The Sweetheart Kiss

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “I’m jealous,” Jess admitted as rain tapped on the roof. “Sun, fun, and unlimited sex.” She stretched out her feet next to Taryn’s and tapped her friend’s foot with her toes. “My health scare made me reevaluate my life. I’m tired of dud dates and microwaved soup for one. I want something real and solid.”

  Wheeler’s face popped into her mind. She stomped it back out. There were lots of men in Ann Arbor. She’d already scratched the detective off her list.

  “You’ll find someone,” Taryn said.

  Jess grunted. “I was thinking about a dog.”

  Having struggled to find her own happily ever after, Taryn chuckled and nodded. “They are less work.”

  They talked more about men, the shooting, and Taryn’s knee. They laughed at the kittens and talked about the best breed of dog for a single woman. Jess felt better as she left her friend ninety minutes later and headed to the office.

  Something stung the side of her head. Ow. Her hand whipped up to rub the spot as she glanced around for the culprit. In the dim light of the drizzling rain, she saw nothing to cause alarm. She was alone in the mist.

  With one last look around, she let it go and climbed inside. Firing up the vehicle, Jess felt as if her life had hit a turning point. But how?

  Chapter Five

  “Will anything I say change your mind?” Irving said as he stared across his wide desk at Jess who was staring—unblinking—right back. “I think you should hang back until the detective rules you out as the target.”

  Annoyed, Jess didn’t have to look behind her to see that Wheeler was likely smirking at this turn of events. He’d gotten to Brash before she had and filled her boss in on all of the juicy tidbits of the doomed wedding, including her as a possible target and her intention to join the case.

  The man didn’t want to work with her. That was obvious. So he’d gone right to the top.

  As if he or Irving could dissuade her from the investigation. Her boss knew how stubborn she was. He also knew she was well trained in self-defense. It was his love for her that made him ask in the first place.

  Irving rarely told her no and Wheeler wasn’t scary enough to chase her off. He’d already lost and didn’t know it.

  “I am not the target.” Her patience was stretched to its limit, like a Slinky in the hands of an eight-year-old boy, ready to snap back and take out his eye. She wasn’t about to back down on this one. This was her case. “And even if I was the target, I deserve the chance to find out who’s out to get me.”

  Irving knew his PIs were strong and capable, and excellent at their jobs. He’d made sure they could take down men much larger than themselves. But that didn’t keep him from worrying.

  Though Irving had been briefed by the detective, he was a reasonable man and respected her immensely. She could see him bend. Putting his foot down was not his way of approaching his PIs.

  Jess opened her coat and flashed her Glock. “You know I could take down a charging Grizzly without flinching. A sniper and Detective Wheeler don’t scare me.”

  Irving smiled.

  Wheeler grunted. Jess ignored him. She was an excellent marksman, spending many of her dateless evenings at the range.

  Sad.

  When she was no longer in danger, she needed to boost up her social life, as she’d vowed to do after being given the all-clear sign. She didn’t need a man for fulfilment, fun, or financial support. But she liked having one around. Sex by herself wasn’t much fun.

  Irving glanced at the detective and shrugged. “She’s right. Don’t tick her off.”

  With that, they were dismissed. Wheeler stalked out with Jess right behind him. “Nice try, Detective.” She fell in beside him. “But I won’t hold a grudge. Although I’d like to investigate the case myself, we’d just overlap our clues. Why not work together and get this done quickly?”

  He came to a stop in the lobby. Only Gretchen, Irving’s executive assistant, was there at the early hour. They didn’t officially open for another fifteen minutes.

  “I don’t want to work with you.”

  The man was a stubborn jerk. “Fine.” She wasn’t about to beg, and clearly being practical wasn’t in his DNA. Besides, it wasn’t as if she wanted to spend hours alone with him in a car chasing leads. She’d rather eat ground glass. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

  She gave Gretchen a wave and tried not to notice that the leap-frogging bunnies on her sweater looked like they were having a bunny threesome. The one in the middle was smiling.

