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“Listen to me, So-So. If what I’ve heard is true, you’ll soon be in a position to delegate having somebody to do everything short of wiping your nose for you. Just keep a low profile on this.” She scratched her temple and grimaced. “The curtains are being pulled off a lot of shady windows in this city. Things may get a lot worse before they get any better, so you just be careful, Detective. We can’t afford to lose any more good cops.”
The easy glow returned to Paula’s face and she reached for her coffee mug. “You just delegate and chill out. I’m sure you can find finer ways to spend your time and with finer people. Initials S.R.,” she sang.
Sophia smiled, unable and unwilling to discuss the shiver that danced up her spine.
Chapter 2
Sophia rushed home right after her shift. It was something she rarely did. There was always one more thing to be done—one last report to file, one more lead to follow. That was before Santigo Rodriguez had resumed his place at the top of her thoughts.
She showered, changed and, so as not to appear completely desperate for his company, entertained herself by reading up on the notes she had from the Waymon Cole case. She scoured the pages for anything that might offer a lead to the food chain Paula had alluded to.
Her mind wasn’t on it, though. The words were practically blurring together on the pages. Damn it! she thought, suddenly resenting Tigo’s reappearance in her life.
She was just getting used to getting along without him. Wasn’t she? Sophia couldn’t or wouldn’t answer the question. Just as well since her doorbell was ringing. Quickly, she brushed her hands across the seat of her shorts and went to answer the door.
Tigo’s glare held the unmistakable tint of amusement. “A cop shouldn’t be so careless. You didn’t even ask who it was.”
Sophia tossed her head, sending her high ponytail swinging playfully. “I’ve got a gun,” she reminded him.
He bowed his head, nodding while he leaned on the door frame. “What if he didn’t give you time to pull it?”
Sophia bit her lip, happily willing to melt in response to the alluring depth of his voice. “I do have other ways of defending myself.” She almost didn’t recognize the breathy tinge to her words.
Tigo pushed off the jamb. “And what if he did something you couldn’t defend against?”
Her gray stare was fixed on his mouth. “Like what?” At that point she didn’t care how breathless she was.
Santigo didn’t disappoint. He’d barely dipped his head to oblige her unspoken plea when Sophia moved to her toes and eagerly drew him to her.
One of them moaned. Tigo rested his lean, athletic frame against the door, still holding her securely to him. Sophia savored the lunges of his tongue in her mouth and met the powerful drives of it against hers with her own thrusts of equal intensity, equal need.
She moaned, that time clearly recognizing the gesture as her own. She locked her arms around his neck, wantonly rubbing her body against his, needing to feel every inch of him.
“Sophie.” His whisper sounded suspiciously like a whimper. He curved one hand around her bottom, his thumb grazing the hint of cheek visible beneath the frayed hem of her cutoffs. “Babe?” he murmured amid the lusty thrusting of their tongues.
“Hmm...” Sophia had sealed herself against him so that not one ounce of space existed between them.
“Soap,” he growled his pet name for her and squeezed her bottom with a bit more insistence.
Sophia shivered from the sound of the endearment that she hadn’t heard in so long. It was then that she heard the rustling emerging from below and realized that Tigo was tugging her back. She blinked, taking stock of her actions and the burning sensation in her cheeks.
“I promised dinner,” he said and gave the bag he held another shake.
Sophia hadn’t even noticed it before, and she could not have cared less whether or not he’d kept that particular promise. She wasn’t hungry for food. Still, she recognized the logic in exercising a little more...restraint.
“Right.” She turned away to indulge in a few deep breaths and the necessary lash fluttering while she composed herself. “Do we need plates?”
Tigo shook the bag and moved off the door. “Only if you have a problem eating out of the box.”
Sophia whirled, observing the bag with more interest. “Chinese?”
“Uh-huh.” The striking length of his sleek brows merged to form a frown. “You still eat it, don’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
He laughed and moved farther into her cozy apartment. “Where would you like to have it?”
Sophia could have swooned then for sure. Chinese food in bed, before and after sex, had been one of their many indulgences during the course of their very passionate relationship. Whatever differences they may’ve had outside the bedroom carried no power inside it.
Tigo waited patiently for Sophia’s response, knowing exactly what was going through her mind. It’d been going through his mind all day, longer.... He took stock of her attire. She wore a simple ensemble consisting of a throwback Eagles jersey that virtually covered the denim cutoffs beneath it.
Simple attire or not, it gave him all kinds of ideas and returned all sorts of memories.
“We can eat right in here.” Sophia threw a loose wave toward the living room. “At the coffee table.” Overrun by memories, as well, she knew she was doing a poor job of hiding her fluster.
