Chapter Six
Everything inside her twitched for some release of frustration, but her sewing bag was in her vehicle. Besides, that was her little secret. Not even her friends knew how she de-stressed and kept her sanity. Crocheting was better than banging her head against a wall and a lot less painful.
“It wouldn’t be a fair fight. I’m the better shot.”
Detective Cranky snorted. That was the last of his conversational contribution all the way across town.
Unlike her cluttered SUV, the interior of his vehicle was spotless and smelled spicy and damp. The scent was probably from her scowling companion and some sort of pheromone-enhancing male toiletry product. Whatever it was, her senses were buzzing in the red zone. He was wearing jeans and a black leather coat, looking very much like a college baseball star turned cop. Hardass. Badass. Ass.
She’d Googled him last night because that was the easy way to get dirt on someone. He didn’t have unfortunate spring break posts, but had been somewhat famous in his college years. The guy had looked hot in his baseball uniform.
He had a full dossier of newspaper articles about his high school and college successes on the pitcher’s mound and getting drafted by the pros right out of college.
Sam Wheeler had been on the fast track to Major League Baseball stardom when he suddenly dropped out of spring training without an explanation. He never went back or explained the reason why.
And Jess wanted to know the answer. She’d have to wait until he removed that stick before asking him about that. He already thought she was too bossy and pushy. It was unlikely that he’d break down and spill his deep dark secrets to her without a gun to his head.
Because his mood was dark, she kept quiet for the ride to the station and followed him in. Several uniformed officers greeted him along the way and a couple openly checked her out. This lifted her spirits.
After a stretch of dating jerks and duds, she wasn’t immune to the attention of a cute guy or two. Add a badge and a gun, and she was all in.
What was it about a man in uniform anyway?
“In here.” He pushed open the door to a small but efficient office. “Have a seat.”
“Yes, sir.” She sat. He took a chair on the other side of the desk and moved a computer mouse around. The desktop computer wasn’t the latest model but it wasn’t a dinosaur either. She watched him work, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but he seemed engrossed in typing something that didn’t involve her.
Tension lined his face beneath forehead scowl lines and brown hair. He had wide—but not steroid abuser—shoulders and his biceps appeared well defined. The man was fit, very fit.
If he wasn’t so unlikable, he’d be someone she’d date. Then again, he couldn’t be worse than the bug collector from the online dating site, the guy who wanted to take her to meet his mother five minutes into their first date and carried around a dung beetle he’d named Mervin.
Nope. But still, Wheeler would just be another mistake.
After a few long silent minutes, and a text sent to Irving about her flat tire and a warning to keep an eye out for suspicious characters, she’d had enough of waiting for him to acknowledge her. Patience wasn’t her thing. “What are you doing?”
“Putting the info about the knife into the case file before I take it to the lab.”
“Good to know.” Sarcasm edged her words. “So do you plan to include me in the case or do you expect me to quietly tag along like a muzzled dog while you do all the work?”
He finally lifted his eyes to her. “I’m okay with the muzzle.”
How many years could she get in prison for denting his forehead with his stapler? It would almost be worth doing the time. And she did look decent in orange.
“Okay. Clearly you have women issues. Did your mother leave you in your diapers too long? Or maybe some five-year-old girl stole your paste in kindergarten. Could it be that your ex-wife ran off with the mailman? Whatever your problem is with women, you need to get over it, or I’m taking my coloring books and going home.”
Muscles along his jaw pulsed. She slowly rolled her chair back toward the door. If he started yelling, she was out of there.
For a moment, she thought he’d tell her to F off and get lost. She wouldn’t be entirely against that plan. But with Summer in Maui and Taryn working online cases from home, she liked the idea of having someone around to call 9-1-1 if she was sniped by her invisible assassin.
Besides, having an extra set of dreamy dark brown eyes watching her back wasn’t a bad idea, even if they were prone to glaring.
“When I was an officer in Chicago, my partner was a bad guy. He almost got me arrested, and then killed. Would you like to see the bullet scar?”
Shaking her head slowly, she began to look at him differently. He was still a jerk, but he had his reasons.
“That sucks.” What else could she say?
“Yup. That’s why I’m wary of partners.” He stared at her for a long time and she kept her eyes on his. After she was convinced he’d slipped into a coma, he blinked. “Why don’t we take this a day at a time and try not to tick each other off too much.”
