Chapter Three

Dex had spent his morning on the computer looking up background on Terry Perkins, whose wife suspected him of cheating. Even though Simon had tried to get away from that shit, he’d told Dex this one felt different, and being the yes man he was, Dex was obliging. After compiling what he needed from the computer—with Evan’s help—he had spent the afternoon tailing Perkins around while he picked up fares. So far, absolutely nothing was setting off any alarms.

Dex had decided to hit up the cop bar, Batons, on Congress Avenue to see if he could get any help. He thought there were still a few ex-coworkers who might speak to him. He was being really hopeful because if tonight didn’t work, he’d have to go by the station tomorrow to see if his old lieutenant would help him out. And he wasn’t holding his breath for that one.

Batons was exactly as it had been when Dex had first joined the force. Everything in it was old, worn, and dirty. Still smelling of cigarettes from the decades prior, when smoking was allowed in public establishments, it gave off a serious vibe of neglect. But it had been the place where off-duty officers had gone, probably since it had been a speakeasy in the twenties, before law enforcement had taken it over, so who was he to go against the grain?

He swept his gaze around the large area as soon as he entered, immediately registering everyone. There were tables full of vice, homicide, patrol, and plain-clothes detectives, strategically stationed in tables set at angles so no one had their backs to the door. Even though it was a place for cops to mingle, they all stuck to their own department. It was almost humorous, coming here to let loose after a long shift yet still sticking with the people you knew, unwilling to test the unknown.

Dex could remember his own days on patrol, when he was still trying to hit detective status in the vice unit. He knew you stuck with who was nice to you at the time which, if he were playing by the same rules, meant he shouldn’t be here tonight.

A pain behind his eyes had him rubbing the bridge of his nose briefly before he realized he was only showing weakness and stopped. That’s when he saw her.

As if in a tunnel, his vision zeroed in on two women at the bar, one a Hispanic girl he knew from patrol but couldn’t remember her name … Lena? Nena? Something like that. She was nice, but that wasn’t what claimed his attention. It was the mahogany brunette next to her, all tall curves and wavy hair flowing loosely. She sat at the bar, her spine ramrod straight, sipping on a honey-colored drink like she was desperate for the liquid to loosen her stiff muscles, which Dex whole-heartedly decided he was game to try to do for her. Shaking his head briefly, he started to turn away, but she swiveled in her chair and saw him, dark eyes looking at him dangerously before widening slightly.

She was the only person in this bar not familiar to him, aside from the table full of obvious new recruits, who had crew cuts and more muscles than sense. They were drunk and toasting each other stupidly, a stark contrast to the woman at the bar. She sipped through her straw, her mouth puckering deliciously as she studied him before whispering something to her friend.

When she turned back toward Dex, he saw it—the brief flash of desire as she gave him a onceover before shuttering her gaze and puckering her mouth around her straw again. Even though her look now said “back off,” there was no way he’d mistaken the heat he’d just seen.

Dex had always prided himself on reading people. Even though she showed no emotion right now, her stare blank—giving off “go away” vibes—he’d seen it. For a second, Dex thought her friend must have said something about him that turned her off, but he discredited it almost as soon as he thought it. He didn’t know Nena/Lena that well, and he couldn’t imagine what she might say.

He shook his head, reminding himself he wasn’t here to pick up women. Never had been. Who in their right mind wanted to date a fucking cop? But still, as he looked around the room, he knew he’d give it a shot before he left tonight.

Something in his gut told him he needed to. And Dex Hollerman always trusted his gut.

Turning to his left, he started making his rounds—clapping backs and bro-hugging, making self-deprecating old-man jokes about retirement, making up shit about golf and fishing—and subtly pumping people for information.

And getting shot down at every turn. Dex figured he was on a roll. Might as well approach her, too.

Amber followed Nena into Batons feeling exhausted. It had been a long day and was promising to be even longer. But Nena was the only other officer who had asked her out for drinks after work at the local bar where all her coworkers hung out, and she was hesitant to say no. No sense in burning bridges before she even crossed them. She was new here, and every friend counted.

It had been really hard to go home and change out of her uniform and leave her house to come out tonight. But here she was, having drinks, when where she really wanted to be was in her new house, unpacking boxes in her pajamas, drinking tea, and fighting with Salem. Whatever.

“Whiskey and water, please,” Amber said to the bartender. At least it wasn’t super crowded. Maybe she’d make more friends tonight, although she was pretty sure one a day was her limit.

