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gurugirl · 2 years

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The Con Artist | Part 2

Summary: You're onto Harry and decide to take a trip North to get away for a bit but you can't escape him and things kind of get out of hand when you find yourself cuffed to a bed in Harry's motel room.

Warning: Mentions of being drugged, masturbation, mentions of drinking alcohol and inebriation, vomit, a heated scene turned intimate (is that something to be warned of?)

10k words

A/n: detective!harry x criminal!reader This is part 2 of this series. The Con Artist Masterlist

◈ ◈ ◈

“Fuck…” Harry groaned when you walked out the door.

He fucked up. Majorly. He could have totally just blown his cover. Blown the case. You were on to something and you got freaked out and left in a rush.

He couldn’t figure out what you’d suddenly realized. Or what happened even. He pulled on his briefs and checked his wallet that was sitting on the side table. He checked his luggage and picked up his pants from the floor, reaching into his pocket and found his money clip there with all the cash he’d put in it. You hadn’t taken a single thing.

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before collapsing back onto his bed.

Being a detective for 3 years had been a decent gig. Harry didn’t have many breaks but he was onto you and if he could finally catch you it would be big for his career. Not only would he be putting a violent criminal (not violent in the traditional sense) away, you were gorgeous. You were sure to make headlines once caught. It would boost Harry’s name and his chops because he knew he’d be named lead detective on the case in any article written about you.

Your offense was bad. You’d tricked a lot of men into bringing you into their homes, drugged them, and then stole from them. That is called infliction of bodily harm to commit a felony. You were facing some serious accusations given how many times you’d done it (of the ones that were reported). You could be put in prison for life. Multiple decades at a minimum.

Harry was meant to only go to the Warwick, not get noticed, follow you with your victim back to his place, and then catch you in the act, bringing you down once and for all. All he needed was the last piece of evidence, the actual proof that you were guilty of the crimes that he thought you were.

But that’s not what happened at all. When Harry approached you in Liberty Park after following you from the café where you bought a latte and a pastry he realized you were even prettier in close proximity. His fucking knees nearly buckled when he heard your pretty voice and saw the way you smiled at him. The way you very subtly flirted with him. But he may or may not have been subtly flirting with you as well. He couldn’t help it. In normal circumstances, he’d be pursuing you hard and begging for a date. But you were a wanted criminal. And he was a detective.

And so when he followed you from your apartment complex to the Warwick he had full intentions to go through with his original plan. Despite the hot little silky dress you were wearing. He tried not to imagine peeling it off your body and wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling your nipples into his mouth. He tried. He really did.

But then when he saw you making eyes with a man across from you he realized he didn’t want to see you leaving with anyone. He wanted you to leave with him. Your short dress rode up your thigh when you sat and crossed your leg and Harry was suddenly making his way across the room to you without a second thought. His primal side took over and he wanted you. He was going to have you. This was not his normal attitude when it came to work.

Stupid man, Harry thought to himself.

Before he left his room, he put on a nice suit, casual, not too fancy, but nice enough to get into any club around. And he also only needed to flash his badge and he’d be let in anywhere. He knew you’d be on the prowl for your next victim and that you’d likely go to a club to pick one.

He tidied up the room and when he reached into his luggage he felt the box of condoms. He put them in an easily accessible spot just in case. Even though he was on assignment undercover, he could still have some fun. He could potentially pick someone up that evening if you didn’t wind up picking a victim. He just didn’t expect that it would be you he brought back to his room. That had been a big mistake on his part. Huge mistake. It was bad. The whole case could be down the drain because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

He just got carried away with you. You were flirty and interested in him and that fed his ego. He already knew quite a lot about you and found you very intriguing. And clearly tempting. Which was annoying because he’d probably just fucked everything up by bringing you back to his room. Bringing you back to his room was supposed to be a last-ditch scenario. Which is why he was in the Ritz. He had to appear to be someone whom you might steal from. But he wasn’t supposed to bring you back to his room yet.

And that’s just what happened. He brought you to his room, fully intending on keeping you for the night. But you caught on to something. He just didn’t know what. You really had him in a tailspin. He was so confused by what had happened. He could figure something out and still catch you in the act on another day, sure. But it was just frustrating how he let his cock do the thinking for him. How your eyes and your soft voice were all he could think about. And that was the confusing part. Even knowing what you’d done, he was drawn to you.

Harry looked at his cell phone and pulled up your number. He needed to play dumb. To act like he couldn’t understand why you’d left in a rush. Well, the truth was he actually didn’t know why you left. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But he knew deep down you were no fool and something had tipped you off. He just couldn’t figure out what. So, he’d play dumb until he could catch you.

He began to type out his message to you but he wasn’t sure what to say. Then he began overthinking what he’d say, wondering if texting too soon was a good idea or not. Or should he wait until tomorrow? And what would he even say?

Harry groaned and put his cell phone down on the bed. His cock was still hard. You turned him on so fast. He was hard in the taxi on the way to his hotel room. He closed his eyes and pressed on himself. Imagining how your lips felt on him, how your tongue lapped all over the skin on his prick and dipped into his slit. And your naked body. God, that was a surprise. You were so soft and pretty and you smelled so nice.

But then you suddenly got a faraway look in your eyes when you were sitting in his lap just before he opened up the condom wrapper. He stopped what he was doing when he felt the air shift around you both. You said you were fine but it was like you just never came back from wherever you went and that was it.

Harry pushed his briefs down and wrapped his hand around his shaft. He needed to finish what was started.