  Jess blanched. Every one of her animal sweaters had that theme. Gretchen was the only person who didn’t seem to notice the hidden sexual component in her late grandma’s sweater collection.

  * * *

  By the time Jess got to her black SUV, the rain had ended and Wheeler was coming up fast behind her. Expecting another argument, she hurried around the vehicle to make her escape and stopped. Her front tire was flat.

  Escape foiled. “Damn.” She squatted next to the car to assess the damage and her stomach clenched. “What in the hell—”

  Wheeler joined her, but her attention wasn’t on him. There was a dagger-like knife sticking out of the tire.

  “What is it?” He stepped around her and knelt beside her. “Shit.” He pulled his sleeve down over his hand and, with some effort, pulled the knife out. The tire finished deflating.

  He turned to her, his expression grim. “Do you still think you aren’t the target?”

  Jess stood and her body went cold.

  * * *

  For the first time since he’d met her two days ago, the tough PI appeared worried to Wheeler. The moment passed quickly. She took him by the wrist and held up the knife to the storm-gray light. She turned his hand back and forth for a more thorough examination. He let her. If this was the thing that would keep her off the case, he wanted her scared. If the sniper intended to kill her, this proved he was serious.

  Obviously, the shooter wanted her terrified first.

  “Huh. You don’t see knives like this very often,” she said and squinted. “I wonder if it’s a signature.”

  Hold up. Where was the fear in her voice? Why wasn’t she begging for police protection? She appeared more Sherlock Holmes than terrified victim.

  “You do realize this is a warning of worse things to come,” he said. Her expression didn’t change. “This guy is serious, Jess.”

  “No kidding, Detective Obvious.” She released him. “We need to get that to the lab for fingerprint testing. They probably won’t find prints, but maybe a weapons expert can identify the knife and lead us to the owner.”

  Facing him, her eyes held steady and her brows lifted, as if waiting for him to agree.

  Sam bit off a swear word and dropped his arm. Messing with a potential killer was crazy. He’d seen some bad shit while working homicides in his life. The woman should go into hiding, not spend her time chasing after a sniper.

  “This isn’t an Albert Broccoli movie and you aren’t James Bond,” he said. She was one stubborn woman. “We don’t have Q hiding in the station’s basement with sci-fi-grade investigative tools. The crime lab is usually backed up. Matching the knife could take months, or longer.”

  Her body stiffened. “So you don’t want to try?”

  “Of course we’ll try,” he snapped. Her soft scent was killing him. He wanted to both shake and kiss her. And that pissed him off. “The knife is evidence and I’m not a rookie. I’ve been working cases for many years. Long before you decided to give up pom-pom waving to become Nancy Drew.”

  “How dare you mock me?” She crossed her arms and glared. “If you took the time to pull that stick out of your behind, then you’d realize that keeping me close could help you solve the case. The sniper wants me, you have me, and between us, a brain and a half beats one psycho’s brain anytime.”

  It didn’t take clarification to figure out who she thought the half a brain belonged to.

  A
nd she was right. He hated that she was right. Not about the brain deficiency part. The other stuff. Where Jess was, the assassin wouldn’t be far behind. If she wouldn’t hide, then keeping her close was the second best idea.

  Oh, hell.

  He spun and walked to his black SUV. Odd that they drove the same make and model. There had to be a Freudian connection there somehow. The idea of them being of one mind was terrifying. She was a smart-mouthed pain in the ass.

  Unfortunately, the reasoning part of his half-brain had accepted what he could not change. Until the conclusion of this case, he was stuck with her. God help him. Hopefully he’d survive with his sanity.

  Giving in was not his thing. Solving cases was. If he had to do one to get to the other, he’d surrender this one point.

  He stood on the running board and paused. “Are you coming?”

