She was tired and worn out, her finger throbbed, and she wanted to go home and crawl under her covers and not come out for a week.
“Where are you?” She shoved the drawer closed once again, feeling triumph and pain at the same time when it finally closed properly.
“Susan, are you okay?”
She whipped around to the doorway of her office and produced a smile she didn’t want to as Detective Ben Stoyer walked in. No matter how horrible she was feeling, no matter how bad of a day it was, she could always manage a smile for him and Detective Zeke Chance, two of her favorite detectives, and also the husbands of two of her good friends, Rina and Zoe.
“I’m fine. I’m having a little difficulty finding a folder.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed in concern. “Can I help somehow?”
“Nope. I’ll find it. It’s here.” It has to be. She took a seat at her desk, a smile still on her face. “What’s up?”
His eyes hit her finger that was still wrapped tightly with gauze. “How’s the hand? Rina told me you cut it yesterday getting ready for the party.”
She tried not to sigh heavily at the reminder of her mishap. And of Stitch. “It’s fine.”
The concern slowly dissipated as joy took its place. “I wanted to say thanks for putting on such a great baby shower for Rina. She was in tears at home, showing me everything she got.” He looked panicked. “Happy tears, I mean. The littlest thing gets her so emotional, but they were definitely happy tears. She never expected such a wonderful party.”
A genuine smile finally touched her features. “I’m so glad to hear that. It was a great party.” Stitch helped set it all up.
Of course, that wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. Or even think about. She had to stop thinking about Stitch.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She leaned forward. “Was there something else you needed?”
“Well…”
She laughed as she grabbed the basket near the corner of her desk filled with the files she still needed to file. While nobody could call her unorganized, there were times she was so exhausted from working out in the field that she had no energy to put everything away. She had a simple basket on her desk to keep the clutter away. It gave her the sense of organization until it was done properly.
“The Turner case, am I right?” Her fingers fiddled with the folders until she came across the latest case Ben and Zeke were working on. “Dr. Everly pulled a .22 caliber bullet out. Close range shot to the head. I haven’t had a chance to run it through the system for a ballistics match. I also found a few fingerprints. I’ll try to get to it today.”
His sweet smile inched up a notch. “You’re the best, Susan. I’m liking the husband for this, even though he has an alibi. His daughter didn’t seem to believe his alibi. I’m worried about her. I’d like to close this case for her.”
“Well, it could be hard to prove it’s the husband based on the fingerprints. They weren’t divorced or separated, and his prints can easily be explained why they would be found anywhere in the house.”
“He doesn’t own a firearm. I’m hoping the ballistics come back helpful. Maybe it’s stolen and he bought it off someone. I’m hoping I find that someone and they flip on him.”
“That’s a lot of maybes and hoping. I promise to try to get to it soon.”
“Thanks again, Susan.” Ben started to walk out, turning toward her at the last second. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
“I do. Thanks, Ben.”
He walked out.
Susan slouched in her chair, tired and exhausted. Not because she had a late night with the party. Thankfully, that ended at a decent hour and she was alone to her thoughts by ten. She didn’t have a drop of alcohol to drown her sorrows. She couldn’t even say she was tired from getting up at four in the morning to head to a crime scene.
Seeing Stitch again after months of silence took more of a toll on her than she would’ve ever imagined. The irritating man stuck around cutting vegetables, preparing food, and helped her set up the house to look as beautiful as it possibly could for Rina. By the time Dee made it, there wasn’t anything left to do. Stitch made a quick goodbye and left. Surprisingly, Dee made no comment about why he was still there, or the awkward goodbye they had.
Maybe only she found it odd. They had stared at each other for the longest time. He had leaned toward her a little as if he wanted to kiss her. She drifted his way as well, wanting him to kiss her. Then they jumped apart as if they had been electrocuted.