They studied each other. One quietly observing the other. Just as her eyes had lingered on his mouth, Sophia was fixated on the gold chain he wore, just visible below the open collar of his burgundy shirt. The tails hung outside the waist of his black trousers. Jewelry had always seemed out of place on other men in Sophia’s opinion. On Tigo, it was just right. The piece had belonged to his father, who had died of a heart attack the summer before Tigo had started middle school.
“Would you, um...like a beer?” She asked once her unhurried perusal of his body had concluded.
“I’d like a lot of things, Soap.” He turned away then to give her time to absorb his meaning. “But I’ll settle for a beer.” He started setting out the dinner.
* * *
“Why’d you call me after all this time, Tig?” Sophia queried in a soft, careful manner. They’d eaten in a surprisingly comfortable silence for almost thirty minutes. “I couldn’t have looked that good the day you saw me at lunch with Clarissa,” she murmured into her pint of shrimp lo mein.
Santigo smirked from his reclining position on the large navy armchair that flanked the sofa. “You have no idea,” he replied.
“So what?” She looked up to meet his eyes, unmistakable challenge enhancing her dark lovely face. “Is this about ringing up an ex-lover for another go? Ah...there it is.” She caught sight of the jaw muscle he clenched. “I was wondering if you still had that temper.” She snuggled into the sofa, intent on capturing one of the plump shrimp amid the noodles.
“Yeah, I’ve still got the temper, Sophie. Stupidity always brings it out in me.”
Sophia caught the shrimp and popped the morsel into her mouth. “Stupidity? Hmph, I thought I was being very perceptive.” She managed to sound cool enough when it was all she could do to chew her food as she weighed his reaction.
When there was no reaction, she returned her flint-colored gaze to the pint of food. “Why did you call me, Tig?” she whispered.
“I miss you. I miss you in every way.” There was no hesitation in his response.
Sophia worked the chopsticks deeper into the box and smiled. “So this was about calling me up for another go?”
“Is that why you answered?” he countered.
“Of course not.” She cleared her throat on the lie.
What else could she say, though? That she hadn’t had sex with anyone since him? That on more occasions than she cared to admit, she could only fall asleep after pleasuring herself using memories of them together for stimulus?
She observed him covertly through the thickness of her lashes. He was a picture of ease. She’d be a fool to say he didn’t affect her. What woman wouldn’t be affected by him? His features were a perfect mesh of his biracial heritage, compliments of his African-American mother and Puerto Rican father. His eyes even carried traces of both parents. The gold flecks were a testament to his mother’s rich hazel gaze. They sparkled amid a sea of bottomless ebony, compliments of his father. The fierce perfection of his features was softened by the easy humor that lurked in his stare.
What woman wouldn’t mind being the target of his attention? Sophia asked herself again. He’d always been able to gauge the tracks of her thoughts using little effort, and she resented him for it.
In spite of their years together, she had never been able to get a line on his innermost thoughts. The fact that she was a cop and pretty good at getting into other people’s heads made acknowledging her failure at reading Tigo’s mind a difficult thing to admit.
Then again, she wasn’t a cop around Santigo Rodriguez, was she? She was a woman, just a woman who craved the man who sat in her living room acting like he had no idea what he did to her.
“Thanks for dinner, Tig.” She uncrossed her legs and scooted forward to gather empty and nearly empty containers. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed Chinese with someone.” She returned the items to the carryout bag.
Tigo wondered how often she enjoyed food at all. He knew that she had a tendency to forgo eating when she was in the middle of a project. Years ago, work had consisted of school. Now, it consisted of crime solving and saving lives. Yes, he had a fine idea of how often and how well she ate.
Thankfully, the bad habit hadn’t taken a negative toll on the shapeliness of her tall, mahogany-brown frame. Every part of him roared that he was a pure idiot for denying her when she was all but handing herself to him on a platter.
She hadn’t changed. Correction, she had changed in the most beautifully subtle ways he could imagine. She’d always been tall, but her very slender frame had acquired an alluring set of curves honed by her very active lifestyle. The bow-shaped mouth and tiny nose still gave her the doll-like appearance that clashed provocatively with the dark gray, almond-shaped eyes. His fingers literally ached to lose themselves in the loose shoulder-length curls that were as mahogany-rich as her skin.
“I should go.” He muttered the phrase “pure idiot” below his breath as soon as he heard the words leave his tongue.
“Yeah, you probably should.” Sophia was shoving used napkins and utensils into the bag.
“See me out?” he asked, wondering if she’d oblige or hurl the carryout bag at his head. When she stood and turned for the door, he smiled. He wondered how well her innately polite nature fared in the midst of her daily police duties.
