by Anne Conley
He blinked.
“Get the fuck outta here, Hollerman!” Nguyen yelled across the crowded room.
Okay. He could pound some pavements.
Chapter Five
Eileen was sitting in the cubicle across from Amber when she finally got her pile of papers as well as her pounding heart in order enough to walk back to her desk. Gently pushing past Gabby, who she thought might be purposely sticking his gut in her way, Amber managed to get her papers on top of the already leaning stack on her desk. She was proud of herself for shutting Dex down again, when all she really wanted to do was push him into the nearest interrogation room and strip off that delightfully thin t-shirt he was wearing. But the cop uniform she wore was an extra layer of armor and helped her draw the line in the proverbial sand. Of course, it was automatic to shut down co-workers because she would not be office gossip. But Dex wasn’t in law enforcement anymore. He used to be, and while he was in the security business now, that didn’t make him a cop at all, even though it was some sort of law enforcement.
She huffed out a breath as her stack of papers slid to the side. She was ridiculously confused about this man, more specifically her own reactions to him. He was just a damn man. She should be able to control herself around him, and so far, she had. But it was a tenuous thread. Amber felt its tautness and its readiness to break at any second.
Eileen let out a weird noise behind her, and she looked at her neighbor. Eileen was one of the first people to welcome Amber when she started, showing her around the floor—coffee pot, copy machine, how to work the computer network system, et cetera. While Amber was appreciative of the efforts, she saw through them.
Eileen was Internal Affairs, Amber’s old job, so she understood the premise of “you get more flies with honey” and wasn’t falling for the old “best buddy” routine. But it was nice to have someone being nice to you when you were new on the job.
But now, Eileen didn’t look so nice.
Amber steeled herself for the negativity. She was already a bit sick of it from Gabby, but Eileen was another force altogether. She was constantly talking down about co-workers with the pretense of “protecting her interests” but Amber suspected she was IA because nobody else wanted to work with Negative Nelly.
Before Eileen could open her mouth, Gabby leaned over the stack of papers. “I’m gonna go grab some chow, and then I’ll help you with this paperwork, ‘kay?” Gabby really was a nice guy to work with, but like Eileen, he’d clearly been on the job long enough. He didn’t seem to like anyone and was just counting down the minutes until his next break. She sighed and nodded, trying to focus on something besides Dex Hollerman, the guy who smelled like sex and danger, or gun oil and Irish Spring … whatever.
Eileen’s arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth turned down at the edges, certainly signs of displeasure. Amber couldn’t imagine what she’d done. Eileen—already in meetings for her department—hadn’t even been at her desk when Amber got there this morning.
With a huff, Amber sat in her chair and managed to organize the stack of notebooks and random papers on her desk, next to the already towering stack that had been there since yesterday.
“What did Hollerman want?”
Ah … so that’s what this was about. Was he someone they were investigating? Amber made another mental note to stay away from him, not like she needed more notes in her head, but this was something tangible she could hang on to. The IA lady didn’t like him. Not that she liked Gabby, either, and she had no choice about being around him.
“Nothing. I met him last night at Batons … sort of. I think he was just saying hi.” She wasn’t into giving too much information, for sure. The IA lady didn’t need to know Amber was apparently in Hollerman’s sights, and he kept asking her name. Like he was interested.
“Just watch out for him. He was on our radar for the work he did with that PI firm he works for now, and since he’s retired, all he does is come in asking for favors. He’ll use you, and the next thing you know, you’ll be the one in trouble.” Eileen was still staring at her with that disappointed look. But something else was there, too. Jealousy? No. Couldn’t be. Eileen wouldn’t have an interoffice relationship, even though she was attractive enough. Amber blinked hard, trying to get the image of Eileen and Dex together out of her head.
“Aw … Come on, Eileen.” She couldn’t resist the jab, trying to lighten the mood, but the other woman either didn’t listen to the greatest hits of the 80s or had left her funny bone at home this morning. More likely, every morning. She probably kept it in a jar by her bed, only to be broken if a fifth of whiskey had been ingested. Amber stifled a giggle. “Seriously. I won’t give him anything.” Turning to her stack of papers, she grumbled, “Not that I have anything good to give him anyway.”
More phone leads to follow up on, most of them bullshit. Exes and enemies trying to get someone in trouble, so they point the finger at the “bad guy” trying to get the police on their case. Those were usually easy to weed out because the caller didn’t have any of the right details regarding the case, only the accused.
Then there were the calls Amber referred to as the paranoias. People who didn’t get out much and had nothing better to do than make up scenarios involving fellow citizens they assumed were up to no good. They would sit at home, shut in for whatever reason, and imagine things their neighbors were up to while doing normal everyday things, like going to work, shopping, or out with friends.
There were legitimate calls Amber had to weed out of the rest. Of the genuine calls, she had to use her brain to call and follow up with more questions. The Tannerite bombs were scary, mostly because of the big, fiery boom, but to create that boom, a rifle with a larger caliber than .22 had to be fired. Inside the city limits, that was a huge no-no.
