Dad's Private Investigator Best Friend Read online

  Dad’s Private Investigator Best Friend

  A Protective Possessive Instalove Romance

  Regina Wade

  Copyright © 2020 by Regina Wade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Forbidden Love Playlist

  1. Finn

  2. Faye

  3. Finn

  4. Faye

  5. Finn

  6. Faye

  7. Finn

  8. Faye

  9. Finn

  10. Faye

  One Year Later

  Ten Years Later

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  Her Big Brother’s Best Friend

  Her Billionaire Boss

  July 4th With His Best Friend’s Daughter

  Protecting Her Heart Series:

  Also by Regina Wade

  About the Author

  Forbidden Love Playlist

  Young and Beautiful, Lana del Rey

  Young Girl, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap

  Does Your Mother Know, ABBA

  Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon, Urge Overkill

  Come Up the Years, Jefferson Airplane

  L-O-L-I-T-A, Lana Del Rey

  At Seventeen, Janis Ian

  Colors, Halsey

  Go Away Little Girl, Donny Osmond

  Maggie May, Rod Stweart

  Chapter 1

  Finn

  I’ve seen it all, had my cake now. Diamonds, brilliant in Bel-Air now. — Lana del Rey, ‘Young and Beautiful’

  I never thought I’d see her again.

  I’m not sure what I’m expecting when someone knocks on my front door at nearly ten pm on a random Thursday night, but it sure as hell isn’t this.

  “Finn! I’m so glad you’re home.”

  I barely have the door pulled all the way open before the bundle of wet blonde hair on my front step leaps at me. Her arms are wound around my neck an instant later, water dripping around us, soaking into my own shirt. In the pale light of the moon, her face is half shadowed, obscured even more by the storm blowing around us.

  It doesn’t matter though. One look is more than enough for me to know exactly who it is. I’d recognize that face anywhere.

  It’s been three years since Faye Morrison and I were in the same room, and she had her arms wrapped around my neck then, too. Only she’d been nearly strangling me in a tearful goodbye hug at the time.

  It was the day I left the force, a week before her nineteenth birthday. Faye’s father and I were partners for nearly the entire time I was a Texas Ranger. I haven’t seen the girl since I left Houston, though I do remember Jake telling me she’d moved out near me to go to school.

  I have no idea what the hell she’s doing on my porch in the middle of a downpour.

  “Faye. What’s wrong?” I can’t think of a single good scenario that ends with her seeking out her father’s ex-partner, a private investigator, or a retired cop. My stomach tightens in concern as I lead her inside the house.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I should have called first.” She shoves a handful of wet hair out of her face. “I’m just so frustrated. I— my dad said you could help.”

  The last three years have been good to Faye. The rain is pressing her faded jeans against generous curves that definitely weren’t there when I left. She’s wearing a black tee with the familiar logo of a local bar, popular with the college crowd. The tangle of her wet blonde hair is spreading dark spots along the dark material against the swell of her breasts.

  It’s hard to reconcile this gorgeous woman with the bouncy, eager teen that used to ask Jake and me to let her come on ride-alongs on slow summer days. I’ve always liked Faye. She’s outspoken and headstrong. Up until now, it’s been easy to think of her as Jake’s kid, though. There’s nothing of that in the curvaceous blonde standing in front of me.

  “Don’t apologize, Faye. Jake was right, you can always come here.” It sounds a little gruff, even to my own ears. It’s been a while since I’ve had to put on my soothing police officer persona. Most of the clients that come to me these days are looking for deep dives of information to counter industrial espionage or other jobs that don’t require that kind of delicate tact. “Here, let me get you a towel.”

  Faye tugs off the simple black wireframes of her glasses. Behind the splatter of raindrops, her brown eyes are warm as a summer morning.

  “Thanks,” She smiles hesitantly at me.

  Private investigator or not, you never really stop being a cop. It’s impossible not to notice things about Faye as she takes the soft grey towel I hand her. There’s a slight tremble to her fingers that has nothing to do with the rain soaking her clothes and hair. Her fingernails are chewed down to the quick— a habit I can’t ever remember Faye having before. There’s also a fading bruise just above her wrist; the definitive imprint of a thumb and forefinger— as if someone had recently grabbed her far too hard there.

  Anger flares, red and hot inside of me at the sight. A protective need to pull her close and keep her safe so intense it’s almost physical.

  “Faye,” I wait until she’s looking back up at me. “Are you alright?”

  I steel myself for the answer to be no.

  She takes her time, wringing rain out of her long blonde hair and watching the water splatter across the oak floorboards. Finally, Faye takes a deep breath and meets my gaze again. There are unmistakable tears behind her big bourbon eyes. I don’t know who put them there, but I’m going to stop them— make sure she’s never scared like this again.

  I shake my head to clear it.

  Six months from my fortieth birthday and it finally happened. I lost my damned mind. This is still Jake’s daughter.

