“Oh, come on! I’m your mother.”
You’re also a giant pain in the ass. “You want to ruin this for me? I’m superstitious. We’re probably going to break up tomorrow because I told you and now I’m never going to get to have sex again.”
“Okay, okay.” Phillipa relented and Ellis let out a huge internal sigh. “But promise that you’ll tell me about him soon.”
“Sure thing,” Ellis lied again, hoping her nose wasn’t growing substantially.
“Ellis, Phillipa.” Walter appeared in the doorway of the porch. “Dinner has been here for six minutes now.”
“We’re coming, Dad,” Ellis said, quickly heading inside. She had the awful feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. Her mother would probably never get off her back now. Maybe if Ellis prayed hard enough her mother’s memory would be wiped clean.
Yeah right, and maybe pigs will fly and there will be peace in the Middle East by Christmas.
Chapter Three
Every time Mike glanced out the window of Durant’s tiny police station he was greeted with a quiet tree-lined street. There were no hot dog vendors. No random homeless people relieving themselves in the alley. No occasional asshole calling him a pig. There was hardly any noise at all. When he’d first landed in New York City ten years ago that stuff excited him. He loved the noise, the energy. He loved the life the city had to offer him, but a few months ago something switched inside and he stopped being able to picture himself spending the rest of his life there. The problem was, he couldn’t picture himself anywhere. He didn’t know what he wanted out of life and that bothered him. Since he was thirteen years old he’d had his life planned out. Get the hell out of Buffalo. Go to college. Join the NYPD. For ten years he went after those goals with single-minded determination, and he accomplished them all.
Now what?
His thirteen-year-old mind hadn’t thought much past that. It wasn’t like him to not have a plan. Maybe that’s why he came back to Durant, the place he went to college, the city where he had some of the best times of his life.
Everything here was so … relaxed. It was the kind of place corporate America had yet to touch, made up of small trendy businesses and mom-and-pop shops. It was a place where people said good morning and smiled when they passed him on the street. And after being a detective in one of the city’s most active crime areas, coming back to his college town was like culture shock. In Manhattan he lived. He was always on the move. There was always something there to keep him busy but here … he could reflect on his life, decide his next move.
It turned out he sucked at being reflective. He was so used to doing, to being on edge all the time, it was as if he didn’t know how to relax.
The only police work he did that came anywhere close to exciting was acting as security for the senior citizen dance-a-thon. And that was exciting only because some ass had spiked the punch, causing a bunch of octogenarians to get a little freakier than they should on the dance floor.
It was entertaining but nothing to stop the surge of restless energy that continuously bugged him. Yet he didn’t regret leaving his old life behind. Ten years of working in the city’s poorest areas, ten years of violent robberies, ten years of throwing scared kids in jail had done something to him. It changed him. And when some animal brutally beat an eighty-nine-year-old woman for a purse that only contained nine dollars and Mike barely batted a lash, he knew it was time to move on. He didn’t want to become that hardened. He never wanted to be a man who couldn’t be moved.
And that caused him to wonder if police work was still his passion. But when he thought about it, he realized that there was nothing else he could do. So he left the NYPD and applied to Durant. He made this major move and took a substantial pay cut all so he could think about his life.
He could have gone back to Buffalo. His mother was still there running her flower shop. His sisters and their large families all lived within two miles of where he grew up, but going back to Buffalo was never really an option. There was too much history there. Too many things he didn’t want to remember.
“Mike, you hungry?”
Mike looked up at his new partner, Lester, who sat at the desk across from his. Lester was a veteran detective, a little gruff but a nice guy. He sort of reminded Mike of Danny Glover’s character in Lethal Weapon, which made him secretly wish his partner would utter, “I’m too old for this shit.”
“Yeah, I could eat,” Mike answered. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Extra-hot Buffalo wings.” Lester grimaced. “But those things give me the shits.”
Mike grinned at this overly honest answer. “Can’t have you on the crapper all day, old man. Maybe we should get you some cream of wheat instead.”
“Getting old fucking sucks.” The man grinned back, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to anyone who tells you it doesn’t ’cuz they’re full of shit.” Lester sat back in his chair and studied Mike for a moment. “How are you adjusting to the new job, city boy? Everybody treating you right?”
“Yeah. I’ve got no complaints.”
Lester nodded. “Durant’s pretty safe. I know that this job is going to take some getting used to. We heard about you. You did some crazy shit your rookie year to make detective.”
Mike shrugged off the comment. “It wasn’t anything you wouldn’t have done.”
“You’re wrong there, partner. I’ve never single-handedly stopped a robbery in progress, chased the perp twelve blocks through the projects, or gotten my nose bashed in by a dealer. Shit like that will get you killed.”
Mike nodded. Injured was his middle name back in his early days. He had been twenty-three, newly hired, and itching to prove himself. The last thing his mother wanted him to be was a cop, but as a kid he used to watch Hill Street Blues and NYPD Blue and salivate over the badass goodness of it all. He did his four years in college, came out with a degree in criminal justice, and instead of going to law school like his mother wanted, he became a cop. He couldn’t see himself as a lawyer. His family’s roots were entrenched in blue-collar soil. Mike’s father, when he was around, worked construction. His mother worked her fingers to the bone with her business and as much as she wanted for him to have a high-powered job and lead a lifestyle she could only dream of, he didn’t have the heart for it.
