CHAPTER NINE
DEXTER HAD LET it happen again.
Let her lips touch his. Had ample time to dodge it and hadn’t. An action that should have had a simple outcome. Charleen was the last person Dexter should do anything with.
She wasn’t practical or predictable. Didn’t seem to care what propriety dictated or what other people thought. And yet, in the last hour he’d glimpsed rare vulnerability he doubted she’d meant to show. Strength she wielded in jerky swipes whenever an outward show of force was necessary. Then she’d hang back as if she were waiting for the next...attack.
The panic in her eyes and the vomit she’d managed to spew into a shopping bag while speeding down the interstate was the result of something very real.
At least to her.
Then she’d chugged water and tidied up as if this were an everyday part of life for her. He’d offered tissues he’d found in the glove compartment and taken the wheel for a short second, but it was clear this type of incident was a solo endeavor, questions unwelcome.
Acknowledgment of a death sentence.
While every cell in his body hoped she was wrong about everything, a larger part of him knew something was off. The truth hummed across his skin and settled in his gut. It had nothing to do with her odd behavior.
The woman had a knack for gleaning information and understanding where the dangers lie inside it. She’d proved it both times he’d been in her vicinity. He had the wound to authenticate it.
He ground his molars together.
There couldn’t be a bomb so close to a kid, to his friend’s wife, to where he now stood outside a two-story house wearing booties and gloves.
Wondering why he couldn’t walk away.
Same reason you let her lips touch yours.
Intrigue. He’d almost spewed the word in her car in place of every other word he’d used to describe the morning.
He’d expected her to ditch him at the airport—the thought hadn’t come as a shock when he’d gathered his luggage and she was nowhere in sight. The immediate disappointment got him. The truth should have been a relief. Instead it made the weight of being in Charlotte that much worse, her strange reappearance a phenomenon he didn’t expect to understand.
But he wanted to. He wanted to figure out the hard angles and twisted logic. How she’d come across this information and why the certainty of her knowledge coursed through him.
In the little he knew about Charleen, he knew she’d never joke, never lie about something this monumental, never kiss someone just to get their attention—even if that were her primary goal.
He wasn’t going to ignore his gut this time around, even if everything in his brain screamed the opposite.
“You don’t have to come in.” Steel lined the words. Charleen’s stiff posture matched it as he followed her up the stairs leading to the front porch. “Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t.” She paused. Took a breath. The wind blew around a loose strand of her pale hair. “I’ll just send Amanda out.”
Robinson’s words shot through him. Get my wife out of there, but don’t linger.
He should be fine with that. Throw his hands up and say he’d tried. One near-death experience via explosive device should be more than enough.
His expertise didn’t cross into this territory, but clung to the life surrounding it. “I’ve come this far.”
She spun around. He didn’t move. Her mouth opened as she placed a hand on his chest and applied pressure that wouldn’t budge a fly. “No.” Her eyes darted to his, a sea of green. She removed her touch. Clenched her hand together as if his clothing had burned her.
It wasn’t the first time someone laid a hand on him and pulled it away in shock. The ridges of skin weren’t pretty. They weren’t flat. They were a reminder of why he should turn around and go home. Walk if he had to, maybe even run.
But she’d handcuffed and kissed him six months ago and he’d been stuck in limbo ever since. At war with possibility, paralyzed behind enemy lines. Stuck in that place where he knew his dreams—the woman in them—were real, but logic made it an impossibility to prove.
“I’m trying very hard not to turn this situation into something negative. You’ve already expressed revulsion to my methods of getting your attention.”
Yeah, revulsion. That was it.
It categorized that split second in time where his hands itched to pull her closer. The revulsion was all aimed in his direction. He knew better.
What kind of lowlife pined for a woman no one remembered and enjoyed a kiss from the one no one could forget?
“Trust me. Stay out.”
“Trust you?” The words drew up a serious case of deja vu shrouded by panic and worry and something far deeper.
“Your career is surrounded by danger.” The words came from the house in a deep baritone tinged with disgust. “You do the math, Detective.”
Charleen sucked in a breath, then turned and walked into the two-story structure.
He followed. The smell of ammonia hit him first. A crew of two other people filled the room. A woman who couldn’t be older than twenty-seven worked with equipment in the far corner, near a table filled with a backpack, papers, and cups filled with a clear liquid. A leather couch rested against the picture window at the front of the house, two end tables on either side.
Amanda and a red-headed man wearing a dark suit stood next to a suspended man. The detective had his hands in his pants pockets, his face covered in disdain.
“Don’t be a dick, Detective Ross.” Charleen’s voice carried as if she’d never been unsure about anything in her life, her stride matching it.
Amanda turned. “Davis?” Her gaze flicked to Dexter and then bounced back to the other woman.
“Ah, the infamous Detective Charleen Davis.” An annoyed smirk lit Ross’ face. “Our friend behind the scenes at Internal Affairs.” The rancor in the other man’s voice set Dexter’s teeth on edge.
“Hardly.” She scoffed. “You couldn’t pay me to pick up that job. Friendship is overrated.”
