I notice Brenner’s knee starts bouncing.
Kirsten sucks in a breath, fascinated by the subject. “Ohhh, I stayed in a haunted hotel once, out in Arizona. I took a bunch of pictures with my sister, and when we looked at them later, I swear there was a floating orb behind us.”
With a flourish of his overactive hands, Russo ticks off items on his fingers. “Floating orbs, demon possession, occult crimes. Forget about Arizona—it’s all right here in Detroit.”
Brenner’s knee, bouncing.
“Those gangbangers from the East Side who tried to blow up the chief last year,” Russo continues, “their van was marked with an occult symbol. And just yesterday, the bloodbath that went down with the Monolith Casino family? That’s not just organized crime, that’s secret society cover-up, full-on Illuminati shit, excuse my language. And another thing, I’ll tell you where this all points to—Underworld club.”
I clamp my hand down on Brenner’s bouncing knee and dig my nails into his skin. He bolts upright in his seat, wincing as he muffles a painful grunt, while Kirsten rattles on about how she once tried to get into Underworld club but an enormous, scary bouncer denied her at the door. Russo turns to her with warnings to avoid the place, and that’s when I hiss to Brenner, “Did you tell him anything?”
“No, are you kidding?” I pinch his knee harder. He grabs my hand, but can’t budge it. “No,” he insists through clenched teeth. “I haven’t said anything about anything. He’s always been a nut for this stuff. Hell, most people are.”
I relax my grip. Sagging with relief, he says, “But sometimes I think I should tell him.” I try to pinch him again, but he jerks his knee away. “I don’t like keeping him in the dark, Shayne. He’s practically figured it out on his own, and he’s only lived here a month. You guys think you’re so sly, but people notice stuff. How much longer before the whole world figures it out?”
I don’t like having this discussion in the middle of a crowd. Leaning in, I try to sound threatening. “You’re not going to tell him, Jay.”
Locking eyes with me, he leans to within inches of my face. “Is that an order, Agent Davies?”
I’m melting. His eyes skip back and forth between mine. “It’s…I’m asking you”—his lips are right there—“to promise me.”
Russo breaks up the moment. “Look at these two. Are you not loving this?”
Kirsten giggles. “Geez, guys, get a room.” She jumps to her feet and offers me her hand. “We should go to the powder room before the game starts. Come with me?”
Leaning back in my seat, I cross one foot over the other on the roof of the Tigers’ dugout. “Nah, I’m good.” It’s a little harsh, but I have no desire for girl talk in front of the mirror. Not when the entire Tigers lineup is about to go running out of the dugout in their glorious tight-assed uniforms, all a mere ten feet from me.
Two women from the row behind us volunteer happily to accompany Kirsten to the bathroom, and off they go, arm in arm, whispering like schoolgirls. As soon as they’re gone, I lay into Russo. “Your waitress? Are you brain-dead? What happens when you’re done with her? You’ll have to change cafés.”
Brenner wags a finger at Russo. “If that happens, you’re on your own. I love that café.”
“10-4, buddy,” Russo says. “And Shayne, I hear you. Respect. Watching out for us.”
“Watching out for Jay’s breakfast,” I correct.
Jay mimics his partner’s cadence. “Breakfast. Gotta love it. Gotta have it.”
Russo claps his hands together with an explosive laugh. “Solidarity! You two putting me under the lights?” He jabs his fists like a boxer. “One-two! Loving that. But let’s pump the brakes a second. This ain’t my first rodeo with a badge bunny.”
I bite the hook. “A what?”
“Badge bunny,” Brenner answers. “A cop chaser.”
“That’s a thing?”
Russo chuckles. “Big time. The badge, the authority, the uniform. She digs it, I dig it. We’re gonna do our thing for a couple weeks, and then she’ll move on to another badge, and I’ll have some lively memories to go with my steak and eggs.”
“Oh, I see. So all that talk about ‘the spark’ is bullshit. You’re not waiting for the right one to come along. You’re waiting for the next one to come along. Some pretty young thing to worship your…badge.”
“Hey, ‘the spark’ is still a thing, and it’s sacred, but we can’t all be Brenners, can we?” He slaps Brenner’s knee, then pinches the back of his neck like an obnoxious older brother. “I pegged him as a ‘one-and-done’ from the start.”
I swat his hand away. “Until Kirsten goes after his badge next.”
“You think she hasn’t tried?” Russo teases.
I pretend to be miffed. “Oh, really.”
Russo’s voice takes on a nostalgic air, as though he’s regaling me with a tall tale. “Hear this, Shayne Davies. Many a fine young thing has thrown herself at Detective Brenner over the years. But all—I repeat, all—attempts were met with crushing failure, until you came along.”
Unconvinced, I narrow my eyes at Brenner, as if to demand confirmation.
“Well…” Brenner tilts his head, and he makes an uncertain gesture with his hand. “Maybe not all.”
I make crazy eyes. “Wrong answer.”
Brenner winks at Russo, who throws his hands up and blurts, “I don’t know you.”
Before I can take another stab at Brenner’s knee, an uproar rises from the crowd. One of the Tigers players is hauling himself up on top of the dugout right in front of me. When he stands to his full height, I nearly die with shock to see that it’s Ardee Todd. In full uniform. My pick for nine-out-of-ten on the scale of hottest guys. My not-so-secret celebrity crush for the last five years.
After waving to the crowd, he locks eyes with me, smiles, and says, “Shayne Davies?”
And then…
And then…since I have a spotty recollection of the next few moments, I’m going to get another POV to help fill in the blanks. Be right back…
RUSSO
I remember everything about that moment perfectly and accurately, so prepare yourself for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, directly from the mouth of an officer of the law, sworn to the duty of upholding life, liberty, and the mother-loving American way. With one hand on the Bible, I solemnly swear that when this Ardee Todd fella appeared, a divine glow shone from his face, every set of panties in that stadium immediately burst into flames, and I was struck down by the undeniable fact that we had underestimated how much better-looking he is than Brenner. Lowball estimate, at least ten times better-looking than—
SHAYNE
You know what, forget it. That’s the last time I try dual POV.
Anyways.
After convincing myself that this is no dream sequence or fake prologue, I stand up to face Ardee Todd. He steps down into the aisle, ignoring all the other women shrieking for his attention. He shakes my hand. “Hey there, good to meet you. I’m told you’re a super fan. That’s awesome. I always tell everybody we got the best fans in the world.”