“That’s why I’m here. My mom calls me from Buffalo twenty-five times a day just to see if I’m still alive. I figured if I moved to a smaller city, she would call half as much.”
He was joking but his mother, Margie, called him often. He knew it bothered her that he was the only one of her children who’d moved away, so he picked up the phone every time with hardly any trace of annoyance.
Lester nodded. “My boy was thinking about going on the job for a little while until my wife laid the guilt trip on him. My son is a mama’s boy and Shirley can pretty much get him to do anything she wants. He’s now a biology major at the university.”
“Detectives,” their captain, Maria Montoya called, causing both men to turn and look at her. “There was a robbery down on St. Lucy Street. The shop owner got slapped around a bit when she refused to give up the cash. I’ve got uniforms on the scene already but I need you to go down there and do what you do.”
Mike was out of his chair before the woman could finish her thought. Finally, there was something for him to do.
*
The sight of police cars on St. Lucy Street attracted a crowd. Apparently the people of Durant weren’t used to robberies in broad daylight, which was a good thing. When Mike got out of the car he found about two dozen people milling around the scene, most of them shop owners and customers doing lunchtime shopping.
“Get these people back, please,” Mike ordered the uniforms, making his way toward the shaken owner of the yarn shop.
Lester shook his head. “This guy must have some kind of balls. What kind of idiot robs a store in broad daylight in the middle of a busy street?”
“Meth head?” Mike offe
red, knowing how the addicts were infamous for their lowered inhibitions. He had seen his share of drug addicts while he was on the job in the city and knew many would steal anything they thought was worth a few dollars.
“We don’t have too many meth heads around here, but it’s possible.” Lester pulled out his notebook as they approached. “You talk to the lady. Let me see how a city boy works.”
“You want me to school you, old-timer?” Mike grinned at Lester. “No problem.”
He dropped his smile as they faced the victim. One of the things Mike was good at was talking to people. Whether it was interrogating criminals or interviewing witnesses, Mike could get almost anybody to talk. He could see Mrs. Underwood was shaken. The first thing he would have to do was get her to trust him. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, petite with ashy blond hair. She owned a yarn shop so she was probably a knitter, maternal, artsy. The big diamond ring on her left hand told him that she was married, and the fact that it wasn’t taken by the perp told him the man who’d robbed her wasn’t a career criminal.
“Hello, Mrs. Underwood. This is Detective Richards and I am Detective Edwards. We wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“But”—the woman’s eyes grew round—“I just gave my statement to that other officer.”
“I know.” Mike placed his hand on Mrs. Underwood’s shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. “I know this day has been rough for you, but my partner and I can’t tolerate some idiot running around our city hurting our people. So we need to talk to you a little bit more to make sure we get this guy and lock him up. Do you think you are up for answering a few more questions?”
“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “I think I can do that.”
Ten minutes later with some gentle prodding Mike had something to go on. Mrs. Underwood’s attacker was short, bald, and hairy with a thick New York accent. According to the shop owner he did not seem to be under the influence or agitated, and he’d only asked for two hundred dollars. Apparently he was fairly polite before the woman refused; that was when he grabbed her by the collar and violently shook her until she relented. It was an odd case for Mike but fairly easy to solve. The man wore no disguise and left fingerprints all over the place. With any luck he would already be in the system.
“That was smooth, city boy.” Lester laughed, shaking his head. “You use that pretty-boy shit at your other job?”
Mike shrugged, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. “I use whatever works.” Luckily most women liked him.
He scanned the bystanders milling around. In Manhattan they would have been long gone but these people actually seemed concerned. It wasn’t every day one of their own was robbed.
“We should probably start questioning some of these people,” Lester said, looking at the crowd. “Hopefully one of them saw something.”
Mike was about to reply when he spotted a familiar woman standing twenty feet away. Ellis. It was as if he’d called out to her or something zapped her because suddenly she looked up at him with her big brown eyes. She looked jolted. The day at the coffee shop came back to him instantly, and he remembered what she had told that chain-smoking diet lady. Ellis owned some kind of store. It must be on this block.
“I’m going to go this way,” Mike mumbled, leaving Lester alone.
Mike walked toward Ellis and immediately saw her guard go up as she crossed her arms under her well-formed breasts.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as he approached. She looked at him with distrust, as if he were there to steal her virtue. He knew he hadn’t been an angel, but he was never disrespectful. He had four sisters and a mother who didn’t take crap from anybody.
“I ran out of yellow yarn for the sweater I’m knitting.” He shook his head. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?”
She studied him for a long moment, taking him in from head to toe. He did the same to her. She looked good, even better than she had in the coffee shop. A chocolate knit dress with little white polka dots hugged her curvy body. Her long legs were bare and for a moment he wondered how her thick creamy-looking thighs would feel wrapped around his waist. Or had he felt them already and simply forgotten? No. He knew he hadn’t. He wouldn’t have forgotten that.