Ross laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Very nice. Are we done with insults?”
“I doubt it.” Charleen’s gaze didn’t leave the man. “How’s your family? You’ve got a brother and a sister, both younger, right? Your parents are still married—only nine months longer than you’ve been on this planet.” She tugged on a pair of gloves.
“You’ve got a girlfriend who’s been begging you to settle down, but staying at home playing video games and drinking beer is your hobby and you can’t see how you’d work that around a wife and kids. Can’t say I blame you. The job is rigorous and unwinding is paramount to avoid burnout. But she got that boob job you insisted she have and she spends two hours at the gym every day. She puts up with you and you know you won’t find much better.”
Whoa. This was much different than what Dexter had witnessed inside the airport. Inside her car. Outside on the porch. This was the woman he’d seen pop up from the floor and shoot the armed men holding them hostage inside Mercy hospital last summer.
This was the woman with a massive chip on her shoulder. A woman who knew how to use it to her advantage, however small.
Detective Ross’ eyes flitted around the room, then bounced back, a hard glint in them. Even Amanda hadn’t moved.
“I’m not here to be your friend, Ross. I’m here to make sure you haven’t messed up. If you’ve got a problem with that, take it up with Major Fritz.” Charleen didn’t wait for a response, but headed for the stairs. “I need everyone to clear the house. FBI’s bomb squad is on their way. I imagine they’ll be a little ticked to find you all milling around an active explosive device.”
Ross’ lips moved to one side of his mouth. He stepped toward Davis in a manner that might have seemed casual had his neck not been turning a reddish color to match his hair. “Last I checked this was a crime scene, not Iraq.”
That hadn’t stopped terrorist attacks on U.S. soil, which is where Charleen’s specialty fell within the IA Criminal Investigations Unit. Dexter had learned that the hard way, six months ago. If Ross knew her by name, he knew that too.
She paused, then turned back, a leg bent and resting one stair above the rest of her body. While her posture communicated an I’m-in-charge-of-a-dangerous-situation-that’s-under-control, sweat dotted her upper lip. Her face was a shade past pale. “You check the house, Ross? Or did you get distracted by the fact that another detective was about to impede on what you consider your turf?”
“I don’t know who you think you are—”
“You’re sure?” Amanda stepped forward, that same sense of disbelief Dexter had in his gut evident on her face. Not because she didn’t believe the other detective, but because she did so with no evidence to back it.
Charleen’s hard gaze hadn’t wavered from Ross.
Which meant there was a bomb. A kid. And they were all in serious danger, regardless of how she’d come across the information.
When he should’ve hightailed it for the door, his feet stayed rooted to the hardwood flooring, his heart in his ears.
Amanda turned. “You heard her. Everyone out.”
The young woman in the far corner started gathering equipment.
“Leave everything. Things can be replaced. You cannot.” Amanda’s voice was stern, but calm. “Mark, I want a ledger head count.”
Ross threw his head backward. “Really? Come on. Davis doesn’t know jack. Neither of you do.”
Amanda’s lips compressed into a straight line. “Then you can laugh at us later.”
“Did you check every inch of the house?” Dexter crossed his arms over his chest. Did he charge forward in search of the danger and the kid?
The other man didn’t move, his gaze colliding with Dexter’s. “I hope you had this guy sign the ledger. I don’t want my crime scene contaminated or inadmissible in court when we catch this guy. Chelsea, ignore them. Let’s get back to work.”
Chelsea stood frozen in the corner, her supplies halfway back to the floor. Her gaze flicked between Ross and Amanda. She opened her mouth.
Dexter moved forward. “Is the risk worth it? No sweat off your back if they’re wrong.”
Ross shook his head. “Every second we waste here is a clue lost. Just like every civilian we let onto a crime scene runs the risk of contaminating it.”
“I work for the DOJ. While my specialty is working with inmates, I’m currently on CMPD payroll.” Another temporary favor he’d wanted to decline, but circumstance had dictated his answer. “And you’re up for a fit for duty exam.” He tapped his head. “Starting right now.”
All eyes flew to him, including Amanda and Charleen’s. While Amanda’s was filled with the edge of curiosity, Charleen’s was cool and distant.
A cement wall slapped into place. It was evident in her posture. The way she didn’t keep eye contact.
A bead of annoyance rushed through him. He’d gotten into her busted car, driven across town with the bare minimum of information. Taken a risk on a woman he didn’t know. And when she’d asked him for trust, he’d silenced the blaring siren in his head for exactly that.
She should offer the same.
Ross threw his hands out. “Isn’t that a nice coincidence. Another Nettles-Davis special. Let the three-ring circus commence.” Then he headed for the exit, his shoes a heavy footfall on the hardwood.
While everyone filed out, Dexter waited. Wasn’t sure why he’d admitted the truth of his presence in Charlotte when he liked to disarm people rather than arm them.
Charleen’s gaze tracked the other man then rested on Dexter, those green eyes offering nothing. The response grated down his spine. He should have expected the super-private detective to shut down any semblance of openness with the announcement.
