The Dark Places

one of Patrick’s cases at the time. Surin’s father, Michael, had been assigned to her murder, which had been particularly nasty. Patrick was a wreck. Surin recalled her father and him sitting up until the early hours of one morning, drinking scotch. She had crept down the stairs and watched as he openly wept while Michael patted his back. As a child, she was utterly shocked to see a grown man, especially one larger than life, cry. As a cop, she now knew better. Her father was well-regarded on the force, but she had tried to distance herself from him in every way as not to be seen to be getting an easy ride.
“Detective O’Callahan,” she replied with a smile and a glance back over her shoulder. “Busy in here tonight,” she added, falling into easy conversation.
“It does seem like a big crowd for a Thursday, I guess,” he answered with a broad grin. “What brings you here on a school night, love?” As he spoke, he drew her a large pint of Guinness.
“Meeting my partner here to try and knock out some fresh leads on a case.” She sighed, turned leaning her elbows on the bar, and scanned the crowd to see if Parker had arrived yet.
She spotted him sitting alone in the back booth, her favourite spot, she smiled, took her drink and laid a note on the bar.
“Your money’s no good here,” Patrick said gruffly, pushing it back to her.
“Pat, if you said that to every cop you have worked with you would go broke.” She grinned affectionately.
“I don’t say that to every cop, Surin, only a select few.” He winked, and with that, he turned to serve another customer. She pushed the fiver back into her jeans pocket. After a few hours of sleep, she had awoken feeling mildly refreshed and decided to make an effort with her appearance. It had nothing to do with Parker, she told herself, and everything to do with feeling human again. She had squeezed into her dark denim skinny jeans and had to lay on the bed to get the fly up, added a ruby-red scoop neck t-shirt that probably showed a little too much cleavage than she ought to, brushed her long ebony hair and left it out, a touch of red lippy and she almost felt normal. She grabbed her drink off the bar and walked over.
Parker was too busy making sure that Madison had left through the back to notice that Surin was on her way over. When he did finally look up, his jaw dropped involuntarily. Surin looked completely unbelievable. Gone was the all-business attire; she was positively glowing. Wearing sinfully tight jeans that accentuated her hips and ass, her shiny black hair flowing down her back, he couldn’t help noticing the way her shirt hugged her generous chest. Jesus Christ, he thought and gulped the last of his beer. This is not good.
“Rhodes,” she said simply with a huge smile. “Miss me?” she teased and sat down across from him with her dark-coloured beverage.
“Guinness?” he asked gravelly, feeling a little bit like a tongue-tied teenager.
“What can I say, it’s in my blood,” she replied casually.
Parker stared at her, willing himself to say something normal. “You just missed Dennis,” he blurted, feeling like an idiot.
Surin looked at him, an uneasy smile slowly forming. “Oh, that’s a shame.” She looked away, wondering if Parker was drunk.
He felt her unease at his awkwardness and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, running his hand through his tussled hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to, well, look like that,” he said honestly. “It kind of caught me off guard.”
“Look like what?” she queried, a gorgeous flush creeping up her neck. Surin was mortified. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this, she thought, silently scolding herself. I look like an idiot!
Parker laughed loudly at himself. “I guess, like a beautiful woman.”
Surin looked up at him, clearly not expecting that reply. “Oh!” she stuttered, “um, thanks, I just, well, this is as close to a night out as I get,” she added, fidgeting, “so I thought, hey make some effort not to look like a cop.”
Parker nodded.
“Too much?” she asked, gesturing to her breasts.
Oh shit, Parker thought as he felt himself harden in his pants. He shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Well, no, I mean you look great,” he answered. This was becoming uncomfortable. It’s Surin, pull yourself together, man! She seemed to relax all of a sudden.
“It’s nice to get a man’s honest, unemotional, unbiased opinion on these things, thanks.” She smiled. “I would hate to be walking around looking like, say, Madison, who I just happened to see leaving as I entered.” She stared hard at Parker, gauging his reaction. “You know what I mean?” she continued. “A walking advertisement of what to wear to get laid.”
Parker stared at her, unflinching. This lady missed nothing.
“She approached me to be her source,” he blurted. Surin slapped the table with her free hand.
“I knew she would,” she quipped matter-of-factly. “And?”
Parker sat back. “I told her no, professionally and personally.”
Surin took a sip of her beer. “You really said no to her?” she asked as if it was impossible. “Why?” Her eyes looked down at her hands wrapped around the glass.
Parker wasn’t used to seeing the vulnerable side of her. He waited.
“She’s young, single, ambitious, and gorgeous, and so are you, a perfect match, really.” Realising what she had just said, her eyes shot up to meet his.
They both sat there, not talking for what seemed like an eternity — the noise around them grew dull — like someone had hit the mute button. Every sense in Surin’s body was on high alert. She noticed Parker’s shoulders, how strong they looked, his hair, how she would love to run her fingers through it. Warmth spread to