Down & Dirty: Romantic Suspense Series (Dirty Deeds Book 3)

by AJ Nuest

  Okay. That seemed a reasonable enough explanation but, still. Tanner squinted. Something about that story just didn’t sit right in her belly. What she couldn’t nail down was whether her hesitation stemmed from the aversion she had for her scars as a whole—the way she’d earned them and the debilitating heartbreak that had followed, all the things she’d done in her ridiculous attempts at trying to win her life back. Or the fact there was a huge hole in Casper’s ex-girlfriend story that left her scratching her head.

  Why would he exchange one horrible reminder for another? Especially by leaving a scar people might ask about, only to bring up the same sore subject he’d been hoping to erase in the first place?

  He paused, eyes glued to the monitor, and she swiveled toward the desk to dart a frown between the picture of Trey’s family that had been included in the police report, and what appeared to be a decent-sized dose of agitation in Casper’s gaze.

  “What’s the matter?” To her, it looked like an average family photo. Trey standing in front of his smiling mom and dad, his father’s hand resting on his shoulder. Bright sunny day at a local park. Green trees surrounding an assortment of playground equipment in the background.

  “Nothing.” Casper shook his head and continued shuffling the information up the screen.

  And yet… “Hold on.” She bumped his hand out of the way to take another shot at the picture, inching closer to the desk.

  While Trey’s features were more African American in nature, his mother had the long thick hair and dark almond eyes of a Latina, and his dad was whiter than a piece of Wonder Bread.

  Shit, how has she missed that? “This isn’t the first time Trey’s been adopted.”

  One of Casper’s eyebrows rose toward his squared off hairline, and Tanner peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.

  “He was adopted before Eden and Kelly, I mean.” Or rather, it was just a matter of them receiving the paperwork from the state.

  “What are you saying?” Casper’s lids lowered at the same slow speed he boosted his chin. “You think Trey’s parents were targeted?”

  “Maybe.” But the bigger question was by whom? And why?

  Anxiety lifted the hair along Tanner’s nape, trickling down her spine until her skin broke out in a cold sweat. And if they had intentionally been erased off the planet, what did that mean for Eden and Kelly?

  Goddamn it, no. That wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Swiping her damp palm along her thigh, Tanner shook her head. Satan would be peddling snow cones in hell before she let any harm came to them. “I think the first item on our agenda should be to run a thorough background check on Trey’s parents. See if we can find out who they were and if they ever butted heads with the wrong kinda people.”

  “I already did.”

  She startled.

  Cringed.

  Damn, she really needed to talk to Xander about installing some sort of motion detector that would give her a heads-up whenever someone was crossing the living room for the office.

  Leaning to the side, she peeked past the screen of her laptop and locked eyes with Ben. As if the waves of anger emanating off the surly pissed-officer standing in the doorway weren’t enough to have every alarm in the manor screeching in dismay.

  Then again, it wasn’t like his reaction was new. Sitting back from the desk, Tanner crossed her arms. The guy sported an atomic wedgie no matter what she said or did.

  He shifted his gaze to Adder, and any naughty ideas she’d gotten about Casper occupying that same space evaporated like heat waves shimmering off a long, lonely stretch of blacktop under Ben’s blistering stare.

  Ben was taller. Bulkier and broader. The epitome of Mr. What You See is What You Get.

  Casper narrowed his eyes and, for a few tweeny-bopper heartbeats, Tanner actually considered which of them would win in a fight. Sure, Adder was built and had cornered the market on sex appeal, but Ben…

  His bottomless mahogany eyes moved back to her, and it was all she could do not to blink. Not to shrink in the chair or look away.

  There was a blatant potency in his rawness. An elemental quality that always crackled like a lightning strike in the middle of a menacing storm.

  He didn’t just fill the doorway, his presence charged the whole room.

  Jerking a manila file folder from under the arm of his black leather jacket, he started forward. Tanner braced against the impulse to wheel back from the desk and dive underneath with her boots.