Sophia had already pulled open the door and stood steeling herself against the desire to tap her bare foot.
Santigo took his time about approaching the door. Once he’d closed whatever distance there was between them, Sophia drew on every ounce of will not to throw herself on him again.
Tigo leaned into her, dipping his head to trail his nose across her temple, down her cheek... Cuffing her neck in his palm, he placed a lingering kiss on her earlobe.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Tig...” Her tone was half needy, half tortured.
Santigo slid the kiss below her earlobe and then alongside her neck, and he felt her shudder.
Sophia had no more words. She could only turn her face toward him, where she breathed in the cologne he wore. The subtle fragrance triggered every hormone she claimed.
“Lock up.” He spoke the order into the hollow at her throat. He straightened, taking delight in her reaction to his touch.
He gave her bottom a squeeze and proprietary pat; then he was gone. Sophia had just enough strength in her hand to set the locks before she had to rely on the door for support—her legs had become totally useless.
* * *
Linus Brooks was used to being the more wary head between his two partners. Elias was usually immovable, with the ability to make precise decisions based on the facts at hand. Santigo used his capacity for calm and easygoingness to give people enough rope to hang themselves. It was his method of separating trash from treasure.
Linus felt he’d crafted the art of seeing folks for what they were right off the bat. Therefore, he took great enjoyment in taking the lead during meetings.
That morning, his joy was overshadowed by Santigo’s obvious mood. Linus found himself letting the architects on one of their latest projects off the hook a bit more easily as he was anxious to discover what was up with his friend.
“Spill it,” Linus ordered once the architects had beat a hasty path for the conference room door.
Tigo was still gathering his thoughts when he heard his partner. He frowned, noticing Linus’s liquid brown eyes on him. “What?”
“What’s up with the mood? I’m supposed to be the brooding one.”
Linus’s playfully put-out tone brought an unwilling grin to Tigo’s face. After a few seconds of debate, he set the tablet and mobile on the table and then loosened the olive-green tie from his collar.
“Saw Sophia last night.”
Linus whistled. “Now that’s a name from the past.”
“Yeah...” Tigo worked the bunched muscles at his neck once he’d loosened the top buttons of his shirt. “I saw her having lunch with Clarissa a while back. Soap was helping her get to the bottom of that mess with her aunt’s clubs.”
“So next you’re calling her and then...what?” Linus reared back in the black swivel chair and crossed his feet atop the long rectangular table. “Will you be next to head off on a ‘business’ trip?” He curved his index and middle fingers to quote the word.
Tigo chuckled, recognizing the dig at Elias’s trip with Clarissa. “We’re not there yet. Far from it.” He sighed.
“Ah...” Linus grinned and folded his hands in his lap. “Detective Hail’s gonna make you work for it, huh?”
“Hmm...” Tigo scratched his eyebrow and took a seat on the edge of the table. “It’s not her. I’m the one who wants to...work for it.”
“Say what?” Linus almost laughed the words while he pulled his feet off the table and leaned forward.
Tigo nudged his fingers against the tablet’s leather casing. “She was willing, but I, um, I just want us to start off better than that, you know?”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, T?”
Santigo muttered something vile, cursing that he’d confided too much. Unfortunately, it was too late to clam up then.
“I want us to wait before we have sex, all right?”
Linus dissolved into a lengthy bout of laughter. “Aw, man, that’s sweet,” he managed after a full minute.
“See? That’s why I always talk to Eli.” Tigo waved off Linus. “It’s impossible to talk serious to you.”
“Hold up, man.” Linus wiped tears from the corners of his eyes and stifled what remained of the laughter. “You already took her virginity a long time ago, right?”
Tigo merely shook his head and began taking his things from the table.
“Tigo, wait—”
“Save it.”
“Seriously, man.” Linus extended a hand across the table. “I’m sorry, seriously.” He waited for Tigo to put down his belongings. “It’s just...is this a good idea? I mean, after what happened last time?”
“I remember. Damn.” Tigo pushed a hand through his hair and returned to sit on the edge of the table.
“I want to make it right with her, Line. I never should’ve made her choose between me and her job.”
Linus came to sit next to Tigo on the table. “You think her choice would be any different this time around?”
“I don’t want to know what her choice would be.” Tigo folded his arms over his double-breasted heather-brown suit coat. “I don’t want her to make one. I only want her to make room for me. For us.”
“So you’re ready to accept that?” Linus folded his hands over the table’s edge and studied his black loafers. “She’s a real cop, you know? She’s got no qualms about bein’ in the line of fire. The girl’s no desk-rider.”
