“Hey, Sexy.”
Brit looked up and met the assistant DA, Shane Paxton’s brown eyes, head on. His gaze traveled down her body. Her fitted black suit didn’t hide all the curves that she loved to show off. It had been that body, coupled with her long red hair that had attracted him to her in the beginning. And it had been her willingness to accept a casual relationship with no expectations that kept him with her for two months.
He nodded. “How are you doing?”
“Lonely.” She smiled.
“I don’t buy that,” he said. The woman had a list of men waiting in the wings. Shane didn’t hide the fact that she liked to fuck, so much so that when Brit wasn’t available, she’d make do with someone else. Oddly, he hadn’t even been upset when he’d stopped by her place and found her ex walking out of the bedroom. Or at least, he hadn’t ended things with her until a week later when she’d been rude to Keith’s wife at a barbeque he’d taken her to.
“I have a case I’m looking into and then I’m going to leave work early and go home—all alone.”
“Sometimes being alone is good,” he said, trying to be diplomatic.
She frowned. “I came by to pay my condolences several times for Keith, but you were always out. I know how that had to hurt you.”
“I appreciate it,” he said and he did.
She moved in a bit. He didn’t appreciate that.
She gave him a pouty frown. “You could look happier to see me, you know.”
No, he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure he had the energy to fake it. As much as he prided himself on having relationships that were purely physical, he’d learned a valuable lesson. In order to enjoy being with someone for longer than a time or two, at the very least he needed to like the person. He didn’t like Shane.
His mind went to the blonde he’d had breakfast with. He liked Cali McKay.
A lot.
“What do you need, Shane?”
She grinned. “I could tell you, but I think it’s still illegal in Texas.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m going to have to pass.”
She frowned. “Is there someone else?”
“Maybe.”
“She’d never have to know,” Shane said.
“I would.”
She laughed. “Please tell me you haven’t gone and really fallen for someone. Not you.”
“Maybe,” he said again, thinking it was a lie, but deep down he knew it wasn’t. And that pretty much scared the shit out of him.
~
At almost eleven, after pretty much having to out and out tell Shane that he wasn’t going meet her later and screw her, Brit sat at a table with the six other officers on the task force. They were combing through everything they had, sifting through old files on gangs, new files on gangs, reading both Keith’s and Anderson’s old cases, trying to find a link between the two.
Adams walked in and looked at Brit. “Good call bringing Rina Newman in,” he said.
Hope stirred. “She identify anyone?”
Adams shook his head. “Not yet. But just the information she did give us is going to help. I feel it in my gut.”
“Are you going to put her in a safe house?” Quarles asked.
“Yeah. But she’s bitching that it won’t be the Marriott.”
Brit grinned. “Hey, she’s not a cheap date.”
“I hear she runs about two hundred,” Duke said. “But according to one john, she charges more for small deposits and early withdrawals.”
They all laughed, even Adams, but he was the first to flip back to serious. “Well, all I can say is you better get this guy fast. I’m not sure we can keep her curtailed long. I heard she has a small habit.”
Quarles leaned forward. “Then have her watched like a hawk. We might need her to testify when we catch those bastards.”
“I will.” Adams looked at the files strewn across the table. “You find anything we can use?”
“Not yet,” Brit answered.
Adams looked at Quarles. “Did you come up with anything last night on the Goldstein homicide?”
A moment of silence hit before Quarles answered, “Nothing new.”
“Nothing?” Adams asked. “Seems like with all we’ve got, this case should be easy to break.”
Brit spoke up. “We’ve visited most of the connections to Humphrey and the Nolan guy. So far, no one knows anything.”
“Have you talked to club owners where they played?”
“That’s next on my list, sir,” Quarles said.
“What about the girlfriend? Is she giving us anything?”
“She’s told us everything she knows,” Brit said.
“You sure?” Adams asked. “You know how her type is.”
Brit sat up straighter. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Have you talked to her, Quarles?” Adams asked.
“Mostly Brit’s taken care of that.”
Adams’ uni-brow puckered. “I thought she didn’t like you. Isn’t she the one who came in here?”
“Yeah,” Brit said. “But we’ve come to an understanding.”
“What kind of an understanding?” Adam crossed his arms, and suspicion deepened the grooves in his forehead.
Brit leaned back in the straight chair until he had it balanced on the back two legs. “She’s told me everything she knows. I believe her. She’s a victim in this, not a suspect.”
“Maybe Quarles should question her. To make sure.” Adams kept his gaze on Brit as if reading between the lines.
But damn, was he that readable? “He wouldn’t get anything that I haven’t already gotten.”
“Make sure what you’re getting doesn’t get us in trouble.”
Brit snapped his chair forward. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying. We might need her to testify. Don’t do anything to jeopardize this case, Lowell.” He turned back to Quarles. “From now on, all contact between that girl and this force happens through you. Lowell stays away from her.”
“That’s bullshit.” Brit gritted his teeth. No way would he stay away from Cali. He wasn’t sleeping with her. Well, he was, but that’s all he was doing. The fact that he wanted to do more was none of Adams’ damn business.
