I think for a moment about what she said. I know Jake makes all the right noises, but sometimes you just need to hear it.
“I know what you’re saying, but I still need something … anything.”
“Oh. My. God. Would you listen to yourself? He just practically told you that you should take on the Bennett name. There’s only one way you can do that unless he is planning to adopt you, and I highly doubt that’s what he has in mind. This is big, Ana. Huge!” she screams.
“Okay, okay. I’ll take what you’ve said under advisement. What are you up to with Jerry today?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Jerry’s just gone to check out. I’m waiting in the lobby. We’ll be driving back once he’s done. I may want to lock him up in the apartment when I get back and never let him out. Ana, the sex last night was so good. I mean, it normally is great, but last night was just fantastic!” she enthuses. Then she pauses for a moment as if she’s distracted by something before saying, “Oh, he’s coming over! I have to go.”
“Okay. Well, I hope you don’t wear Jerry out too much,” I laugh.
“Oh, but I fully intend to, girl.” We both laugh, say our goodbyes, and then I swiftly get back to work.
I begin to sort through the endless cases of burglaries we have. They range from four years ago to present day. I have already tried looking at the more recent ones, but nothing stood out. I’m at it for a couple of hours when my head starts to hurt. My eyes are beginning to blur a little too so I know I’m really getting tired.
Just when I think I’m about ready for a break, I come across a case that happened about five years ago. An elderly couple—just like the others—was held at gunpoint while two others raided their home. It all sounds a little too coincidental for me, so I rub my eyes and read on.
Their names were Adrian Simmons, Clark Baxter, and Brent Maxwell. They are all from the Roanoke area, and they were caught, tried, and convicted. Adrian Simmons was given a ten-year custodial sentence for Armed Common Law Burglary, and the other two were convicted of Breaking and Entering with Intent to Commit Burglary and given four years each.
Heart pumping, I start to look to see when each man was released. As far as my records are concerned, Adrian Simmons is still in jail. The other two were released six months ago.
I quickly find their addresses, which are still in Roanoke, and gather all the details for Jake.
With a beating heart, I race over to his office and knock on the door. I’m still feeling the embarrassment of my earlier slip-up, but I’m also really pumped, having just found this new information.
“Come in!” he shouts.
I open the door and find Jake sitting at his computer looking completely serious. He spots me standing there with a file in my hand.
“What do you have for me?”
I sit, clearing my throat before I begin. “Well, I’ve been looking back through these burglaries, and I think I may have found something.”
His interest is piqued, so I begin telling him what I’ve found, giving him all the details, names, and dates.
He smiles, looking like he’s proud of the work I’ve done. His chest is bulging out of his shirt as he inhales. “That’s great work, Ana. Good job.” I blush and thank him. “I’ll get some people on this right away. You did well.”
He sits there, my own solid hunk of a sexy beast. There should be a law against looking like him. He’s just way too much. I want and need every single molecule of him.
“I must say, you’re very sexy right now, Miss Sinclair. You don’t know how tempting it is to grab you, pull you to me, throw my things aside, and ravish you on my desk.”
I almost purr in anticipation. A different kind of heat reaches my face and rapidly moves between my legs. I shift in the chair, uncrossing and then re-crossing my legs. Jake just sits there, staring at me intently and watching my every move. I manage to stutter out, “Okay,” as Jake laughs at my eagerness.
“You know that’s one rule I cannot break—even for you. As much as I would love to lick every part of that beautiful body of yours, I have work I must do.”
I frown at him, and he laughs. “Now you need to go. Leave that file on my desk on your way out. You’re too much of a distraction in here.”
I turn on my heel and leave his office in spite of the desperate ache between my legs. How on earth am I going to get through the rest of the day now?
I return to my desk and find a chicken salad from my favorite Take a Pick sandwich shop across the road from us. Jake … again. He won’t let me out in broad daylight—even to walk across the road. He has somehow managed to get people to be my gofer.
I sit down and bury my head in my hands. “I’m sorry. I thought you liked the chicken, Mrs. Bennett?” Tom—the asshole—takes a seat on my desk.
“Yes, yes. You’re very funny. I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Bennett.” I glare at him, which makes him laugh even louder.
“Where’s your new sidekick? Has he grown sick of looking at you already and put in for a transfer? I wouldn’t blame him.”
He places a hand on his chest. “Now that hurt, Mrs. Bennett. I have very delicate feelings that you’re stomping all over right now.” He pulls a pouty sad face, and I start laughing. No matter how much of a slime-ball Tom is, I have to hand it to him; he’s a funny slime-ball.
“He’s gone for some lunch. I thought I’d let him loose for a little bit.”
I squeeze the upper part of his arm, which is resting on his lap. “Thanks for the salad. I appreciate it.”
He looks down to where my hand is placed and smirks. “You know, if you’d just move your hand a few more inches to your left, it would be perfect.”
When I see what he means, I yank my hand away. “Eww! Tom, that’s gross. Piss off, you sick piece of shit. And here I was trying to be nice to you.”
He gets up from my desk, laughing hysterically as he makes his way back to his desk. Everyone’s looking, wondering what on earth’s just happened.
I’m about to tuck in to my salad—feeling drawn from staring at the computer practically all morning—when one of the other analysts, Mandy, comes over.
“Hey, Ana. How are you? Do you want some coffee? I’m going to make one.”
I smile, but I’m a bit wary. Normally, she doesn’t speak to me that often—let alone make me coffee. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
She beams at me, grabs my mug, then walks for the break room.
That was weird.
A couple of minutes and a few bites in to my salad later, she comes strolling back. “Here you go. Black, isn’t it?” I nod, saying thanks. “I just wanted to say that I feel bad, you know … because of what you’re going through. We’ve been told to leave you alone, but if I were in your shoes, I would want someone to talk to.”
I frown. They had been told to leave me alone? When did that happen? I’m not a leper, and I certainly don’t want to be treated like one. Jake and his over-protectiveness!
“You were all told this?” I ask.
She sees the mortified look on my face and blushes.