Most of the bombs had gone off downtown, in highly populated areas. So far, they’d been small and in trashcans, but the fact a rifle had been fired downtown with people milling about in the capital of the largest state in the continental U.S. gave Amber the heebie jeebies.
She knew this wasn’t a complete waste of time, but at the same time, she’d been a cop for four years. Amber wasn’t a rookie anymore. This was rookie work.
Eileen had left her desk, and Amber used the opportunity to look around now that the eagle eyes weren’t focused on her anymore.
The other four guys from the task force were clustered around the coffee pot, filling cups with java to take on the road. She missed that part of everything. Her “partner”, Gabby Fisher, a short guy who was a wide as he was tall, was most likely gone for the day. She’d been here long enough to know “going for chow” was code for “out all afternoon.” But since she’d been stuck following up on all these phone leads, she had no clue what he’d been doing to take down the Tannerite bomber. They were supposed to be working together, but she hadn’t seen much of that, and frankly, she was thankful.
Slitting her eyes and looking left to right, she didn’t see him anywhere. It wasn’t like anyone was going to assign her anything. She’d been here for almost a week with nothing beyond this stack of papers. She could take them home, organize them, and make a spreadsheet of viable leads to contact.
After she ran by a couple of pawn shops and gun stores.
Her heart started beating faster at the idea she was about to do something she wasn’t supposed to do. It gave her a thrill knowing it was for the good of the case, even if it wasn’t protocol. Her fingers got hot as her heart beat her blood to her extremities, and she shoved a stack of papers into her messenger bag. Carrying the other stack of notebooks, Amber managed to walk with purpose toward the door, as if she’d been given a very important assignment. She rushed, just like everyone else was, intent on fulfilling her duty and catching a bad guy.
Even if she were doing it wrong and would eventually get in trouble.
A small, triumphant grin lit her face as she got on the elevator to go down to the transportation department to get a car.
&
nbsp; Her tires were on order, and she needed some wheels.
She was going to be so busted. But maybe, in the meantime, she’d find something concrete.
Chapter Six
Dex was stuck doing things the old-fashioned way. He should have known better than to trust his friends would help him out, like they’d said they would. And honestly, he couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t have helped him, either.
It was against some unwritten code of ethics and a bunch of written laws, but whatever. Dex thought he’d be different, for some reason.
Now he knew for sure he wasn’t anybody’s special snowflake.
A rueful chuckle filled his SUV as he parked across the street from a gun store. The credit card statements of one Terry Perkins had shown lots of interesting things: regular stays at a hotel in Dallas, a convention room rental in the civic center, and lots of “hunting accessory” purchases at pawn shops and gun stores. Austin had enough gun stores and pawn shops, Terry could shop at a different one each week and not repeat for a year.
All of the purchases were made on Mondays.
Today was Monday.
Terry hadn’t hit this gun store yet.
It was a long shot, but Dex had just picked one Terry hadn’t been to and was waiting to see if he showed up.
When he saw the squad car pull into the pawn shop parking lot, he cursed himself for his reaction. Body tensed and breath tight, he knew it couldn’t be her. And what did she have, anyway? Besides a strong dislike for him. She wasn’t anything special. He could tell himself that all he wanted, but he couldn’t deny the way the spark in her eyes when she looked at him made his insides quake.
He’d seen the piles of paper on her desk and in her arms and knew she couldn’t possibly be out on the streets with that much work to do.
So when she stepped out of the car in all her svelte, uniformed glory, Dex’s dick jerked in his pants, suddenly straining for attention.
She wore a cop uniform like a porn fantasy.
He was fascinated by the sway of her hips as she hitched up her loaded belt and sauntered inside the store. Slumping down in his seat, he pushed his sunglasses up higher on his nose as he pulled down his ball cap, watching the door, dying to see her when she came out. What was she here for? Was she looking for fenced goods? Not something that typically warranted an in-person visit. Usually, most of that was done via email or phone calls these days.
Was she chasing down a suspect? Dex’s hand reflexively went to his firearm, tucked into his concealed belt clip, just to be sure it was there. He could be her backup.
Okay. That was an eye-roller. She didn’t like him. Didn’t trust him. And was just as likely to shoot him if he showed up at her side with a gun in his hand after she’d refused to give him her damn name. Twice.
When she walked out the door, Dex noticed the slight slump to her shoulders. She must not have gotten whatever information she needed. He could commiserate; even the best hunches led nowhere sometimes. She’d get used to it.
What a patronizing ass. He was glad he hadn’t said that out loud to her. But when her eyes scanned the parking lot, the street, then landed on his vehicle and narrowed, Dex knew he was busted.
Her gait took on a more determined nature as she strode over to him. He straightened in his seat, giving up the ruse.
“What are you doing?” she demanded after he’d rolled down his window.
He beamed at her. Dex didn’t know why, except she made him smile, even with suspicion written all over her. “Working. Whatcha doin’?” If he’d had gum, he would have done his best carefree Brad Pitt impression. Not that he looked like Brad, but the move had always worked back in school. Had he been out of the game that long?
“I’m about to take your information down as a person of interest in my investigation is what I’m doing.” She pulled a notebook out of her shirt pocket and poised her pen at the ready. “License and insurance, please.”
