5 Bargain Hunting

by Rhonda Pollero

  With my heart racing in my ears, I allowed myself to revel in the feel of his strong body against mine. As Liam deepened the kiss into something more demanding, I succumbed to the potent dose of longing.

  I began to explore the solid contours of his body beneath his soft cotton shirt. It was like feeling the smooth, sculpted surface of a granite statue. Everywhere I touched I felt the distinct outline of corded muscle. I could even feel the vibration from his erratic pulse.

  All the nights of worrying if he too felt the strong tug of attraction were easily erased by the undeniable proof of his arousal. My heart soared with the knowledge that Liam obviously felt it, too.

  When he lifted his head, I had to fight the urge to pull him back to me. His eyes met and held mine as he quietly searched my face. His breaths were coming in short, raspy gulps and I watched the tiny vein at his temple race in time with my own pulse.

  “I’ve never done this,” he said.

  My eyes flew open wider and my expression must have registered obvious shock.

  Liam’s chuckle was deep and reached his eyes.

  “I mean I’ve done this,” he corrected. “I’ve just never been so attracted to a woman that I’ve put on the full-court press,” he said as he claimed my mouth again. His kiss lasted for several heavenly moments. “I just wouldn’t want you to think I make a habit of this sort of thing.”

  “I don’t think I am thinking,” I admitted as I rested my cheek against his chest.

  “Maybe I don’t want us to think, Finley.”

  “That isn’t very responsible behavior,” I said against the soft fabric covering his broad chest.

  “Who says we have to be responsible?” he countered as his thumb hooked under my chin. “I can’t tell you how responsibly I’ve been taking my cold showers lately.”

  I tried to ignore the sudden tightness in the pit of my stomach. But I decided to ignore the blatant invitation in his devastatingly blue eyes . . .

  “We have to wait,” I said as I inched back into the corner of the sofa.

  “Wait for what?” he asked with regret but no signs of malice.

  “You have stitches.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Other than the fact that they itch, I’m good to go.”

  “Well, once you are stitches free, we can talk about it.”

  Liam reached out and cradled my face in one hand. “Whatever you say.”

  “You give up too easily,” I answered with a grin.

  He smiled back at me. “No, I just know the stitches come out in two days. Then you won’t have an excuse.”

  Oh yes I will. The ever-present Ashley.

  “Can we get back to business?”

  “You can waste your time investigating the members of my unit. I’ll take care of the Latin Bandits.”

  “That’s dangerous,” I warned. “What do you think, they’ll just calmly confess to killing two deputy sheriffs?

  “I was thinking Jimmy Santos might be lonely. He’s been locked up since the raid. Maybe he’s tired of shouldering the whole burden.”

  “Fine, then I’ll start with Calderone. I’ll ask Tony to get their IA files.” I grabbed for my briefcase. “I almost forgot.” Because I wanted to. “I got the final autopsy reports and photos on José.”

  “Let’s see them,” Liam said, his tone more resigned.

  “They aren’t pretty,” I warned.

  “They never are,” he told me.

  I passed the color photos to him one by one, careful not to linger on any single picture. I didn’t have the stomach for dissected bodies even if it was in the name of science. On the other hand, Liam scanned each picture, stopping only to ask if I had a magnifying glass. I did. Kinda. I had one of those kits to fix eyeglasses and it came with a tiny magnifier.

  “What is it?” I asked after he’d spent at least three minutes looking at José’s upper arm.

  “What does that look like to you?” he asked, handing me the mini-magnifier and the photo. It was a rectangular scar just below where the shoulder met the arm. The skin was discolored, but there was a faint outline in red visible just off to one side. It looked like a stylized letter L.

  “Ever seen anything like that?”

  I nodded. “One of the girls I went to college with got a tattoo and her parents went ballistic. Sent her to a plastic surgeon to have the thing removed.”

  “It’s against policy to have visible tattoos in the department.”