  It doesn’t help. I still want to put my fist through whoever is hurting her, making her cry.

  Careful not to startle her, I guide Faye over to the couch.

  Then she looks up at me and I realize I don’t have to worry about Faye breaking. Scared or not, there’s a glint of fire behind her eyes, a defiant tilt to her chin.

  “Tell me everything.”

  She nods, resting her elbows on her knees with an exhale.

  “There’s this guy—” she stops when I tense next to her, balling my hands into fists, and I force myself to relax.

  “His name is Hunter,” Faye goes on. “He started coming into the bar where I work.”

  I look down at the scrawling script and cheerful logo on the tee-shirt she’s wearing.

  “Yeah. Raise a Glass. Over by campus,” she nods. “At first he was just your typical obnoxious frat guy. Then he asked me out one day and when I said no he got… pushy. He’s always at the bar when I’m working. Just doesn’t seem to understand the whole concept of not interested.”

  It takes more self-restraint than I knew I possessed to keep my voice even as I stand up off the couch.

  “Come on.”

  Chapter 2

  Faye

  And though you know it’s wrong to be in love with me, that come-on look is in your eyes. Young girl get out of my mind. My love for you is way out of line. — Gary Puckett, ‘Young Girl’

  “Do you know where Hunter is now?” Finn hands me a motorcycle helmet that he keeps on the wall in his garage.

  I like to think he keeps it there just in case I happened to show up in the last three years.

  Hey, a girl can dream, right?

  I don’t remember when I fell in love with my fat
her’s partner.

  Like the fact that the sky is up and that I’m going to work in the forensics lab one day, there are some universal truths I’ve simply come to accept over the years. Things that I feel like I’ve known for so long now, I don’t even remember when I realized them.

  Growing up, it was always just me and dad.

  He raised me alone, and he raised me well. It couldn’t have been easy for a cop and a single dad, but he did it. He never made me feel like there was anything I couldn’t do just because I was a girl— or that there were any girly things I shouldn’t try if I wanted to. And for that, I’ll always be grateful to him.

  I can remember more than one tea party with dad, Jake Morrison still decked out in his Texas Ranger uniform and his hat perched on my head.

  When Finn Walker came into our lives, I developed a crush immediately. How could I not, when my father’s partner was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on? Tall and brooding with eyes the color of cut green glass. I don’t know when the schoolgirl crush developed into something more.

  But at some point, I stopped daydreaming and started aching. Yearning. Planning.

  “His fraternity is hosting a party.” I watch as Finn tugs his own helmet into place. “He came into the bar and made a big deal about me coming after my shift.”

  He said he’d come and get me if I didn’t show up.

  I don’t add the last part, because Finn’s jaw is already set hard enough to crack. As much as I was dying to see him again, I hate the circumstances. I’m not the type to need help fixing my problems. I’m no damsel in distress. Unfortunately, Hunter has graduated from a minor inconvenience into a major dragon.

  I tried reporting him to campus security, the dean of students, and even his football coach. Apparently, star players can get away with a whole lot before they get so much as a talking to at a big university.

  “Alpha Xi Delta,” I tell him before putting on my own helmet. “Do you know where it is?”

  He nods.

  “Yeah. That whole area is notorious. Bunch of snotty rich kids who wouldn’t know a consequence if it hit them in the face. Come on.”

  Finn waits for me to settle on the back of the bike behind him before flipping the visor and guiding us onto the street.

  He picks up speed as he goes, wind and rain whipping past my helmet and jacket while we cruise.

  How many times have I thought about this? Being on the back of Finn’s Harley, my arms wrapped around the solid steel frame of his chest. The bike rumbles between my thighs, and despite the seriousness of my current situation, I can’t help but feel a physical response to the nearness of the only man that’s ever made me feel anything in my life. To our left, the Pacific Ocean spreads out like an indigo carpet in the rain, a gorgeous backdrop as we cruise towards the college campus.

  I wish I could say Finn wasn’t a factor in my final decision about school. After a year of community college in the middle of nowhere, Texas, my grades were good enough to earn me a couple of scholarships. Dad wanted me to stay close; work in a local diner and maybe save a few thousand on tuition. But the world is so damned big, and I’ve seen so little of it.

  So I followed in Finn’s footsteps. Followed him to San Francisco.

  Here I am, all the way across the country, and a million miles away from home. Busting my ass and slinging drinks. Seven AM classes and late-night study sessions. None of it is enough to blur the memory of the man on the motorcycle in front of me. I’ve never stopped wanting Finn. Never stopped wanting him back in my life, wanting him in my arms. Something about pressing my cheek against his back as we cruise off the freeway feels right, despite the utter fuckery of this situation.

  The fact that I might not see him for another three years after tonight hurts much worse than any bruises Hunter may have left on my arm.

  “You cold back there?” He asks me over the roar of the wind at the first red light.

  “Nah, I’m good,” I reply.

