“Oh, my, a fully loaded 2018 Chevrolet Tahoe,” she leaned her head inside, “with the burnt orange seats. I would have gone with the exact same setup.” She nodded, impressed, while I was impressed with her knowledge of cars.
“You know your cars?” I paused for her to get settled before I closed the door, and she waited for me to sit before she answered.
“G is a fanatic, so some of it was bound to sink in.”
Right, she was married. Again, annoyance washed over me.
It didn’t take long before my car smelled like her. Sweet vanilla smothered my nose and made me shift with frustration. I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye. She looked tiny in the seat, and her movements were graceful. In my line of work, there was a certain lack of grace, so I found Spencer to be almost hypnotizing.
“Pretty nice car for a detective.” A smirk raced across her lips.
I slid my hand along the wheel as I made a turn onto the freeway.
“I spend more time in my car than I do at my house.” I checked my mirror. “Thought it made more sense to spend the money here than on four walls that don’t feel like home.”
Her lips twisted. “That’s sad.”
“What is?” I switched lanes and saw a line of brake lights up ahead.
“That you don’t consider your place home.”
I shrugged; it never bothered me.
“So,” she changed the topic, “are you married? Kids? Body in the basement?”
I laughed and glanced over at her. “No, no, and maybe.”
“Maybe we can team up, and you can help me get rid of mine.”
“I think we could work something out.”
We both enjoyed the lightness until my phone lit up and sent a text message to the main screen on my dashboard.
Benny: Hope Spencer found you. She’s hot AF and attracts a lot of attention. Good luck with that. Drinks tonight?
Then a call came in, and I hit the button on the steering wheel. “Blake.”
“She smile at you yet? It’ll make you harder than a brick.”
I went to hit end when she leaned over the console and spoke into the mic above me.
“Hey, Benny.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry, Spence.” He laughed. “My bad.”
She shook her head and looked back to roll her eyes playfully.
“I know you have a thing going with your left hand, but seriously, dude, feel free to date.” She laughed.
“Dick.” He chuckled. “You two coming for drinks tonight?”
“When?” She took over the call, which was fine because the back of her jacket had pulled up, and I saw an edge of smooth skin. My hands begged for a touch, but I liked my life and wouldn’t ever do that to another man, let alone my boss.
She might be married, but that didn’t mean I was dead inside. I knew a beautiful woman when I saw one.
“Not sure yet,” I muttered, a million miles away from the conversation. “I need to work.”
“Meeting at nine, and okay. Well, you know where to find us.”
“I’ll have to see. Bye.” She slowly leaned back with a groan. “He really does need to find someone.”
“Sounds to me like he has.” I huffed at my joke and held up my left hand.
“Hey, dude, if you want to be his lefty, there’s no judgment here.” She broke into laughter when she caught my death glare.
Would you look at that? We’re gonna get along just fine.
I weaved in and out of traffic, taking any free space I could find. It wasn’t easy, but we finally made it off at the next exit and onto surface streets where the traffic thinned out once they saw my warning lights. I liked that she didn’t mind the speed I used and how I took the corners.
“What are you thinking about while you drive like this?” she asked out of nowhere.
“Trying not to get the sergeant’s wife killed as I get to the next crime scene.”
She laughed, and I felt her study my face with a smile that went from confused to sheer entertainment. Her face lit up, and she bit her lip while she seemed to connect something I didn’t. “Ohhh, I see.”
“See what?” I tried to follow along.
“How long have you been a detective, Blake?”
I bumped my horn at someone who refused to move out of the intersection. “Ten years, and I was ESU or SWAT since I was twenty-three.”
“Do you miss it?”
I took off my hoodie and pulled my badge out from behind my body armor. I parked in the middle of street and assured myself I had my gun out of habit.
“I miss ESU.”
She stared me for an extra-long moment before she grabbed her bag and jumped out and met me at the curb.
“Congratulations. You did it!” She gave a little cheer.
“Huh?”
“I’m alive!” She laughed as I rolled my eyes. I hated the fact that I loved her personality too. This was going to be difficult.
Chapter Eight
Spencer
I followed Blake through the sea of people when I was stopped by one of the rookie cops, so I held up my paper.
“And this is?” His smug I’m new to power poured off him.
“Permission for me to observe this crime scene.” I reached for my purse to pull out my ID when he went for his gun and shouted.
“Hands out of your bag!”
I yelped when he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him.
“Ouch!” I hissed. “I was going for my ID.”
“Hands on the wall!”
I felt my temper rise, and just as I was about to school this newbie ass on how to treat a person, I felt someone come up behind me.
“You like your life?” Blake’s tone was so haunting I felt my throat contract as I struggled to swallow.
“She was digging in her bag, so it was the only logical thing to do.” He eyed me, confused.
“Try reading the paper, you jackass, and see who signed it.” He snatched the paper out of the rookie’s hand and pointed to G’s signature. The kid’s face fell and turned a little white.
“Sorry, sir, just been a little jumpy since,” he lowered his voice, “the other murder.”
Blake took me by the elbow and redirected me through the crowd and stopped next to the yellow tape.
“Sorry, Spencer.” He grunted as he dipped below the tape, leaving me on the other side of it.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I should’ve escorted you to the tape.” He hissed quietly like he was having an internal battle.
We were quickly approached by the chief.
“Spencer.” The chief nodded. He wasn’t a fan of me being there, but I’d never once overstepped. I just watched. It had taken time, but I had gained his trust. “Blake.” He motioned for him to follow down the little side street. He spoke loudly enough that I could catch most of it.
“Jamie Jones, female, scrape marks on her upper thigh, work bag tossed over there, and no shoes.” He gestured around to make his point. “By the looks of her toes, she was a dancer.”
“Hm…” Blake thought out loud. His thick arms hung at his sides as his broad chest rose and his eyes scanned the scene like he was mentally creating a photo to store in his mind.