Dee didn’t make one little peep about it. Strangely, Dee seemed more frazzled than Susan was used to. While they had started to become closer in the last few months, she didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask her what the problem was. She was never good at the whole tell-me-your-problems kind of friend. Because then Dee would want to know hers and she didn’t want to talk about it.
Having to come into work on a Saturday should feel lame, especially as exhausted as she felt without even having a hangover, instead, she was grateful for a distraction from her wandering mind. She’d only daydream and analyze the entire encounter with Stitch if she was at home.
“Slacking off, I see. Not really the way to earn your way to the supervisor position.”
Her head snapped to the doorway to see Rachel standing there with her typical haughty look. She sat up slowly, refusing to let Rachel make her feel worthless, which was something she unfortunately excelled at.
“Can I help you, Rachel?”
She cocked a brow. “I wanted to say good morning,” she paused as her brow rose even higher, “and to say I also put in for the supervisor position. It’s nice you want to try, but I’ve been here longer, so…”
So Rachel obviously assumed she had no chance of getting the position. She agonized over a week whether she should put her application in, not entirely sure she wanted that responsibility. Then Scott, the current supervisor, and her mentor, hinted how he wanted her to apply, as if he knew whom he wanted to hand the reins over to. The smile on his face when she handed in her application was magnetic. It filled her with hope and giddiness. Like she was making the right decision.
In one fell swoop, Rachel was dashing those hopes. She had been working here longer, by two years only. She also had a great working relationship with Scott. Susan almost thought they were sleeping together. Only a funny feeling she got, not any concrete evidence, of course.
Maybe she read Scott’s words wrong. Maybe he didn’t hint she should apply. Maybe she was too young and too inexperienced.
Rachel’s smirk widened, as if she knew how she was feeling and that she would never win. Which was exactly what this felt like now. A race needed to be won. Susan had no idea what to say. Anything she wanted to say wouldn’t be pleasant, or the actions of someone who wanted to be in management. She offered a smirk of her own and nothing else.
Rachel’s smile slipped a little. “Well, I have things I need to do.”
She looked away, not interested in watching her leave, and stared at the folder in front of her. Working would help her. It would distract her from everything, especially Stitch. Yet, she couldn’t seem to find the motivation.
A knock sounded on the doorframe.
Suppressing a groan from another interruption, and she hadn’t even been in the office for a full hour yet, considering she went straight to the lab after she processed the crime scene this morning, she looked up and almost produced a smile, then stopped herself. Newman didn’t deserve a smile, not after what he said about the dance and making it sound like the worst thing ever to take her.
“Hey, Susan.”
“Good morning.” The professional in her had her offering a small smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to see if you processed those prints on the Moretta case yet.” He walked into the office and stood in front of the chairs but made no move to sit down.
Her smile almost wavered at the re
minder she couldn’t find the Moretta case. That had never happened to her in her career. Losing a file could…well, she didn’t want to think about it. It was crazy to think she lost it already, since she just got back from the crime scene this morning. She didn’t have time to lose it. Her thoughts had been everywhere this morning, not just on the case, and that was her fault. She needed to leave her personal issues at home when she came to work. Otherwise dire things like this occurred.
“Not yet, but it’s on my to-do list.” No way would she admit she couldn’t find the file. She managed to lift a few prints from the bedroom. While she liked to keep hard copies of everything, as well as digital copies, she hadn’t quite entered the prints into the system, but they were locked safely in the evidence room. She could at least breathe a sigh of relief about that.
“Let me know when you do. Sauer and I are itching to close this one.”
“Of course.”
His eyes sparkled for a moment, with what, she couldn’t decipher. Maybe anger. Maybe impatience. Maybe irritation. It was difficult to decide when he still had a smile on his face.
“Thanks, Susan.” He patted the back of the chair and started to turn around, then shifted his gaze toward her. “Hey, do you want to get a drink tonight?”
