The Bad Boy Next Door (Kendrick Place) Page 12

  Wyatt put a finger to her lips, his eyes twinkling, which was nothing short of swoon inducing. “Sleep, baby. Just sleep. I want to lie beside you and have you fall asleep in my arms.”

  His tone was…different. Like he was uncertain of her response, like this tough-guy cop could be vulnerable. Shay snuggled into him, content to take what he was offering— She had a feeling it wasn’t something he gave freely, this little piece of himself.

  She’d been foolish to think she could simply stop the feelings that had been blossoming almost from the second she’d seen him. They didn’t need to work out every little detail right this second. He was here because he wanted to be and that was enough for now.

  In the morning, after he found out how badly she hogged the bed, they could talk and figure out where to go from here.

  Chapter Eleven

  How could one tiny woman take up so much space? She didn’t sleep on a bed. She conquered it like her goal was to touch every single inch of it at some point in the night. Even if he was on that inch. He looked down at her as she snuggled into him, her head in the crook of his arm.

  Never in his life had he asked a woman to let him spend the night so he could be close to her. When he’d shown up last night, he just wanted…needed to be with her in any way he could. She rolled away from him and even in his somewhat-blurry-not-quite-awake state, he laughed that she was still moving. Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back against his front.

  “You’re a tornado when you sleep,” he said into her ear.

  Shay gave a sleepy giggle. “Yeah. I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “I should probably wear protective gear if I’m going to sleep here.”

  Her fingers twined with his over her stomach. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Did I keep you awake?”

  “No.” Even with her moving, he’d slept better than he had in a long time. Though falling asleep with her lithe, sweet body squirming around hadn’t been the easiest thing. Even now, her bottom snuggled farther into his groin, and his breath caught in his lungs. He was torturing himself, he knew, but fighting whatever it was that compelled him to be with her, be near her, was harder than facing it.

  “I’m glad you stayed,” she whispered.

  “Me, too. I wish I could stay longer, but I need to go into work.”

  She rolled to face him, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

  It surprised him that he wished the same thing. Work had been his focus for so long, it felt strange to want something more. He didn’t know what—at least to the point that he could verbalize it. But he knew Shay was unique and special. When he was with her, it was as though some of her innate goodness, the shine she couldn’t hide, seeped into him.

  “Are we done pretending we don’t like each other?” Her voice was whispered and playful, but the fact that she didn’t meet his gaze told him she was unsure.

  He rolled so she was on her back and he was over her. When her fingers grazed his cheek, he turned his face to kiss them. Looking down at her, he memorized the gentle slope of her nose, the full shape of her lips, and those wide, gorgeous blue eyes that had opened his own.

  “You’re even worse at pretending than you are at lying,” he teased.

  “Maybe that’s because I’m not a fan of either.”

  Wyatt sucked in a breath. No more teasing. He didn’t know where they were heading, but he wouldn’t mess around with her heart. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Me neither. I wasn’t pretending. I was trying to keep my distance.”

  Shay arched her neck, and he pressed small kisses along her skin, which smelled like flowers. “For my own good?”

  “And my own,” he admitted, his tongue touching the pulse point in the hollow of her neck.

  “Ha. Yeah, right. Like you have to keep up any defenses around me,” she said.

  He met her gaze again and framed her face with his hands. “Are you kidding? I’ve been tasered, stabbed, and punched in multiple places and not one of those things hurt the way knowing I’d hurt your feelings did. You make me want things I told myself I couldn’t and shouldn’t have. It scares the hell out of me.”

  He saw the dampness in her eyes and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Too much, too soon. He didn’t know what to do with everything he felt inside because he’d never felt it before. He’d told himself it was just one person looking out for another, then just friendship, but it was more.

  He’d probably known it was right from the start.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t feel like you deserve more. You’re a good man, Wyatt. Why don’t you believe that?”

  If anyone could make him ponder the question, it would be her. But not right now. He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “I have to go. I want to look into our previous building manager.”