After the task force meeting this morning, she’d been given another mountain of papers to go through, mostly phoned-in leads to follow up on. Someone had been setting off bombs with Tannerite around town. Tannerite was something she was familiar with. Exploding targets were popular in Serendipity. Rednecks with guns and too much time and creativity and not enough sense would set that stuff off all times of the year, day or night. Once, someone had filled a lawnmower engine with the stuff and shot it, forgetting to take the blades off the mower. Flying debris had severed his leg. And it was all caught on video—YouTube gold.

While the stuff itself was perfectly legal for now, shooting at exploding targets in downtown Austin was a no-no, and someone had been doing it on the regular.

Thank goodness no one had been hurt, but that was only an eventuality.

Amber could think of a dozen better ways to catch the guy doing this than chasing down phone leads, but as the newbie in the department, she had zero credibility.

Which was why she was trying to make friends. Starting with Nena.

“Who’s checking out the pawn shops and gun stores? That’s where I would be looking,” Nena said, looking around the bar with interest.

“Martin and Gomez are looking in gun stores where they sell Tannerite.” Amber answered her friend’s question while she took a sip of her drink and watched Nena over the rim of her glass. Nena was pretty, in a small, incendiary package. She was short, Hispanic, with long, black hair, enormous eyes, and lips Amber would kill for. Even in her uniform, she exuded a sexuality Amber wished she had a tenth of. Not that she was looking to have sex anytime soon, but it had been a long time.

“Martin and Gomez,” Nena scoffed into her drink. “If they’re actually looking, I’ll eat my mother-in-law’s tamales. My guess is, they’re doing it half-heartedly while they’re chasing skirts somewhere. If they’re going into gun stores, it’s to pick up women.” She laughed into her beer again before taking a swig. “But I don’t want to talk shop. That’s why I come here, to get away from the bullshit and drama at the station.” The way her lip twisted as Nena changed the subject from one she’d brought up made Amber think she’d had something with one of the men in question at one point.

Then why a cop bar, Nena?

Instead of rolling her eyes, Amber remained blank-faced and started asking Nena more personal questions. Apparently, her new friend just wanted a girls’ night. Which was cool; she guessed she could leave the job at work.

But she’d really like to know who to trust.

“What did you do in your last job? Where did you work, again? Serendipity?”

Amber laughed. “A lot of rescuing defenseless old ladies from attack raccoons trapped in their garages.” She took another sip. “Actually, I was the rookie assigned to internal affairs because nobody else would take it.”

A knowing look stole across Nena’s features. Usually mentioning IA was all it took to stop the questions. Most everyone understood why that wasn’t the ideal job for anyone, much less a police officer. Being paid to snoop and catch co-workers breaking laws they’d been sworn to uphold sucked on any given day. But Amber just hoped Nena didn’t get too curious about the details.

Amber opened her mouth to say more, but she stopped when the man walked in. The man. That was all. Suddenly, her words were gone, along with her air and all the saliva in her mouth. She swallowed and took another pull of her drink, not paying any attention to whatever Nena was saying.

He was tall, with hair so dark it looked black, and carried himself like a cop, leading with his shoulders when he walked. Muscles tense, his body tracked his eyes’ movements, as if ready to take on action in a split-second.

Her eyes stayed with the tall guy. But he didn’t look like any police officer she’d seen. He pinched the bridge of his nose, like his brains were leaking out, and she swiveled back to the bar. But she didn’t stay that way long. As if pulled by an invisible string, Amber found herself swiveling back toward him again.

And he was leveling his intense gaze right on her. It took her breath away for a minute, but she recovered and turned to Nena, who wasn’t paying Amber any mind. Undaunted, Amber tried to talk to her friend—pretending she wasn’t being ignored—so she could get this guy’s uncomfortable attention off her. It seemed to work because the next time she looked at him, he’d started walking around the bar.

So she could watch him, unnoticed.

Walking with the grace of an athlete, he was built well. This dude had no gut, his t-shirt stretched over biceps that didn’t stop, and his casual clothes on a workday said he hadn’t spent his day in a uniform, or even as a plain-clothes member of the force.

He could be retired but looked a little young for that. If he’d pulled his twenty and gotten out, that could be possible, but his face didn’t have the signs of stress long-term law enforcement typically showed.

So what was he doing here? And why did she care? A hookup was the last thing Amber was looking for right now. She didn’t have the mental energy for romantic entanglements. With the new job, new house, new city, and the old issue that had followed her, she certainly had no time to deal with this guy she couldn’t take her eyes off of.

Amber was enthralled as the dark-haired stud walked around the bar, clapping people on the back, smiling jovially, all while scanning the area.

He had to be an officer. Didn’t he?