With the taste of you still on his face and in his nose, he spit into his hand and pumped himself slowly. Your pretty noises and sweet gasps wouldn’t be forgotten. The goosebumps on your skin when you came, the way you grasped his hair and said his name.

Harry came quickly to the image of you naked on his lap, and your wet pussy pressing over his thick cock. The fact that you hadn’t shaved was also a turn-on. Harry didn’t have a preference for shaved or not, but the way your pussy looked against him was what did him in. He spurted warm come over his tummy and into his hand, smoothing it over his cock with a panted moan.

Man was he fucked.

◈ ◈ ◈

You didn’t know what it was about Harry that suddenly had your hackles raised. Something wasn’t right. He was fucking gorgeous and you were kicking yourself on your way back to your apartment for running out like you did because he seemed so harmless and god was he hot. But something… something else was at play.

The more you thought about it, the more confident you felt that you’d made the right decision, despite really wanting him to fuck you. To see him twice in one day? A man from out of town. He approached you twice. The first time could be nothing but in the Warwick? Why didn’t you see it then?

And the suit he wore was nice, but it wasn’t a suit a rich man would wear. You were all too aware of the basics. He was staying in an expensive room, sure, but what else about him gave you the idea that he had money? It was almost like a strange setup. Like the room was for show but he forgot to do anything else that pointed to money. Or maybe you were just overthinking it. No, you weren’t overthinking. The condoms in the side table? The way he approached you at Victory Park and the Warwick.

He was either a cop or someone trailing you, hired by one of your victims. And what did he say he did for work? He didn’t. Suspicious. He also didn’t ask what you did for work. Very suspicious.

Back at your apartment you undressed, slid your robe on, and started the kettle for tea. You needed to calm down. Your mind was racing with thoughts of Harry and what his game was. You’d need to lay low for a bit. Harry could be on to you somehow. So, if you just went about your day and did random shit maybe you’d spot him following you then you’d know for sure he wasn’t just some man who coincidentally bumped into you twice in one day.

You were hypnotized by him at the Warwick. That’s why you left with him. You weren’t thinking with your brain when you got into a taxi to head back to his hotel room, that’s for sure. You were just glad that you suddenly snapped out of it and saw the situation for what it was; odd.

You sighed as you sat with a hot mug of tea on your couch. You couldn’t even turn the TV on to distract yourself. Your mind wouldn’t stop moving and questioning everything.

You checked your phone and still, there was nothing from Harry. Which was the only thing he’d done that night that made any sense. Texting you after you ran off would be another red flag. A regular dude would be licking his wounds and too embarrassed to reach out so soon.

You had a lot of thinking and planning to do. Work would need to be paused for a bit. But you were glad you had enough money stashed and saved that it was okay to take some time off. You could use a nice vacation anyway.

Maybe you’d go see your mom. It had been a bit since you’d seen her. Since you moved to LA two years ago, in fact. You called her every few days, though. You were in touch. But it would be nice to see her face. You missed her.

Your sleep was restless. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and what was going on. You didn’t know if you should actually be scared or not. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was a total coincidence, the whole thing. But you couldn’t ignore it. Despite how fucking hot he was. God if you could have just felt it inside of you… but you tried to push those thoughts down. You didn’t dare think about how his abs clenched when you ran your tongue over his frenulum, or the groan he made when you dabbed a kiss along the vein underneath his shaft. You certainly didn’t allow yourself to remember how his big hands held you down as he sucked on your clit and made you come in his mouth. His bright, clear eyes on yours that grew dark with lust the moment he saw your tits – which then reminded you that you left your fucking stupid sticky bra in his room. In your haste to leave you pulled your dress up and stuffed your panties into your purse then slid your heels on that were sitting by the door on your way out.

“Goddamnit!” You whisper shouted to yourself thinking about the bra. It was a decent one too. Sticky bras generally didn’t last forever but the one you had was expensive and it looked like a real bra on your breasts and was soft. The cups would stay sticky for a bunch of wears, as long as you cleaned it after each use and put it into its special little case.

So, you didn’t sleep well. If at all. Your mind didn’t stop assaulting you throughout the night. Plus the idea of driving North to Cottonwood to see your mom was daunting. It would be something like a 9-hour drive. But, it could be fun. Have yourself a bit of a road trip.

Your neighbor, Joyce, was more than happy to feed and check on Buster and Barry every couple of days. You trusted Joyce. She had you check on Eunice, her cat, when she was in the hospital for a week after getting pneumonia. You didn’t know Joyce all that well but she was always friendly and helpful.

You packed only one suitcase and started on your journey North before the sun was up. The city wasn’t busy but it wasn’t dead either. LA is a busy city and lots of commuters start before the sun comes up because once the sun is high in the sky, traffic comes to a halt. But you checked your surroundings, not really knowing what to look for, other than a tall, handsome, and familiar man. But he could easily disguise himself with a cap or hide in a car somewhere. You would never know if you were being followed. You felt paranoid. Once you got onto Highway 5 the road was clear, well, compared to inner LA traffic, and time flew by.

The radio kept you somewhat occupied but you were feeling the lack of sleep behind your eyes and in your sinuses. After driving for three hours you stopped at a gas station to get gas and buy some coffee and snacks. You kept an eye on the road as vehicles passed while you were leaning against your car pumping your gas. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A couple of cars pulled in while you were getting gas but you couldn’t see that anything was unusual. No sign of Harry as far as you could tell. But you wouldn’t let your guard down.

