Dad's Detective Best Friend: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 164) Read online

  We stare at each other for a moment, and then a corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

  “You like handcuffs then? They turn you on?”

  “It seems so,” I shrug, trying to sound casual and not like possibly the most inexperienced girl in the whole of Boston.

  “That’s good to know,” he says, and for a moment I see his eyes flash with desire. Then he smiles and to my surprise he holds his hand out.

  “Let’s start again shall we? I’m Matt. You said you were looking for me. So how can I help?”

  I swallow, wondering where the hell to start, as he steps forward and releases my arm from the fence.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Matt

  I let her go, and she doesn’t run away. Maybe I’m crazy to trust her given that I know next to nothing about her – other than that she is hands down the most desirable woman I have ever laid eyes on – but after that kiss it would be pretty rude to keep treating her like a felon. Really, I should apologize...I used to despise the kind of cops that took advantage of their uniform to seduce women, and here I am handcuffing pretty girls to fences. But she did throw herself at me.

  And I still don’t know what she’s doing here. My detective skills appear to be suddenly back on the wane.

  I cross the grass to pick up my gun and seeing her flinch I show her I’m putting the safety on, then I tuck it back under my waistband.

  “Shall we go inside?”

  She hesitates and then nods uncertainly. At the sudden look of vulnerability on her face I realize she is a lot younger than I thought. I would have guessed approaching thirty, but now I’m thinking more like twenty. Which makes her nearly two decades younger than me. I should feel like a heel. I’ve never been into younger women...in fact for a long time now I haven’t bothered with any women. Yet there is something about this one, something that draws me to her like a magnet, and I feel almost like a teenage boy confronted by his crush.

  I let her follow me into the house, hoping that she doesn’t bolt, and then close the door behind her. She looks nervous again.

  “I’m not locking it,” I reassure her. “You can leave any time you like.”

  Inside the house, with the lights on, she looks even more beautiful. Her lips even fuller, her eyes even larger, and her skin creamy and plump. I drag my eyes away from her and cross the kitchen.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask her, pouring myself a whiskey. She shakes her head.

  “No, thank you. Orange juice would be good though.”

  I nod and fetch her a glass of juice with ice, then set it down on the table.

  “Take a seat,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down. She sits opposite me, looking slightly awkward now, and for a moment I think she looks familiar and wonder if I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t a woman that I could ever meet and then forget.

  “So, are you finally going to tell me why you were looking for me?”

  She takes a deep breath and, in that instant, I realize that whatever it is, this is serious.

  “I’m Lucy,” she says, and looks at me intently as if this is supposed to mean something to me. Then she sighs, and I try not to notice how it makes her tits wobble in that tight white top that she’s wearing.

  “Lucy Springer,” she says, “Detective Adam Springer's daughter. Your old best friend.”

  I just gape at her as a blur of thoughts go round and round in my head. Adam Springer...my once best friend. We were so close...we went through the academy together, went undercover together...hell, I was best man at his wedding...before Lucy was even born. That thought makes me groan in shame and I put my head in my hands.

  “You could have told me this before I kissed you,” I say.

  “I’m sorry,” she says and her voice is completely sincere. “It wasn’t part of the plan, believe me. I just...maybe it was the handcuffs.” She tries to make light of it, but right now I’m not finding the situation very funny. I pick up my whiskey and drain the glass in one go, then set it back on the table and look at her, serious now. If this has something to do with Adam, it probably isn’t going to be good.

  I walked away from Adam...and the police force...when I found out what he was doing. Taking backhanders, informing the criminals when he was supposed to be undercover...he endangered my life as well as his own. When I thought it was all just to pay for his dying wife’s treatment, that was one thing, but it carried on...I begged him to stop, told him to take a break, get grief counseling, take his daughter and have a long holiday...then I found out he had taken a bribe from the Kinahan’s, and that was me done. I couldn’t snitch on him – he was my childhood friend – but I wasn’t going to stand around and watch it either. I was fed up with the force anyway. It wasn’t just Adam...there was corruption everywhere.

  So now I’m a private detective. And quite honestly, I sometimes deal with some shady people myself. But I know my limits, the lines I won’t cross, and I prefer finding my own morals in this slightly shady world to trying to uphold the law in a rotten to the core institution. It’s not as though Adam was the only one...I just thought I knew him better than that.

  Lucy’s face softens as she seems to almost read my mind.

  “Dad told me why you fell out,” she says, and I can’t bear the empathy in her words. I don’t get emotional...so why is she getting to me so much? “That he was taking bribes...and you found out. That you have barely spoken since.”

  “I sent Christmas cards,” I say gruffly. She nods again and her eyes are soft.

  “I know. He kept them.”

  “So, this is why you’re here? To try and reconcile us?” Even as I say it, I know that’s not it. It would be overkill...and besides, Adam would come himself.

  “I wish it was the simple,” she says and for a moment she looks so sad and so hurt that I want to gather her into my arms and kiss all her pain away, and I couldn’t give a rats ass who her dad is...she’s mine.

