“Are you threatening to withhold information from me, Mr. Wright? You do realize I could arrest you for that.”

“Seriously?” I exclaim.

“Of course not, sir,” Marshall says, ignoring me. “I’m simply saying that I don’t have the information you need right now, and I’d hate to give you an incorrect or incomplete file, which would surely impede your investigation.” He brushes his hair from his face.

Bekah walks out of her office, her mouth forming an “o” when she sees Drake standing in front of Marshall.

“Detective Nash!” I snap. “Please leave my employees to do their jobs! Marshall,” I add, looking at him. “Carry on with what you’re doing. Detective Nash knows as well as I do that I can hold that file until the time Judge Barnes signs a warrant and said warrant is on my desk. Everyone else, back to work.” I stare at everyone one by one until they’re all back inside their offices. Then I take a step closer to Drake. “Again, you cannot come in here and harass my staff. I understand that you want that file, but so do I, Drake, and all that currently exists of it is an empty space where it should be.”

“I warned you yesterday not to get in the way of my investigation, but five minutes after being hired by Ryan Perkins, you’re already standing in my way,” Drake says in a low voice. “Do I need to get that warrant you just mentioned to enter your premises and take what I need when I need it?”

The inflection in his tone makes me fight against a shiver.

“Get it. You can’t take what I don’t have.” I lift my chin so I’m looking at him squarely. “It’s just that simple.”

A moment passes before he steps forward, so close that my breasts almost brush his chest. I clench my jaw and ignore the sizzle of attraction that’s trailing through my body.

“Stay away from this investigation, Noelle,” he warns. “Fucking far away. I don’t want to see you near my suspects, the station, anywhere. You understand that?”

“I have a job to do. I’m doing it.”

“Then call Ryan Perkins and tell him you’ve changed my mind.”

“You might be the only one with a badge here, Detective, but you’re not the only one who knows how to investigate a homicide. Apparently, I have more manners and finesse than you possess, and I’m a hell of a lot nicer to people, but I’m not a pushover. I’m sure as shit not gonna have you come into my damned building and tell me what cases I can and can’t work.”

His eyes narrow into angry slits.

“You don’t have to like it, but you can deal with it. I will question my own suspects, and if they’re the same as yours, then tough shit, big guy. When I have the Perkins file and I’ve checked it, you’ll have it. Same with any information that could drastically change the course of this investigation. As much as I hate it, I’m not the one with handcuffs.” My eyes drop to the cuffs on his belt.

“You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass, Bond.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Nash. Now, get out.”

“Boss,” Marsh pokes his head out. “Got it.”

I snap my head around to him. “I might kiss you.”

His cheeks pink. “That would be highly unprofessional.”

Still, I grab his face and plant a kiss on his cheek. And leave behind a little lipstick. Oops. “You have a…” I point to my cheek and take the file from him.

“The Perkins file?” Drake says, his eyes on the folder.

“No, it’s my freakin’ dinner reservation,” I snap, moving past him.

His arm reaches out, and he curls his hands around my upper arm.

“What are you doing?” I glare at his hand then him.

“You’re bringing it to the station.”

“I don’t even know if it’s all there.”

“You’re bringing it to the station,” he repeats lower, stronger. An order, not a request.

Something a little hard to disobey when my skin is buzzing beneath his grip.

“Can I get my purse before you manhandle me across town?”

His lips thin, but he releases me so I can grab it. No sooner have I locked my office door than he has my arm in his viselike grip again and is dragging me down the stairs.

“Gee, thanks for the gesture, but I can escort myself out.”

“I have no problems coming up with an imaginary charge and arresting you for it.”

“Do you realize you’ve mentioned arresting me twice in as many days? Are you fantasizing about me in handcuffs, Detective? Because I’m all for a little kink, but those things hurt like a bitch.”

Drake swings me around and my butt bumps into his cruiser. “Yeah? And you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Actually, I would.” I smirk. “If you’re a cop dating a cop, it’s a given.”

Drake’s eyes change from angry to smoldering before I’ve finished my sentence, and he leans in. “Noelle, if the handcuffs hurt, then he didn’t fuck you properly.”

“Sounds like someone uses his cuffs off duty.”

He grabs the door handle, his fingers brushing the side of my ass, and I ignore the sharp breath my lungs are begging me for. “Get in the car, Bond.”

“And here I was thinking you were about to promise to show me how to use handcuffs properly in bed.”

He tugs on the door so I all but fall against him. I’m only steadied by the grip he still has on my arm, although it’s softened a little now.

“If I ever get desperate, I have your number.”

He’s lucky he moves away, because I’m two seconds from jabbing my heel into his foot and giving him another scar to go with the bullet one I gave him twelve years ago.

“Good to know I need to change my number,” I mutter, settling into the car. At least he opened the front passenger’s door and not the back.

Sitting in the back would make everyone we pass assume I’m being arrested for murdering Lena, and if that happened, my dad would cause a riot at the station, my mom would cry, and Nonna would scream in expletive-laden Italian that she was right about her little zitella having a dangerous job and my gun permit has lead me astray.

And nobody, and I mean nobody, needs that in their life.

Nobody else, that is.

I don’t need to hear their complaints about it. I have enough of my own to go around. Maybe I should raffle them off.

“Earth to Noelle.” Drake snaps his fingers an inch away from my nose.

I blink sharply and turn to him. “What?”

“I hope your excuse for ignoring me for the last five minutes is because you’re thinking about the case.”

“Uh…I’m spacey, okay? Don’t judge. Some of my best moments are when I’m thinking about cupcakes.”

Drake mutters something under his breath and gets out of the car. At least I’m still holding the Perkins file. To be honest, I was so wrapped up in imagining Nonna tearing the police department into lasagna noodles that he could have taken it and I wouldn’t have noticed.

I really have to work on my skills of observation and focus.

“Hi, Noelle.” Charlotte, the station receptionist smiles at me.

“Hi!” I throw a wave over my shoulder as Drake drags me through his station.

“We’re here to work,” he mutters.

“And? I don’t work with you. I’m on my own time, and you’re not paying me for this.”

“Think of it as pro bono for the NWPD.”

“Ha!” I snatch my arm from his grip as we approach his office. “Working pro bono for you? I’m getting a whole list of things under the title ‘Prefer To Shoot Myself In The Foot Than Do.’”

“Yeah? Getting long, is it?”

“Every single one of them involves you, so you could say so.”

“Sit down, Bond.”

Sigh. I was supposed to be the Bond girl. Not just Bond.

Still, I sit down in one of the chairs opposite Drake’s desk. He unclips his belt and lays it on the desk. Then he parks his butt in his chair and looks at me expectantly. I set the file on the wooden surface before me and pull my purse onto my lap. His eyes get icier and more intense as I pull out my clear lip gloss, coat my lips, then drop it back into the depths of my purse.