  Because behind the anger, hidden somewhere beyond the resentment at finding her working with Casper, was a crushing disappointment that made her eyes sting and her throat clog against the threat of tears.

  No. She rapidly blinked and spanked that childish response back into the past where it belonged. If Ben didn’t want her spending time with Casper, then all he had to do was sit down with her and rationally explain the problem.

  As if… She almost snorted. There was a better chance he’d approach her chair and drop to one knee in song.

  “First thing I did when I hit the station this morning was run a background check on Trey’s parents.” He slapped the file to the desk and turned, retracing his steps toward the door. “Valentina Fernández was the kid’s natural mother. She and the guy she married are both clean.”

  * * * * *

  The crusty layer of an icy puddle collapsed under his boots, and Ben returned the nods of several beat cops mingling near the precinct’s front stoop as he stepped from his vehicle.

  An entire hour. He slammed the door and his headlights flashed as he hit the FOB on his keychain. The beep of the horn muffled his crunching footsteps as he stepped onto the sidewalk and rounded the hood. He’d squandered over sixty minutes abusing the aggressive speed of Chicago’s expressway traffic in an effort to get his head together. To try and simmer down enough he could wrestle his temper back under control.

  Wasting such valuable time had done a fine job of grinding glass into his already shredded patience, but he also had zero doubts that heading straight back to work after leaving the manor would’ve only made everything worse.

  Pissed as he’d been, going anywhere near his desk would’ve likely had him punching out his frustrations on the nearest innocent bystander. Or another of his recruits. Considering the ass-chewing D’Avella had given him yesterday afternoon that would’ve been a bad follow up to the way he’d lost his shit.

  He’d already been ordered to issue one apology for his conduct unbecoming.

  He wasn’t about to take action that would have him handing out any more.

  Hoofing it up the stairs two at a time to the top, he grabbed the door handle and stood aside as Assistant District Attorney Seraphina Fiore strode through, one hand holding her cell to her ear and the other doing up the buttons on her navy wool coat.

  He dipped his chin in hello and his brow twitched as his focus landed on her feet. Good Christ. How in the hell Chicago’s female population navigated the salt-strewn sidewalks of early January in that kind of footwear was beyond him. Even though her three-inch spikes certainly did go a long way toward mimicking Fiore’s tactics in the courtroom.

  Over the past few years, she’d called him in to testify on enough cases, he’d had the pleasure of seeing her in action several times. Without fail, any witnesses who were savvy enough to concentrate past the distracting combination of her long russet waves and cornflower blue eyes inadvertently fell victim to her razor-sharp tongue.

  A glance in his direction, and she slowed, offering him a smile. “That’s fine. Move it to Tuesday and put this case at the top of my docket. I’m about to meet with him now.”

  Shit. Ben released the handle and followed as the ADA moved out of the flow of foot traffic, heading for the vacant corner at the top of the stoop.

  Captain D’Avella had called in the big guns.

  Not that he was surprised in light of the subject matter. He stopped beside Fiore near the wide concrete banister. Spilling his guts about the snake he suspec
ted was moving among them had been his one saving grace in shifting the cap’s focus off the way he’d nearly strangled the little maggot who’d supplied a description of Tanner. God forbid, D’Avella follow that lead and ask him why he’d been sniffing around the manor in the first place. Or better yet, catch wind of how he’d handed over a copy of Trey’s file to Xander, and request Ben turn in his badge and sidearm for a nice long leave on probation.

  Steering her clear of that infraction had been a no brainer, and not only because the minute D’Avella had heard his concerns any worries she might’ve been harboring about someone filing a complaint had become low-grade static that didn’t matter.

  Once he’d finished, she’d confirmed his decision they play this one very close to the vest. And in a rare moment of things actually going his way, she’d also agreed his previous experience as one of the few to ever lay eyes on their target made him the optimum candidate to take lead on the case.

