Craving Vengeance (8 page)

“Okay, we’ll meet her there. Sister, do your
delivery teams check in with you through the course of the night or
do they just make all their deliveries and check back with you when
they’re done.”

“Unless there is some sort of issue, we don’t
hear from them.”

“How many teams do you have working tonight?”
Spinelli asked as he wondered how many more potential dead cupid
candidates there were out on the loose.

“There were twelve delivery teams counting
Shannon’s.”

Shannon was working alone, and Father Daniel
was back already, so that only left ten of their cupids, plus now
himself, roaming the streets.

Father handed Spinelli his cupid costume. It
hung from a hanger, wings, and all.

Spinelli stared at his ridiculous reflection
in the bathroom mirror. He couldn’t help but wonder how he came to
be here; in a church of all places, wearing a white toga. He
slipped his arms through the wing straps. He shook his head. He
must be crazy.

His mind drifted to thoughts of Shannon. Two
months ago she had him parading around as Santa Claus, and now here
he stood, dressed as the god of love, or desire, depending upon
whose perspective you’re using. He looked down at the bow and
quiver of golden arrows leaning against the wall.
Golden arrows.
True love. Yeah, right. Maybe I should be a womanizer like Marsh
and carry lead arrows for erotic love. Obtaining that is more
realistic!
He thought that maybe he should pinch himself.
Perhaps this was just a nightmare. No such luck. He grabbed the bow
and quiver and headed out of the restroom.

The second he stepped out of the bathroom he
caught Walker’s amused gaze. If the circumstances were different
and they weren’t chasing after a killer, Spinelli was sure Walker
would have met him with full-blown laughter.

Sister Pat handed Walker two bouquets of
roses, two heart shaped boxes of candy, and a piece of paper
containing the addresses of the additional deliveries they needed
to make. She studied Spinelli with a look of amusement in her eyes.
“Well, you should be all set. Shannon will be waiting for you.”

Chapter Nine

Walker parked the
police car a few stalls up and on the opposite side of the street
from Billy’s BBQ. They waited for Shannon to arrive. She pulled up
in her blue Chevy Impala within a few minutes and parked in front
of the restaurant.

Spinelli flung his car door open and
attempted to slide out, but his wing got tangled up with the
seatbelt and jerked him back into the seat. He fumbled with the
shoulder strap and wing. “Damn it,” he growled. His patience was
shot.

By the time he finally freed himself, Shannon
was standing at his side. The look on her face was unmistakable.
She was pissed. He supposed she was upset because of how he treated
her earlier in the office. A tinge of guilt rippled through him but
was quickly pushed aside by hurt and anger as memories of why he
treated her poorly in the first place flashed through his mind. The
infamous Dr. Joshua Meyers. The now dead Dr. Meyers.

Spinelli met her gaze. The intense look in
her eyes pinned him to the car as if he were a humongous magnet.
Her nostrils flared. He was glad her hands were full of flowers and
candy. He feared she might smack him if they were free. She
unclenched her jaw. “What are you doing here, and why are you
dressed as cupid?”

“I...I’m here to help you with your
deliveries,” Spinelli stammered. She had a way of making him falter
when they’d first met, back when he wasn’t on her ‘favorite’ person
list, but he thought he’d gotten beyond that. The lead weight on
his tongue told him otherwise.

“Why?”

Because your secret lover has been
murdered, and you’re a suspect.
“I want to spend some time with
you on Valentine’s Day.”

Shannon bent over and looked around Spinelli.
Her eyes seemed to soften. “Hi, Brad.”

“Hi, Shannon,” Walker replied from the
driver’s seat.

“Work pulled you away from your Valentine’s
Day plans as well, I take it?”

Walker nodded. “Well, you know how it
is.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure Jeana understands.”

“You know, Shannon, if you take this ornery
cuss off my hands, I might still be able to resurrect some of the
evening with Jeana.”

Shannon shot Spinelli a sideways glare then
glanced back at Walker. “For you, Brad, I’ll do it, but only for
you,” she reiterated as she shifted her icy cold glare back to
Spinelli.

