?” I ask, my voice cracking no matter how much I try to hold it together.

  Mason is quiet for a long moment. “Close the door.”

  “Why, so no one can hear what an asshole you’ve been?” My voice is rising. I don’t try and control it.

  “Close the door, Nicki,” Mason says sharply.

  I turn and put my hand on the knob, my back towards him. I make myself take a few deep breaths instead of either strutting out the door and slamming it behind me, or just slamming it shut. Instead, I slowly let the door close.

  Mason

  I’m going to find whoever told her and make their life a living hell. She wasn’t supposed to find out.

  It was stupid. It was reckless. But all I could think about last night was her going undercover. Getting hurt. Getting killed. It’s not like they would put her into dangerous cases right away, but I still don’t want to risk her.

  My eyes skim her backside while she stands facing away from me, like she’s seconds away from slamming the door. I wouldn’t blame her. She’s angry. Pissed, but still so damn sexy that I have to stay seated just in case she can tell that just being around her turns me on.

  The door clicks shut and she turns to look at me, her blue eyes alight with fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice is low now, but the venom is clear.

  Losing my mind, obviously. I’m not sure what else to think. Or say.

  When I don’t answer, she stands up straighter, her hands clasping behind her back. “Why did you do that?” Her voice is professional, brusque. Like I’m her superior and she’s reporting to me instead of interrogating me, but she’s still not leaving without answers. Her eyes don’t leave my face.

  “Because it’s dangerous,” I say finally. I stand so I feel less cornered, although I keep the desk between us so she can’t see the bulge in my pants.

  Her eyes darken. “I can take care of myself,” she says bitterly. “I don’t need some man protecting me.”

  No, she doesn’t need me. But I still want her. My mind takes the moment to just think about how fucked up my life has gotten since I fell in love with my best fr
iend’s daughter. It wasn’t always this way. I haven’t always wanted her. It wasn’t until she joined the force and blossomed that I realized just how perfect she was.

  “Do you hate me?” Nicki’s question draws me out of my thoughts.

  I blink at her, startled. “What? No, of course not.”

  “Then why—“ She takes a deep breath like she’s frustrated. “I don’t know what your problem with me is, but you need to stop interfering with my life.” The hurt on her face is too much to ignore, so I grip my office chair desperately to avoid reaching out to her.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I say, my voice as level as I can make it.

  The anger flares in her eyes like throwing gas on a fire. She stalks around the desk and into my personal space, jabbing my chest with her finger. “That’s not your decision, got it?” Her voice is cracking like a whip. “I’m a grown-up. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you meddling in my life, okay?”

  I swallow thickly, not comfortable with the desire that’s racing through me from her being that close. It shouldn’t get to me, but it does. All I can think of are her hands sliding over me, holding onto me while I take her. While I slide inside her and make her moan.

  “Mason.” Nicki stab my chest again. “Are you even listening to me?”

  My hands aren’t listening to me, and before I know it, they land on her shoulders, holding her steady. She looks less sure now, and I wonder what she sees on my face. For once she looks her age, young and lost instead of sure and determined like she normally is.

  I hate that I make her question herself. She never should. She’s perfect. She’s far too good for me.