  “You still think it’s him?” He was grateful she let the other topic go for now.

  “No reason not to and until I know for sure, I want you to text me if you go out.”

  Her body tensed. “I’m a grown woman.”

  Lowering his face to hers, he let his lips linger until the tension left her body and she sighed into him. “You definitely are. But it’ll make my day easier knowing that you’re safe.”

  She groaned. “Well played.”

  He chuckled and lifted himself off her, enjoying the way her eyes tracked his movement as he pulled on his pants and sweater. She went up on one elbow and continued to stare.

  “Okay. I’ll text you later.”

  Just looking at her, her hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes barely awake, made him want to stay. He was feeling too much, too fast, but he’d already tried not to feel anything. And that hadn’t worked out. Maybe this would.

  “Good. Also, you might want to let Brady know there won’t be any more cozy dinners for two. Or leftovers.”

  She sat up and huffed out a breath. “You stayed the night. You don’t get to take charge of my life, bossy-pants.”

  Wyatt leaned over and cupped his hand around her neck. She tilted her chin to look at him. Irritation flickered in her gaze. “I don’t want to take charge of your life. Tell me you wouldn’t mind if I grabbed a romantic dinner with a female friend tonight. If you can tell me that wouldn’t bother you in the least, forget I said anything.”

  Her lips went into a small pout and he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he waited.

  “I need to go,” he reminded her.

  “There was nothing romantic,” she said stubbornly.

  He pulled back, straightened, but maintained eye contact. The times he’d seen them together sure as hell seemed romantic to him. It didn’t make him feel good to know he needed her assurance and the longer she made him wait for it, the more uncertain he felt. He kept his tone flat. “Your choice.”

  She reached out and took his hand, kissed the center of his palm. “Do you actually need me to say I choose you?”

  She waited and his heart beat like a marching drum. Yes.

  Going up on her knees, she pulled him to her and locked her arms around his neck. Her skin was warm from the covers and their body heat. Kissing his lips, she whispered against them, “I choose you.”

  Invisible weight lifted off his chest, but his throat was too tight to speak. Giving her one more hard kiss, he left and went back to his place to get ready.

  …

  As he drove to work, he thought about the storage room. A random attack was one thing, but combined with the location in the building, it wasn’t random. He knew it—was certain of it. When Jake hadn’t found what he was looking for and continued to trash the tenants’ belongings, Wyatt hadn’t thought beyond wanting the creep out of his living space. The front locks of the building had been changed—thanks to Shay—but the underground parking door still had the same lock. It’d be easy for someone with a key to get in and head to the storage room for another look.

  It rubbed Wyatt raw that he’d let Jake walk away and hadn’
t followed up on anything. If he had, maybe Shay wouldn’t have been hurt. The fact that she had was another slip of guilt added to an already tall stack of it.

  He’d barely sat down at his desk when his partner joined him.

  “Figured out where he’s staying,” Jimmy Barlow said, smacking a yellow sticky note against his fingers. His toothy smile made him look younger than he was. Wyatt liked working with him, even though the kid often waxed poetic about conspiracy theories.

  Wyatt picked up the coffee he’d poured himself and took a gulp. When he’d stopped by yesterday, he’d used the database to look Jake up. He’d found a couple of old addresses and asked Jimmy to check them out.

  “Let’s go. I’ll drive.” Wyatt stood and grabbed his jacket. As he pulled it on, adrenaline churned in his gut.

  “Should we tell O’Brien and Ricci?” Jimmy asked as they pushed open the double doors. Sunlight glinted off the icy patches of the pavement, making Wyatt squint. The other officers had been thorough in their account of Shay’s attack. Wyatt had checked the files and gone through both of their statements. If the situation wasn’t linked to his home and a woman he was tangled up with, Wyatt would have considered it a case of disgruntled neighbors or a prank gone wrong.

  “No. We’ll tell ’em when we get back. If I’m wrong,” he said, getting into his car and grabbing his sunglasses, “we’ll file it and move on. But if I’m right, I want this guy.” Even before Shay, he’d wanted to nail the guy. Now, that urge had tripled.

