“Byrne,” Leta says, sharper this time to gain my attention but I ignore her. Instead I make sure that my coat is comfortably wrapped around Melody before I escort her out but Leta blocks our path.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asks, her eyes going from me to Melody. “You have no business hugging that young woman like that.” She looks at Melody who’s blushing and she puts her hand on her shoulder, “Honey, I’m sorry, he shouldn’t have done that. I apologize on the whole department’s behalf. I’ll take over now...”
Shaking her head, Melody’s gaze widens and she presses herself closer to me, her hipbone digging into my thigh and her hair brushes against my skin. Her whole body seems to be screaming for me and I wrap my hand around her waist, ignoring the look on Leta’s face.
“This is my case,” I rasp, “Stay out of it.”
“It’sourcase and that’s the thing, Byrne,” she says with flashing eyes. “I don’t think you should be on this case anymore.”
Try and stop me. I’m not letting this girl go, not when she’s needing me this much and despite the ripe age that I’m at, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more needed in my life. And it’s a feeling that’s addictive, bringing up old memories, old wounds, making it all the more dangerous.
Looking past Leta, I shove my giant body through the doorframe with Melody in tow and Leta has no choice but to let us through. But that doesn’t stop her from running after us down the hallway.
“Where are you going?” she asks, her voice loud and angry, causing the whole office to turn their eyes toward us. I know what this must look like, me, a scarred, ugly fucker with my arms around a young girl who looks like a sex symbol albeit a scared one. But it’s not just that, I’m a respected detective and this is not the way I’m supposed to act with a trauma victim.
This is wrong. My hand clutches harder around Melody. So why the hell does it feel so right?
“I’m taking her home,” I reply, my gaze fixed on the exit to drown out the slow chaos that’s spreading around me, with cops and detectives getting out of their seats, murmuring and looking at each other with perplexed eyes.
“We’re not done with the interrogation,” Leta says but I snap,
“Yeah, we are. And she can’t deal with any more questions. She needs a break.”
My brows frown when Leta grabs me around my arm and she is strong for being a woman. I look down at her hand. A silent question, asking her to remove it but she doesn’t.
“Byrne if you don’t let go of that girl right now, I’m going to report you. Your behavior is so damn unprofessional and I don’t even know what’s gotten into you.”
“Detective,” Melody says in a soft, almost hysterical voice. “It’s ok, I can deal with this on my own, I’ll get a cab. I don’t want you to get in trouble for my sake.”
We both pay no attention to Leta, acting like we’re the only ones here, our pelvises faintly touching through our clothes, our eyes locked and our breaths seem to have picked up the same melody. I look down at her, at those smoldering eyes and it feels like I have searched my whole life for them. How the fuck could anyone have hurt this girl? She’s purer to me than a white feather, a summer’s eve or the kiss of an angel.
Any trouble that I have to go through for her, is worth it.
“And I don’t want you to worry your head, love,” I reply, taking my arm back from Leta and I continue leading Melody down the hallway. “Let’s go.”
Leta looks like she’s about to rip her hair out and she barks, “Racket! Why don’t you go with them?” In a lower tone she adds, “I don’t trust Byrne with that girl one bit.” She curses. “He needs to snap out of it, he’s acting like he’s obsessed.”
“He’s just overworked,” Harvey responds. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check.”
Racket needs to run to keep up with me and Melody and once by the exit, I realize that she’s not wearing any shoes. I could tell her to stay here and wait for me to pull up the car but I don’t want her standing here on her own with Harvey as her only company.
“I need to pick you up,” I rasp, cautious about her reaction but she nods to my relief and lets me carry her to my car and I shield her with my body to stop the raindrops from falling on her. My car is a mess, bottles of water everywhere, a flask with fine Irish whiskey and an empty holster.
I don’t have time to clean it up, deciding to put her in the backseat while Harvey and I take the front. As soon as we get in, Harvey shoots me a strange look, shaking his head but he knows better than to say anything.
The drive to Melody’s place is a familiar one, one that I’ve done several times before. Only difference is that now it feels good to do it. Now I know that she is with me and that nothing will ever hurt her again.
At the sight of her one story house, Melody lets out a whimper, tensing in the backseat and she reluctantly gets out of the car like she’ll rather be somewhere else. She shudders when she throws a look at the post box, sayingJuliet Michaelsand when we enter her house, she stops on the threshold.
“I can’t,” she murmurs, “I can’t be here...”
“I understand,” I say, busy figuring out what hotel to take her to when she whispers,
“Unless you stay with me. Just this first night.”
Her eyes round, her hands clutching my coat that’s around her shoulders until her knuckles whiten and I nod, ignoring Harvey’s protests.
“Then I’ll stay.”