When you got back on Highway 5 you continued checking your rearview mirror. The radio played mostly talk and some classic rock. Your mind zoned out as you sipped your gross gas station coffee and stuffed your face with packaged cinnamon buns, which turned out to have tiny little nuts in them that you hadn’t expected but found as a nice surprise.

Highway 5 was as boring and long as any other highway you’d ever been on, but the difference was your journey was 90% on the boring road. You started talking to yourself for a bit of entertainment. You imagined the scenario of confronting Harry about what you thought and how he might act.

“How is it that you spotted me twice in one day? You’re not a very good spy.”

He’d say back, “A spy? What? I just saw a beautiful woman in a park and was genuinely lost. And I couldn’t believe it when I saw you again at the club that very night. Feels more like fate to me than anything.”

You scoffed, “Unlikely in LA big guy.”

Harry would act serious and somewhat offended, and say with a frown, “No. I mean it. Why would a spy give himself away to you? Twice in one day no less? That would be a pretty bad spy. I’m just a man who saw a beautiful woman and wanted to get to know you better.”

“Then tell me what it is you do for a living, Harry.”

Harry would say he was an executive or something like that. For a production firm out of London and he was on a trip to LA. You couldn’t imagine a man like him would be an executive or CEO. He didn’t have the usual characteristics of someone who was a big shot. Harry was a bit more salt of the earth. Which you honestly liked more than the CEO types.

“And why did you have condoms in your side table? Were you expecting to have me in your room?”

Harry would laugh, “No. Was hoping to get lucky that night is all. Had no idea it would be you I’d bring back to my room.”

And then you’d jump on him and demand he put a condom on so you could finally fuck him once and for all.

You rolled your eyes and laughed.That was such an unlikely scenario but still…

The moment you passed into Cottonwood nostalgia hit you. You could almost smell your old high school and its hallways. This was the small town you grew up in. This was where you met all your friends, went to high school football games, worked at Roger’s Frosty until you attempted to go to college (that didn’t work out), lost your virginity to Alan, and got drunk behind the cemetery with your best friend Raechel. You couldn’t wait to see Raechel either. Your mom and Raechel were your two favorite people in the world and they were both in Cottonwood.

You pulled up to the two-bedroom house on Rhonda Road and parked behind your mom’s car in the driveway and took a deep breath. You were home.

◈ ◈ ◈

Harry set up surveillance outside of your apartment to track you. He had a feeling you’d be heading North to see your mom. Yes, he knew quite a lot about you. He knew where you grew up, knew your mom’s address, what high school you went to, the names of your friends, the kind of car you had…

He was parked not far from your car. He wore a black wool cap on his head to attempt a disguise and had the seat back as he kept watch. At one point he did doze off for a bit but woke when a car honked at a person standing in the middle of the street. LA is full of the strangest people.

He sort of thought that maybe you wouldn’t leave after all. Maybe he’d misjudged you. It had been hours and you still hadn’t left. Unless you’d taken a bus.

He stretched his arms overhead and yawned. He’d need to get some coffee soon. He had barely slept. He’d been in his car for hours waiting for you but at nearly 5 am when you still hadn’t emerged, he wondered if you were going to at all.

Harry looked at his phone and scrolled through Facebook when he saw he had a notification. His sister had posted a picture with the kids and her husband. He smiled to himself. He missed Gemma. He missed his mom. He missed his two nieces, whom he barely knew because he wasn’t around much.

Harry looked up at the moment you were pulling into the street and driving away. He dropped his phone and started his car to follow you. This was it. You were heading North, he knew it.

He kept his distance from you, sure to never tip you off. He didn’t want you to know you were being followed because he figured you’d be paranoid or watching out.

When you stopped off at the gas station, he kept driving, heading to the next one 18 miles up to fill his own tank. It was a risk to lose sight of you, but he knew where you were headed. He could pretty much guarantee that he’d see you driving past the gas station soon enough. And he was right. Once his tank was full and he’d gotten coffee and snacks for the road he saw your car pass and he pulled out and continued trailing you right into Cottonwood to your mother’s home.

He booked a room at the Travelers Motel, which is the only motel in all of Cottonwood. It was certainly not the Ritz but Harry didn’t care much about the room he slept in. He was only concerned about you and where you were going and what you were going to do next. He’d become a bit obsessed with you like any good detective would working their case. It had nothing to do with how beautiful and interesting you were. No, Harry was a total professional. Except for how he’d almost blown his cover when brought you back to his room and then proceeded to chow down on you until you came on his face and his hand. So, a professional minus that one tiny oversight.

Over the past year, he’d been tracking you and your work. It began as just another investigation once there were a handful of men who’d reported being drugged and then robbed by a woman of the same description. At first, it just looked like a prostitute robbing drunk men. Not much to do about that really. All the men claimed it wasn’t a prostitute situation. That no sex had been involved. But that was nothing new for cops to hear. No one ever wanted to admit they’d been with a prostitute. So it was never taken very seriously.

But when a very wealthy film producer went to the police with information about you, that’s when it got real. He had a photo of you from his security camera footage, though it was quite blurry and hard to make out your features. You’d taken nearly a half million dollars in watches and jewelry from him after drugging him.

He claimed he woke up the following day (he’d been out for almost 18 hours from what he could recall) in a daze with all his watches gone. The footage from the security cameras backed up his statement about being robbed. And there it was, a blurred video of someone who looked a lot like you, stealing from the man who’d just been drugged.