  Jimmy nodded, did up his seat belt, and turned on the radio. Wyatt gave him a warning glance when he tried to change the station to something other than classic rock.

  Jimmy just laughed. He was used to Wyatt. Jimmy had started right before Wyatt went under. When Wyatt had returned to his regular duties, with the intention of finishing what he started only not undercover, Jimmy had been eager to jump on board. The enthusiasm was amusing and reminded Wyatt of the energy he used to feel about his ability to make a difference. Jimmy thought Wyatt was helping him, showing him the ropes, but really, Jimmy reminded Wyatt of why he got into police work and what kind of officer of the law he’d intended to be. Plus, the kid looked up to him, and Wyatt had needed the balm for his wounded ego after not closing the case like he’d intended to. Benny had been charged in the end, but Wyatt hadn’t been the one to do it. He’d had to step away due to poor judgment and the chance he’d blown his cover.

  “So tell me about him again?”

  Wyatt stopped at the light and gestured to the folders in the backseat. “Grab the top one. Jake Parson. He was the manager at my apartment building for a while.” The light turned and Wyatt hit the gas while Jimmy thumbed through the information Wyatt had been collecting.

  “You live in a pretty nice place. This guy was running it?” Jimmy held up a grainy shot of Jake that Wyatt had taken weeks back when he’d been watching him. At the time, he told himself it was better therapy than seeing the department shrink. At least his instincts weren’t worn out.

  “For a few years. The last couple of managers had left and Jake was already living there. The owners have other properties and don’t pay much attention to this one. I think their daughter is in charge of it. You’d think they’d be more careful about who they hire to run it, but since Jake was already a tenant and his background was clean, it seems they went with it.”

  Which he’d be discussing when he had the opportunity to meet the owner’s daughter. Aside from wanting to talk to the woman about security and proper measures for hiring a manager, he was intrigued to meet the woman who Brady called The Demanding Diva. From what Wyatt had seen, Brady was as laid-back as they came, but the couple times he’d mentioned the woman since taking on the acting manager position, Wyatt saw the tension in his face and shoulders. He remembered Owen and Gabby sharing an amused glance over the thought of someone shaking up Brady’s personality, too. It probably wasn’t nice that he’d taken some pleasure in the other man’s obvious irritation.

  But Wyatt had never claimed to be nice. Besides that, he might be headed for some torment of his own given how sunk he was over Shay, and he hadn’t even taken her out yet. Or to bed. But God he wanted to do both.

  Jimmy interrupted his thoughts. “You said once you told him to get out and he did. Even if you’re right…I mean, I’m sure you’re right about what was in the box, but why would he chance it? Why would he come back? Why not just write it off? It sounded to me like you scared the shit out of him.”

  He had to stop letting his mind wander. The last thing he needed was to be distracted. Shay Matthews was an adorable and sweet distraction wrapped in a gorgeous package. The sooner you figure this out, the sooner you can get back to her. The thought stole his breath. He’d never been a man who wanted a woman to come home to, not like this.

  “If you haven’t seen it yet, you will— People will do almost anything when they need to score. Or when someone bigger and meaner than me threatens their life.” Wyatt gripped the steering wheel, thinking about the first month of being undercover. He’d seen two girls beaten, drugs stuffed inside a kid’s toy that was sent to school with her for “safekeeping,” and a dozen other unthinkable acts that he tried, every night, to forget. Last night was the first night he could remember in far too long that the dreams hadn’t plagued him.

  “Turn right up there,” Jimmy said, pointing. Wyatt glanced at him and Jimmy shrugged, his cheeks turning pink.

  “For someone with a serious love of technology, you seem to forget I have all the basics,” Wyatt said, tapping the screen of the GPS on the dash.

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Who does the house belong to?” Wyatt took the turn and glanced out at the Charles River. He loved Boston. Loved the people, the neighborhoods. He loved the culture, even if he didn’t want to be part of it, and he loved keeping the city safe.

