by Izzy Gomez
“How dare you come in here and say this! You fucking bitch!” In his fury, he was stronger than her, despite all her training. He shoved her feet out of his way and pulled his arm back.
Amanda didn’t have time to defend herself. The blow hit high on her cheekbone. Pain shattered through her head, rattling her teeth and blurring her vision.
She struggled to keep her thoughts, to stay conscious. Rage glittered in his eyes. She knew what people could do when crazy with grief. He would keep attacking. Todd and Dad were no match for Hank’s adrenaline.
She was on her own.
She managed to lift her legs again and got in a kick to Hank’s gut. He stumbled backward as she struggled to sit up. Her head throbbed with the movement, her brain trying to escape her skull. Rocky’s barking added to her agony.
The strike must have diminished Hank’s strength. Todd splayed his hand across Hank’s chest and shoved him against the wall. “You don’t fuckin’ touch her again.”
Hank struggled to get away as Todd pinned him with an arm across his stomach. “Let me go, you asshole. She’s a lying bitch.”
“Enough!”
They all turned to see Dad rising from his chair.
Amanda sagged into the couch, bracing against her aching butt and throbbing cheek. The attack was over.
Todd stepped back, he and Hank both breathing hard. Sweat dotted Todd's forehead.
“I don’t care how upset you are, you do not speak to your sister that way. And you sure as hell do not attack her.”
Stunned silence enveloped the room. Dad rarely raised his voice.
Todd moved away from Hank, sitting next to Amanda on the sofa. His dark eyes still glittered with fury. “You OK?”
Not even close. “I’ll live.”
“Todd, get her some ice.” Dad sank back into his chair, elbows on his knees, chin propped on one hand. With the other, he scratched Rocky’s head.
Hank glared at Amanda as he sat down on the ottoman, then cast a worried glance at Dad. “I’m sorry,” He ground out through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what happened to me.”
She believed him as much as she believed a defense attorney proclaiming his client's innocence.
Asshole. “Don’t worry about it.” Gingerly, she raised her fingers to her cheek. Winced.
She’d be the one worrying about it. She’d have a great shiner by morning. The guys at work would love that.
Todd returned with an ice pack. He handed it to Amanda and sat next to her.
Silence descended. Amanda tried to read Dad’s expression but couldn’t. He’d never been an outwardly emotional man.
“I’m so sorry, Dad.” As an afterthought she tossed in, “Hank.”
She shifted the ice on her face, trying to find a place that didn’t sting. Maybe Todd could write her a painkiller prescription before they left. Except the narcotics would knock her out so she’d oversleep tomorrow and be groggy all day at work.
Advil it was.
“I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. I wish it weren’t true.”
Hank snorted. “What do you care? You hated her.”
He deserved to be punched right back. An image popped into her mind of him clutching his nose as blood dripped down his face. It felt so satisfying she almost smiled.
“Just because we didn’t get along doesn’t mean I wanted someone to murder her. She was still my family. And I would never want that for Dad.” Again, as an afterthought she added, “Or you and Emily.”
“You going to tell her too?” Todd asked.
“I’ll call Emily,” Dad said. “In the morning. Might as well let her get a good night’s sleep.”
Amanda broke the next uncomfortable silence by saying, “You guys need to know, the family is always where we look first. So until we can clear your alibis, you’re all going to be treated as suspects.”
“What, and you get a free pass?”
Why couldn’t Hank be the type of person who went catatonic in his grief? “I have about a dozen other police officers who can account for my whereabouts for the past two days.”
“Of course you do.”
What the hell did that mean? “Dad, is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?” She hated this helplessness. She always felt at a loss around victims’ loved ones. But never had she felt it so sharply or so deeply lodged under her ribs as she did tonight.
Never before had it been her own family.
“There’s nothing we can do tonight.” Dad stared at the painting hanging above the sofa as he spoke. “Try to get some sleep, I guess. Start figuring things out in the morning.”
Amanda got up, holding the ice pack to her face, and went to her father’s side. She took his hand, squeezed. For his sake, she remained outwardly calm. But inside she was itchy, restless. She wanted to move.
He squeezed her hand back. “We got that on our honeymoon.”
She followed his gaze to the painting, an abstract rendition of a Native American woman sitting on a boulder, grinding corn with a mortar and pestle. She’d never cared for the harsh lines and garish colors.
“I didn’t know that.”
Dad nodded. “We were at this little gallery in Taos and Karen fell in love with it.”
Explained why Amanda didn’t like it.
“I told her it was too much money, that we couldn’t afford it with two kids and trying to buy a house.” His voice took on a distant quality, his eyes unfocused as he replayed the memory. “Then, when she was shopping the next day, I went back and bought it. Shipped it home so it was waiting for her when we got back.”
Amanda’s chest grew heavier. She didn’t understand why, but Dad loved Karen. She could see the heartbreak in the tense creases on his face. The weight on her chest grew so heavy she thought it might crack her sternum.
Awkward silence fell over them. Amanda forced herself not to squirm. She couldn’t stay here. She had to get out. Had to go home and spend a few hours alone. She wouldn’t sleep, or even relax, but at least she could rest. Vegging in front of the TV, cuddling her cats and browsing her new cookbook was better than staying in this charged, tense room.
