Make It Known

Chapter 5: Team

No one who's looking at us right now would ever guess that we've fucked each other.

When the elevator doors slide open, we pack ourselves in with the rest of the crowd.

As people squeeze in and the doors close, I can feel Gavin behind me, the heat of him close enough to make me dizzy. The swell of my ass through my tight-fitting skirt brushes against the front of him. There is no room in this elevator. I can sense his breathing, feel the warmth of his exhale against the skin of my neck.

The elevator stops at the third floor and someone else tries to get on. We all press backwards until the back of me is flush against his front. There's a rush of adrenaline through my veins and a flash of heat between my legs because I can feel the lean contours of his body against my curves, indecently close, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath.

My breathing is shallow. I'm arched into him tight enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne. I watch the numbers of each floor tick by, slow as molasses.

As the people around us shuffle, I can feel his fingers brush lightly against the material covering my thigh, lightly against my fingers, the faint wisps of his breath a flutter against my hair. I feel the tip of his nose like a whisper at the edge of my ear, sparks travelling down my spine, the sliver of contact between his skin and mine sending me into a daze.

Shit. Every inch of my skin is alight from the teasing possibility of his touch.

When we finally reach the fifteenth floor, we push ourselves out of the elevator and I know my face is flushed. I tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear and pray for strength, smoothing out my disheveled blouse.

Dani greets Mr. Stone, greets me, and I watch the back of him as he strides towards his office, wishing I could have seen the expression on his face. Discovered whether or not the feel of my body against him affected him like it affected me.

As I settle myself at my desk and click my computer on, I can still feel the silhouette of him igniting every last nerve. My eyes flutter shut and a small, aggravated sound leaves my lips, my legs pressed together beneath my desk. My panties are wet.

***

What I need, I realize as I dig through mounds of conflicting evidence, is a source. A lead. Someone who knows something about why the system is failing, why hard drugs continue to flow in and out of the GTA.

After the few hours of research I've put in over the last couple days, I can tell that something suspicious is going on. I can feel it in my bones, that there is more happening here than meets the eye.

Once Roger finishes arguing with someone over the phone, I give him a couple moments to breathe before I approach him. "Roger," I begin, "Do we have any contacts in the Toronto PD?"

He grunts, tearing his eyes away from an article in front of him and looking up at me. He eyes me curiously. "Already conducting interviews, huh?"

I shrug. "I think I'm getting closer, but I need to speak to someone who can give me a better picture of what's going on."

He rifles through some papers on his desk, scrawls something onto a sticky-note and passes it to me. "Knock yourself out, kiddo."

I snort back a small chuckle. "Thanks, Dad."

I think I catch the edge of his lip twitch before I head back to my desk.

Once I slip back into my chair, Seth glances at me across the barrier between our two desks. "The old man likes you already, champ. Good job."

Seth's in his late thirties, lanky with a thick set of glasses. I can't help but laugh. "I've been here all of a day, Seth. I don't even think he remembers my name."

From behind me, Lydia pipes in, "I've worked with the old fart for almost ten years now and he still doesn't remember mine." There's amusement in her voice.

Yes, my new team is witty and friendly.

"Get back to work, whatever-your-name-is," Roger calls gruffly from across the room. The three of us howl with laughter.

"I'll remember that when it comes time to plan your retirement party, Roger," Lydia teases.

Seth whistles. "Ouch."

Roger shakes his head, muttering something unpleasant under his breath.

I think he's the kind of guy who would drop dead before he'd ever consider retiring.

I turn my attention back to the yellow piece of paper Roger handed to me. Detective Dylan Rowley is what I think it says in that illegible writing. I roll my eyes, squinting at his chicken-scratch as I dial the number.

After a long ring, the line picks up. "Detective Dylan Rowley, Toronto Police Service." Oh, and he has an English accent. My favourite.

I get ready to layer on the charm. "Hi Detective Rowley, this is Melanie Collins calling from The Press. Roger mentioned you might be able to answer some questions for me."

I hear a small sigh on the other end. "Well, Melanie, I usually need a couple pints before I can sit through an interrogation. You journalists are so bloody boring." I can hear the mischief in his low voice. I'd put him in his early thirties, tops.

Boring. Yeah, right. "Well, you haven't met any good ones, then, have you?"

A wry chuckle. "Maybe not. But as interesting as you might be, darling, I'm still gonna need a drink before I can share any secrets. Friday after work?"

Oh, he thinks he's so charming. "Are you asking me out already, Detective Rowley?"

That earns me a deep, rough laugh. Something about the sound is masculine and unquestionably attractive. "You wish, love. 6 pm at The Vinyl sound good?"

And he apparently has good taste in bars.

"Works for me."

I can hear the dry smile at the edge of his voice. "And I expect you to be wildly entertaining, Melanie. Roger usually puts me to sleep. I'm gonna have to stop taking calls from your office one of these days unless you can find a way to keep me interested." And he is definitely flirting with me.

I roll my eyes. "Sounds like the bar is set pretty low. Good-bye, Detective."

"See you Friday, sweetheart."

When I hang up, Seth is laughing to himself. "You're good, Collins."

"Thanks, Jeffries."

Internally, I'm doing a happy dance.

I can officially label Day 2 as a success.

***

Song credit: Lorde, "Team"