Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I need to find out who did this.
Where do I start?
I need Erin's advice. She'll know what to do.
Grabbing my phone off the charger, I sink down onto the sofa and kick my shoes off before dialing her number.
It rings twice.
"Wassup? It's Erin. If you reached this message, you already know I'm not going to listen to your voicemail. Text me!"
"Hey, it's me," I say after the beep anyway. "I need your help. Please call me as soon as you get this."
I end the call and hesitate for a moment before firing off a text telling her I need her help.
And then I settle down to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do.
Chapter Five
Cameron
"This is Hernandez," Octavio growls into the phone.
"Shit. Did I wake you?" I ask, rolling to a stop as the light ahead changes from green to yellow. The Civic behind me lays on the horn. I glance in the rearview mirror in time to see the driver screaming at me through the windshield like it's my fault the fucking light changed. I hit the switch to activate my rear takedown lights.
My unit is unmarked, which I'm guessing he didn't know because as soon as he sees the lights activate, he snaps his mouth closed and hunkers down in the seat like that's going to hide him from me. Idiot. I hit the switch to turn off the lights and quickly glance ahead, hoping Ivy didn't see them.
He's lucky I'm tailing her again, or we'd be having a chat about road rage and how red lights operate. People are always in such a fucking hurry. The only problems in the world that exist to them are their own, no matter that other people have it a helluva lot worse. Like Ivy. Poor little kitten is in a world of trouble, and I don't think any of it is of her own making.
I saw the look of horror on her face when she was reading those text messages yesterday. She'd never seen them before I handed her the printouts. Watching her cry ripped my heart out. I've delivered the worst news possible to more families than I can count. Watching them break always tugs at my heartstrings, but never like this. Seeing her crack yesterday, I actually felt fucking helpless.
I wanted to scoop her up into my arms and promise her that everything would be okay, but I couldn't. The entire room is recorded, and I don't want to be the asshole who makes promises I can't keep. Things aren't okay. If the kid's body washes up, she'll be charged with manslaughter.
The evidence piling up doesn't look good for her.
And yet…and yet I know she didn't do it. I feel it in my fucking soul. My instincts have never failed me before. I refuse to believe they have this time. Ivy Kendall is innocent. My best guess is that someone she knows used her identity to target this kid. Whether it was for money or for kicks or out of spite, I don't know. In this day and age, it's anyone's guess.
People do a lot of terrible shit when they think no one is watching. They think they're anonymous because they're hidden behind a computer or phone screen. That sense of safety is usually what topples them. They get complacent, thinking that anonymity makes them invincible. It doesn't.
It makes them stupid. They make mistakes or forget little details.
The thing is though, I don't forget. Everything I see, everything I hear…I remember it all. It's why I'm the youngest detective in this city. I see things no one else does, remember shit everyone else has forgotten, and put the pieces together while everyone else is still searching for them.
Sooner or later, I'll spot the mistake. I'll clear Ivy's name.
And then I'm making her mine.
If I make it that long. The way she's fucking with my head, we might be rearranging some of those steps real soon. Because I've been jerking my dick raw to thoughts of her for days now, and I still want her on her back, dripping my cum. Patience may be a virtue, but I prefer vice. Especially the ones that end with her naked, wearing my handprints on that gorgeous ass.
"Being woken up would suggest I went to sleep," Octavio mumbles into the phone. "I've been up since yesterday, chasing a serial rapist all over this city."
"Pinche pendejo," I mutter, scowling. Nothing pisses me off more than men who prey on women.
"Árbol que nace torcido, jamás su rama endereza," Octavio says, yawning.
A tree born twisted will never straighten its branches. He's not wrong. Some people will never be anything less than a danger to society. Which is exactly why men like Octavio and I do what we do. Law enforcement isn't easy. Between the long hours, the criminals, the bad cops, and the shit pay, most of the time, this job is a goddamn nightmare. But I learned a long time ago that some things are worth it. Protecting people who need protecting, saving innocent lives…there's nothing more worth it than that.