One of the reasons why it suddenly became something to look into was because the film producer was adamant and he even went so far as to get bloodwork done and showed the toxicology report to the police. It was one thing to steal from someone who passed out after drinking too much alcohol of their own volition, but it was quite another when someone passed out from being given a high dose of drugs (which could potentially be fatal in the right person) against their will and then robbed.

Now, this was something to look into. Harry was the one who took the case. It didn’t need to be anything elaborate. And while it was important to investigate, no one had died yet and so it wasn’t a top priority. Harry would do his research and follow you until he had enough evidence to put you away. But there was no immediate rush. So he was still working on other cases when he first began looking into the crimes you’d been accused of committing.

Then, six months ago, a relatively famous actor reported a crime that looked a lot like your M.O.

He’d been at the Warwick and according to his statement, you approached him, he took you back to his place, and then that’s really all he remembers. He woke up the following afternoon and he’d been robbed.

It was difficult to keep putting your case on the back burner when you were drugging and robbing high-profile men. The public would soon begin hearing about this and they would be looking to the police to do something. So, the case was escalated. Harry would be in LA following your every move. It took some time to get all the pieces sorted before he could really begin putting all of his efforts into the case, but he was ready. The Ritz was chosen because it’s a nice hotel and Harry’s last-ditch effort scenario was to bring you back to his room (if everything else failed first) and then you’d think he was wealthy and hopefully get caught in the act of trying to drug him or rob him. That, and the hotel gave a big discount for the stay because the B-list actor you’d drugged and robbed made a call.

Harry sat on the bed and realized the mattress was going to be an issue. For the last five nights, he’d been sleeping on soft clouds. This was… a box spring in comparison. Firm and hard under his bottom.

“What the fuck?” Harry turned and put his palms over the mattress and stood up. He pressed down at the center and it was hard as a board. He groaned. The floor would be more comfortable than this. He’d probably wind up just sleeping in his car.

Later that night Harry followed you to Cody’s OK Corral. A bar. It was one of those places that all the locals went to. Cheesy on the outside, reminiscent of some western saloon theme and the inside was the 90s with wood paneling, posters taped to the walls, a pool table that took up far too much space given how small the interior was, a small stage in the corner but no live band in sight, dollar bills taped and stuck to the ceiling all over, sticky floors, the stale scent of spilled beer and some sort of disinfectant, and it was packed.

He kept his cap on his head and wore something that he hoped wouldn’t give him away, but he needed to get his eyes on you so he could keep his distance and you wouldn’t spot him.

It wasn’t long before he saw you. So fucking cute with jeans and a white t-shirt tucked in. You never even needed a drop of makeup but he couldn’t get over how pretty you were. You were with your friend Raechel and seated at the bar with a beer. He hadn’t ever known you to drink alcohol so this was a little bit odd.

Harry kept getting bumped into as some of the people were dancing and having a good time. His position was awkward but he needed to stay where he was so he could watch you without being noticed.

When a man in a flannel shirt came up behind you and Raechel, Harry noticed that he was giving you special attention. Harry didn’t like the looks of this guy. How he was leaning in too close to you. The way he kept trying to pull your attention away from Raechel. But Harry did notice how you were barely giving the flannel-shirt guy the time of day. This made Harry smile. Not that he was jealous or anything. Of course, he wasn’t.

Harry had been lucky that he wasn’t seen by you. Eventually, though, it almost didn’t matter. You had gotten drunk. Another odd thing Harry couldn’t understand. He hadn’t seen you drink more than two beers but he also knew you weren’t a drinker in general. Maybe you were just a lightweight?

Raechel and the guy were dancing while you were swaying and had your eyes closed, holding on to the man’s bicep. Raechel was wasted too, but Harry had seen her guzzle a few long island iced teas so it was no wonder. He was concerned about you, though. Two beers shouldn’t have you in such a state. He couldn’t figure out why you were so drunk.

But then when the guy called an Uber and helped Raechel get in, leaving you and the guy by yourselves is when Harry realized what might have happened. You’d been drugged. Karma was funny this way, you’d literally been given a dose of your own medicine. Except that flannel-shirt guy had different intentions with you than you had with the men you’d drugged.

The man walked you to what Harry imagined was his pickup truck. But this wasn’t going to fly. Not on Harry’s watch. He wasn’t going to just stand by and let some loser put you into his pickup truck so he could do god-knows-what to you.

“Hey!” Harry began to walk toward the man before he’d been successful in getting you into his truck.

The man turned to look at Harry with the smallest bit of surprise on his face before he stood upright and faced Harry, “What?”

“That’s my friend,” Harry said as he gestured toward you, “Where are you taking her?” Harry didn’t know how he was going to play this but he only knew he couldn’t allow you to be harmed by this stranger.

You were leaning against his truck, but still standing upright mostly. When you spotted Harry you laughed and pointed, “Harry?! Oh my god!” Except your words came out in a strange, watery, slur.

“She wants to go home with me. Sorry, you lost your chance, dude,” the man walked a few steps toward Harry and tried to act intimidating.

The thing was that Harry was rarely intimidated by anyone. Harry was a cop and he was trained. He took his work seriously and he knew he’d have no problem slamming this asshole to the ground and walking away unscathed if necessary.

“She’s not going with you, mate. Come on, Y/n… let’s go hon,” Harry moved his eyes toward your pretty face and stepped around flannel-shirt guy and toward you when the dumbass put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turned and wrapped his hand around the loser’s wrist and bent it back. The man immediately let go of Harry’s shoulder and winced in pain, “Fuck!”

