Page 15

15

Hog-tied

I ’m the worst fucking spy on the planet. If this was a paid gig and not a generational duty, I’d be fired. Instead of insisting that Brick bring me back to his place so I could snoop through his shit while he slept, I let him return to my home. I didn’t even protest when he pulled into my driveway and followed me inside. I just wrapped my arms around his thick neck and shoved my tongue down his throat. I let him pick me up by my ass, carry me to my bed, and fuck and knot me a few more times before falling asleep in his arms.

We both woke in a clearer state of mind. Although I would have enjoyed it if he rolled me over and shoved his face between my legs again, he just kissed me softly down my neck before dressing and slipping out the front door.

I’m supposed to report to Grimm about what I discovered during our second date. What can I possibly tell him? It’s time to head back to the office. I can feign being too busy to talk if I’m not at home, vegging in my jammies for the sixth day in a row.

I quickly shower and dress, reveling in the soreness between my legs. I slap my cheek whenever I catch myself grinning, remembering Brick’s words, the heat in his eyes, the way he looked completely naked. I’m not the type of girl to have my mind altered after being dicked down. I see men for who they are and can compartmentalize their abilities in bed and who they are as a person. I’ve slept with plenty of douches, i.e. Wood: culprit numero uno.

When a car pulls out in front of me on the way to the office, I don’t even flip them off. I just huff and continue thinking about the way Brick ate the tiny sandwiches he prepared for me yesterday. How can he be so intense and so adorable at the same time? No! I slap myself. “Cut it out, Carmen!” I yell as I pull my car into my parking lot, swinging my laptop bag over my shoulder and searching for my office keys. Maybe it’s the whole knotting thing. It’s not the first time I’ve been knotted, but I’ve never had someone so eager about it or filled me so completely. I never thought knotting was my cup of tea, but with Brick, God, it’s the whole damn kettle.

More than that, there’s a shift in my intuition about him. I was sure he was working with the Hunters, but now I’m conflicted. He didn’t say or do anything to reveal otherwise. Well, that’s not true. When he told me that the animosity and fear within our community would end soon, his eyes told a story his mouth wouldn’t share. Could he be inside of this thing deeper than I expected? Or is he just playing his role a little too well? He is the police, after all, trained to lie and get people to do what they want.

I flip the fluorescent lights on, and the silence of the empty office building fills the room. I’m early, and most people don’t show up until after ten—relaxed office rules and all. This is good. There are no distractions, and I can throw myself into my work to stop my Brick hamster wheel brain from spinning.

I open my laptop, plug it into my monitor, and check my planner to see what to dive into first. There are a few stories I’m supposed to follow up on with sources. One about the closing of a family-owned grocery store, one about a racist statue continuing to be vandalized in the park. They would both lead to interesting pieces and be a welcomed reprieve from the madness of Hunters and werewolves. Instead of opening my email and sending a message to the contacts listed, I open Google.

Just as I suspect, nothing comes up when you look for Bryce Brick. Nothing except his picture and title under the Dayton Police Force website. It’s unfair that he can look me up, and I can’t do the same. The internet is a never-ending chasm. Maybe if I focused my search on his past, I’d discover more. I type in Bryce Brick and New York City. It’s not the first link, but after a few scrolls, my cursor lands on an obituary. Not Brick’s, thank God. This would be even more confusing if I’d fucked a dead guy, or more realistically, someone with a fake identity—although, it wouldn’t surprise me. The obituary belongs to Margaret Brick, who died three years ago and is survived by her son, Bryce Brick.

My heart tugs at the corners. This isn’t the news I wanted to find. He mentioned his mother yesterday, but he didn’t say anything about her dying. I knew he was lonely, but now I know he doesn’t have a single person in this world. Did he move to Dayton for a fresh start? Could he really be as innocent as a grieving son taking up a new post to get away from his painful memories?

“Carmen?”

I scream, whipping around. Claws shoot from my fingertips, and my fangs burst through my gums.

