made love with a woman from fantasy. She couldn’t exist. He couldn’t possibly feel this wondrous. This couldn’t remotely have happened. He should figure things out...but it could wait.
For now, he was depleted. Completely satiated. Adrift on a cushion of warmth. Encased in bliss. Still wrapped in her embrace. And moments later, he was asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The station bell rang precisely at eight a.m. Mitch had just entered the building. He shot through the halls in a blur of motion that astounded and stopped shy of the interrogation room door. If anyone saw him, their jaws probably dropped. His had done the same thing when he’d broken into a run this morning...after he’d had to abandon his bike. He couldn’t see clearly enough to pilot it through early morning traffic. Not with this much sunlight.
The motorcycle that was his pride and joy was parked off the side of E-470 bypass. He’d taken his belongings. Pushed his 1000cc Ninja into tall grass that sort-of camouflaged it. Run a locking cable through the front tire and around a light pole. And then he’d called a cab. He had to keep changing his pick-up point with the taxi service, however. He seemed to jog effortlessly and quickly, and with machine-like efficiency. He’d finally caught up with his ride at the toll exchange. He should have just run. The cab barely made it to the station in time.
Mitch had never felt better.
Ever.
He wasn’t even winded.
If it was due to the dream he’d had...the one with a succubus from the darkest of fantasies? Well. He wasn’t offering it up. It felt even crazier than when he’d awakened. Somebody might think he needed another appointment with the shrink. And he might even agree.
He stood at the doorway, regarding the occupants of the interrogation room, hiding his thought process. He still wore his leathers. His helmet was under one arm and a shitload of gear in a backpack was under the other arm. He hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. He was having a severe light-sensitivity issue. It had been there since he’d awakened and slammed every blind on every window into place. The problem hadn’t diminished. If anything, it was even worse. Mitch hadn’t noticed how many windows they had in the station until right now.
It was frickin’ bright in here.
“It’s eight o’clock. Looks like hotshot isn’t going to make it,” Randy commented. He didn’t exhibit a hint of hostility. No aggressive vibe. That was odd.
“Excuse me?” Mitch replied and stepped through the portal.
“Hartnett. Glad you made it.”
Captain Thomas spoke. The slightest smile flashed across her overly-red lips. She’d obviously just had her upper lip waxed. The skin was just a shade lighter than the rest of her skin. Neither the lipstick, nor the wax-job did much for her age-fighting efforts. If she didn’t want people to notice the lines about her mouth, she shouldn’t use such vivid lipstick right after a beautician appointment. Then again, if he hadn’t possessed incredible vision all-of-a-sudden, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.
“We have a locker room for personal belongings,” she added.
“Woke up late,” he replied.
“I see. Well, we’ll wait. Won’t we, gentlemen?”
“Do we have a choice?” somebody asked.
“No,” Captain Thomas responded.
Mitch knew he liked her. Now he remembered why. He smirked and headed for the locker room. He easily heard the low-voiced comment between Sam and Randy about dealing with yet another smart-ass local and how it was always the same with cops. They might have whispered but Mitch heard it easily. His hearing was incredibly sharp. He added that to how acute his vision had become. And the fact that his ability to move was beyond extraordinary. He consciously slowed his steps to a pace that seemed normal. It was akin to running his bike engine at half-throttle. He’d never felt this energetic. Strong.
This was really cool.
And
For now, he was depleted. Completely satiated. Adrift on a cushion of warmth. Encased in bliss. Still wrapped in her embrace. And moments later, he was asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The station bell rang precisely at eight a.m. Mitch had just entered the building. He shot through the halls in a blur of motion that astounded and stopped shy of the interrogation room door. If anyone saw him, their jaws probably dropped. His had done the same thing when he’d broken into a run this morning...after he’d had to abandon his bike. He couldn’t see clearly enough to pilot it through early morning traffic. Not with this much sunlight.
The motorcycle that was his pride and joy was parked off the side of E-470 bypass. He’d taken his belongings. Pushed his 1000cc Ninja into tall grass that sort-of camouflaged it. Run a locking cable through the front tire and around a light pole. And then he’d called a cab. He had to keep changing his pick-up point with the taxi service, however. He seemed to jog effortlessly and quickly, and with machine-like efficiency. He’d finally caught up with his ride at the toll exchange. He should have just run. The cab barely made it to the station in time.
Mitch had never felt better.
Ever.
He wasn’t even winded.
If it was due to the dream he’d had...the one with a succubus from the darkest of fantasies? Well. He wasn’t offering it up. It felt even crazier than when he’d awakened. Somebody might think he needed another appointment with the shrink. And he might even agree.
He stood at the doorway, regarding the occupants of the interrogation room, hiding his thought process. He still wore his leathers. His helmet was under one arm and a shitload of gear in a backpack was under the other arm. He hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. He was having a severe light-sensitivity issue. It had been there since he’d awakened and slammed every blind on every window into place. The problem hadn’t diminished. If anything, it was even worse. Mitch hadn’t noticed how many windows they had in the station until right now.
It was frickin’ bright in here.
“It’s eight o’clock. Looks like hotshot isn’t going to make it,” Randy commented. He didn’t exhibit a hint of hostility. No aggressive vibe. That was odd.
“Excuse me?” Mitch replied and stepped through the portal.
“Hartnett. Glad you made it.”
Captain Thomas spoke. The slightest smile flashed across her overly-red lips. She’d obviously just had her upper lip waxed. The skin was just a shade lighter than the rest of her skin. Neither the lipstick, nor the wax-job did much for her age-fighting efforts. If she didn’t want people to notice the lines about her mouth, she shouldn’t use such vivid lipstick right after a beautician appointment. Then again, if he hadn’t possessed incredible vision all-of-a-sudden, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.
“We have a locker room for personal belongings,” she added.
“Woke up late,” he replied.
“I see. Well, we’ll wait. Won’t we, gentlemen?”
“Do we have a choice?” somebody asked.
“No,” Captain Thomas responded.
Mitch knew he liked her. Now he remembered why. He smirked and headed for the locker room. He easily heard the low-voiced comment between Sam and Randy about dealing with yet another smart-ass local and how it was always the same with cops. They might have whispered but Mitch heard it easily. His hearing was incredibly sharp. He added that to how acute his vision had become. And the fact that his ability to move was beyond extraordinary. He consciously slowed his steps to a pace that seemed normal. It was akin to running his bike engine at half-throttle. He’d never felt this energetic. Strong.
This was really cool.
And
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