  All of a sudden there are tears shining in her eyes.

  “He’s been arrested. For drug trafficking.”

  What the fuck? My mouth falls open and I shut it quickly, not wanting Lucy to see my horror...or disgust. It is her father, after all.

  But I just can’t believe it. Taking bribes in one thing...but drug dealing? Assisting the cartels that we spent years working together, trying to break down? I just can’t believe Adam would stoop that low. Obviously, I don’t know him at all anymore.

  “He didn’t do it,” she says quickly, but although her voice is firm, I can see the expression of doubt in her eyes. She isn’t sure.

  “Then how has he been arrested?” I ask, although I try to inject some kindness into my tone. I can see the anguish in her eyes now and for some reason it pierces me to the bone. At the sight of her in pain I feel a rush of protectiveness.

  Which is crazy. I hardly know her. Yes, she’s beautiful...but I’ve never been a man to be easily swayed by a pretty face.

  She’s Adam’s daughter, I tell myself. Of course, I feel protective...I try to ignore the voice in my head and the throbbing in my groin that tells me it's much more than that.

  This whole situation is a mess...and it would be a lot clearer if images of her naked beneath me didn’t keep popping into my mind at the most inappropriate time.

  “People get arrested all the time for things they haven’t actually done,” she says in a clipped tone, back on the defensive.

  “Yes, they do,” I agree, “But your father is a respected police detective. They wouldn’t arrest him if they weren’t pretty sure.”

  She lifts her chin defiantly and I have to admire her loyalty even though she clearly isn’t sure herself as to his innocence.

  I bet she would be loyal to her man too.

  “He told me he was set up.”

  I fight not to roll my eyes. That’s what they all say.

  “Okay. And you’re here because...”

  “He sent me. He said you were the only one t
hat could help.”

  I nod and look away from those beautiful eyes as a hint of pleading comes into them. I expected as much, and although I feel suddenly furious with Adam, I don’t want Lucy to see that.

  Because there is no way I’m going to help him out of whatever mess he has managed to get himself into...no matter how much a part of me, completely irrationality, would do anything to take that look of distress out of Lucy’s eyes. I tried, a decade ago, to make Adam see sense and he wouldn’t. I left the force because of my disgust at the corruption I found...but I kept quiet about Adam, even though it went against every ounce of honor that I possess, because he was my friend.

  Perhaps I should have snitched on him, and he might not be in this mess now...and this vision of loveliness that I really must keep my hands off would not be sitting across from me at my kitchen table.

  I force myself to meet her eyes, bracing myself for the disappointment I’m about to see in them.

  “No,” I tell her, in a voice that brooks no argument. “No, I can’t help you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lucy

  I hear the finality in his tone and my heart sinks. This was my only chance to help my dad, and I’ve failed. I would plead with him, but my pride stops me. Perhaps if he hadn’t just had me in his arms all but ready to give myself to him in his backyard it would be a different matter, but as it is...no way am I going to beg him.

  I blink back tears and he looks away sharply. He feels guilty, I’m sure he does.

  “He said you were the only one who could help,” I say flatly. A statement, not a request. He sighs heavily and looks genuinely regretful...maybe there’s hope after all.

  Matt gets up and walks over to the counter to pour himself another drink, which again he gulps back quickly. For all that he looks as hard as nails this has obviously rattled him.

  “Did he give you any of the details?” he asks, narrowing his eyes, “Or did he just tell you to come and find me?”

  I try to remember Dad’s exact words.

  “He said he had been set up,” I say slowly, “that he thought he was taking the fall for someone, but he didn’t know who. That he has taken a couple of bribes over the last few years, but that’s it. He’s not directly involved in...” I pause, unable to say it, “anything as bad as that. That was it...oh, and he gave me a name...he seemed to think it would mean something to you.”

  Matt closes his eyes briefly as though in pain and I get the feeling he knows exactly which name I’m about to give in.

  “Go on.”

  “Keen...ahan?”

  I see him stiffen and his expression becomes even more guarded and his eyes opaque, so that now I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

  “Kinahan,” he says. I nod.

  “Who is he?”

  He hesitates before telling me anything. “That’s not information you want to know.”

  “You can’t just tell me the basics? My father is in jail, and I would like to help get him out.” If he really is innocent, I think.

  Matt raises a sardonic eyebrow at me and folds his arms in front of him.

  “The Kinahan's are a major drug cartel. They are the epitome of the Irish-American mafia. Me and your father were working to bring them down years ago...it didn’t happen.”

  “Were they too powerful?” I ask and for a moment he looks angry.

  “No one is so powerful that they can’t be brought down...but it would have been a lot easier if your father hadn’t been taking kickbacks...and jeopardizing the entire investigation.”

  The bitterness in his voice shocks me. My father’s betrayal has really hurt him, I realize, in a personal rather than just professional way.

  “I’m sorry,” I say and mean it. He shakes his head wearily and my heart goes out to this sudden glimpse of vulnerability in him.

  “It has nothing to do with you Lucy,” he says softly, his voice almost a caress that makes my skin tingle. I look away, telling myself to concentrate on the matter at hand and not on how much my body wants me to stop the talking and get back to where we were just moments before.