“Do not touch me. And you’re getting off easy right now motherfucker. I know you drugged her because I watched her only drink two beers. I’m going to call the cops if you don’t back off.”

Harry released flannel-shirt guy’s wrist and the man immediately put his hands up in surrender and backed away.

Harry put his arm behind you and held you up as he walked you to his car. It was a bit of a struggle. You were heavier than you looked and your limbs weren’t moving properly. When he’d secured you in your seat he got into the driver’s side and sighed. He put his head back into the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was doing. He shouldn’t have shown himself. He should have just called the cops and had them check on you. But he didn’t want that man touching you for even a second longer.

“Harry?” Your voice was slurred and weak. Your eyes were red and you were sweating the slightest bit.

Harry took in your appearance. You had definitely been drugged, but you were somewhat aware. Which was good. But it was bad because it also meant you might remember him after the drugs wore off.

“Let’s get you to a bed to sleep. I bet you’re pretty tired right now,” Harry said as he moved his hand to your face and pressed his thumb over your cheekbone. He didn’t know why he reached out to touch you but you immediately grabbed his hand and closed your eyes, holding his palm to your face.

Harry considered dropping you off at your mom’s. Bringing you to the front porch and ringing the doorbell for your mom to find you. But when he drove past the house, he saw all the lights off. What if your mom didn’t answer the door? He didn’t want to be seen by your mom. That would be difficult to explain.

But he certainly couldn’t bring you back to his motel room because what would you do once you woke up and saw him? His cover would surely be blown then. If it wasn’t already. But it was probably too late.

He’d broken protocol by showing his face and not calling the cops on flannel-shirt guy. He was in too deep. The whole reason you were here was probably that you were on to him already. You knew something otherwise you would have never fled LA.

He parked in the lot at the Travelers Motel and exhaled heavily. You appeared to be asleep. What could he do?

His priority at that moment was to protect you. Even if it meant you finding out everything. He wasn’t going to risk having you hurt or dead because he didn’t want you to see him following you. He had no choice but to bring you into his motel room and lay you on the hard bed and let you sleep off the drugs.

◈ ◈ ◈

You woke up with a stiff neck and achy back. Your head was pounding. It felt like you had an intense hangover. You fluttered your eyes open and noticed you were in some kind of rundown motel room. The window to your left had curtains drawn but you could see the edges of the window and it appeared to be dark out still. There was a TV on in the room somewhere because you could see the flickering of the light and hear the low volume of voices coming from it. The bed was hard as a board. You groaned when you tried to push yourself up but realized your wrists were cuffed together.

“What?” Your voice came out groggy and cracked.

You tried to turn your head to see the other side of the room but a pillow was in your way and you didn’t quite have the energy to sit up just yet.

Harry heard your groan and he sat up to check on you. It had only been four hours since you’d been sleeping. It was now close to five in the morning. He saw your foot move and he knew you were awake. He still hadn’t quite decided what he was going to do. But he was confident that he was doing the best thing to keep you safe.

He sat still and waited to see if you were really awake. Harry was on the floor with a blanket and a pillow. He didn’t want to have you waking up with him in the bed with you because you’d probably freak out and jump to conclusions.

“Uh… Harry?” Your still groggy voice spoke the words and Harry closed his eyes. You remembered.

Harry stood up and looked down at you. He looked like he’d been sleeping. You were a touch confused but you do remember seeing him last night. He was the last thing you did remember in fact.

“Hey… How do you feel?” Harry asked as he sat at the edge of the bed.

You didn’t know how you felt. Your head hurt but now you had a bigger problem on your hands. You needed to know what Harry was doing. Was your gig up? Was he a cop who’d caught up with you? Or worse?

“I have a headache,” was all you could manage to say. Harry got up and left the room but came back quickly and placed a warm towel on your head and then unlocked the cuffs, removing them from your wrists. He moved your hand upward to hold the rag in place, “Keep this here,” he spoke softly as he helped you sit upright and stuffed a pillow behind your back. He had a bottle of water and a white pill. You looked at his hand and then back to him, “What’s that?”

Harry smiled, “Just aspirin for your head.”

With your free hand, you took the pill and inspected it. You weren’t sure of Harry.

“Who are you?” You said as you closed your hand around the supposed aspirin.

This is the part Harry wasn’t sure about. He was about to lose all he’d worked for because of his need to keep you safe. To protect you.

“My name really is Harry. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise.”

You swallowed with your dry throat and cringed at the feeling, “Are you a cop?”

Harry breathed out a laugh and ran his fingers through his hair and tilted his head as he looked at you, “Are you a criminal?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “Did you drug me?”

Harry shook his head, “No. Some guy at the bar did. I watched you drink two beers and you got wasted. Your friend left in an Uber to go to her home and the guy tried to put you into his truck but I intervened before he could take you anywhere.”

“Raechel… is she okay?” Your eyes widened, remembering little bits and pieces.

“She’s at home. She’s okay. That guy was only interested in you, Y/n.”

You nodded and popped the aspirin in your mouth and Harry handed you the bottle of water. Which you drank down entirely, gasping as you wiped your lips.

“For some reason, I feel like his name was… Oregano or something stupid,” you laugh and shake your head.

“Oregano?” Harry raised his brows.

“Yeah, he told me his name but... He bought me another beer, which I didn’t really want. I hate drinking. I don’t like how it makes me feel. But I did start to notice how woozy I felt. And he didn’t drug Raechel?”