She reminded herself she didn’t trust anybody here yet, wasn’t looking for anything the least bit romantic, and did not need to get caught up in office drama.

But when his eyes landed on her, something inside her fluttered to life. She tried to kill it and took another sip of her drink, the cheap rot-gut doing its part to stop the flutters.

After Serendipity, the last thing she needed was to get mixed up with the wrong crowd, so she simply spun around in her seat and sipped on the watery drink until the slurping sound told her she was only left with ice.

“Tell me about the tall brunette who walked in a few minutes ago.” Amber was speaking to Nena but stupidly mumbled into her drink. She wasn’t hiding anything from Nena. She knew it was futile. There was no way not moving her lips while her back was to the man made him any less her sole focus.

“Hollerman? Retired a couple of months ago. Works private security now.” Nena said the words like they were poison on her tongue. “He comes in from time to time, but I don’t know him well. Different department. I think he worked vice. Only comes in when he’s asking about something specific.” Her tone of voice changed from matter-of-fact to musing. “He’s not the type who comes in to get lucky, but that may be changing tonight. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

“Like what?” Amber was still focused on the ice melting in her glass, trying to ignore the fact her stomach plummeted at the thought he was picking someone up.

“Like he’s working up the nerve to talk to someone, and based on who he’s looking at, I’d say that’s you.” Nena let out a cackle of laughter that had Amber turning her head to look at her friend. She refused to look in the man’s direction, even as Nena tracked him with her eyes, and Amber realized he was coming closer.

She could feel the air move like the particles had rearranged themselves, tickling little places on her skin. It was weird and thrilling all at the same time. And then the heat from his body was in the empty bar stool beside her, and the air was sucked out of her.

His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine when he said, “Hi there.”

Slowly, Amber turned back toward the ever-entertaining drink in front of her. “Hi.” Don’t burn bridges. Don’t burn bridges. Of course, she didn’t want to burn bridges, but she could tell without even looking at this guy, he would totally wreck her. A romance with someone at this point in her life was not what she needed to focus on.

“I’m Dex Hollerman.” An enormous hand engulfed her peripheral vision, waiting for a handshake.

“Look,” Amber said, swirling the tiny straw in her glass of ice and ignoring the hand that would undoubtedly wreak havoc on her body. “I didn’t come here to meet people. I’m having a drink with my friend. That’s all.” Piece of cake. She blew out a breath, pleased with her resolve.

The giant paw retreated, and a sigh filled the air next to her. “Can I buy you another one?”

A nice body wasn’t everything, and she’d be damned if she was going to give into a pushy asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer. Amber swiveled so she was facing him. It was almost her downfall.

Her breath hitched looking at him up close. Dammit. She caught herself leaning into his space, as if she were trying to smell him or something. Amber’s nostrils flared as she sniffed and realized she had to look like a creeper right now, but she couldn’t help herself. He did smell good—like gun oil and Irish Spring, and her insides got all sorts of twisty. Her heart started pounding as she perused him, trying not to ogle, but she had the feeling she was failing miserably.

Now she could tell what he looked like. Aqua-blue, deep-set eyes set in a wide face with the most perfect strong nose. Eyebrows a shade lighter than his hair, and lips that would rival Nena’s.

Fuck. He’s pretty, too.

“Thanks.” He grinned down at her, showcasing bright, even teeth she suddenly wanted to lick. No, she didn’t. Why did he thank her? Oh shit. She’d said that out loud. Shaking her head, she looked back at her drink. Had she suddenly turned sixteen again and lost the ability to function around a hot guy?

“Um, thanks, but I don’t think I want another drink.” Not on her agenda. As she looked at the disappointment in his eyes, trying not to fall into the Caribbean color of them, she knew she was shooting herself in the foot. Just because he was good-looking didn’t mean he couldn’t someday be a resource for her, and she was turning him down. She didn’t need to sleep with people to network. “I have a cat at home,” she muttered stupidly.

His grin widened, and Amber didn’t want to even look at him, so she buried her gaze in her empty drink, knowing she should just leave. There was no explanation for why this one guy was doing these things to her insides. It was like a hurricane was happening inside her; all her thoughts and emotions were whirling around, fighting and warring with each other, landing in ruins.

When she risked another glance at him, she knew she had to leave. Her thoughts were such a mess right now, she was liable to make a monumental mistake if she stayed.

“Gotta go,” she murmured to Nena, who was barely containing herself. Without a backward glance at Dex, she scurried out the door and went home to her cat. As well as what seemed like four hundred boxes to unpack. There was not enough real estate in her head to deal with tall, dark, and dangerous—not tonight.