“It’s not bullshit. I call the shots.” Adams tossed down an envelope in front of Quarles. “Ballistics came back on the bullet they got out of the chick’s apartment. It’s the same one they pulled out of the Clear Lake motel . We haven’t gotten the blood results back, but it looks like the boyfriend is the guy. Make sure that she isn’t trying to protect him.”
~
The owner of the first honky-tonk where Stan and the band had played wasn’t in when Brit and Quarles stopped by. The manager at the second bar could talk someone under the table, but he offered nothing new.
When Brit and Quarles got back into his SUV, Quarles moved the files to the back seat. His partner, normally too chatty, had been quiet since they left the precinct. Brit had an idea what kept Quarles from being his chipper self, too.
“I’m not having sex with her.” Yet. Brit started the engine.
“I didn’t ask,” Quarles said, knowing exactly who “her” was. “But I do need to know how you want to work it.”
“I’m not going to change a damn thing just because Adams believes I’m getting it on with her.”
“That’s fine. But Adams might be right. If I questioned her, maybe I’d be able to get something more.”
“She’s told me everything she knows.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” And he was. Wasn’t he?
“Fine.” Quarles held up his hands. “But you’d better be right, because if she’s lying, it’s my ass on the line, too.”
~
Brit snatched his windbreaker and headed out of the building. He’d had a frustrating day and the only thing he craved right now was Cali. Pushing open the door, he stormed across the parking lot.
A terrible soulful sound of a cat
’s cry brought him to a quick halt. He swung around and saw a white van parked with the back doors opened. Then he noticed the painted paw prints on the vehicle’s door. The shelter? A heavyset man walked to the van with a cat carrier in his arms. The box dangled from side to side as if heavy.
The cat’s cry echoed again. Brit’s stomach clutched. This was the right thing, he told himself, and took another step to his SUV. Anderson had called the shelter. The one who wouldn’t kill her or her kittens. Right thing.
He got into his SUV, put his key in the ignition. The cat’s cries echoed again. Right thing. He closed his eyes.
He got out and hotfooted it to the van just as the man climbed into the front seat. “Hey.” Brit knocked on the van’s window.
The man rolled down the glass. “Yeah?”
“Mike Anderson called you, right?” At the sound of Brit’s voice, the mama cat howled. The pitiful sound made his chest clutch.
“Anderson?” the man asked.
“You’re the shelter that doesn’t put them down, right?”
He shrugged. “We try to adopt them out, but we’ve got so many.”
Brit gritted his teeth. “You’re not from the no-kill shelter?”
He shrugged again. “Look, I’m just doing my job.”
The cat howled again. “Shit!” Brit said.
~
An hour and a hundred dollars later, Brit stood in his laundry room filled with cat supplies. He had the cat box set up and food and water doled out. The three or four-week-old kittens, one black and two grays, and their mama hid behind the drier. Mama Cat, not happy about being relocated, stuck her head out and hissed at him.
“It’s just temporary,” Brit told her. “As soon as I find a no-kill shelter, you’ll get a real home.”
Hurrying to get a shower, he wondered where Susan was, but since her car wasn’t out front he figured she was either at his mom’s or with Quarles. But damn that whole thing didn’t sit well with him.
He grabbed his work files from the table. Passing the door to the extra bedroom, he spied the wrapped gift on the unmade bed. “Damn!” He’d fucking forgotten about the birthday party from hell. As tempting as it was to bail out, Susan would have his head and then would probably go after his boys.
The idea of taking Cali to the party popped into his mind, but he slammed the lid on that one really quick. With his mom and whatever husband-of-the-week showed up with her, God only knew how the evening would go. The last thing he wanted to do was to try to explain his mom to Cali or explain Cali to his mom.
He raked a hand over his face and decided he’d get Quarles to watch Cali. Brit would only make an appearance at the party. Susan would balk, but if he explained, she’d understand. Yeah, he needed to talk to Susan.
Maybe he needed to talk to Cali, too, about Humphrey. Just to reconfirm she hadn’t neglected to tell him something.
Brit walked into his bedroom and tossed his files on the dresser. Snatching up his phone, he dialed his sister.
She answered the first ring. “Don’t you dare tell me you can’t come.”
“I’m not going to tell you that,” he said. “I’m just not going to be able to stay long.”
“Why?”
He hesitated to tell her the truth, but then did it. “It’s Cali. She has some nut after her, and I don’t want to leave her alone.”
“Then bring her.”
He dropped down on his bed and raked a hand over his face. “Don’t you remember what happened a couple of years ago?”
“No. I try not to focus on the bad shit. Unlike you.”
“Fred or Frank or whatever the fucker’s name was she was married to at the time, he got drunk and shoved Mom into the Christmas tree and I had to break his nose.”
“You didn’t have to,” Susan said and chuckled, but he didn’t see the humor in it.
“He hurt Mom. I had to stand up for her because she wouldn’t stand up for herself. Oh, but did she appreciate it? Hell no, she got mad at me. Did you know the jerkwad reported me to my captain? I got my ass in a sling at work and Mom takes his side.”
“She was wrong,” Susan said, the humor gone from her voice. “She knows that now. She’s trying to change, Brit.”
