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.
And 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.”