Stolen Lust (Beauty in the Stolen 1)

The receptionist looks up when we approach the desk. She offers the detective a strained smile. Tilting her head toward the door on the side, she says, “They’re just about done.”

As if on cue, the door opens. A female detective wearing civilian clothes and a badge on her belt steps out. My step falters when Mint follows on her footsteps. His shoulders are hunched and his head bowed. When he lifts his gaze as they make to pass, his eyes grow large. His lips part, but the sound of my name as his mouth forms the word is silent.

The woman pauses when she notices the male detectives. “A word, please.” She pulls them aside.

Mint and I stand facing each other, the atmosphere brittle and uncomfortable with guilt. He left me, but I fucked our hijacker after stitching said hijacker up. If that comes out, it’s not going to look good for me. A rivulet of cold sweat runs between my shoulder blades.

“Cas,” he finally says, coming to his senses first. “You’re alive.”

The minute he’s said it, he averts his eyes, staring at a spot on the floor. He didn’t expect me to make it out in one piece. Neither did I.

“How?” He licks his lips and dares a glance at me. “Did he…? Are you okay?”

“Fine.” My chest contracts. I don’t want to talk about what happened.

“Did he—”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

He flinches at my forceful tone.

Softening my voice, I ask, “How did you get back?”

“I caught the Sun City courtesy shuttle. I was lucky it came by when it did. You have no idea how I felt, running next to the road and staying in the shadows while going out of my mind with fear. People kill each other on that road for fun.”

I rub my hands over my arms. “Focus on the positive. You’re safe.”

“Yes, but my car. Do you have any idea what that car is worth?” When I don’t validate the question with an answer, he glances toward the detectives and lowers his voice. “Where did he take it? I want that car back in one fucking piece or there’ll be hell to pay.”

I doubt he’ll get his precious car back, but before I can say so, Detective Wolfe cuts in.

“Through here, please.” He indicates the office Mint has left.

The female officer holds out a pen to Mint. “I need you to sign your statement before you can go.”

Ducking his head, Mint follows her to the front counter.

The lanky man closes the door behind me when we’ve stepped into the office. The interior smells like stale apples and ink. It looks like a classroom from my high school with a wooden desk and a black board. Post-it notes litter the board, and a task list is scribbled on it in chalk. A metal filing cabinet stands in one corner with a sad-looking potted plant on top. The window overlooks a courtyard with a yellowed patch of grass and a wooden bench.

Detective Wolfe indicates the chair facing the desk. “Sit.”

I follow the instruction, balancing on the edge. Detective Wolfe takes the swivel chair behind the desk while the lanky one perches on the corner.

The desktop is a mess of papers and files. An ink pad with a stamp sits on the side. The stamp has been dried on a piece of paper, the date repeated in a rectangular frame countless times on the wasted paper. My gaze slips to the one at the bottom. It’s Wednesday, a normal working day, yet nothing about the world feels normal today.

Detective Wolfe interlaces his fingers on the desktop. “Mr. Visser claimed you were hijacked early this morning on your way home from Sun City. Can you tell us exactly what happened?”

My throat tightens. Ian’s threat rings in my mind. I can still feel his fingers around my neck. The gentle, possessive touch is burned into my skin, and the latent strength underneath has been stamped into my memory. A man like him doesn’t make idle threats.

I have to clear my voice to say in a normal tone, “If he told you, you already know everything.”

His smile is patient. “We have your boyfriend’s statement, but why don’t you tell us in your own words what happened this morning?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I clench the strap of my handbag to prevent myself from fiddling. “It was just a date.”

The men exchange a look.

“I see,” Detective Wolfe says. “Noted. Please carry on, Ms. Joubert.”

My heart races a mile a minute as I rehearse the lie in my head. The trick is to lie as little as possible.

I start with the truth. “We left the casino just after two. I noticed headlights in the rearview mirror that were advancing fast and told Mint to let the driver pass. It was obvious he was in a hurry.”