“Woah, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Grimm holds up his hands in defense.

I deflate, shifting back to my human form and catching my breath. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He steps closer. “You haven’t been picking up your phone. I needed to make sure you were okay.” Concern etches across his face. He’s still handsome, but the lines near his eyes and lips appear heavier. I’m unsure if it’s from his worry about me or the entire pack. Probably the latter. I don’t envy his position.

I rummage through my bag, pulling out my phone riddled with blaring notifications from Grimm.

“I didn’t want to worry your brother, so I thought I’d look for you myself. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, no. I’m sorry.” I’d been so selfish. I didn’t want to face my failures to a man I respected, so instead, I worried him enough to search for me across town. “I’ve just been behind on work and wanting to catch up on some articles.”

His eyes dart to my computer screen, the obituary still pulled up. I don’t need to frantically click out of my browser as if I’ve been caught. I’m a reporter. This webpage could very well be a part of my job, but my guilt takes over my reason. I’m more invested in Brick than I want to share.

Grimm takes a seat at a chair in the corner of my cubicle. “Well, you’re alive. That’s good news.”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Did you discover anything? Tell me what happened.”

My cheeks heat, and he notices it right away. He shakes his head. “You don’t need to tell me everything. I won’t judge you for how you get information out of him, but I need to know if you uncovered something, no matter how minor it is.”

I hadn’t prepared to talk to him today. I have no lies to give him. I could tell him about the information I discovered about his mother and how I’m attempting to discover if it ties to his connection with the Hunters, but it feels wrong. Brick didn’t even share with me about his mother’s death. He’s supposed to be the enemy, but I can’t help but feel protective of this information.

I ball my fists at my lap. “I wasn’t able to discover anything yesterday. It was a short date.”

His thick eyebrow raises. “A short date?”

“Yes. He’s not much of a talker and brought me home afterward.” All true information. Maybe Kilo’s training did come in handy.

He sighs, rubbing at his temple. “Carmen, we had eyes on you. We saw Brick leave your house this morning.”

I jump to my feet, my blood rising in temperature. “Why did you pretend that you were worried about me being alive if you’ve had people watching me?” I snatch my bag, wanting to dart out of my office and away from this confrontation.

He stands, his hands pleading. “I wanted to see what you would say when asked. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t judge you on how you retrieve information, but having Brick sleep at your place and lying about your time together causes me to be concerned.”

“So what? Am I under investigation now? I’m doing this for the greater good. You know I hate Brick.” The words feel hot and nasty on my tongue.

“Carmen, I trust you. I’m thankful for your continued help. I just want to know what’s going on. I want to know that you’re safe.”

I extend my arms, turning in a circle. “I look safe to you, don’t I?”

“Then why are you hiding things from me? I’m worried he’s getting to you.”

I move toward the exit of my office. “You should know me better and trust my judgment.” I move past him. He’s being irrational and maybe I’m running a bit too hot and should just share my doubts about Brick’s involvement with the Hunters. I don’t have any concrete evidence against it, though, just a vague intuition that could very well be caused by being superbly dicked down. I know this. I need to get out of here. We shouldn’t have this conversation now.

“Carmen, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this,” he calls after me.

I hold the front door for him to exit. I need to lock up and can’t storm off dramatically. I sigh, meeting his saddened eyes. “I don’t want to discuss this now. Give me some time to clear my head and work out some theories. I need to know you trust me enough to do that.”

He stops in front of me. “I do trust you. Of course, I do.”

I nod. “Good. I’ll call you tonight.”

He nods, walking to his red Porsche and hopping inside. I watch him drive out of the desolate parking lot before retrieving my keys and locking the door. So much for getting work done. It seems I need to spend more time clearing my head about Brick. I sigh, looking down at my bag as I walk to my car. Someone steps in front of me, startling me and sending me back a step. Before I have time to register the person, a hand wraps around my mouth, pressing a cloth over my airway. I only struggle against the masked stranger’s grasp for a moment before my world turns dark, and my body limps.