Harry shook his head, “I’m not sure. But Raechel drank quite a lot more than you and she was sent home in an Uber. My priority was to make sure you were okay. You were far more inebriated than Raechel.”

You kept your eyes on Harry’s, “So… are you a cop? Or are you following me and trying to kidnap me or something? Just tell me what’s going on.”

Harry looked down at his lap and breathed out a heavy sigh, “I fucked up. Was not mean to approach you or have you see me. You’re here, this whole mess, it’s all my fault.”

You were confused. That didn’t answer your question, “Okay. So are you going to tell me what’s going on or…?”

Harry met your eyes and he looked conflicted. You watched his throat jump as he swallowed and then he closed his eyes and tilted his head down, “Fuck.”

He got up from the bed and walked around the small room, “Yeah. I’m a cop. Detective. I’ve been tracking you for a while. But I fucked up. Now my cover is blown and I’ve got nothing substantial.”

Your head was still pounding but now you were feeling clearer. You knew something was up with him when you left him hanging in his hotel room.

“I knew it. That’s why I ran out. I just suddenly had a feeling that you weren’t just some man in town on business.”

Harry chuckled and sat back down on the bed with a thud, “What happened with that? What made you feel like that?” Harry was genuinely curious about what you’d realized. He figured he knew what it was but he wanted to hear your version of it.

“Well, for starters, you had condoms in your side table. Right next to your bed. Not exactly typical for a guy to do. Men don’t usually plan ahead like that when they’re staying in a hotel room. Then, it was the fact that I’d seen you, a total stranger, twice in one day. Couldn’t be a coincidence, especially because I’m… well, as you said... and so I tend to be wary of coincidences like that. Though it did take me a little longer to realize than normal.”

“So you admit it? You’re a criminal?” Harry sat up straight. Maybe this would be it. Maybe you would give a confession and that would be that. But of course, you weren’t quite ready to confess everything.

You sat back into your spot and frowned and instead of answering his question, you asked him one in return, “You blew your cover and all your hard work just to make sure I was okay?”

Harry looked at your face and his own expression softened as he nodded, “Yeah. I didn’t want anyone hurting you. Even if you’ve done some bad things, you didn’t deserve whatever that was. Who knows what he was going to do? I couldn’t just sit back and watch that happen for the sake of a case.”

You swallowed and smiled at the handsome detective, “Well, thank you, Harry. I appreciate what you did. You saved me.”

You knew he was going to try and get you to talk. But you weren’t ready to go to prison. You knew that’s where you’d go too. For a long time. So you chose to keep mum about everything.

“Hungry?” Harry smiled and then looked out the window. It was still dark out, but he was starving. He needed something to eat and he knew that just up the street was a 24-hour diner with one of those big American-style breakfast plates that came with eggs, sausage or bacon (sometimes and bacon), potatoes of some kind, toast, and pancakes of course.

“Not, really…” you said. This had you slightly confused. You thought for sure he was going to start asking you some tough questions and corner you and force a confession from you. But he wanted to know if you were hungry? Was he trying to butter you up (no pun intended)?

“Well, I’m really hungry and I can’t leave you here by yourself so you’ll come with me. And you should probably eat anyway since you were most likely drugged,” Harry stood up and slid his wallet into his back pocket and paused his motion when he turned to look at you, removing his wallet from his back pocket with a grin, “Should probably put this in a better spot since I’ve got a thief on my hands,” he laughed.

Now you were truly dumbfounded. Did he find this funny? What was going on?

Harry noticed the way you were looking at him, confusion all over your face, “What? I’m hungry and you should eat. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna have you cuffed or anything, but I’m not afraid to use them if needed,” he raised his brows at you, kind of like how your mother used to when she’d threaten to ground you if she thought you were going to do something bad.

“I’m just… confused. You’re a cop. You followed me, and now we’re gonna go get breakfast as if nothing is going on?” You stayed in your spot on the bed and leaned against the pillow. You didn’t know if you should trust him. He did save you from Oregano, though.

“Well, yeah. You’re in my custody but I think we should eat before we get down to it. Come on. Get up,” Harry leaned toward you and put his hand out.

You were in some strange alter reality and you felt like you’d lost your mind when you reached out to grab his hand and he pulled you off the shit mattress, “God. What kind of bed is that? I think whoever installed it thought it was a mattress, but that’s got to be a box spring, don’t you think? That’s awful.”

Harry laughed and slid on his jacket. You watched him tuck his wallet into the inside pocket of said jacket as you put your shoes on.

Harry squinted at you and paused, “You just can’t help yourself, can you? This wallet is off-limits to you. Don’t you dare try and snatch it,” Harry scoffed.

You scoffed right back at him as you stood, “Yeah right. You’re a cop Harry, not exactly the type that I…” you stopped yourself. You had to be careful. Perhaps this was Harry’s schtick. Get you feeling comfortable and start to like him even, and then he’d catch you in accidental confession.

“Not the type you… steal from? Right. Because cops don’t make shit compared to the types you case. You’re into the high earners,” Harry grasped your hand into his and walked you toward the door before turning back to you as he gestured toward where his hand surrounded yours, “Just to keep you from running off.”

At the only 24-hour diner in Cottonwood, Harry made you sit next to him in the booth. By the window of course. You felt like a kid a little bit.

Harry spread his legs and put his elbows onto the tabletop and leaned over to look at the menu. Typical man taking up way more space than necessary.

