Pushing Her Limits (Masters of Adrenaline 3)

She should just tell him the truth, even though she knew it would be the end of their strange relationship. It would be better if he ended things anyway, and then she could go back to pretending she was a good person and a good cop, whose morals weren’t swayed by a hot guy with a bunch of muscles. If his criminal activity had been a thing of the past, maybe she could pretend it hadn’t happened, but it was very different knowing she’d wake up to an empty bed because he had gone to commit a few felonies.

She’d vowed not to bury evidence the way her father had. She’d vowed to bring some honor back to their family name.

Then again, maybe he didn’t know. Maybe the cuffs were from the bag he’d picked up at Fitte. Maybe when he talked about her lying he meant how she’d found his address and why she was stalking him. Maybe she was panicking for nothing. If he really thought she was a cop, surely he wouldn’t be cuddling her. He’d be pissed and throwing her out of the club, at the very least.

Eventually, she gave in and let herself be cuddled. She was still trying to think of something to say when she felt his body relax and his breathing even out.

For a moment she pretended there was no such thing as work, and that they’d met under normal circumstances. That he really was just a kinky computer repair guy.

She touched the collar at her throat and a strange affection stole over her. He’d tied her to the bed, as though he was a kid chaining his prized bike to the fence. So silly, and yet it made her feel weirdly treasured. All she had to do was unclip the leash and walk away, but it was a message, like the protective arm around her, that he wanted her here, with him.

This wasn’t a casual hookup. She couldn’t seem to control her emotions when it came to him. They’d talked to each other all day, and yet even though it was the middle of the night, she wanted to wake him up and talk more.

She couldn’t get used to this. It was a very bad idea.

***

The sun was just rising over the horizon as she made her way to work that morning. Too fucking early. Her travel mug of coffee was already half empty. The office would be quiet this time of day so Mila hoped that if she put a few hours of focused energy into the case, the answer would jump out at her.

Maybe she should visit the crime scene again. She wanted to find evidence that cleared him entirely. Had she missed something?

Atlas was too fucking distracting. They seriously had to stop this. Surely she could find the strength to stay away from him. She was a cop for fucksakes. Her whole life had been about self-control. Why did she lose it every time she was around him?

Vowing to push him from her mind, she meandered through the side roads, avoiding the strip, and tried to focus on the evidence she’d found. More like evidence she hadn’t found. Whoever these people were, they were good. No camera footage. No witnesses. Tire tracks that lead nowhere. No footprints.

They were definitely professionals. Not a band of reckless teenagers. And they knew what they were doing. They always seemed one step ahead of her. What she really needed was a tip. If Atlas was in on this, maybe she could fish around for his work schedule. Maybe if she kept asking for dates, she could pay attention to when he said he was busy then stake out his house and shop.

She almost laughed at herself remembering what had happened last time she’d monitored his house.

A voice came over the radio and mumbled through a call.

“This is officer 92310 in pursuit of an active 503. License number Z152R. Silver Rav 4 heading east on Bravo Boulevard.”

Her heart sped up as she took a sharp right to change directions toward the pursuit. This was exactly the break she needed. She flipped on her lights and siren then sped toward the boulevard.

The officer kept updating the driver’s whereabouts. When she was just five minutes away, he reported they had caught up and apprehended the driver. She showed up to the scene just two minutes later.

Trying to keep her cool, she got out of her car and nodded to the officers blocking the road from traffic. The Rav 4 was parked on someone’s lawn. A man in a bathrobe stood on the front steps looking seriously pissed.

“Palmer,” Sanchez said as she approached. “You got here fast.”

“I wasn’t far. I was on my way in to the office to work on the case.” She peered past the five other officers milling around, conferring with one another. Where was the criminal? Why didn’t she see anyone in handcuffs?

She arched her brow at the tattooed officer. “Can I get a debriefing?”

He smiled slightly. “The call came in twenty minutes ago. A frazzled woman yelling that her car was being stolen out of her driveway as she watched from her window. We caught up and forced him to pull over. Turns out it was her son.”

“Her son?”

“Yes. Her eleven-year-old son taking the car for a joyride.”

Mila closed her eyes and sighed. Not the lead she was hoping for. “Fuck,” she muttered.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. There’s no connection to the car-theft ring. I highly doubt the kid has anything to do with the other ones.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Oh well. I’m headed to the office.” She peered around him and spotted the kid. The boy looked a little shell-shocked but not at all remorseful.

Another car pulled up behind hers and came to a stop. A woman jumped out of the passenger seat, face red with fury. “Jackson Benedict Stevenson! What were you thinking?”