  “Sonja Mateo. I think she’s his mom. She’s been married twice. Parson was the last name of husband number one. She went back to her maiden name after husband two left.”

  Wyatt glanced over. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy looked up. “For what?”

  “For getting the information. For following through on my hunch, but also for covering both of our asses on the Muller case. I appreciate it.”

  Jimmy’s pale skin turned pink again, making Wyatt laugh.

  “You need to work on that blush, kid. The guys will eat you alive if they see that.”

  Jimmy looked back down. “Too late.”

  About twenty minutes later, Wyatt turned onto another run-down street in a run-down neighborhood. Several of the houses had boards in the windows, which didn’t necessarily mean no one lived in them. Cars sat, tireless and up on blocks, in several driveways. Frost-covered trees stood boldly on overgrown lawns. The street was empty, like a ghetto ghost town. Not exactly where Wyatt would have pictured an entitled punk like Jake growing up.

  “It’s a couple driveways up.” Jimmy pointed to a neglected house two driveways down from where Wyatt had pulled over.

  “Yup. Let’s go.”

  Jimmy scrambled out of the car after Wyatt and caught up with him on the sidewalk.

  “Should we call it in?”

  Wyatt looked over. “No. We have no reason to. We’ve got each other’s backs. If we’re right, he’s hiding out here with his mom. We should be able to handle that.”

  Jimmy nodded and placed a hand on the butt of his gun. Wyatt rapped on the paint-chipped door. When no one answered, he knocked harder. He heard shuffling, chains moving, then a lock turning.

  The woman who opened the door was definitely not what Wyatt expected. She was leaning on a silver walker, her curly gray hair falling over her face. Big brown eyes looked up at Wyatt and Jimmy through thick, red-framed glasses.

  “What?” Her voice was gravelly and hard. The theme song to a popular game show blared behind her. The living room was a throwback to 1970 with the bright orange upholstered couches and patterned wallpaper.

 
; “I’m Detective Daniels and this is my partner, Officer O’Meara. Are you Sonja Mateo?”

  Her laugh was more of a cackle and ended in a cough. “No. Are you trying to get on my good side? Sonja is my daughter. You won’t find her here.”

  Jimmy glanced at Wyatt, who asked, “But this is her house?”

  “Yes. Why? I haven’t seen her in years. She let me stay here, so I’m not doing anything wrong.”

  Wyatt smiled. “No, ma’am. You haven’t done anything, but we have reason to believe Jake Parson might be staying here.”

  The woman’s eyes widened and then she looked down. “Who?”

  Wyatt stood firm until the woman’s eyes came back to his. Neither of them said a word, but she broke first.

  “What do you want with my Jakey?”

  Wyatt put a hand up when Jimmy started to speak. “Is he your grandson?” When she nodded, Wyatt continued. “Is he here?”

  The elderly woman turned to look behind her, which took some maneuvering, then looked back at Wyatt and Jimmy. “He is. He’s been sleeping a lot. He’s awful sick, and he was in a bad accident. What do you want with him?”

  As if they’d summoned him, a bleary-eyed, bruised, and gaunt Jake hobbled into the room, yawning and rubbing the eye that wasn’t black. When he saw them, he froze. His eyes went cartoon-wide and darted side to side. Taking a step back, he turned his body to run.

  “You’re not going to run off and leave us here to tell your grandmother why we want to speak to you, now are you, Jakey?”

  Jake whipped back around. His grandmother was looking at him, rubbing her hands together.

  “Jakey? Why do these men want to talk to you?”

  Like a balloon that had been popped, he deflated. His shoulders sagged, and his face crumpled with defeat. Wyatt’s belief that this was the jerk who had hurt Shay kept him from feeling any sympathy for the guy. He reminded himself to keep his feelings about Shay and his job separate. He didn’t want that overlap. He was here as a cop. Not as her boyf—whatever he was.

  Jake walked toward them, taking his grandmother’s arm. “Nona. Why are you answering the door?”