If any of her behavior could be considered open.
Amanda hadn’t moved. Her eyes lit on him before bouncing to Charleen. “Davis, what’s going on? And why does Dexter look like he wants to murder someone?”
“Got some intel for this address.” Her eyes flicked to him. They both knew that was a lie—even if indirectly. “And from what I can tell, Dexter always looks like that.”
Was she waiting for him to call her on it?
Charleen gripped the railing. “A possible OKBOMB special.”
Amanda shifted. “Intel from?”
“Small talk later.” Charleen came down the stairs, grabbed both their arms and steered them toward the exit. Amanda passed through first.
He stopped short of the threshold. The motion jerked Charleen to a halt. “Where’s the ki—”
She applied pressure to his bicep, then released him. “Make sure you got all your guys, Nettles.”
He faced her. Prepared for a showdown. She wasn’t the only one who cared about someone else’s well-being. The last thing anyone needed to do was race into this situation half-cocked.
“Move, Dexter. You’ve got your orders. I’ve got mine.” She placed her hands on his chest and pushed.
He didn’t budge. “From where?”
“Don’t do this. Not right now.” Her voice was low when she said, “There’s a kid counting on me. That’s my focus. So get out before I do something we will both regret.”
“Let me help you with that.” Then he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Her slender build and short stature made the task easier than cleaning up a disposable picnic. “You want to help the kid, do it the safe way.”
“You’re wasting time.” An open palm found his back as she tried to wiggle out of his hold. “Put me down, Dexter. Now.”
“Let the bomb squad handle it.” He moved down the stairs and away from the crowd gathered in front of the house.
“They’re not going to get here in time.”
He set her on her feet, and then placed a hand on either shoulder. “You don’t know that.”
She jerked out of his hold. “I do. And so do you.” She tried to walk past him.
He grabbed her upper arm, but kept his hold loose. “If anything you’ve told me is true, then going back inside that house is suicide.”
A shadow covered her face. “Let me go. If I die, I die. I don’t have any attachments. And even if I did, I’m not going to allow a kid to sit and wonder if anyone has the balls to save him.”
Balls to… What? “Or you want in to take suspicion off of yourself, because you messed up somewhere and the wrong people are here. People you care about.” The minute the words left his mouth she stopped struggling, her face losing every ounce of emotion.
“Thank you for that analysis, Dr. Knight.” Anger laced the syllables. “Do be sure to make your thoughts known.”
He’d hit her where it counted. Penetrated that thick wall for nothing more than the confusion rolling in his gut. The blowback struck him somewhere in the chest. “Charleen…”
Movement from a dirty second floor window that didn’t bounce back much sunlight, caught his attention. A small face appeared in one.
Dexter froze. “You were right.”
“You’re all the same.” Charleen’s body became dead weight. His grip on her arm slipped. She caught herself before hitting the ground. And then she was off in a sprint toward the front door, sidestepping Amanda’s efforts to get in her path.
The door slammed.
You’re all the same.
Dexter moved toward it.
Amanda raced up the steps, tried the knob. When it didn’t turn, she jerked on it. Nothing happened. “Did she just lock herself in there?” She jiggled it again.
“Make sure Captain Dentzen knows this was your call, Nettles.” Ross stood in the driveway, his arms folded over his chest. “Great way to waste federal money by trusting a hack.” His eyes lit on Dexter. “Put that in my report, doc. Bold letters, if you will.”
Every muscle in Dexter’s body tightened with the need to walk over to Ross and deck him. He didn’t move. Couldn’t trust himself. “What’s with Detective Video-Game?”
“No idea.” Amanda’s jaw clenched as she moved down the stairs. “What’s going on, Dexter?”
“There’s a boy upstairs and explosives.”
Shock blasted across her face. “That would’ve been great to know two minutes ago.” She paced a few steps away and then back. “A kid?”
He resisted glancing up at the window. “Charleen didn’t want you inside. Robinson didn’t want you inside.”
Dexter didn’t want anyone inside.
Amanda put her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose. “Is that how this goes? Are we playing protect the poor detective, now?” She looked up. “That’s exactly what Ross’ problem is. You can’t work with someone you don’t trust to have your back. It’s suicide.”
“I’m not playing anything. If I had my way, I’d be back in Raleigh.” He took a deep breath. That wasn’t true. Not right this minute. Not when he had to see this thing through. He lowered his voice. “There’s a kid inside. She’s not thinking about anything but that. And I have no idea what I’m thinking, but I have zero desire to come into contact with an explosive device ever again. I’m not really sure how many lives I’ve got left.”
Amanda drew in a breath. “When she comes out, I’m going to kick her butt. I’m going to make her get up and I’m going to do it again.”
Yeah. When she came out.
Amanda pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed it to her ear as she headed for her vehicle parked outside the gravel drive. “Get a move on it. We’ve got a possible kid inside. Davis locked us out.”
Dexter should have taken that taxi. Should have flown straight to Raleigh and forgotten this entire adventure.
Favor or not.