  “Your dad shouldn’t have gotten you involved,” he says.

  “Well, he hasn’t really. He gave me this address and asked me to give you that message.”

  “He hasn’t tried to contact me for years.”

  “Then he must be pretty desperate to ask for help now,” I point out, holding my breath as for a moment Matt actually looks like he might be considering it. Then he shakes his head again.

  “I’m not being dragged into this...and you shouldn’t be either.” His tone is final as he turns around and puts his glass into the sink, giving me a chance to compose myself, because I want to cry again. The tumult of emotions I’m feeling right now is overpowering.

  “How did you get here? Do you drive?”

  I shake my head. “I got the late bus and walked.” I don’t tell him I spent an hour getting lost because I don’t know the neighborhood.

  “Right,” he stands up, “then I’ll drive you home.”

  I feel disappointed on so many levels that I wouldn’t know where to begin unpacking it all. I stand up too without speaking and follow him through the house and out of the front door. It’s a lovely house from what I can see of it. He has expensive, if minimalist tastes, although the house seems too big for a man on his own. And I’m assuming he is on his own, judging by that kiss.

  The car is pretty fancy too, a dark blue Saab with blacked out windows. He’s clearly doing well for himself as a private detective.

  “So, what sort of work do you do now?” I ask as I strap myself into the passenger seat. “Dad said you had gone private...is that like, tracking down cheating husbands and things?”

  He laughs then and the atmosphere lightens a little as he pulls off.

  “It was a bit like that in the beginning,” he admits. “But now I mostly do corporate espionage, fraud, that sort of thing.”

  That explains the money.

  “I wish Dad had chosen that sort of route instead of taking bribes,” I say wistfully. I’m not trying to make him feel guilty, but a look crosses his face anyway.

  “I guess your Dad needed money fast when your Mom was ill. I could understand that,” he says kindly, “what I couldn’t get my head around was the fact that he carried on afterwards.”

  “He was never the same after she died,” I say quietly. He doesn’t answer, and we drive back to my house in silence. The house I still live in with my father, my childhood home. Dad never wanted to move, perhaps not wanting to leave the memories of my mother that its bricks and mortar contain.

  I want to say that to Matt...to convince him that Dad isn’t a bad person and needs his help, but I don’t. It's clear that he’s made up his mind.

  He’s not going to help us, which might mean Dad going to prison for a very long time. I feel completely despondent now and I stare out of the window as the lights of the suburbs flash by. He takes the long way around, avoiding the city center, and I wonder if that’s because of what I’ve told him, or if he’s just avoiding the traffic. This whole thing still feels completely surreal to me.

  We pull up on my street and I take a deep breath. I feel a stab of acute sadness that I will probably never see him again...the interlude in the garden probably meaning nothing to him. Looking like that, I bet women throw themselves at him all the time.

  But it was my first real kiss, unless you count my classmate Harvey lunging at me at prom, and I don’t. It feels wrong that he doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know that I will never forget how good it felt when he pushed me up against that fence and claimed my mouth as his...but I’m not about to tell him.

  “Well, bye then,” I say lamely. He doesn’t even look at me but continues to stare straight ahead. I see a muscle twitching in his jaw and wonder what he’s really thinking.

  “Take care of yourself,” he says, again without looking at me. I’m clearly not getting anything else from him, so I sigh and s
tart to let myself out of his car.

  Then I freeze. There’s a light on upstairs in my house...in my Dad’s bedroom. Have they let him out already? But that makes no sense as his bail hearing isn’t until the morning.

  I’m certain that light wasn’t on when I left.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt asks and I turn to see his eyes scanning my face. “You’ve gone all tense.”

  “I think there’s someone in my house,” I say, feeling fear coalesce in the pit of my stomach as Matt looks grim. “That light upstairs wasn’t on when I left, I would swear on it.”

  “Stay here,” he says, “I’ll check it out for you.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but then I remember that he’s a big, strong man, and that he has a gun. He will be a lot more intimidating to an intruder than little old me. I nod, feeling guilty even as I hand him my keys.

  “But what if you get hurt?”

  He reaches into his pocket and passes me his phone, unlocking the screen before passing it to me.

  “If I’m not out in fifteen minutes,” he orders, “call the police. If you see anyone come out of the house that isn’t me, get down and then phone the place. And keep the car doors locked.”

  I can hear my pulse thumping in my ears. “You think it’s that serious?”

  “Let’s hope not,” he says and then gets out of the car and strides purposefully towards my front door. I hold my breath as I watch him open the door and walk inside and I even cringe, expecting to hear a gunshot or something.

  When nothing happens, I let out an exhale and look down at the phone in my hand, wondering if I should key in 911 now, just in case I need to press call quickly. I do so, avoiding the sudden temptation to go through his phone and see how many women’s numbers he has in there...or even saucy text messages. It's none of my damn business.

  But that doesn’t stop the stab of jealousy at the thought of it, though.

  CHAPTER SIX