Spinelli leaned into the backseat and grabbed
the flowers and candy Sister Pat had given him for the extra
deliveries. He slid them into Shannon’s car. He watched as Walker
pulled away from the curb. He knew Walker wasn’t going too far,
just out of Shannon’s view. He’d be listening on his earpiece.

Shannon nodded toward Billy’s BBQ, though she
didn’t have to. A blind man could have found his way just by
following the wonderful aroma of deep fried food. The smell made
Spinelli’s mouth water. His stomach growled. He realized he hadn’t
eaten anything all day. He’d been called out of bed early by
Captain Jackson to attend to the murder of Mike Carter, their first
cupid. Then when he went to ask Shannon out for lunch, he caught
her kissing Dr. Meyers, and before he could even return to the
precinct he’d gotten the call to investigate the murder Chad
Williams, the third cupid. And now instead of sitting down to
dinner, he found himself delivering flowers and candy to
starry-eyed victims of love.

“We’re delivering to a waitress by the name
of Stacey Hicks. What are you going to sing to her?” Shannon
asked.

“What?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. What are you
going to sing to her? You’re cupid. It’s your job.”

The shrillness in her voice sent a shiver up
his spine. It was going to be a long couple of hours. Evidently he
hadn’t thought this whole cupid thing all the way through. He
couldn’t sing, and he certainly didn’t know any cutesy love songs.
And even if he did know any, he certainly wasn’t in the mood to
sing to any poor love-struck saps.

He could tell by the look in her eyes she was
serious, and she’d make his life even more miserable if he didn’t
do it. Additionally, she didn’t think he could do it. He’d show
her. He thought for a moment. There must be some half-assed love
song he could sing. All that came to mind was Adam Sandler singing
the song “Love Stinks” in the movie
The Wedding Singer
. That
certainly wasn’t going to work.

His mouth went dry. Sweat beaded on his
temples.
Christ almighty, its twenty-five degrees outside, and
I’m sweating. Freaking women. I didn’t sign up for this!

It took a moment, but a song came to him.
He’d heard on a car commercial some time ago.

Spinelli gestured toward the front door of
the restaurant. “After you, my dear.”

Shannon stomped off toward the door. If her
heels hit the pavement any harder, they’d crack the sidewalk. She
pushed through the door letting it fall shut behind her. Spinelli
grabbed the handle and passed through as well.

All heads turned toward them. He felt like
such an idiot; dressed in a white toga, holding a fake gold colored
bow, almost child sized, with a quiver full of golden arrows slung
over his shoulder. People smiled in their direction. Spinelli
fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Fools, blinded by the hype of
the holiday.

He listened as Shannon spoke with the
hostess. Her voice was soft and sweet. He remembered when she
talked to him like that. It was just this morning.
All a front.
A big fat lie.

The hostess motioned to a waitress, catching
her attention almost immediately. Her nametag said Stacey. The
hostess waved her over. All eyes followed the young woman who
stepped in their direction with a degree of hesitation. “Can I help
you?” she asked.

Shannon smiled softly at her. “Dustin sent
us,” she said as she reached over and took the bouquet of roses
from Spinelli and handed them to Stacey. Spinelli still held the
heart shaped box of chocolates in his hand. He didn’t want to let
them go. He needed something to occupy his shaky fingers. He
glanced around the room. All eyes were still on them. His heart
thudded in his chest.

Shannon stepped back. Her smile grew wider.
She gestured toward Spinelli. “Dustin also sent a message for you
from Cupid.”

Spinelli’s cheeks burned. His pulse pounded.
Maybe his head would explode, and he’d get out of this awful mess.
His mind raced to place the words of the song from the car
commercial into order. It was a Nissan commercial. No, it was
Honda.
For crissake sake, who in the hell cares what kind of
commercial it was? Just sing the stupid song already.
All eyes
were still on him. He cleared his throat and broke out into a
rendition of “You Are My Sunshine.”

He kept his eyes on Stacey as he sang the
short verse and swayed back and forth with both his shaky hands
fixed to the box of chocolates. It was almost as if he was dancing
with the box. A bright shade of red consumed her cheeks. Was he
that bad? Her lips quivered but eventually broke into a full
smile.

When he finished his song and dance, he
handed her the chocolates as the crowd applauded.