She flinched in surprise, taken off guard. Newman wanted to have a drink with her? He didn’t even want to take her to the ball, making it sound like a hardship of great proportions. When she thought about it, he didn’t even say good morning to her at the crime scene earlier.
“If the gang wants to go out, I’m always game.”
His eyes narrowed, then he tipped his lips into a grin. “Right. You know, maybe this weekend doesn’t work for me. Another time?”
“Sounds good.”
She slouched once again after he walked out. What was that? Did Newman just ask her out?
Why now? What game was he playing?
Because as far as she was concerned, men only liked to play games with her.
Look at how Stitch played her good, getting her in bed, and then never called as he said he would.
Chapter 3
The pain in his hand stretched from the tips of his fingers, past his wrist, and made a slow trail up his arm. Dropping the pencil down onto the table, he backed away as he rubbed his wrist fiercely. It wouldn’t make the pain go away, of course, but subconsciously it made him feel better. It made him think the pain would disappear. He was careful not to do it in front of anybody. It wouldn’t do well for anyone to know how badly his hand and wrist were starting to become a problem.
Hell, maybe Jensen, Stewart, and Todd, his other three artists that worked in the shop, knew there was a problem. He had to reschedule his client this morning, which was a rarity for him, and now Jensen and Stewart were the only artists working today as he sulked like a little baby in his office. He never canceled or rescheduled a client unless it was an emergency. The ache in his wrist was definitely an emergency. He couldn’t even keep his hand steady as he attempted to sketch a tattoo he was set to do later this week, let alone apply an actual tattoo to someone’s body today.
“Shit!”
Pencils, papers, and his cold cup of coffee went flying through the air, hitting the wall and the floor with a loud thunk after he swiped his arm across the desk. His mug sat in pieces on the floor, black liquid streaming down the wall. The sketch he had been working hard on all week lay scrunched and stained among the broken pieces and scattered pencils.
Control your temper, young man.
Yeah, that was one phrase he could never manage to do whenever his mother berated him for getting into trouble, usually at school, wagging her finger in his face.
He excelled at throwing things, punching walls—punching people on occasion—destroying things that meant something to him. Even knowing he shouldn’t, he couldn’t control the impulse not to do it.
A knock sounded on the door. Everybody knew not to enter unless he instructed to do so. Before he contemplated opening a shop, he knew he wanted his own office. His own space to tattoo. He knew some shops where the artists tattooed out in the open, one big space, usually where you could see everything as you stepped into the shop, but not him. He wanted to be alone when he created his work of art.
Now, someone wanted to bother him in his sanctuary. He wished he could ignore it. In all likelihood, it was Stacey, the college dropout he hired three months ago to run the front counter. He’d been trying to talk her dumbass into going back to school. She had brains. She also had skills where she could eventually start tattooing, but before he would even show her a thing or two about tattooing, he wanted her to go back to college, something he never managed to do. They were still arguing about it. They liked to argue about a lot of things, especially her annoying way of always getting into his business.
The door swung open.
“Did I say you could come in?”
“Uh, oh, Stitchy has PMS today, does he?” Stacey laughed as her eyes glanced around the room and zoomed in on the mess he created. “You have a visitor.”
“I told you earlier, I’m not in.”
“Yeah, I told the dude that and he wasn’t believing me.”
He wasn’t in the mood for this shit. Dealing with a client, particularly at a time where his mood was ramping up to dangerous levels was never a good thing.
“I’m not in.”
“Stitchy, pull the tampon out and get your shit together and listen. He’s not leaving until he talks to you.” She laughed again as his eyes narrowed. She knew he didn’t like it when she called him Stitchy, yet continued to do so. She snapped her fingers. “Oh, yeah, he’s got a badge.”
Great. That was worse than dealing with a client.
“Does the dude with a badge have a name?”
“Detective Sauer.”
Wow. That surprised him. He wouldn’t say they were friends, but they were friendly. Because of Deena.
Shit.
Did something happen to Deena?