  It’s an understatement. Despite the diagonal slash of rain coming down on us, there’s a warm rush tingling its way through me. I can feel it in my arms, pulsing where his back is pressed against my chest. My thighs are pushed against him, and it takes everything in me not to wiggle in delight.

  “We’re almost there,” Finn lets me know as we coast into a tree-lined street just off-campus.

  “I never would have guessed.” My dry reply is nearly drowned out by the roar of the wind and the engine starting back up.

  The entire block is consumed with what looks like one massive party. Music thrums and drums, reverberating like an arrhythmic heartbeat. Everywhere, cars are parked and double-parked in complete disarray. At the center of the block, people are flowing in and out of one of the biggest houses. It’s clearly the source of the music, it’s massive lawn covered with bodies writhing and dancing in time to the music.

  Finn has the bike parked a moment later. He swings his long legs over the side and holds a hand out to help me off. An unmistakable charge shoots up my palm when I slide it into his.

  I want to keep it there, tangle my fingers with his, pull Finn’s mouth onto mine until we’re rolling around on the lawn of the party, damn who might see this gorgeous older man devouring me right here in the moonlight. Instead, I let him lead the way towards the front steps of the fraternity house.

  “Stay close, Faye,” he growls at me.

  Don’t have to tell me twice.

  The smell of beer is cloying as we get close. The heat of bodies and too many strobe lights is stifling, making even the cool night air thick with sweat and alcohol when I follow Finn through the massive double doors of the colonial mansion that doubles as the Xi Delta frat house.

  Once inside, it takes me all of ten seconds to remember why I haven’t done much dating since getting to school. On-campus or at the bar, I just don’t click with guys my own age. Not that I have anything against video games or comic books per se, but I just can’t relate to boys that would rather spend all their free time playing beer pong and putting notches on their bedposts. I need a man. Someone who keeps my mind intrigued and my body protected.

  I need Finn. I always have.

  “Where’s Hunter?” The alpha heartthrob in question whirls around on the first Xi Delta he sees. His teeth are bared in what I can only call a snarl. Even from where I’m standing a safe distance behind Finn, it sends a shiver up my spine.

  The kid, another one of the football players, judging by the way he has his jersey numbers painted on his bare chest, looks up into Finn’s face. His eyes widen in shock and surprise.

  “Hunter? I—” he rethinks whatever he was about to say when Finn leans in closer. “Right there— he’s right there, man.”

  Finn and I turn in unison to look where he’s pointing. Sure enough, at the top of the stairs is a familiar sight.

  “Faye. You came. Right on time, cupcake.”

  Chapter 3

  Finn

  Take it easy, better slow down girl. That’s no way to go. Does your mother know? — ABBA, ‘Does Your Mother Know?”

  Hunter is everything I expect him to be.

  I spy him immediately, standing at the top of the red-carpeted stairs of the gaudy house that serves as his fraternity’s home base like the Douche King surveying his kingdom. Douche-dom? He’s got a red plastic cup in each meaty hand. His letterman jacket clings to oversized biceps.

  It's the look of every kid paid to do nothing but work out, score touchdowns, and take his steroid protein shakes right on time. Even the open-mouthed way he’s chewing a wad of gum grates on my nerves. His beady eyes shine at the sight of Faye, and I want to put my fist through his smug smile.

  There were a million Hunters back home. Jake and I went to school with them long before their sons got old enough to harass innocent girls like Faye.

  They’re the snotty sons of oil-rich assholes; the ones whose daddies pay for the new football stadium at the high school just to make sure their kid has a prime spot
on the senior roster. They have enough money to make sure everyone looks away from junior’s bad grades and juvenile records.

  I can’t be bought, kid. And daddy isn’t here to get you out of this one.

  For the first time since she appeared on my doorstep, Faye’s warm brown eyes cloud over at the sight of Hunter. She scoots closer to me at his words.

  Being this close to the boy that’s been making her life hell is enough to put the edge of fear in her, and that’s enough for me. I can’t stand to see her tense up, feel the wire cord of apprehension tighten her frame.

  I’m halfway up the stairs in two long strides, closing the distance between me and Hunter. The cocky college football player is nearly as tall as I am, his close-cropped hair bleached so light it’s white beneath the dim lights of the party. Unsure of who I am or why I’m headed straight for him, Hunter gives me the typical once over. It’s posturing, and I don’t even bother to acknowledge his attempts at intimidation.

  “What’s your problem—” he begins, puffing up an overworked upper body.

  I have no use for peacocking and preening.

  Years of running and a dedication to maintaining the same workout regimen as I did when I was active in law enforcement means I’m strong. But more importantly, I’m quick. These prep-school personal trainer-coddled momma’s boys have only ever had to display brute force on a football field, and it shows.

  “Listen here, you little shit.” My hand is up before Hunter realizes I’m still moving, my grip making contact with the underside of his meaty chin.