  I still wasn’t sure where he was going. “You think José had a tattoo removed?”

  “Maybe. He once told me it was from a motorcycle accident. I never really paid attention.”

  “The L could be for Lopez. Maybe he had his own initials tattooed on and then had them removed when he joined the sheriff’s department. Only one way to tell,” I said.

  “Which is?”

  “Tony gets an order preventing release of the body and brings in a specialist to examine the scar. Sometimes if they remove skin layer by layer the image becomes clear.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Excellent observation.”

  “Only if Tony goes along with it.”

  I grabbed my phone and handed it to Liam. After he explained the situation, Tony agreed to draft the emergency motion and get it signed over the weekend before Lopez’s body could be cremated. Liam finished by saying, “Finley spotted the tattoo.”

  I felt almost giddy. I was an asset to this team, and hopefully now they’d both agree that I didn’t need to be cloistered in my office working from afar.

  “I’ve got to make another run to my car,” Liam said.

  While he was gone I poured myself another cup of coffee and got him another beer. It was kind of like a domestic scene right out of the fifties. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I just knew I still felt the lingering effects of his kiss. Of course, that was tempered by the memory of Ashley getting a kiss as well.

  When he returned, he had a small duffle bag over his shoulder.

  “More files?” I asked.

  “Clothes. I’m parking out here until we find out who sent you that e-mail.”

  I tilted my head to one side and sighed. “That could have just been a jerk I met being a bigger jerk.”

  “Meet a lot of threatening men, do you?

  “Sometimes. I can think of three times in the last two weeks that I’ve been . . . well less than kind to half-drunk morons at bars.”

  “Maybe you should stay away from bars.”

  “Maybe you should not be telling me what to do.”

  “Just thinking of your well-being.”

  I was getting pissed. “You don’t seem to mind that Ashley spends a lot of her free time in City Place.”

  “That’s different.” He started to walk toward the guest bedroom.

  “Different?” I whispered. What the hell did that mean? Okay, I decided when he was settling into my sanctuary, it was time to confront the issue straight on.

  Before he came back, I went to eBay only to find that my competition had outbid me already. With just under fifteen seconds to go, I pressed the button upping my bid. I won! I practically did a happy dance right there. I was the proud new owner of an aftermarket diamond bezel for my as-yet-to-be-built Rolex.

  When Liam returned, he stopped for a second to admire Harold’s work replacing the slider and cleaning the glass shards away. “I told you he was good,” Liam said.

  “Sit down, please,” I said in my most professional voice.

  While he did that I took a second and made myself a cosmopolitan. I hoped alcohol would give me the fortitude to press for the previously off-limits information. I was tired of brush-off answers and flippant replies. Especially when he was going out of his way to seduce me.

  I handed him a fresh beer, then sat at the far end of the sofa. I knew if he touched me I’d get all hot and bothered, and I needed all my wits about me if I was going to get through this.

  “Let’s talk Ashley.”

  His initial response was a ma
ddeningly sly grin. “She owns a salon in City Place. Hair, nail, facials, massages, pedicures. They serve finger sandwiches and wine to their clients and even have dog bowls and food for the clients who bring their furry friends.”

  “I know all about the salon. What I’m struggling with is the nature of your relationship with Ashley. As you know, I’ve already been burned once. I’m in no hurry to do it again.”

  “Are you suggesting you and I have a relationship?” He was amused and I longed to douse him with my cosmo.

  “I’m suggesting that you’re confusing me. One minute you act like I’m the only woman you want, and the next minute you’re off on one of your infamous things with Ashley.”

  “Don’t be confused. My things with Ashley are not a big deal. Put them out of your mind. Why don’t you come here,” he suggested as he patted the cushion next to him. “I’ll be happy to demonstrate just how much I want you.”

  Tempting but stupid.

  Tempting was winning.

  “I’m going to take a bath and get some sleep,” I announced.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” Liam offered.

