16

Selena

“I can read your thoughts, can smell your longing for what only I can give you.”

The bastard’s words had lingered in my mind the entire day. Even worse, he’d been right. Joshua James had ceremoniously attempted to terrify and entice me at the same time, his possessiveness evident in everything about him.

His attire.

His demeanor.

His gestures.

The way he’d looked at me, as if I’d fall to my knees should he point to the floor, should be disturbing as hell. Maybe it was the fact he was years older than me that kept me in limbo. Or simply his ridiculously sexy body.

“Girl. You need to get a grip.”

I could swear his scent lingered on my skin when he hadn’t touched me inside that interrogation room. But dear God, I’d wanted him to. What did that make me? Sick. Twisted. There were other more caustic phrases I could use to describe my actions, my thoughts, and my desires.

Shaking, I couldn’t seem to get warm, even though I’d turned up the heat to full blast inside my car. I was losing my mind or had fallen into some crazy kind of dark spell. Whatever the case, the fact my pussy continued to throb was just as troubling as the situation.

Innocent until proven guilty.

You must do the right thing.

They were phrases that had entered my mind more than once during the day. I’d even stood outside Christine’s office twice, prepared to tell her I was involved with the man, except I wasn’t. Even if the bastard had made it perfectly clear I belonged to him. He was the lunatic, not me.

I tried to shove Joshua out of my mind, homing into the breaking news broadcast about the man’s release. He was walking free, which meant his attorney had some kind of clout even though he was from another country. I had to wonder who he’d hired to be the lead defense attorney. I took a deep breath, almost calling Jenny to see if she could find out, but in doing so I’d need to confess my sins. That was something I wasn’t ready to do. Why did I feel like the clock was ticking and the explosion if I didn’t end this quickly would be as horrific as the crime?

“How the fuck did that happen?” I muttered to the empty car as I headed toward the medical examiner’s office. I often talkedto myself when I was angry or concerned. And right now, I was enraged and sick to my stomach with worry.

I couldn’t believe a judge had let a man like Joshua James out on bail so quickly, but it was apparent the man had no issue paying the two million dollars needed to do so. I’d spent my entire afternoon researching the man’s corporation in Montreal, including his significant holdings and every scrap of information I could find on both him and his family. Much of his world was kept private, which was one reason I’d never seen his face before. Granted, in my spare time I didn’t research crime syndicates either. I rolled my eyes at the thought. To the outside world, he and his family were upstanding citizens. Even if it was apparent they controlled much of the area surrounding Montreal.

Had I known who and what he was, I never would have even considered being in the same room with the bastard, let alone… I swallowed hard, hating him for what he’d done to me, the awkward position he’d placed me in. No, the truth was I hated myself for allowing him to break down my barriers.

Don’t kid yourself. You did it. He only provided the ammunition to do so.

Dear God, I hated my inner voice, especially when she was right. Maybe that’s why rage had remained with me the entire day, my teeth aching from how hard my jaw had clenched. I’d barked at everyone in my office, including the poor kid who’d almost dropped my beloved coffee at my favorite shop around the corner from the office. I thought the kid was going to burst into tears from how harsh I was.

I had to get control of myself. From how it appeared, I was Joshua’s only possible alibi, which was something he couldhave easily explained in front of his attorney. Sure, he’d been seen at the hotel, including by Matt the bartender. If the guy was questioned, it wouldn’t take long to point the lead in my direction, especially if the young man watched television. Why Joshua had chosen to allow me to take the reins I wasn’t certain, but men like Mr. James never did anything without a reason. I shuddered at the thought. I was also no fool, reading people pretty damn well. He’d use our intimate relationship against me somehow.

Why?

Was it possible he’d killed then then returned to my bed? Oh, hell, no. I couldn’t think that way or I’d become sick to my stomach.

The exact timing of the murders was something I needed to know as soon as possible. I hadn’t announced my trip to the morgue, but I wasn’t leaving without Victoria providing the time of death. Victoria Wiseberg was a damn good ME, far better than her predecessor. Like both myself and Christine, she was a take no shit kind of woman, but hated interference when she was savoring her craft, as she liked to call dissecting people during an autopsy.

It was already after five. I’d brought my work laptop home, determined to do some additional work before Jenny came over. However, a glass of wine or five was definitely in order. Maybe something stronger at this point. It had been a shit day, including the several reporters attempting to get a status on the case. The obligatory meeting with Christine had been draining, my mind still processing my horrible luck.

Now I couldn’t seem to get Joshua’s face or his incredible body out of my mind. He’d purposely goaded me, which I hated himfor, but in a way, he’d protected me as well. I couldn’t forget that in my bouts of anger, which there had been several throughout the day.

I turned onto the street where the morgue was housed, allowing my thoughts to return to what I’d learned about the man. He was considered savage, ruthless, powerful, and a consummate businessman by almost everyone. It would seem both he and his family had control over a significant portion of Canada, not just Montreal and the surrounding areas.

The report had been right in that he’d never been formally arrested, although I’d weeded through enough articles in various online newspapers to determine that he’d been the suspect in a couple of high-profile murders, including of a known enemy several years before. However, what I found fascinating was for the most part, the Canadian press was kind to him and his family, as if he was considered royalty.

There was even a photograph taken with him and the prime minister of Canada, both men smiling as they prepared for a game of golf. Maybe things were different in our adjoining country.

I pulled into the parking lot, trying to rationalize how I was going to handle prosecuting this case. A part of me hoped for slam dunk evidence that Joshua wasn’t guilty so I could get him out of my life quickly. Somehow, I had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. I’d considered the possibility he’d been framed but if that was the case, by whom? Did that mean the streets of Louisville should be prepared for a bloodbath?

While there were somewhere close to twenty to twenty-five gangs identified within the city, most were considered neighborhood entities, only some venturing out of theirrespective areas. The Voltairs were the single example of a more polished, well organized, and wealthy syndicate located within the city limits. With the leader being murdered, that could mean there was a larger rival mafia ready to storm into the city.

The possibilities were endless, and I wasn’t going to find any answers until I knew exactly what I was dealing with.

As I headed to the door of the morgue, it felt as if icy fingers were crawling down my back. There was little more I loathed than going inside, doing everything I could to send someone else to do the dirty deed. However, Victoria spent more time in the city’s morgue than she did in her office located in a nearby hospital. I knew I could find her here at all hours of the day or night.

The girl behind the counter was someone I knew. “Hey, Bailey. I assume Victoria is in?” I signed the check-in sheet, one of Victoria’s crude jokes coming into the back of my mind.

“Our patients check in but they never check out, just like Hotel California.”

The woman had a twisted sense of humor, which is likely why she could handle such macabre work.

Bailey was a young girl with a Goth look and attitude, the black-on-black attire befitting the job she’d been working far too well. Even her makeup reflected her adoration for metal music and whatever else she considered a hobby. I didn’t ask, didn’t want to know. What I did know was that she was brilliant, studying to become a pediatrician, and her parents were well respected in the community.

She looked up from one of her old-fashioned textbooks, which she preferred versus using her laptop, nodding only once. “You know she’s always here.”

“Sometimes I think she’s a vampire.”

“You didn’t know she is?”

I gave her a dour look and she grinned. “Very funny. Study hard.”

“I am. Less than one year to go.”