Dirty Grovel: Chapter 4

You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

My father used to say that a lot when I was a young boy.

I would roll my eyes and tell him that no one wanted to catch a fly at all. He’d muss up my hair and tell me not to be a smart ass.

Ever since Drew told me that Sutton was pregnant, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my father, remembering old memories that I thought I’d forgotten.

Maman was the disciplinarian of the two of them. My father had a more tempered nature. He won people over with charisma, not control.

I’m starting to see the merits of an approach like that with someone as stubborn as Sutton.

But she sure as hell doesn’t make it easy.

Case in point: I turn around for one fucking second and she decides to dart out of the car and right into the thickest group of loud-mouthed tourists she can find.

“Boss, sorry,” Chad groans as he races towards me. “She asked me for a mint, then she jumped out of the car and made a run for it… I couldn’t stop her.” Poor schmuck is pale, his upper lip shimmering with a fresh coating of sweat.

“Do you need help tracking her down?” Kenneth asks, adjusting his police badge as though he wants to highlight just how much help he can be.

“I’ll let you know,” I assure him, before slapping Chad on the back. “Let’s go. If we hurry, we might still be able to catch her before she does something truly stupid.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m eating my words and sweating just as badly as Chad is.

My patience dissipated about nineteen and a half and I’m rethinking the whole “catching flies with honey” strategy.

The woman doesn’t have a damn thing to her name.

No money. No contacts. No clothes!

And yet she runs.

When she comes back, I’m not catching her with honey—I’m catching her with fucking handcuffs.

The dinner rush has officially started by the time the sun starts setting and I’m forced to admit defeat and trudge back to the police station where Kenneth remains on duty, along with Deshawn and Mateo.

I’m something of a local hero in Nassau, mainly thanks to my generous contributions to various LEO charities and fundraisers. There’s even a port named after me on the west side.

I’d gotten shit about that from Artem and Faye for weeks. They kept bowing before me, citing that any man who had a port named after him in a foreign country was practically royalty.

If that were the extent of my reputation, I’d be happy to take the hazing. But unfortunately, at the precinct, I’m less lauded for my charitable contributions and more celebrated for my wild parties and weekend blowouts at the Pavlov estate.

The honey strategy works well with underpaid cops.

“Where’d you find the pretty blonde, cap?” Mateo winks. “Quite the catch.”

I throw a glare towards Deshawn and Kenneth. “You two been running your mouths?”

“Always.” Deshawn grins. “Granted, I only got a back view of her but it was a great one.”

The two of them start cackling like a couple of high school boys.

Biting down my annoyance, I turn to Kenneth. “I need to find her.”

He takes off his cap and runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Well, this is a new one. I’ve known of you wanting to get rid of women before. But you’ve never wanted to find one before.”

Deshawn guffaws. “What’s so special about this little filly?”

“Why don’t you just host another one of your famous yacht parties and find a new blonde?” Kenneth suggests. “Preferably one for all of us.”

All three men descend into howls of laughter and my fists clench impatiently. I don’t mind putting up with the inane chatter if it means I get results at the end of it.

But none of these fuckers seem to understand just how serious I am about finding Sutton.

And fast.

I pull out my wallet and slap a couple of hundred dollar bills on the counter in front of us.

“This is just to get the search started. There will be a twenty-thousand-dollar reward for the man that manages to track her down for me.”

The three stooges stare at the cash fanned out in front of them.

Kenneth turns to me with his mouth hanging loose like a gaping goldfish. “Just to be clear, is this a bribe or a donation?”

“It’s whatever it needs to be to get the job done,” I snap. “You decide.”

Kenneth palms the money and slides it off the counter. “A donation it is,” he says cheerily. “Boys, let’s get to work. We have a blonde to find.”