“How do I look?”
Delilah turned—bare legs, the curve of her breasts visible through the fabric, hair mussed. Seeing her in my clothing caused a possessive feeling to stir low in my belly. It was arousal, but also a feeling of deep, protective yearning.
“Very elegant.”
She ran a hand through her hair, messing it up even more. Then she sank back down on the couch with her tea.
I pulled her feet into my lap. “How are your feet, Warrior Princess?”
“Freya calls me Xena sometimes.” She grinned cheekily, sliding up the sweatshirt to show me she was still wearing the garter belt. I swallowed a growl and pushed my thumb hard into her foot, massaging first one, then the other.
Delilah let out a heavy, gratified sigh and sank back onto the pillows. “They feel a lot better now. That was a lot of sprinting through hallways in four-inch heels.”
I bent my head over, kissed the top of each knee. “You’re a beautiful bad-ass.”
“You’re a very handsome bad-ass,” she replied.
The fire popped and hissed. She watched me over the rim of her mug. Beneath my fingers, her muscles relaxed. I caressed her ankle, rubbed the knots in her calf muscles. She made that purring sound again.
“Would you do this for me every night?”
She appeared to be teasing, but I said “Absolutely,” and meant it.
“Delilah?”
“Mmmm,” she hummed.
“Would you tell me the rest of your Mark story?”
She nodded, watching the flames for a minute as I kissed every single one of her toes.
“The unit I was assigned to that year, the burglary unit, was full of corruption. The leadership had been crooked for years. Mark was a sergeant, but it was obvious to anyone that knew him he was nothing but ambition. I think, if you asked him now, he’s probably vying for the mayoral seat. But at the time he wanted nothing more than to be the Police Commissioner.”
“Was it harder working in such a corrupt office?”
She blew out a breath. “I barely noticed. I mean—” She grimaced here. “I did notice. Misuse of funds, romantic relationships, nepotism… The office was crawling with it. But I was a new officer and was given my own cases, which I worked dutifully. I followed leads, tracked down suspects, arrested them. I felt secure, happy, eager to do a good job.”
I remembered what she’d admitted the other night—that her obvious eagerness might have been the reason Mark had gone after her.
“There was always this political talk about ‘cleaning up our unit’ but never any action behind the words.” She shrugged, sipped her tea. “I kept my head down and did the job I was honored to do.”
I encircled her ankle with my fingers. “I’ve been there before,” I confessed.
That seemed to bring her a measure of relief. “Mark and I began our relationship about a year into my post there.”
I tried—and failed—to keep an irrational sense of jealousy at bay.
“It lasted about a month. First meetings that became friendly, flirtatious. Emails that were not appropriate. Text messages. He was older than me and had a charm that worked on a lot of people in that office. I felt special that he singled me out for his private affections.” Her jaw clenched, and I wanted to kiss away the tension there.
“Bernard used to call me his ‘young successor’, especially in front of an audience, or people that I was impressed with,” I said. “I think now it was a way to guarantee my trust, endear me to him. It was one of the reasons why I didn’t want to believe he was a thief.”
“It’s how they soften you up.” Her smile was grim.
“Yes, it is.”
She seemed plagued by something, eyes mournful. I kissed her toes again, her ankles, the first few inches of her calves. Worship was my intention. I did that, over and over, until a smile ghosted across her face.
“Mark is…was…a slimy egomaniac and I knew it. Deep down, I knew it. But he was already drawing me in, and every time he noticed me pulling away, he’d amp up the romantic gestures. Weekend trips, romantic getaways, gifts.”
I kept massaging her feet, hoping the relaxation would make her feel safe.
“And all of this was happening against this backdrop of corruption in our unit. There were articles being written up about some of my colleagues in Philly’s local papers. My fathers were very concerned that I’d landed in hot water. But I was ‘in love’ and didn’t care.”
“Were you really in love?” I asked.
“No, not at all.” She watched my fingers wrap around her ankles. “Not even a little bit. Which makes this next part so awful.”
I was silent, watching her collect her thoughts. “Our relationship was very much against the rules. I knew, if we got caught, especially with how prominently our office was being investigated, there’d be hell to pay. Mark wanted us to come clean and both quit on the same day so that we could be together.”
My stomach clenched at what I knew came next in her story.
“The night before Mark asked me to…” Delilah swallowed. “To delete our emails and texts to each other. As a sign of trust. So that if they found out about our relationship, the evidence couldn’t be used against us.”
The look that crossed her face destroyed me. I reached across the couch, wrapped my arms around her waist, and dragged her into my lap. She came willingly—but not without a bemused arch of her brow.
“You were too far away,” I said.
I settled her against my chest, stroking her back. She felt cozy in my sweatshirt, bare legs tucked beneath her.
“So I deleted them. Every last one of them.”
I kissed her hair.
“I went to work the next day with my resignation letter. When I came in, Mark was there and I just…I just beamed at him like an idiot. He was with our HR rep, and the look he gave me was disgusted. Almost afraid. Although he was playing it up for the rep in the room.” She pulled at my shirt, twisting it between her fingers. “Mark, as my supervisor, had the very hard task of firing me. And in front of that rep, he said it was because I had pursued him romantically against his wishes. He even had the emails from me to prove it. Emails that he hadn’t returned, of course.”
My hands tightened into fists. I relaxed them, held her close instead.
“He said to the rep, ‘I don’t want to make this about age or gender, but this isn’t the first time a young female detective has latched herself to a superior officer. It does happen.’”
“I wish you’d stilettoed his face and broke his dick that night we saw him,” I murmured into her hair.
“There’s still time,” she said. “Anyway, that was Mark’s plan all along. The first step was finding a willing victim and orchestrating a relationship. The second was to smear me through the press, which he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“There were articles about me, opinion pieces. Every asshole on talk radio on the local stations proclaimed me the Jezebel of police officers, attempting to seduce my boss to get promoted—a nickname that Mark gave me in one of the interviews. I became the symbol of corruption in that unit, even though with the exception of Mark, my record was spotless and my case close rate was impeccable. All of this was happening while I was up north, with my dads. One of the beautiful things about growing up out there is that internet is hard to come by, and the local one-sheet printed in that town was more concerned about the bear population than anything occurring in the ‘big city.’ All of it hit me hard the first two weeks, but then I fled to the wilderness, basically.”