“You work for Durant PD now, don’t you?” Ellis shut her eyes as if she were in pain. “You’re supposed to be in the city. Why are you here?”
Why the hell was she so annoyed with him? “Maybe”—he lowered his voice as he bent his head closer to her—“I wanted to be closer to you.”
“Ha!” Her eyes widened as amusement filled them. “And maybe you’re just full of shit.” She put her hand on her hips. “You don’t even know who I am.”
“Ellis…”
“Oh, you remembered this time!” She clapped her hands. “We’re making progress.”
“Why do you have to be such a ball buster?” He stepped closer to her, getting a faint whiff of the scented lotion she wore. “You could just tell me who you are and stop playing games.”
“It’s so much more fun to bust your balls.” She crossed her arms under her breasts again and gave him a smile he could only describe as naughty. “Detective Romeo has forgotten a face. You spent the better part of an hour in my bedroom and still don’t know who I am. And here I thought I was memorable.” Her eyes locked with his for a moment. “Tell me, Mikey, do you still wear Calvin Klein underwear?”
His jaw went slack. She had him there. The designer underwear had been a present from one of his former female friends. But he hadn’t had sex with Ellis. He knew he hadn’t. She wasn’t one of those women who were easily handled. He could see the keen intelligence in her eyes and knew she wouldn’t fall for any of his bullshit. Mike knew he would have had to work hard to get anywhere with a woman like Ellis. That’s why he only slept with women he could barely hold a conversation with. He wanted no entanglements, and four years ago the work Ellis presented wouldn’t have been worth it for him.
She was a tricky one. He took a minute to study her face as he regained control. “If you want to know the answer to that, you’re going to have to do some personal research.”
Her eyes traveled down to his pants as she pulled her plump lower lip between her teeth. He hardened.
“Thinking about it?” he asked, which caused her to startle and her face to flood with embarrassment.
“You’re such a smarmy jackass,” she huffed. Her eyes wandered to where her fellow shop owner had stood a few minutes ago. “How is Mrs. Underwood? That was the first thing I should have asked you.”
“She’s understandably shaken.” Returning to business, Mike took out his notepad and flipped it open to a clean page. “You own a business on this block?”
“Yes, I own a clothing store.” She absently pointed behind her. “So, Betty really was robbed? I can’t believe it. I always felt so safe here.”
Mike took note of the store’s name, Size Me Up, and mentally complimented Ellis on her choice. “This is still a safe place,” he tried to reassure her. “But sometimes there are assholes that have to screw things up for everybody. We’ll get him.” He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. “Did you see anything strange or notice a man running past your store?”
“No.” She looked slightly worried. “I was in the back doing alterations.” She then turned to the women standing behind her. “You girls were on the floor, did you notice anything?”
The women—Mike hadn’t even noticed them before—both shook their heads. The tall blonde spoke. “We didn’t even know there was a problem until we heard the sirens.”
Mike nodded, then jotted down their statements and their names before turning back to Ellis. “Can I have your full name?”
“Why? Do you think it’s going to help you remember who I am?”
“Ellis…”
She gave him that naughty smile once again. “Yes?”
Not many people got under his skin, but she was quickly becoming stuck there. “I could charge you with hindering a
police investigation.”
“You could try.” She nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. “But I’d have it thrown out in a matter of minutes. You have no grounds.”
It dawned on him: “You’re a lawyer?” He still wasn’t sure who she was, but the occupation seemed to fit. “Did we meet in court? Did I testify against your client or something? Is that why you’ve got your panties in a bunch?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know the state of my panties?” She raised a single brow at him. “We’ve never met in court and as you can see I own a clothing store. I’m not a lawyer, either.”
She was and he knew it. “But you are a pain in the ass.” He would figure out who she was shortly and the little game she was playing would come to an end.
“To some,” she said, shrugging. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to get back to work.” She turned to walk away and just like the last time he saw her, his hand somehow gained a mind of its own and grabbed her wrist. Just let her go, his brain warned him. She’s not worth the trouble. But he couldn’t let her have the last word. His male ego wouldn’t let Ellis leave on top.
She turned toward him, her eyes wide with curiosity, her pink pouty mouth slightly open. “My card.” He slipped it out of his pocket and into the palm of her hand, holding it there just a moment longer than necessary. “Call me if you need anything, Ellis.”
She nodded once and then walked away.
*
When Ellis walked back into her empty shop she was torn between smiling and cursing her fate. The smile won out. Mike lived in Durant now. He wasn’t there for a visit. He wasn’t just passing through. He was here to stay. She didn’t know why she found that funny or why she felt the need to rib him so much. It might be the poetic justice of it all. Mike Edwards, the guy who never had to work hard for a woman’s attention, had to work hard for hers. Being a pain in the ass was her good deed for the year. Punishing him was payback for all the women he had once walked over.
Saint Ellis. I’ll be applying for that halo now.
Dangerous Curves Ahead: A Perfect Fit Novel Page 3