Sweet Arrest

By: Jordyn Tracey


"Oh."

His tone softened. “Listen, take this number down. Tell the guy who answers I sent you. He will get you done quickly. I will expedite things on my end and get him the proper release to do clean up. That should get you back in there in about two days. Will that help?"

She sniffled. “Yes, thank you so much. I know you should remain neutral on this, but you can't begin to know how much this means to me.” She scribbled down the number he recited.

"Good. I will be in touch.” The line went dead. She frowned, and just when she was tossing the phone on the bed, the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be?” Her throat closed as she descended the stairs. He certainly didn't waste any time. John's head was visible through the lace curtains at the small window in the door. She had neglected to pull the shade there. Steeling herself, she opened the door. “Hello, John."

"Hey, baby.” He grinned, revealing slightly yellowed teeth and stepped past her without giving her the chance or the choice to invite him in. “I can't believe my good fortune today. But then again.” He tapped his temples with his fingertips. “I always stay positive, and know that my time's coming. Girl, I been fantasizing about spending time with you."

She cringed. “And you feel like you have the chance now that I'm obligated to you, is that it? Lying to the police about being with me last night?"

His heated gaze spanned her body from top to bottom and back again. Nostrils flared and a smirk on his face, he shook his head. “I might not have been here last night, but I could be tonight."

"I-I...” She sagged against the door she had neglected to close. The lock pressed painfully into her back, but she didn't move. “You think I should sleep with you to be my alibi."

He walked up on her, towering slightly. In some corner of her mind, she noted that where John looked awkward at somewhere around six-five, with little muscle tone, Detective Pierce was just as tall and built to make a woman wet just looking at him. A'isha just cleared his chin.

John dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder, one that slid lower to the beginning swell of her breast. Her heart hammered, and her mouth dried in an instant.

"I want you,” he told her, caressing where his hand lay and blowing a warm breath in her hair. “I want to bend you over a chair and bang that ass until we're both sore, but I'm not going to force you. I don't want some snotty, crying woman. I want you screaming my name and begging me for more. For now, I'll settle for a date."

"Okay. I can do that.” She shivered at the image he drew of her bent over a chair. Tolerating him for a few dates was no big deal. She had every intention of helping Detective Pierce with his investigation to wrap this thing up. If he had more suspects, stronger ones, then maybe it wouldn't matter if he knew the truth about her being alone. In a way, she was glad he didn't believe her, although it wasn't likely he would ask her out. “When do you want to do this, John?"

"Tonight. Eight o'clock. We can go to dinner.” He backed off, moving to push the screen door open. “Oh and wear something low cut so I can enjoy the view."

What happened to the man who turned her off but was at least respectful? Give him a little leverage, and he was just as much of an ass as anyone else. She slammed the door. With the rest of the day free, she would spend it trying to find out just what Ms. Cammie was up to that she had been missing so much time from work. Maybe she did have a boyfriend and they'd had a falling out.

Her physical files were in a dresser drawer in her room, copies of the originals at work and duplicates of what she had stored on both CD and her computer's hard drive. Not that she was so efficient, but more like paranoid something would go wrong and she wouldn't have records to prove something. “Yeah, like prove my innocence."

After warming a slice of pumpkin mascarpone pie and adding a scoop of vanilla ice cream to the bowl, she carried her comfort food up to her office and began her search. Cammie's file didn't have much in it beyond her application for employment and her tax forms. Her mother used to keep dossiers on customers and anyone who worked for her, personal information she had picked up over time to make their visits to Purely Sweets a positive one. A'isha was under no illusions that she didn't have the touch her mother had.

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