“Then maybe try not acting like one.”

“I apologized. I said I wasn’t thinking about how my dancing might appear to others. But don’t call me a whore. In fact, don’t call me any names.” I unbuckled and grabbed for the door handle. As I went to open it, Braden caught my other wrist. His grip was really tight.

“Owww. You’re hurting me. Let go.”

Braden’s jaw flexed. He stared right at me, but I felt like he wasn’t actually seeing me. “Braden, let go. That hurts.”

After a few more heartbeats, he released my hand. “Stay. Don’t get out.”

I rubbed my wrist. “That hurt, Braden.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to stop you from leaving.”

Something about the incident didn’t sit right, and my gut told me to get out.

But Braden stroked my hair. “I’m sorry, babe. Sorry about it all—for calling you a name and for squeezing you too hard.” He lifted my wrist to his mouth and kissed the inside. “I just drove all the way up after work to surprise you and tell you the good news, and when I found you, you were all over another guy, and then some other guy grabbed you.” He shook his head. “I overreacted. I love you. Forgive me?”

I felt bad. He’d driven five hours up to Boston only to find me rubbing myself all over another guy. “It’s okay. Just please don’t let it happen again.”

He smiled. “It won’t.” Leaning across the center console, he brushed hair from my face. “I missed you. I’m glad I found you.”

I softened. “I missed you, too.”

As he started the car, it dawned on me for the first time that he had found me. “How did you know where I was tonight?”

“Your iPhone. Location tracker.”

“Oh.” I thought a minute. “I didn’t realize I had that on. Don’t I have to grant you access or something?”

Braden shrugged and held out his hand. “I guess you did at some point.”

Again, I had a fleeting funny feeling. But this was my boyfriend of two years… I’d probably shared my location with him at some point and just didn’t remember. So I pushed it aside and laced my fingers with his.

Yet for the rest of the weekend, I couldn’t shake this niggling feeling. I kept trying to remember exactly when I’d shared my location with Braden. I had a pretty good memory, yet no matter how long and hard I thought, I couldn’t ever recall doing it.

CHAPTER 14

* * *

Donovan

“Come on, Elliott. Work with me on this.”

Elliott Silver tossed a file from his desk over to a folding table set up on the right. The file hit a giant pile and knocked two other folders to the floor. He frowned.

I definitely didn’t miss my days at the DA’s office.

“He’s got two priors and he’s twelve, Decker. He also broke two bones in the guy’s nose—the violence is escalating. This is exactly the type of case I shouldn’t cut a deal on.”

“What if we give you a dealer?”

Elliott waved his hands around his office. “Do I look like I need another case?”

“This wouldn’t be another case. It would be a better case. You can get rid of this nickel-and-dime shit on a minor and put away a guy whose been polluting the streets with drugs for years.”

He shook his head. “No offense, Decker, but all I gotta do is drive my car over to just about any corner in that neighborhood, roll down my window, and flash some green—I can pick up a drug dealer. Why am I going to let some punk off when I don’t need whatever he’s got?”

This was turning out to be harder than I’d thought. “Storm isn’t a punk. He’s a good kid with good grades who just got screwed over in life. He’s a victim of his surroundings. Putting him in juvey is only going to compound that, not make it better.”

Elliott squinted at me before chuckling. “Damn. You’ve gotten even better over the years. I almost believe you think this kid’s got a chance.”

I blew out a deep breath. This kid does have a chance. I know it because I was this damn kid. I’m generally not the kind of guy to lord shit over people, but I felt pretty desperate right now.

I leaned forward in my seat. “Listen. Didn’t you ever make a mistake?”

“Did I ever break another person’s nose? No, I haven’t.”

“Okay, but you have to have made some mistake.” I hesitated, because it’s really not my style to threaten someone—at least not since I grew up. But fuck. I needed this, for more reasons than one. “Maybe here at work once even? Didn’t you ever make a mistake that could have screwed you somehow, and someone somewhere gave you a second chance?”

Elliott had started packing up his briefcase, but he stopped in his tracks and looked up at me. During our first year in the DA’s office, he’d royally screwed up a case—broke confidentiality to a woman he was sleeping with, who it turned out was the drug dealer’s sister setting him up. I’d taken the case over and buried it for him, cutting a deal the guy didn’t deserve.

He held my eyes as he shook his head. “You’re a motherfucker, you know that?”

I bowed my head and nodded, too ashamed to look the guy in the eye. “I need this one, Elliott.”

He resumed shoving files into his briefcase and spoke between gritted teeth. “Fine. But I’m not dropping the charges right away. He’s going into a pre-trial diversion program. He goes to a psychologist weekly for a year, enrolls in an anger-management program, and does fifty hours of community service.” He held up a finger in warning. “If and when he completes everything, and provided he gets into no further trouble, then I’ll drop the charges.”

I inwardly fist pumped. “Deal.”

Elliott looked me straight in the eye. “And we’re even after this. I’m not fucking around, Decker. Don’t pull this shit on me again.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

He motioned to the door behind me. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

***

“Why are you so late?” Juliette wiped her mouth, crumpled up her napkin, and tossed it into her empty food container on the table.

I reached for the bag and pulled out my lunch. They’d phoned in our usual Wednesday order while I was on my way back from the DA’s office.

“I was downtown on a case.”

“Oh yeah? What undeserving billionaire did you save today?”

I sat down and opened my Szechuan shrimp and broccoli. “Today I used my superpowers for the good of a child, if you must know.”

Trent and Juliette looked at each other. “Have you figured out a game plan for how you’re going to handle things?” she asked.

I picked up a shrimp with my chopsticks and popped it into my mouth. “No game plan needed. Worked out a deal.”

Juliette shook her head. “I wasn’t referring to the kid. I meant his social worker.”

My forehead wrinkled, and I shrugged. “I haven’t told her yet. But I’m sure she’ll be happy about it.”