  But that didn’t mean she’d been willing to let him go it alone, and with Kelly out on extended vacation, the cap had apparently reached out to the DA’s office for additional support.

  Fiore tapped her phone and stashed it in her pocket, her shoulder bumping his arm as she leaned in. “I just left D’Avella’s office. She said you have reason to believe Vaheed Shahzar has moved into the area.”

  Jesus, how was it just the mention of that name could bring back the sweltering heat? Coat his tongue with the windswept dunes of an Afghani desert that gritted between his teeth?

  Ben swiped his hand down his face. “Call it a hunch. At this point, I got nothing to go on but my gut.”

  Tipping her head, the ADA lifted an assessing brow. “Considering your exceptional arrest record, that’s good enough for me.”

  And how was it that one word from him and he had the backing of the DA’s office, but when it came to someone else, he had to all but part the Red Sea before she’d snap to and pay attention.

  The split second he’d spotted Tanner palling it up with that asshole in the manor’s first floor office, something inside him had cracked. Even though he’d fully expected her to ignore his warnings. Regardless of how his knee-jerk response had been to scoop her into his arms and haul her outta there quicker than if he’d found her locked down in the middle of a drug bust gone wrong.

  He still knew she’d go out of her way to slough off his warnings as nothing more than his usual habit of looking for trouble where none existed. But tack on the barrage of memories he’d spent the past twenty-four hours reliving, the building desperation he find the proof he needed before it was too late and, if it hadn’t been for Xander, Ben would’ve had to write himself up for a psych eval in the nearest padded cell.

  The Brofessor had been the only one to validate Ben’s reservations that something about Adder wasn’t right. He’d even gone so far as to supply a picture of Adder as a kid, and then given Ben his word he’d keep one eye tuned to the activity around the manor and contact him if Tanner got it in her head to do anything that would put her at risk.

  As it turned out, that promise couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Leaving her alone with that prick had filled Ben’s stomach with more dread than the idea of having his gums scraped. Without anesthesia. Dull, rusty blade. Hell, if not for this status update he’d promised his lead AV Tech on aging that same picture, chances were good he never would’ve gotten his feet moving out the door.

  “It’s important you keep me abreast of everything you learn, even if it seems inconsequential. As of our latest research, the DA’s office is still unclear how deep Shahzar’s reach may go.” Balancing her briefcase on the railing, Fiore dug around in a side pocket for a business card and pen. “I’m giving you my private cell. Feel free to call or text at any hour. I rarely sleep.”

  She jotted her number on the back and offered him the card, slivered between her index and middle fingers. “We could even meet for dinner and drinks, if that works better for you.”

  His pulse kicked a few degrees north as Ben darted a squint from her hand to her face.

  Was she asking him out? Maybe using the opportunity to insinuate she’d be open to him showing up at her door unannounced? That reference to rarely sleeping had booty call written all over it.

  Unfortunately, whether the blush in her cheeks had more to do with the cold air or it hinted at something else altogether, he couldn’t tell.

  Either way, he had to admit it was flattering she would consider the idea, and if things were different he didn’t hold any qualms he would’ve easily taken her up on the offer.

  “I appreciate that, Ms. Fiore.” He slipped the card from between her fingers and crammed it in his back pocket.

  A man would have to be dead from the waist down to pass on the chance of having a woman with her beauty and brains writhing under his hands, and the same held true even if he’d misread her signals.

  Sharing a meal with her would be a good step in solidifying their professional relationship. Perhaps even go some small way toward showing his thanks for her help.

  All good, from an outsider’s perspective…except for the one fatal flaw in her plan.

  He didn’t date. Ever.

  Getting personal to the point he couldn’t walk away with his heart intact was a non-option. And that went double for a colleague he ran into on a regular basis who had the authority to throw a monkey wrench into his career.

  In his opinion, any guy who would willingly volunteer for those kinds of hurts suffered the opposite problem of being dead from the neck up. In all good conscience, he wasn’t about to stand here and give her the impression anything along those lines was a part of his future.