Without a word, he complied, finding the situation humorous. “Do you know I’m a cop?” He lowered his sunglasses so he could see her better.
“Retired cop.” Her eyes squinted in suspicion, and Dex realized he really liked her. There was just something behind those mahogany orbs that called to him in a way he couldn’t describe, much less understand.
“You say that like it’s a bad word, sweetheart.” He was laying it on thick. Dex hadn’t flirted with a woman in years and didn’t think he was doing it right, judging by the way she was looking at him then intently copying down his information.
“What sort of job are you working that makes you loiter outside this place of business?” She handed him back his license between two fingers. He took it, managing to purposely brush his fingers along hers. Her chest hitched. He wouldn’t have noticed, but he was staring at her chest, trying to figure out what sort of tits the police-issued body armor was smashing down.
“Wife has suspicions about her husband, and I’m just tracking down some leads.” He wasn’t about to tell her he’d looked at the dude’s credit card statements. Leaning back, he rested his elbow on the arm rest, rubbing his chin while he studied her. He could totally watch her all day, Dex decided.
Her pen still poised, she looked at him over the notebook. “What’s the name of your client?”
Dex cracked a smile. “You know I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality and all that.”
“And you know I can say you’re impeding a police investigation.” She cocked out a hip, striking a sassy pose that just made his dick harder than granite.
Focusing on her badge to get the pornish images out of his head, Dex demanded, “Tell me your first name, Officer Banks.”
“You don’t need it. But I need you to move along and stop loitering if you’re not going to tell me specifically what you are doing here.” She was doing that thing she’d done this morning at the station, where her eyes looked all over his face. It was a look that heated Dex’s insides and made him want to kiss the hell out of her, but he couldn’t do that. He knew that much.
“My client’s husband has been doing a lot of shopping at gun stores lately, and he hasn’t hit this one yet. I thought I might get lucky.” He let the double-entendre slide over her and watched for a reaction.
Bingo.
Her pulse started pounding at the base of her throat, but that was all. He’d take it. Her throat was long and slender, and that delicate spot at the base of it begged him to lick it.
“I gave you what you wanted. All I want is your first name. If you don’t give me one, I’ll have to make something up.” He brushed his fingers across his lips in thought, watching her eyes zero in on the movement. She was interested, and Dex felt a thrill of validation. At least this wasn’t wholly one-sided.
“Oh, really?” The hint of a smile played at her lips, and Dex went for it.
“Dorothy.”
“If I were my grandma.” Now her smile was full-on, and Dex felt a chink in her armor. He grinned.
“Okay, Tabitha.”
“Not even close.” She leaned her hip against his car, and Dex put his elbow on the window. All he had to do was straighten his arm to graze the side of her hip, but no. That was a little too far out of his comfort zone. She’d graced him with a smile and that was enough.
For now.
He let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Esmerelda.”
“Like the gypsy from The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Dark and fiery, sensual and decadent.” He didn’t even try to hide the fact he was turned on. His voice was gruff and husky, and he didn’t even care. There was just something about this woman that wouldn’t let go of him.
And she was apparently feeling it, too. Her skin darkened right at the spot where her pulse had already been pounding, and a flush stole up her neck.
She was blushing.
Her eyes sparkled with fire, and it wasn’t the pissed-off kind she’d been throwing at him for days.
“Amber.”
“Am
ber,” Dex repeated, letting the word roll around his mouth. “Amber is the gem from hardened sap, preserving history in a natural, life-giving mechanism. Rich in color, unique in variation … I like it. It suits you.”
“Jesus.” She shook her head, ducking her head. “Get the hell out of here, Poindexter.”
Okay, she’d lost a point there. Nobody used his real name. He’d only given her the driver’s license because she was Amber.
“I’m on it.” Starting the car and putting it in gear, he repeated it loud enough for her to hear. “Amber.” A ridiculous smile lit his face.
Chapter Seven
Dex wasn’t sleeping much. It had taken him forever to get to sleep, even after imagining the hum of the precinct and the stillness of his bed. And now, here he was at four-thirty in the morning watching his clock digits glow in the dark, waiting for the alarm to go off in an hour.
He wasn’t sure what had kept him up. Sure, the case was puzzling, but it wasn’t like anyone was in danger he was aware of. Some dude just had some idiosyncrasies in his schedule, probably an affair, and his wife was nosy. Maybe it was the fact that every turn he made, Amber was there.
Now, that was a pleasant coincidence. Amber.
He tried to pinpoint exactly what it was about her that made his insides swell, but he couldn’t. All he knew was his skin was entirely too tight when he was around her. Dex had a desire to find out what her favorite foods were, how she drank her coffee, whether or not she liked to dance.
And he hadn’t felt that way about a woman in a long time.
He looked up at his ceiling, propping his head on his arm while he mused about Amber.
She was completely different from his ex-wife, Marsha. Marsha had been soft and sweet and quiet. Amber was soft but had a hard armor underneath. She might have a sweet side, but Dex hadn’t seen it. All he’d seen was her protecting herself. Yeah, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to start anything with Dex, but below her bluster, Dex suspected she was very interested. Just scared for some reason.