Internal Affairs

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Rafe didn’t know or much care. It had been a shock, and a delight, and maybe Phil was right. Maybe he was letting his emotions, his desire, override his reason. But he had been trained to protect and serve, and who better to protect than someone he knew? Someone he had loved?

Oliver Sloan was a bad man—worse yet, a bad man with connections—but if Rafe didn’t confront him about Lisa, who would?

Rafe had seen Sloan’s type time and again, and he knew full well that unless someone called him on his behavior, it wouldn’t change. Unless Sloan was told, in no uncertain terms, to leave Lisa alone, he would be back, and the violence would escalate.

It always did.

So when Rafe finished his report and dropped it on Kate’s desk, he didn’t bother to shower, didn’t bother to change out of his uniform. He ran a quick address check, then went straight to the department garage and signed out a new patrol car.

Then he headed across town to talk to Oliver Sloan.

Chapter Seven

Sloan despised himself sometimes.

It didn’t happen often, and it was never because of the things he’d done—and he had done quite a few sketchy things in his life.

No, this occasional self-loathing came down to one thing. How he felt. About Lisa, in particular.

His entire life, Sloan had never had trouble getting women. He was, after all, a good-looking guy—something he’d been well aware of since his second birthday.

His mother used to dote on him, call him her little movie star. The girls in middle and high school used to stare at him as he walked the halls, hoping he’d grace them with a glance of his piercing blue eyes. And if you were to put him in a lineup with Brad Pitt and George Clooney, well, let’s just say those two cretins would have to fight for attention.

This wasn’t ego at work. Sloan merely saw what he saw when he looked in the mirror, and knew what he knew. And when he snapped his fingers, the women came running as if they hadn’t had a meal in a week and were just dying to get a taste of Oliver Sloan.

But that Lisa, she was different.

No amount of good looks and charm could crack its way through that cement wall she’d built around her, and that aggravated Sloan no end. Yet she had gotten so deep under his skin that he felt an itch every time he was around her. A desire so strong that he lost control. Almost felt powerless in her presence.

And Sloan didn’t like feeling powerless.