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Tom Hanson, Judy Hoffs, Douglas “Doug” Penhall, Harry Truman “HT” Ioki, and Captain Adam Fuller, members of the Jump Street Chapel undercover unit, were hanging out at a local pizza parlor after a particularly hard drug case. Hoffs, distracted, stirred her glass of Coke with a straw.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made her look up. “Detective,” Hanson said, extending a hand. “Would you like to dance?”
In answer, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her up. They joined some other couples on the makeshift dance floor, and Tom busted out into the most ridiculous dance moves around her, trying to make her laugh. When she didn’t, he stopped messing around and moved in close, placing one hand on her waist while the other rested on the small of her back. “Relax,” he murmured. “The case is over; we made a good collar. So why are you so quiet?”
“Just leftover stress from the case, I guess,” Judy replied quietly, relaxing against him, letting her body sway to the ballad that was currently playing, some instrumental piece that she didn’t know the name of.
Dancing close, feeling restless
It’s a slow, sultry night
It’ll take a lifetime till sunrise
If you won’t stay with me tonight
Moving so close to him lit slow-burning fires in places she hadn’t thought she’d want to be touched since her rape a month ago. But Tom had always had that effect on her: he always knew what to say or do to make her feel better.
A warm breeze swept in from the opened door and curled around them before darting out again. Man, it felt good against the air-conditioned pizza parlor. For Detective Hoffs, the night turned slow and sultry.
Judy was suddenly aware that Tom’s hands had moved, roaming up her body. The only thought in her mind as she looked at him was: If you won’t stay with me tonight, it will be a long time till sunrise. And that thought scared her.
Feel your breath caress my shoulder
As your heart reads my mind
You don’t need to say anything
I can see everything in your eyes
Warm breath caressed her shoulder as he murmured, “Talk to me, Jude. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied, just as quietly. “You don’t need to say anything right now, Hanson.” Judy drew back slightly to see his expression and had to catch her breath at the look in his chocolate-brown eyes. In those eyes—which were normally flat eyes, cop eyes—she could see everything: every vulnerability, weakness . . . and emotion. And she was pretty sure those were reflected in her own eyes.