You weren’t feeling up to eating. Your stomach was queasy and you felt a bit dizzy still. Not even coffee sounded good.

When the waitress came to take your order you spoke, “Just a water for me.”

Harry turned to look at you with an unreadable expression and then turned back to the waitress, “I’ll have a coffee, and two orange juices. And…” he looked back down at the menu, placing his finger over the dish he wanted, “the Big Bear Platter, and a side of pancakes as well.”

He smiled at the nice lady and grabbed your menu along with his to hand them to her.

“Jesus Christ. That’s a lot of food, Harry,” you groaned.

Harry relaxed and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, but of course leaving his legs spread wide, “M’hungry. I told you. Got you an orange juice. You need sugar most likely.”

You hated orange juice. You didn’t know why and you were probably the only person on earth that hated it, but you just did. Really you had a distaste for anything orange flavored, including actual oranges.

“I won’t drink it,” you spoke as you looked out the window and crossed your arms over your chest.

Harry tsk’d at you and then you felt him lean over you. His face was next to yours, “You’ll drink it,” he spoke quietly before sitting back again.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Yeah, you were being made to feel like a child and you didn’t like it one bit.

“So what’s the plan after this, Harry? What are we doing?” You kept your head turned toward the window.

“Well, it’ll probably be good to stop at your mom’s, let her know you’re all right and then from there we’ll head back to LA. I might need to sleep a bit first, though, now that I think of it. Got zero sleep last night. You could use the rest as well.”

“So… my car will just stay here?” You turned to look at him now. Was he really keeping you in his custody? Could he do that? He probably could.

Harry smiled and the waitress dropped off Harry’s coffee and two liter-sized cups of orange juice.

He slid one of the cups toward you and then set his eyes on you before answering, “You’ll have to leave it with your mom, yes.”

You sighed and shook your head in annoyance, “Then what?”

Harry raised his brows and shrugged, “Mmmm… don’t want to reveal all my secrets to you just yet.”

“Am I under arrest?” You were worried about what would happen in LA. Why was he being so vague? Did he not have a plan?

Harry just grinned at you and he had that look on his face that people get when they know something you don’t know. Which is infuriating because what did he really know? Was he bluffing?

You grunted and sat back, looking straight ahead, away from his excruciatingly handsome face. Why was he so goddamn fine? That wasn’t fair.

When the multiple plates of food were placed on the table you looked over the sea of cholesterol and grease and sugar and it made your stomach turn. You swallowed when your mouth began to water, and it wasn’t watering in the good kind of way either. You were going to throw up.

“Harry…” you put your hand on the table and felt yourself start to sweat, “I’m gonna throw up. Move!”

Harry slid out of the booth seat and you scrambled out as quickly as possible, running to the bathroom and making it to a stall just in time to violently empty the contents of your stomach.

You took a minute to sit back on your shins and breathe before flushing the toilet and then you felt Harry’s hand reaching to clutch your underarm to help you stand. You hadn’t expected him to be there.

You looked up at him as he steadied you and he turned on the sink and wet a paper towel for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the paper towel from him and dabbing your mouth and your chin.

“You’re coming down off the drugs. He probably gave you Rohypnol or something similar. Benzos. That’s what you use, isn’t it? Some kind of benzo?”

You turned on the faucet and cupped your hands under the water and rinsed your mouth. You were not going to answer his question so he could get you to talk.

Harry just chuckled and leaned his hip on the sink as he watched you, “This is typical. Throwing up. You knew that, though, right? I’m sure all your victims have dealt with the same.”

You turned off the faucet and leaned into the mirror to look at yourself. A mess. You side-eyed Harry and then shook your head, “I’m not saying anything, Harry. I know you’re trying to trick me into confessing but it’s not gonna work.”

After Harry ate the nastiest breakfast known to man (well, on any other day it wasn’t nasty, but on a day when you were coming down from being drugged, it was vomit-inducing) he forced you to drink five sips of juice.

“Ah, ah, ah…” he cooed at you and pushed the cup back toward you, “two more sips. Come on, Y/n. It cannot be that bad. It’s just orange juice.”

You gagged and took your two last sips and then stared him down with the meanest look you could muster, “I. Hate. Orange juice. It’s disgusting. And now I hate you for forcing me to drink it.”

Harry laughed and pulled you out of the booth with him, walking you to his car, “You won’t hate me when you start feeling better thanks to the sugar.”

The sun was just beginning to peak from the horizon when Harry began to drive back toward the motel. It was still early.

“We’ll get some sleep back at the motel for a few hours and then we’ll stop at your mom's, drop your car there, and then head back to LA. That’s our plan,” Harry spoke confidently.

“What am I supposed to tell my mom? She’s going to wonder who you are and why I’m leaving her my car. Can’t I just follow you? I’m not going anywhere. You know where I live, you know everything. It’s not like I can get away from you.”

Harry shook his head as he kept his eyes on the road, “Not an option. As much as I want to believe you wouldn’t try and escape, I just don’t think I can trust you right now. It’s not worth it,” he turned onto the last street to head toward the motel, “And you can just tell your mom that you’ll be back to get the car next week or something. Tell her I’m your friend, whatever you want. Doesn’t matter.”

You did not want to do this. You did not want Harry taking you to jail. You did not want to lie to your mom. You did not want to leave your car behind.

“Whatever I want? So, I could just tell her you’re a cop who’s taking me back to LA to go to prison then?” You kept your eyes on Harry’s face.

