Rose (Road Kill MC #3) by Marata Eros

Author:Marata Eros [Eros, Marata]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01BMSS6YK
Publisher: Tamara Rose Blodgett
Published: 2016-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

*

“God, Ty, no. I'm not going to help you find some chick you're jonesin' to tap. No.”

“Tag, don't be an ass. Look at my mouth, pal.” I spread my palms wide as his hazels laser in on the wound.

Detective Lance Tagger, fearless partner of lots o’ crime busts with yours truly, folds his arms.

“You let a chick beat you down while some guy did a baby move to your gonads?”

I grunt. “Yeah, you got me. Dumb move.”

“Elementary move, Watson. Cover the nutsack. Don't leave the family jewels hanging like a bull’s-eye.”

I sigh and lower my chin, digging for patience. Which I suck at.

Tag studies my face with a perma-smirk slapped on his. Asshole. “Is she really that much of a distraction?”

“It's not just that, Tag... I messed up. I was late. Kiki asked—”

His eyebrow rises. “I thought she wasn't doing poles? Grad school or something?”

I nod, not really listening. “Yeah.” I wave his question away. “I guess Kiki was leaving that day and ran into Simone...”

“Simone?” Tag's lovin' this shit: the bitten lip, the hot girl who kicked my ass. Yeah, this is right up his fuck-with-Thorn alley.

Play nice, Thorn. “Yeah, man, Simone.”

“God, okay. I'll look her up.” Tag rolls his eyes at me. “Don't fuck it up. The department finds out I'm lifting a name from the system, it'll be my wiener on a stick.”

I nod. He plops down in his computer chair, and his fingers fly over the keys. I lean over his shoulder, one hand gripping the side of the desk.

“Hey, Simon,” a beat cop greets me from across the room, and I lift my chin.

“Surname?” Tagger asks.

I tell him.

“What? Say it normally.”

“That is normal.”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “Oh. Is—is it foreign?”

I nod.

He turns back to the screen. “Spelling.”

I spell it out.

“Oh—the D is silent. Here she is. Simone Angeline Balland. Age: 23. Five feet seven, one hundred thirty-five pounds. Race: mixed.”

“What mix?” I know so little about my own roots that I want to know hers. And maybe curiosity killed the damn cat.

“She's French, Ty. Dual citizenship.”

Now I'm intrigued. As if I wasn't before. I snort, and Tag gives me a look.

She didn't have a trace of an accent. Of course, neither do I. Welcome to America, where no one is what they seem.

“No shit, bright one,” I answer.

His lips thin. “Like you?”

I shake my head, gazing at her photo.

It's not a great one, like all driver license pics. Full, kiss-me lips, long kinky jet-black curls, pale skin with a spray of freckles over the bridge of a refined nose, and wide-spaced, slightly almond eyes.

Brilliant green.

They appear to see me, to follow me. Not the Thorn I show people, but the dude I hide.

Simone Balland looks as if she can see my secrets. I don't know if I like that.

Maybe it doesn't matter.

I tap her addy into the contact list on my cell. She can't know I'm a cop. I'm still undercover, just not operational. But I've got to make this right.

It would be so wrong to just show up at her door.

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