“Dad, I’m so sorry, but I need to go. I’ve been up for almost two days. I have to get some sleep so I can work on this tomorrow.” Of course, tomorrow Brown would take her off the case.
She moved the ice pack away. Pain licked along her eye and cheek. Ignoring it, she leaned down to kiss her dad’s cheek. “I wish... I wish things were different.”
If wishes were horses...
“I do too, honey.” Dad looked up at her, his eyes weary. “There is one thing you can do for me.”
“Anything.”
“You find the bastard who took my Karen from me.”
Chapter 5
“What the hell happened to you?”
Amanda looked up from her computer to see Al coming toward her. As she’d expected, her eye and cheek had morphed into a mottled swirl of blue and purple. It reminded her of a tie-dyed shirt she wore in grade school.
“My brother didn’t take the news so well.” She reached for her coffee. Her throat had been dry since she left Dad’s. No amount of water or coffee helped.
Al cocked an eyebrow at her. “Todd hit you?”
Amanda almost laughed. Todd didn’t even kill spiders.
“Hank. My half-brother.”
“The egomaniacal jack-ass?”
“That’s the one.”
Al dropped into his desk chair. “You get anything last night from your dad?”
“I didn’t question him, if that’s what you mean.” Amanda closed down her computer file and leaned back in her chair. “But he did mention two things that caught my attention.”
Al nodded for her to continue.
“Karen supposedly left on Monday for a business trip in Kansas City. She was supposed to get back today.”
“So she could have been missing for a few days.” Al nodded. “Makes sense.”
She cocked a
n eyebrow at him.
“Russell said some of the cuts had scabbed over. Started to heal. They weren’t all fresh.”
“That fits.”
Al steepled his fingers and tapped his index fingers together. A sign his wheels were turning. “We should check the airport for her car. See if she made it that far.”
“And see if she got on her flight.” What else had Dad said? “My dad talked to her after she supposedly got there. But unless she came back early and didn’t tell him, then disappeared before she got home, that’s not possible. He probably talked to her on her cell, so she could have been anywhere. It doesn’t make sense that she would come home early and not tell my dad.” They could easily find where she'd called from.
“So whoever did this had her call your dad to cover his tracks.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Let me take a piss. Then let’s get out of here before Brown finds us and reassigns you.”
She knew it would happen, but dammit, she needed to be involved in this case. Stupid policies. "You know I can't go with you on this case."
"We're getting coffee. You can fill me in on anything I need to know."
He was being far too nonchalant not to be up to something. Al didn't do nonchalant. "Al…"
He pulled his notepad from his back pocket and tossed it on her desk. “Here. My notes from last night. Enjoy.” He walked away before she could protest.
She probably shouldn't, but she flipped through the pages filled with his scratchy writing. In her defense, but she could barely decipher his goofy shorthand anyway.
As she’d expected, she barely slept last night once she got home. She couldn’t shut off her brain. And what little sleep she’d managed was filled with inappropriate and entirely too pleasurable dreams of her newest co-worker and his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Amanda jumped in her chair, dropping the notepad on the desk. She took a steadying breath, then turned to see who had spoken.
So much for steady. Her pulse sped up again as goose bumps shivered over her arms.
Speaking of gorgeous blue eyes...
Greg Cole stood next to her desk, looking ten times as sexy as in her dreams. He wore the top button of his blue button-down shirt undone and the sleeves rolled up. The color made his eyes intense enough to burn right through her. They looked as bright and hot as the center of a flame.
She needed more sleep. Dreamless sleep.
Trying for her best neutral face and calm, cool and collected voice, she said, “Good morning, Detective Cole.”
“No. I don’t think so.” He smiled, showing off perfect–of course–white teeth and smile lines etched around those beautiful eyes. “You don’t call the other guys Detective. So please. Call me Greg.”
Someone get her the smelling salts. She was going to swoon.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Removing his clothes, maybe? Scratching a certain itch?
Dear God. She was pathetic. She knew nothing about this man, didn’t know if he was married or in a relationship. Hell, she didn’t even know if he liked women.
“Thought I’d say good morning.” He looked down at her. Since she was sitting, he towered over her. He was definitely over six-foot.
Heat skittered along her nerves as their eyes met. Sweat tickled the back of her neck. He had eyes made for seduction. His lips weren’t bad either. Or his hard, athletic body.
A miracle she wasn’t drooling.
“Oh, well. Good morning.”
He grinned.
She said lame things and he grinned? He must not have much going on in the brains department.
“What happened here?” He propped his hip on the corner of her desk. His finger reached out and for a breath-holding moment she thought he was going to touch her.
He stopped less than an inch from her cheek, instead tracing the line of her bruise in the air.
His gaze and near-touch held her mesmerized. She should turn away. But he was so close, and he smelled so good. So elementally male.
Maybe it was time she started dating again. Except she never met anyone outside work, and she was definitely not getting involved with a co-worker. A lesson learned the hard way.