  A small half smile tugged at her mouth. She walked over, looked back at her SUV, shook her head, and climbed in beside him. “We were fated to be partners.”

  He scowled. “If we don’t kill each other first.”

  Chapter Six

  Everything inside her twitched for some release of frustration, but her sewing bag was in her vehicle. Besides, that was her little secret. Not even her friends knew how she de-stressed and kept her sanity. Crocheting was better than banging her head against a wall and a lot less painful.

  “It wouldn’t be a fair fight. I’m the better shot.”

  Detective Cranky snorted. That was the last of his conversational contribution all the way across town.

  Unlike her cluttered SUV, the interior of his vehicle was spotless and smelled spicy and damp. The scent was probably from her scowling companion and some sort of pheromone-enhancing male toiletry product. Whatever it was, her senses were buzzing in the red zone. He was wearing jeans and a black leather coat, looking very much like a college baseball star turned cop. Hardass. Badass. Ass.

  She’d Googled him last night because that was the easy way to get dirt on someone. He didn’t have unfortunate spring break posts, but had been somewhat famous in his college years. The guy had looked hot in his baseball uniform.

  He had a full dossier of newspaper articles about his high school and college successes on the pitcher’s mound and getting drafted by the pros right out of college.

  Sam Wheeler had been on the fast track to Major League Baseball stardom when he suddenly dropped out of spring training without an explanation. He never went back or explained the reason why.

  And Jess wanted to know the answer. She’d have to wait until he removed that stick before asking him about that. He already thought she was too bossy and pushy. It was unlikely that he’d break down and spill his deep dark secrets to her without a gun to his head.

  Because his mood was dark, she kept quiet for the ride to the station and followed him in. Several uniformed officers greeted him along the way and a couple openly checked her out. This lifted her spirits.

  After a stretch of dating jerks and duds, she wasn’t immune to the attention of a cute guy or two. Add a badge and a gun, and she was all in.

  What was it about a man in uniform anyway?

  “In here.” He pushed open the door to a small but efficient office. “Have a seat.”

  “Yes, sir.” She sat. He took a chair on the other side of the desk and moved a computer mouse around. The desktop computer wasn’t the latest model but it wasn’t a dinosaur either. She watched him work, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but he seemed engrossed in typing something that didn’t involve her.

  Tension lined his face beneath forehead scowl lines and brown hair. He had wide—but not steroid abuser—shoulders and his biceps appeared well defined. The man was fit, very fit.

  If he wasn’t so unlikable, he’d be someone she’d date. Then again, he couldn’t be worse than the bug collector from the online dating site, the guy who wanted to take her to meet his mother five minutes into their first date and carried around a dung beetle he’d named Mervin.

  Nope. But still, Wheeler would just be another mistake.

  After a few long silent minutes, and a text sent to Irving about her flat tire and a warning to keep an eye out for suspicious characters, she’d had enough of waiting for him to acknowledge her. Patience wasn’t her thing. “What are you doing?”

  “Putting the info about the knife into the case file before I take it to the lab.”

  “Good to know.” Sarcasm edged her words. “So do you plan to include me in the case or do you expect me to quietly tag along like a muzzled dog while you do all the work?”

  He finally lifted his eyes to her. “I’m okay with the muzzle.”

  How many years could she get in prison for denting his forehead with his stapler? It would almost be worth doing the time. And she did look decent in orange.

  “Okay. Clearly you have women issues. Did your mother leave you in your diapers too long? Or maybe some five-year-old girl stole your paste in kindergarten. Could it be that your ex-wife ran off with the mailman? Whatever your problem is with women, you need to get over it, or I’m taking my coloring books and going home.”

  Muscles along his jaw pulsed. She slowly rolled her chair back toward the door. If he started yelling, she was out of there.

  For a moment, she thought he’d tell her to F off and get lost. She wouldn’t be entirely against that plan. But with Summer in Maui and Taryn working online cases from home, she liked the idea of having someone around to call 9-1-1 if she was sniped by her invisible assassin.