Spinelli shifted his gaze to Shannon. She
seemed surprised. She smiled and clapped as well. He imagined
Walker listening to the whole ordeal though his earpiece. He
imagined he’d never hear the end of it once the entire precinct
found out. He took a bow, spun on his heel, and headed out the
door.

He didn’t have to turn around to know Shannon
followed close behind him. The sound of her heels pounding against
the cement assured him. Her steps didn’t sound as heavy as when
they first went into the restaurant. Maybe she was lightening up a
bit. Wait a minute, why did he care if she was still mad? He was
the one who was supposed to be pissed as hell. She’s so damn
beautiful, he’d almost forgotten.

Spinelli stomped toward Shannon’s car without
looking back at her. The automatic locks clicked, and he slid into
the passenger seat. He didn’t even attempt to open her door for
her, even though he always opened her door. Shannon slid into the
driver’s seat and cranked the engine. Without a word she shifted
the car into drive and pulled into traffic. Spinelli checked the
side mirror. Walker followed close behind.

Shannon plucked the clipboard from between
the seats and handed it to him. He glanced at the list of
deliveries. The next one was only four blocks away. He read the
name aloud, “Bernard Mathison.” A guy? How in the hell was he going
to keep a straight face singing a love song to a guy?

“Yep, his wife calls him Bernie.” He shot
Shannon a sideways glance. The corner of her mouth twitched as if
she were trying to suppress an unstoppable smile. He was sure she
was enjoying his severe discomfort.

Shannon parked the car on the same side of
the street as Bernie’s bar. Spinelli’s mind raced for a song. He
couldn’t possibly sing “You Are My Sunshine” to a guy. It just
wouldn’t be right, and the only song filtering through his brain at
present was Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.” So not
appropriate. True maybe, but not appropriate.

Spinelli climbed out of the car and took the
box of chocolates from Shannon. He needed something to occupy his
hands. Shannon pushed her way through the large glass door and
stepped into Bernie’s bar. The room was long and narrow. All heads
turned in their direction as the bells on the door clinked. Nearly
every barstool was occupied at the old worn wooden bar, which ran
almost the entire length of the room. A few patrons sat at the
small tables lining the opposite wall of the bar. The middle of the
room was home to two pool tables, neither being used at the
moment.

Shannon stepped toward the opening at the end
of the bar. She handed the bartender the bouquet of roses and
leaned toward the large burly man and kissed him on the cheek. He
smiled and winked at her. His bright blue eyes twinkled. His curly
red hair matched Shannon’s. Who was this guy, and how did she know
him?

“Hi, Uncle Bernie.”

“Hi, sweetie. I see your Aunt Maggie is up to
her little games again,” he said as he shifted his gaze from
Shannon to Spinelli and looked him over.

Her uncle, other than the bright red hair,
looked nothing like her or any of her immediate family whom he’d
only seen in pictures.

Shannon motioned to him, and he stepped
closer to them. All eyes still on him. The scent of stale cigars
and beer penetrated his nostrils.

“Well, son, what delightful song has my
darling picked out for me this year?”

He could see the snickers down the bar. This
lumberjack was really going to make him sing to him. Shannon’s
challenging gaze was just the incentive he needed. He eyed Bernie.
He looked like he might have a sense of humor. Spinelli cleared his
throat and broke out into a loud rendition of Bon Jovi’s “You Give
Love a Bad Name.” He was loud, animated, short and sweet about it,
and when he finished chuckles broke out down the bar.

“Sounds like Maggie’s got your number,
Bernie,” someone yelled from several stools down. More laughter
followed. Bernie laughed as well.

“You kids got time for a lightning fast
one?”

Shannon shook her head. “We can’t stay. We
have a few more deliveries.”

He stepped forward and gave Shannon a hug
then he reached over and extended his hand to Spinelli. “Nicely
done, son, but a bit of advice. Don’t quit your day job.” Bernie
roared with laughter. Shannon’s sweet giggle echoed in Spinelli’s
ears as well.

She gestured toward him. “Uncle Bernie, this
is Nick Spinelli.”

Bernie’s smile widened. “So you’re the young
lad who’s captured the heart of our little Shannon.”