At least Detective Cranky could be reasonable…when he didn’t have a choice.
Jess smiled and reached out her had. “Deal.”
They shook. Tingles went up her arm.
* * *
Sam didn’t know why he’d told her about Rudy. His past was none of her business and Rudy was dead. Maybe it was because he was being an ass to her for no real reason, other than he was still carrying a chip the size of his SUV over almost being murdered in his previous life.
Or maybe it was her big beautiful eyes that hooked him. The way they read him made him both annoyed and turned on. They were after-sex eyes, heavily lashed and soft like she’d just had an amazing orgasm.
He released her hand before he got any unprofessional ideas about Jess Lucas. She was a target and he was her unofficial bodyguard until they caught the shooter. Of course he’d keep that to himself. If she suspected he didn’t think she could keep herself safe and needed his protection, she’d tell him off and work the case alone. He couldn’t have her running all over the city with a psycho on her tail.
Having resigned himself to making their temporary partnership work, Sam offered her a pop or water but she declined. He pulled the keyboard over.
“I think we’ll start with some background. Why don’t we begin before the shooting and see if we can come up with a few suspects. Tell me about some of your recent cases.”
“Let’s see.” Although she seemed to think he was off track, she gave him the life of a PI. “Last week I watched an eighty-year-old married man play naked Twister with his sixty-year-old mistress, through the open curtains at a rooms-by-the-hour motel. The mistress is the only person I’ve ever seen who can contort her body into a complete circle. Backward. No wonder he likes her.”
She continued. “The week before that, I videotaped a teen girl dealing weed to a dozen hockey players behind an ice rink. Her parents hired me because they thought she was out working on being an unwed teen mother. I think they would have preferred a grandchild.”
Wheeler stared.
“Two weeks ago, I caught a bartender stealing money from the register and three weeks ago, I was hired by a woman who suspected her boyfriend had another girlfriend. Turns out, it was a boyfriend.”
He continued staring.
“Should I go on?” She leaned an elbow on the chair arm and dropped her chin in her hand.
“Did the senior citizen look like he could be our sniper?”
* * *
Jess stared back. Was that another almost-joke? Heck, at this rate, by Thursday he might almost smile. By Saturday, they might be yucking it up over margaritas and E Coli riddled bar peanuts at a local tavern. By Monday, they could be Facebook friends. Who knew? Stranger things have happened.
“You wouldn’t think so, but he was pretty ticked off when his wife served him divorce papers, or so I heard. They’d been married sixty years and had a good retirement fund. He thought she’d stick around. Their kids took his wife’s side and she plans a world cruise once she gets her settlement.”
The detective pushed a pen around his desk. “Following cheaters can’t be fun.”
She thought on that for a minute. “They aren’t our favorite cases. But Irving says they pay the light bill so we do them. Eventually, we want to phase them out and do more serious cases full-time. More corporate crimes, solving cold murder cases, international stuff.”
“Catching snipers,” Wheeler added.
“That, too.” Jess crossed one leg over the other. “Right now we have a case involving Irving. He’s been receiving stalker-type letters for the last few months that are subtly threatening. So far we’ve come up with nothing.”
“That explains Bigfoot in his office.”
Jess nodded. “That’s Alvin the Ape. He was hired to kill Taryn and ended up Irving’s bodyguard. Go figure.”
He straightened and his body tensed. “And you didn’t tell me this before now? Can he shoot?”
“I don’t know, but the sniper isn’t him.” She gave a brief synopsis of Alvin’s history. “Months ago, he’d be first on my suspect list. Now, he’s sort of proven himself. Besides, Irving pays him a small fortune for 24-7 security. Why would he harm any of us?”
Tenting his hands, he put them to his face and closed his eyes. “What about your former boss, Willard? Could he have sent another killer after you? You are a witness in Taryn’s case.”
“Possibly, but I don’t feel it. Willard is a creep and a psycho, but he knows that we have evidence against him about Alvin. If something happens to Taryn, he’s the top suspect. I think he’s out as a suspect in this case.”
That didn’t appear to pacify the detective in the least. In fact, he seemed more annoyed.
“Does crazy follow you Brash girls around?”
“It does.” Why lie? “But this is our first sniper case. This ups the crazy to a whole new level.”