  Besides, having an extra set of dreamy dark brown eyes watching her back wasn’t a bad idea, even if they were prone to glaring.

  “When I was an officer in Chicago, my partner was a bad guy. He almost got me arrested, and then killed. Would you like to see the bullet scar?”

  Shaking her head slowly, she began to look at him differently. He was still a jerk, but he had his reasons.

  “That sucks.” What else could she say?

  “Yup. That’s why I’m wary of partners.” He stared at her for a long time and she kept her eyes on his. After she was convinced he’d slipped into a coma, he blinked. “Why don’t we take this a day at a time and try not to tick each other off too much.”

  At least Detective Cranky could be reasonable…when he didn’t have a choice.

  Jess smiled and reached out her had. “Deal.”

  They shook. Tingles went up her arm.

  * * *

  Sam didn’t know why he’d told her about Rudy. His past was none of her business and Rudy was dead. Maybe it was because he was being an ass to her for no real reason, other than he was still carrying a chip the size of his SUV over almost being murdered in his previous life.

  Or maybe it was her big beautiful eyes that hooked him. The way they read him made him both annoyed and turned on. They were after-sex eyes, heavily lashed and soft like she’d just had an amazing orgasm.

  He released her hand before he got any unprofessional ideas about Jess Lucas. She was a target and he was her unofficial bodyguard until they caught the shooter. Of course he’d keep that to himself. If she suspected he didn’t think she could keep herself safe and needed his protection, she’d tell him off and work the case alone. He couldn’t have her running all over the city with a psycho on her tail.

  Having resigned himself to making their temporary partnership work, Sam offered her a pop or water but she declined. He pulled the keyboard over.

  “I think we’ll start with some background. Why don’t we begin before the shooting and see if we can come up with a few suspects. Tell me about some of your recent cases.”

  “Let’s see.” Although she seemed to think he was off track, she gave him the life of a PI. “Last week I watched an eighty-year-old married man play naked Twister with his sixty-year-old mistress, through the open curtains at a rooms-by-the-hour motel. The mistress is the only person I’ve ever seen who can contort her body into a complete circle. Backward. No
wonder he likes her.”

  She continued. “The week before that, I videotaped a teen girl dealing weed to a dozen hockey players behind an ice rink. Her parents hired me because they thought she was out working on being an unwed teen mother. I think they would have preferred a grandchild.”

  Wheeler stared.

  “Two weeks ago, I caught a bartender stealing money from the register and three weeks ago, I was hired by a woman who suspected her boyfriend had another girlfriend. Turns out, it was a boyfriend.”

  He continued staring.

  “Should I go on?” She leaned an elbow on the chair arm and dropped her chin in her hand.

  “Did the senior citizen look like he could be our sniper?”

  * * *

  Jess stared back. Was that another almost-joke? Heck, at this rate, by Thursday he might almost smile. By Saturday, they might be yucking it up over margaritas and E Coli riddled bar peanuts at a local tavern. By Monday, they could be Facebook friends. Who knew? Stranger things have happened.

  “You wouldn’t think so, but he was pretty ticked off when his wife served him divorce papers, or so I heard. They’d been married sixty years and had a good retirement fund. He thought she’d stick around. Their kids took his wife’s side and she plans a world cruise once she gets her settlement.”

  The detective pushed a pen around his desk. “Following cheaters can’t be fun.”

  She thought on that for a minute. “They aren’t our favorite cases. But Irving says they pay the light bill so we do them. Eventually, we want to phase them out and do more serious cases full-time. More corporate crimes, solving cold murder cases, international stuff.”

  “Catching snipers,” Wheeler added.

  “That, too.” Jess crossed one leg over the other. “Right now we have a case involving Irving. He’s been receiving stalker-type letters for the last few months that are subtly threatening. So far we’ve come up with nothing.”