  The losing end of his life wasn’t open for business any more.

  “The minute I have anything, you’ll be the first call.” Right after Tanner. Xander, Charlie and everyone else Ben was hoping to protect at Dirty Deeds.

  He took a stab at a smile but, based on the way Fiore’s gaze narrowed, it came off pained.

  “Thank you, Detective.” She held out her hand and they shook, but instead of releasing him in the usually allotted time, her grip firmed. “I’m not sure I can overstate the importance of your cooperation. Regardless of which direction the case takes, my offer stands.” Another squeeze of his fingers, and she pinned him with her clear blue eyes. “And call me Phin. All my friends do.”

  A curt nod, and she finally left off her clutch grip, turned and descended the stoop.

  Cocking a brow, Ben shook his head at her retreating back. Lawyers. With that confusing double-talk they loved to spout, it was a wonder anyone understood what they were saying half the time.

  So not his speed. He pivoted toward the door and entered, offering the desk sergeant an acknowledging chin bump as he strode toward the wide marble stairs. Up three floors, and he by-passed the criminal logistics room, headed down the hallway for the AV Department and shoved through the door.

  A wash of glowing LEDs pinpointed the black void like multi-colored stars, and he sighed, pausing a beat to let his eyes adjust to the darkened interior. It’d been the same ever since the day Captain D’Avella had invited Molly Simmons to utilize this space as her base of operations. Too many cases to count later, and Ben knew better than to move one iota without first double-checking he could clear whatever complex booby traps Molly had set in the way.

  Ducking low, he side-stepped past two free-standing towers of networked mainframes, glanced left then right and lifted his leg for a lurching stride over a row of plastic milk crates she’d filled with a jumbled mishmash of rewritable CDs. Molly’s version of disorganized chaos was only one of her many quirks, though Ben would be hard-pressed to deny that gritting his teeth through all of them generally worked in his favor.

  Other than Xander, he’d never met another hacker with Molly’s nose for tracking down private information off the web. Her unblemished record in helping their precinct solve case after case secured her talents as a valuable asset. Intentiona
l hoarding or not, they were lucky to have her on the team.

  Around a winding turn created by several carts buried under a teetering stack of disabled monitors, and Ben exhaled in relief as he entered the glass bubble their medical examiner, Nick DeFranco, had once compared to the nucleus of a cell.

  Molly glanced in his direction and spun away from the bank of computers stationed along the curve of her desk, greeting him with a cheery smile. “Hello, handsome.” A quick scan of his face and her lips twisted in a grimace that set off an APB in his head. “You’re looking particularly pent up this morning. Let me guess. You ran into Tanner at Smith Manor.”

  As if he needed the reminder. He raked his hand through his hair. As if he didn’t have enough of a migraine dealing with Charlie and the way she’d painted a bullseye on his back. Molly caught the smallest hint she’d nailed his frustrations, and she’d no doubt be joining the crusade to play cupid at the expense of everyone’s safety.

  Not that it would get her anywhere. Just like anyone who inadvertently stepped into Adder’s line of fire, Ben’s concern for Tanner both started and ended at the same place it did everyone else at Smith Manor. That was all. If these goofy women thought otherwise, they were preppin’ to smack headfirst into the disappointment of their lives.

  Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out Fiore’s business card and tossed it onto Molly’s keyboard. Time to redirect the conversation onto safer ground. “Explain that to me.”

  Her glittery earrings swung forward as she grabbed the card and flipped it over and back. A dozen or so bracelets jingled along her arm as she jammed a pen into the disarray of blonde hair she’d secured with a thick rubber band on top of her head.

  “Fiore’s private number, huh? About time she made a move.” Molly offered the card back with a wry twist of her lips. “Not that sniffing around your goods will get her anywhere.”

  About time? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Frowning, Ben snatched the card and returned it to his back pocket, but not before Molly rolled her eyes as if his brain had the density of a cinderblock. “Phin Fiore’s had the hots for you for over a year.”