  His polite gesture inspired quite a response from my overloaded senses. As we headed toward the hallway, I was keenly aware of his fluid movements. My shoulder brushed against his solid chest, inciting a whole new array of thoughts and feelings.

  When he placed his fingers at the small of my back, I couldn’t ignore the warmth of his touch. I tried to convince myself that it was just some sort of reaction caused by recent events. The clean scent I had grown to associate with him caressed my senses.

  “Why are you so interested in Ashley?” he asked when we reached the door to my bedroom.

  I looked up into the full force of his eyes. He was so tall, his shoulders so broad, that I could feel my pulse beginning to quicken again. “I just want to understand if this is going anywhere.”

  One dark brow arched and his mouth curved into a lazy smile. “You wanted to know why I spend time with my ex. Are you really that insecure?”

  “Maybe,” I acknowledged softly. “I haven’t exactly been batting a thousand lately.”

  He reached for me with one hand, allowing it to rest on my shoulder, near my collarbone. I could feel every inch of his squared fingers through the thin fabric of my blouse. The feel of his touch wasn’t nearly as powerful as the simmering passion I read in those clear blue eyes.

  I felt my breath catch in my throat as the space between us grew palpable. It was as if a current had engaged, filling the inches that separated us with a strong and powerful electricity. For several protracted seconds, we said nothing. I was too afraid of breaking the spell. I didn’t know what might happen, but I didn’t want to do anything that put the brakes on.

  Liam’s eyes traveled lower, until I could almost feel him staring hard at my slightly parted lips. I knew instinctively that his thoughts were taking the same path as mine. His hand moved slowly toward my face, until he cupped my cheek, his thumb resting just inches from where his eyes remained riveted.

  His thumb burned a path toward my lower lip. I watched the intensity in his eyes deepen as his thumb brushed tentatively across my mouth. Gently at first, then with each successive movement he applied more pressure until I thought I might die from the anticipation knotting my stomach.

  Raising my hand, I flattened it against his chest. I could feel Liam’s heart beating against the solid muscle. A faint moan rumbled in his throat.

  His head dipped fractionally closer and I held my breath, fully expecting and wanting his kiss. His thumb continued to work its magic. The friction had produced a heat that was carried to every cell in my body. I swallowed. Hard.

  “That first time,” he began in a husky, raspy voice.

  “Yes?”

  “When I said I was a patient man?”

  “Yes?”

  “I lied.”

  His breath washed over my face in warm, inviting waves but he made no move closer. Gathering a handful of his shirt, I urged him to me. His resistance was a surprise. His thumb stilled and rested just below my lip.

  His eyes met and held mine. “I guess this is where we say good night.”

  “Guess it is,” he said easily. Too easily.

  “Or you could come into my room,” I said.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  Those two words inspired the first stirrings of embarrassment to creep into my consciousness. I felt my face grow warm with the realization that I had all but begged the man.

  “Look,” I said, stepping out of his arms with my head bowed. “I need a good night’s sleep. Thanks for staying here tonight. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

  “I can think of a way,” Liam answered before he turned and walked down the hall.

  Closing the door, I leaned against the cool wooden surface and fanned myself with my hand. “Close,” I mumbled. “Dangerously close.”

  Some people learn from mistakes, I run from mine.

  fourteen

  Liam left early, off in search of information on the listening device I’d accidentally discovered at José’s house. Me? I had to go to the office to type the letters to Liam’s former unit buddies. Well, I guess once someone rats you out to IA and a grand jury you don’t consider them buddies anymore.

  Even though it was eight thirty on a Saturday, I was already dressed and fully coiffed. I went without first-thing coffee so I could make myself presentable to Liam. I wasn’t used to having a houseguest and I wanted to look my best.

  “Who are you kidding?” I asked myself. I just didn’t want him to see me all scraggly and messy. Which made no sense since he’d already seen me soaking wet and in a police station with nothing but my jammies on. Still, it mattered.