She forced herself to focus on a folder on her desk. “My brother didn’t take the news so well.”
He grimaced. “It looks like it hurts.”
Amanda shrugged. “We’ve all had worse.” She could feel his eyes on her. It wasn’t a good idea, but she looked up.
Definitely flame-blue. His gaze burned as it moved across her face.
“I’m sorry about your stepmom.”
So was she, but not for the reasons he might imagine. “Thank you.”
For a moment, neither said anything. Their eyes held as the air around them crackled. His gaze dropped to her lips; her stomach went topsy-turvy. It took conscious effort not to moisten those lips with the tip of her tongue.
An image of them kissing flashed in her head. Her limbs ached at the idea of his lips on hers, his large hands on her body. It had been so long since she’d felt attraction to anyone, and never this instantaneous. This intense.
Bad bad bad. This was so bad. She could not develop a crush on a co-worker. Especially not now.
She forced her gaze away but she could feel him watching her with those amazing, smoldering eyes.
Her body simmered.
She wanted him to kiss her. Here. Now. She wanted to feel his heat, his strength. Wanted to be devoured. By Greg Cole. A fellow detective.
Dammit.
“All right, then.” She tried to clear the unwelcome thoughts from her head, but only partially succeeded. “I need to get back to work.” And get her hormones under control. It was a reaction to stress and fatigue.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
She would not look at him again. “Make what easy?”
“Getting to know you.”
“We’re co-workers. We don’t have to be best friends.” If they became friends, she would be much more tempted to jump his bones. Casual acquaintances were easier to avoid.
“Yeah, but I make it a habit to make friends with all my good looking co-workers. It’s good for my reputation. And I gotta say, you’re a lot cuter than your partner.”
She couldn’t stop a chuckle as she gave into temptation and met his gaze. “How flattering.”
He leaned in, reached out to run his index finger over her unblemished cheek. The air froze in her lungs. Amazingly, her skin didn’t sizzle. “You should do that more often. You have a beautiful smile.”
The compliment smacked her on the chest. Before it fully registered, he turned and headed across the room. Leaving her staring after him like an idiot.
No one had ever called her beautiful. Not even Zack, her former fiancée.
Not even her father.
"I shouldn't be here." The elevator doors opened and Amanda followed Al into the hall. She'd been right thinking he was up to something; he just happened to decide on the Starbucks in the lobby of Dad's office building for their coffee run. "Brown's gonna ream both our asses."
"Fuck Brown." Al opened the door to the office suite and gestured for Amanda to precede him. "Your dad lost his wife. It's perfectly natural we'd stop by to see how he's doing since we're in the neighborhood."
She rolled her eyes as she stepped past him.
She'd only visited Dad’s office once before. It was in a generic office suite in a building downtown. Beige carpet, beige walls separating the cubicles, beige desktops, beige paint on the walls, beige chairs in the reception area. The receptionist even had beige hair and a beige sweater.
She greeted Amanda and Al with a bright smile. “Good morning. How can we help you here at Ingleman, Schreiber and Taylor?”
The brown placard on her desk said Doreen Smith. In beige lettering.
Amanda forced a smile. Today there wasn’t enough caffeine in the world. How did a woman prepare to talk to her father and brot
her about her stepmother’s murder? They hadn’t covered that at the Academy.
“Hi, Doreen. I’m Detective Schreiber. My partner, Detective Voegler.” She nodded at Al.
Doreen frowned. “Schreiber? Mr. Schreiber’s daughter?” Abruptly her smile returned. “Of course, the detective. He talks about you all the time. But he called in sick today.”
Hardly a surprise. Amanda wouldn’t expect him to come in.
“Thanks, Doreen. Is Hank here by any chance?” Al asked.
Doreen gave Al a curious look. “Yes. He just finished in a meeting and then he’s heading home. Not feeling well either.” She looked back to Amanda. “Must be going around your family.”
Doreen had no idea.
“If you could point us toward his desk, we need to talk to him," Al said.
Amanda shot him a glare.
"You can wait in the car if you want," he mumbled.
Doreen pointed across the sea of half-walls. “He’s in cubicle seventeen.”
“Thanks,” Al said as he started away. Amanda followed only because he had the keys.
They found Hank staring at his computer, cheek propped in his hand. His dark hair stuck out in every direction and bags bulged under his eyes. Amanda hadn’t seen him this unkempt since before he hit puberty and discovered girls.
“Hank.”
His head snapped up to look at her. Immediately his eyes widened, then he leaned back in his chair and gave a weary sigh. “Here on official business?”
Amanda ignored his mocking tone and sat in the empty chair wedged into the corner of his tiny space. Al leaned against the partition next to her, all six-feet three-inches of him looming over Hank. She didn’t miss the apprehension in Hank’s eyes as he flicked his gaze up to Al, then back to her.
“I’m surprised you’re here. I figured you’d take a few days off.” Amanda tried not to let her anger take over. Less than twelve hours ago, her darling little brother had socked her in the face.
“I had a meeting I couldn’t miss.” Hank’s jaw was tight, the words forced out through his teeth.
Let him be pissed. She was the one with a black eye.