Harry breathed out a laugh, “No. Don’t do that. Just tell her I’m your friend from LA and you’re going back with me and you’ll be back next week to get your car.”

“So you want me to lie to my mom.”

Harry stayed quiet as he pulled into the lot and parked his car. You both stayed silent as you entered the shitty motel room. Harry locked the door and tossed the keys to the room on the dresser as he pointed at the bed, “You’ll get the bed. I’ll set an alarm for four hours from now. That should give me enough sleep to get us back to LA safely.”

“I’m not laying on that bed ever again, Harry. You get the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned, “Why are you so difficult? Just do what I say. I’m the one in charge here. Not you. You’ll be on the bed. That’s final.”

You groaned and tilted your head back to look up at the ceiling. But what could you do?

You reluctantly climbed onto the bed and laid your body flat. It did feel good to lie down. You were exhausted.

Suddenly Harry was hovering over you and your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up. He grabbed your right wrist and gently lifted it above your head and then you realized what was going on. He was cuffing your arm to the bed so you didn’t escape. And for some odd reason, you were disappointed by that because there was just the smallest moment where you thought he was making a move on you. But that wasn’t what was going on at all.

Harry looked down at you, “You thought I was trying to pick up where we left off the other night. Didn’t you?” His dumb smirk made you roll your eyes and you turned your head to look away and shut your eyes to ignore him.

But when it was quiet and you didn’t feel him move or get off the bed you opened your eyes again and slowly turned to look back at the man. He was still sitting by your side, looking down at you.

“What, Harry? What?” You were getting worked up. Harry was kind of pissing you off now.

Harry just sat quietly with that knowing look on his fucking face as he moved his gaze over yours before pushing himself up to get off the bed.

It turns out that another side effect of coming off benzos is nightmares or vivid dreams. You woke up in a panic, breathing hard and shaking from whatever it was that you’d dreamt of. Harry was quick to your side, brushing your hair back, “You okay?”

You took a deep breath and felt comforted at the sight of him, “Just a bad dream.” You were still breathing heavily, though, and Harry frowned at the state you were in. He looked at your cuffed wrist and back to you, “Does your wrist hurt?”

You nodded, “A little. It’s numb, along with my arm so I can’t feel much at the moment.”

Harry was up and off the bed and back with the key, undoing the lock in a matter of seconds. He rubbed your wrist and squeezed up your arm slowly, “This will help get some blood flow back. We’ll cuff your other arm to give this one a break.”

You pinched your brows together, “Please, don’t, Harry. I promise I’m not gonna run off,” you looked at him in pleading.

Harry sighed and shook his head, “I’m not risking you running off.”

You pushed at him and sat up, “What the fuck are you so worried about? If this was really something where I’m going to prison, why haven’t you called anyone? You still need my confession, don’t you? I bet you’re not even supposed to have me in custody like this right now.”

Harry didn’t say anything as he listened to you speak and he stayed silent after you were done. You both sat and stared at one another. A standoff of sorts. Who would break first? Would he admit he was bluffing? Would you confess your crime?

“You’re in big trouble. You’ve done some very bad things. It’s necessary to keep you in my custody,” Harry finally spoke.

“Okay, and like I said, I’m not running off so don’t fucking cuff me because that hurts,” you yanked your arm away from where he was squeezing your forearm to bring blood flow back to your limb.

Harry grasped at your wrist and pulled you back toward him, “Don’t fucking yank your arm away. I’m trying to help!"

You rolled your eyes and pulled at your arm again, but Harry’s grip on you was solid. He pulled back and you let out a groan of frustration, “You’re bluffing. I know it,” you looked at him directly in his eyes when you said it.

Harry’s brows were knitted together when you brought your free hand up to put over his hand to try and loosen his grip, slipping your fingers underneath to wedge his hand off your arm.

Harry removed one of his hands from you and then grabbed both of your wrists and pinned you down to the bed, “I’m being nice! Stop resisting me!” His voice was just a notch softer than a shout but it was still intimidating. His deep voice was menacing.

“It’s not nice to cuff me to a bed you asshole,” you snarled back at him with your most serious voice. But once you’d said it, in the back of your mind, the pervert in you couldn’t help but sort of enjoy the contact and close proximity with the detective. And your words – not nice to cuff me to a bed – well, now, that was debatable depending on the circumstances.

And you saw the way Harry paused when you said it too. The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed, how his breathing deepened as he looked down at you under him. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. A sudden epiphany had dawned on you both at that moment, that you were both enjoying this.

Your own chest began to rise and fall the longer he stared down at you. You couldn’t help yourself when you said in your snarkiest tone, “You like that, though. Don’t you?”

Harry huffed out a laugh of disbelief, “Fuck you.”

But suddenly when he pressed his mouth over yours, your brain melted and nothing else mattered. It was just you and Harry. It didn’t matter that he was a cop and you were a criminal. This was sexual frustration and attraction and odd circumstances all accumulated.

Harry let go of your wrists and his hands traveled down your sides and you slid your hands into his hair, feeling his curls between your fingers and his lips smothering yours.

The kiss was wet and hot. It had your tummy churning and electricity running through your spinal cord.

Harry moved his mouth back from yours but bumped his nose into yours as he spoke, “Fuck. We shouldn’t do this.”

But when he softly brushed his mouth over yours again his words were brushed aside and forgotten when you moaned into his mouth and his thumb snuck under your shirt in search of something more.

Part 3*

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