Claimed (For Her 3)

“Hey, Chen,” McCoy says from the desk near me, getting my attention. “You coming over to Grant’s tonight to watch the Knicks?”

“He’s out. He’s got a hot date,” Paige says, not looking up from her computer. She stuffs half a sandwich in her mouth as she keeps working, not missing a beat. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to eat so much until I met her.

“A what? With who?” Sheppard pops up, and suddenly all eyes in the room are on me.

“And on that note, I’ve got a house call to make,” I say, standing up from my desk. For some reason I don’t want to talk about Jay to them. She’s mine and I don’t like others even thinking about her. If it was up to me they’d all believe she is a nun.

“He’s going out with Jay,” Paige says, with her mouth still full of food. “But he’ll probably fuck it up. The friend zone is strong with that one.” I grit my teeth. The friend zone might be there now but I’m going to bust though it. I don’t care how hard and long it will take me but it will be happening.

“I’ve got a fifty that says different. Chicks love a friends-to-lovers story,” McCoy says as if he knows everything about women.

“I’ll take that bet,” Sheppard agrees as Grant walks into the room.

“What bet?” he asks and looks around, wanting in on the gossip.

I roll my eyes as Paige chimes in again. “We’re placing bets to see if Jordan can get out of the friend zone. Captain says a girl can’t resist a scarred hero. I think Jay is smart enough to stay away.”

Paige looks over at me and gives me the same smile a bratty sister would. We all think of her that way, so I’m not surprised. But I can tell by the teasing smile she doesn’t really mean her words.

“I’ve got work to do. But you gossips can sit around and talk about my love life all you want. Just let me know when to collect my winnings.”

I pull out my wallet and take out the stack of cash inside, tossing it on Grant’s desk as I walk out. I’ll be getting my woman.

The jeers and ribbing continue even as the elevator doors close behind me. Let them think what they want. Jay has been mine from day one. Nothing is going to stop that.

* * *

The street outside the townhome is pristine. I walk up to the front door and ring the bell. It takes a moment, but I finally hear someone walking to the door. After a moment, a small elderly woman peeks through the glass then cracks the door slightly, clearly not wanting to let me in or even talk to me.

“May I help you?” Her tone is annoyed.

“Yes, I’m looking to speak with Martin Stein. It will only take a moment.” I try to keep my tone easy trying to get her to open the door a little more.

“Mr. Stein is unavailable,” she says, eyes narrowing.

“I apologize for the interruption, but I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Detective Chen with the homicide division of the New York Police Department. I just need him for a few questions, but if you prefer, I can come back with a uniformed officer.” I press, seeing my first way of trying this isn’t going to work.

Her eyes widen, and she looks around outside to see if the neighbors are watching, clearly not wanting a scene or to draw attention.

“Come in. Stand here,” she says in a rush, trying to get me off her stoop.

I don’t normally lie to grandmotherly types, but she seems like a mean one who wouldn’t have given me cookies. So it’s all fair game. Even more fair game when it comes to getting Jay something she wants.

I stand in the foyer as the little woman shuffles off. She didn’t even ask for credentials. Not that it would have mattered. I could have talked my way through it. I’ve seen enough CSI shows to fake it.

The townhome is lavish. Much too expensive for the salary we’re paying him. I should have dug a little deeper into his financials before getting here. I make a mental note to do that as soon as I get back. Wanting to make sure everything is on the up-and-up. Maybe he comes from money.

Looking around, I see a portrait of the guy I saw earlier this morning and a young blonde beside him. Seems like as young as she is in the painting, she should be in pristine health.

The sound of footsteps draws my attention, and I see Mr. Stein come around the corner. His face is blank, with no sign of emotion.

“What do you want?”

No greeting, no beating around the bush. I have to admit I like his style.