“Women like her never change,” he seethed and an image of Cali flashed in his head. Cali wasn’t like that, he told himself. “Look, I need to run. I’ll see you tonight, but I can’t stay long.”
He hung up and dialed Quarles’ number. When no one answered he left a message. “Call me. It’s Brit.” Then he went to take a shower.
~
Cali and Tanya both stood in front of the bathroom mirror putting on makeup. It had been a perfect girl’s day out, and Cali almost forgot that her life was in chaos.
Until now. Tanya sent her a worried glance. “I saw the story last night on the news about the jewelry store robbery and the two dead men. Stan hasn’t tried anything else, has he?”
Cali brushed some color on her cheeks. “No.”
“Do you think he killed those two guys?”
Nibbling on her lower lip, Cali answered, “No. I don’t. I mean, if a week ago you’d told me that he robbed a jewelry store, I’d have told you I didn’t think he could have done that either. And maybe I’m wrong, but I just don’t see him killing anyone. I know they found Stan’s phone at the hotel and everything points to him, but I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “The guy helps old people bring in their groceries. He even unstopped my elderly neighbor’s toilet. He’s not evil. Not all evil.”
“He shot at you.” Tanya sent her a cutting glance.
Cali dropped her blush applicator. “What if someone was shooting at him? That’s what he told me that day at the lawyer’s office. I mean, if Stan did the murders then he should have the money and the other jewelry, so why is he trying to find the bracelet he gave me? Why would he hang around for one piece of jewelry?”
Tanya cocked her head as if thinking. “That’s a good point. Have you mentioned that to Brit?”
“A little, but…”
“But what?”
“He thinks I’m trying to defend Stan. He got all angry and turned into a dickhead about it.”
Tanya frowned. “Well, you kind of are defending him.”
“No. Okay, maybe a bit. I mean, I believe he beat up his girlfriends. I saw his temper. I just don’t see him killing anyone.”
Cali added another stroke of blush, and not wanting to think about Stan, she attempted a conversational U-turn. “Where is Eric taking you to dinner?”
“Some Italian place. It’s supposed to be romantic. I know he’s going to try to change my mind about tonight.”
“But you’re not going to give in?”
“Probably not.” A smile spread across Tanya’s lips.
Cali laughed and reached for her purse to get her lip gloss.
Tanya grabbed her hand. “No. Use the red one you bought. It’s sexy and besides, it goes with your sweater.”
Cali scrutinized her image in the mirror. The red sweater fit like a coat of paint. Its neckline dipped down in the front, not too low, but definitely hinting at cleavage. And it came just above the navel. And the hip-hugging jeans fit just below. When Cali walked, the barest hint of belly skin peeked through. According to Tanya, belly skin drove men bonkers.
Did Cali want Brit bonkers?
~
“I’m just saying don’t go looking for trouble.” Adams’ voice roared over the phone. For some reason, the sergeant felt the need to personally call Brit with another warning about Cali.
“I’m not looking for trouble.” Brit looked up at Tanya’s apartment building where Cali waited.
“Don’t mess up this case,” Adams said. “We might need her to testify.”
I’m not having sex with you. Brit recalled Cali’s words. Maybe he really should abide by her wishes until Humphrey was caught.
“Yeah.” Brit hung up and got out of his car to collect Cali. He frowned as he made his way a
cross the parking lot, dreading having to tell her that he needed to postpone dinner until later.
The moment Cali opened Tanya’s front door, looking like sex in high heels, he knew he was in deep-shit trouble.
“Hi.” She smiled. Her red painted lips slid moistly across her white teeth. Her hair, long and wispy, hung loose around her shoulders. Her sweater wasn’t loose. Oh, hell it fit. Fit really nicely. And it was red. Like her shoes. Of course, he didn’t appreciate the shoes until after he noted how good the jeans hugged her hips and then his gaze followed them to her thighs . . . then down to her calves. The visual trip to heaven and back ended with a pair of red high heels. Shoes that he’d once heard described as, “fuck me heels.”
Not that there was even one thing indecent with Cali’s clothes—well, except the instant desire they induced in him to remove them.
“Uhh.” He let his gaze whisper over her. Up and then down. There wasn’t a safe spot, not one un-hot place to focus.
A gulp of desire squeezed out his breathing room. How the hell was he going to keep his hands off her?
Oh, hell, chances were he was going piss Adams off royally.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Just ride with me,” Brit insisted. “We’ll come and pick up your car later.”
Cali agreed and followed him to his car. As she slid into his SUV, her new shoes pinched a bit and so did her disappointment.
Okay, it sounded lame, but she’d bought a new outfit and took extra time with her makeup, and she’d sort of hoped for at least a little compliment. Instead, he didn’t even seem happy to see her.
Oh, he’d given her a head-to-toe glance, but he’d been frowning the whole time.
“Bad day?” Cali asked, when a few minutes later, he pulled into a service station for gas.
“Yeah.” He looked at her, frowned again and got out of his car to pump the gas. She watched him pull out his phone and try to call someone. It appeared they didn’t answer, because his expression soured again.
When he got back in, he looked at his watch.
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