Why else would Sauer come see him?
“You okay, Stitch?”
And there went Stacey’s fun-loving tone to motherly. She was like a damn ping-pong ball with the way she switched her personality so easily.
“Send him back.”
“Don’t get that tone with me.”
Young man. She forgot to add that part. Now he wanted to punch something, throw something, hurt something.
“Get out, Stacey.”
This time her eyes narrowed before she walked out and slammed the door for good measure. Yeah, he acted like a jackass. He never pretended not to be one, especially with her. Nothing new in their relationship. New day, same old shit.
Another knock sounded on the door. He could ignore this knock like he did the previous one, but like Stacey, he didn’t think that would stop Sauer from entering.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Sauer stepped in looking tired and worn out. The look, an uncommon one for him, scared the living daylights out of him. Something had to be wrong with Deena. Of all the friends he had, and he’d say he had quite a few, none of them was his best friend until the end like Deena. He couldn’t lose her. She understood him like nobody else.
Yeah, so why did they stop talking for almost ten years?
That answer wasn’t too hard to decipher. Him, of course. It always came down to him and screwing shit up.
But he wouldn’t screw up their friendship again. He needed her in his life.
“You look like shit.”
“And you look like you’re having a bad day,” Sauer replied as his eyes took stock of the room, not missing the mess.
“Deena okay?”
Sauer nodded as he walked further into the room and shut the door. “She’s fine. Mostly. Thanks for helping her yesterday. She was really stressed out about the party.”
“Not a problem.” Except the part where he had to help Susan, be surrounded by her heavenly scent, her sweet disposition, the reminder of what he sho
uldn’t claim as his own. Oh, and the knowledge she thought what occurred between them was only meh.
“Have you ever had a woman tell you that you were lacking in bed?” The words popped out before he could stop them. It shocked the hell out of him, and Sauer looked just as surprised as his cheeks turned a bright red. Either because he had, or because the conversation was odd. Which it clearly was.
“No. Have you?”
“Hell, no.” Stitch laughed to hide the lie.
“Right. Umm…so…” Sauer paused and cleared his throat.
Stitch figured he embarrassed the hell out of him, or he was nervous as shit to talk. He didn’t care what the reason was, he just wanted to move the conversation along and forget he ever blurted out that stupid question.
“Spit it out, Sauer.”
“Yeah, of course.” He cleared his throat again. “You have to promise not to say a word to Dee. She’ll…well, she won’t be very happy with me.”
As much as he could tell Sauer needed him to agree, he couldn’t. He knew, oddly enough, they were a good match and didn’t want to see any problems between them, but he couldn’t promise to keep a secret from Deena. Not his style.
“I can’t do that.”
Sauer’s jaw clenched. “Then maybe this was a bad idea.”
“You think I won’t mention this visit to Deena?”
“You’re clearly going to do whatever the hell you want, Stitch.” Sauer fisted his hands as he took a step closer. “It’s not anything bad. I just don’t know what to do anymore and I thought…I thought maybe you’d be able to help. Feel free to tell Dee about this if you’d like. I happen to like makeup sex.”
That garnered a small chuckle from him. He figured Sauer was trying to make him uncomfortable, and it would take a lot more than talk about sex to make him feel that way. A lot more.
“Then why can’t I tell Deena?”
Sauer’s entire body relaxed as the exhaustion flooded his system and he sank down onto the chair near him. “She had a lot of fun last night at Rina’s baby shower. She told me everything, right down to the last detail, describing every little gift Rina received. It went from sharing a fun time with me to complete tears that I couldn’t manage to get her to stop. Do you know what that feels like, Stitch? Do you know how it feels to watch the woman you love cry and you can’t do anything to stop it? It guts me. It makes me come talk to a man I don’t want to and admit that I can’t help my wife on my own. It’s hard to admit that.”
One Taste of Sin (A One Taste Novel Book 4) Page 3