  The temperature had dropped down into the upper seventies so I’d chosen a pair of fuchsia Piazza Sempione capri pants and a Michael Kors shirt with button cuffs and princess seams. Since it was the weekend, I decided to give my feet a rest by wearing a pair of gold metallic Kate Spade sandals with faceted jewels on the T-strap. They worked well with my metallic gold Coach bag, the bag with the offset stitching that allowed me to score it for less than half the price.

  I arrived at the office only to find both Tony’s and Vain Dane’s cars parked in the lot. Good, maybe Vain Dane would give me some points for working on a Saturday. After settling into my office, I saw a manila folder in my in-box. I pinched the metal prongs and opened it. Joseph Lawson had sent me the addresses for the family members. Good, while I was there I could finish those letters and take them up to Vain Dane for his signature. Then he’d have to notice that I was in the building.

  I took the list out of my bag and started searching the Internet for information on the other officers present the night of the shooting. DMV records gave me photographs and addresses to put with the names.

  Diego Ferrer was thirty-seven, with a neck like a professional wrestler. Definitely not someone I’d want pissed at me. No huge surprise, he had no outstanding tickets or warrants. I switched over to the property records, and at first, I found nothing. Not even the address from his driver’s license. I clicked my way to vital records and found a marriage license. Then went back and discovered the house in Wellington was in the wife’s name alone. Odd, but not unheard of.

  While I couldn’t access Internal Affairs information, I could get a work history from the credit bureau. Nothing special there. Diego and his wife, Maria, lived within their means. Well, better than within their means. They were making double mortgage payments. Smart move in a bad real estate market. They paid their credit cards on time and had excellent credit ratings.

  The next name on the list was Carlos Santiago. Thirty-nine and not exactly what I thought of when I thought sheriff’s deputy. He was only five-five according to his driver’s license, but like Diego, he had that “I work out every chance I get” look about him. Thick neck, bulging brow, the steroid look. He’d gone to Palm Beach College and joined the for
ce right after graduation. He’d paid off his student loans ahead of schedule and had a mortgage and a boat loan outstanding. Hardly a lavish lifestyle; three-quarters of Florida owned boats. His house was in an area called the Acreage, a less-congested suburb of West Palm. His wife was named Cynthia and I couldn’t find any dirt on her aside from the fact that she liked to shop at Nordstrom, but then again, so did I. They paid their bills every month on time. Nothing stood out there.

  I moved on to Miguel Vasquez. He looked fierce in his license photo. Dark and brooding and given his vitals, 6’3” and 225 pounds, he was one scary-looking man. He was forty-one, divorced, and had five children. This explained why he had an apartment in North Palm Beach. He was probably paying out the ying in child support. The fact that he was divorce poor might give him a reason to . . . what? Shoot the Peña kid? Shoot José? Shoot Liam? That made no sense. Being cash poor just meant he had to budget like the rest of us.

  Well, I don’t budget so much as I pay attention to the limits on my credit cards.

  That took me to Armando Calderone, the unit leader and the one Liam said had been the point man on the operation. Though he was forty-four, I found no record of him ever being married. Between the real estate records and the personal property tax rolls, I learned the man liked his toys. Being single was a lot cheaper than having a family, and Armando seemed to be living a pretty high life. He had a condo on the ocean in Juno Beach. A BMW and a GTO muscle car. I stared at his picture for a minute, wondering why he wasn’t married. He was attractive enough. Maybe he was gay. Or in sheriff’s terms, in the closet.

  I thought of my friend Sam. He’s a decorator and gay and always has money. Maybe there’s some correlation between being gay and being financially secure?

  I stopped and stretched, rolling my head around to get out the kinks. I hadn’t exactly rested peacefully last night. Not with Liam a mere wall away. Things were getting way complicated between us. Or at least they were too complicated in my brain, which was apparently being led around by my libido. My cell rang, ending my moment of not so pleasant introspection before it got out of hand.