A shiver ran through her. She’d met many people who, for whatever reasons, disliked or distrusted the police, and disliked her, but the hatred in Rory McCabe’s expression shook her.
She was pretty much out of it for the rest of her shift. She was going to have to face Logan again. She’d made the decision, and the fact that he obviously despised her profession shouldn’t change that. This was about what was right for Jennifer. It should make no difference if he hated her. It might even make things easier.
“Have you heard a word that I’ve said,” Jack asked, making her jump.
Detective Sergeant Jack White had been a friend since they’d both joined the force on the same day, and they’d shared their goals of becoming detectives. Jack had moved through the ranks faster than her—he’d made detective three years ago, but she’d put her ambitions on hold until Jennifer was older and would maybe understand why her mother wasn’t always there for her. But she’d recently taken her detective exams, passed with flying colors, and she was ready to apply for her dream job. As soon as a vacancy came up, she was going for it.
Recently Jack had made it clear he was hankering after more than just friendship, and she’d already decided that she was going to take him up on the offer. They got on well, and he also got on with Jennifer. He was a good man. And good-looking, too—tall, with sandy blond hair and a lean body he took good care of. Maybe he didn’t make her go wobbly at the knees, but that had to be a good thing. Right?
“Sorry,” she said. “I was miles away. It’s been a long day.” Fortunately her shift was nearly over.
“You want to go for a drink?” Jack asked.
“I can’t, Jack. I’m exhausted.”
“Okay. But soon?”
That was one of the reasons she liked him. He was so easygoing. Plus he understood the stresses of the job. “I’d like that.”
She’d just spoken to her mother. Jennifer was already in bed. Abby was going to go home, have a long hot bath, go to bed herself, and tomorrow she would wake up ready to try again.
I can do this.
Everything would work out.
Once her replacement arrived, she signed off and went to the locker room and changed into street clothes, black pants and a white shirt. She checked her hair and makeup out of habit and headed out onto the street. Jack was leaving at the same time and he held the door for her—he was such a gentleman. “I’ll walk you to the Tube,” he said. She came into work on public transport; it wasn’t worth the hassle of trying to drive in the city. Jack did the same, but he lived on the opposite side of London.
Once outside, she didn’t get very far, her feet coming to a halt without any instruction from her brain.
Logan McCabe lounged against the wall outside the building, arms crossed over his chest, exuding bad-boy menace. His gaze flicked from her to Jack, and his eyes iced over.
She glanced across at Jack. His brows were drawn together as he studied the other man. He was a detective; he had a sense about the bad guys. Obviously he didn’t like the look of Logan. Logan’s mouth twitched as though he found the other man’s reaction amusing. But then, he seemed to find a lot of totally unfunny things amusing.
He unfolded his arms and pushed himself away from the wall then strolled the last few steps to come to a halt in front of her. “Abby.”
“What do you want?” She knew she sounded belligerent, but she was super-aware of Jack listening to every word.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “You said you needed to talk to me.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Here I am.”
She wasn’t ready for this, was still in turmoil from seeing him earlier, seeing his expression of utter dislike. That had gone, smoothed away, or maybe he was hiding it beneath the expression of vague geniality that didn’t really go with the black leather and tattoos. Her gaze drifted down over his long, lean body. The shirt was tight across his broad shoulders, hanging loose over the black leather pants. She shifted her focus lower, to the pants molded to his hips and thighs—
“Abby?” Jack spoke from beside her and she jumped. She needed to keep her wits about her. Her eyes flashed to Logan’s face. He was smirking as though he’d noticed her checking him out. Really though, how could he miss it. She cleared her throat. “It’s okay, Jack. I do need to talk to Mr. McCabe.”
“You want me to stick around?”
“No, I can handle this.”
“She’s very good at handling me. Aren’t you, Abigail?”
Jack’s gaze sharpened and Abby sighed. Logan was being a prick. Again. “I’ll be fine, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow. Mr. McCabe is an…old friend.”
Jack gave a curt nod, and she watched as he walked away, then turned her attention back to Logan.
“Mr. McCabe? Very formal. I take it your friend there doesn’t know I had my hand down your pants yesterday.” He leaned in closer so his breath feathered her skin. “That you were hot and wet for me, and I made you come.”