Don't Mess With Texas (23 page)

She nodded. “But I need to see Ellen and—”

“Sounds good. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat? We can talk and then I’ll take you to the hospital. After that we can go see Tony.”

“Okay,” she answered. Then she recalled that she needed to stop using her overdrawn debit card. She had two hundred dollars in her change bank at the gallery, assuming the detective was correct that the intruder hadn’t robbed the store. “Can we run by the gallery so I can grab some quick cash?”

He hesitated. “Sure.”

Then, remembering she didn’t have clothes, she frowned. “I also need to grab some clothes. I wasn’t thinking when I gathered my things last night.” Realizing how much she was asking, the awkwardness crept up in her chest again. “I should call Nana and borrow her car. And you can meet me at the police station. That way, you wouldn’t have to—”

“No. I was going to suggest we go by your place and talk to the manager about getting your lock fixed anyway.”

Their eyes met and held. Her mind took her back to how his lips had tasted and felt against her mouth, against her skin. Delicious didn’t come close to describing it. Better than cupcakes. Her face heated up again.

She nodded. “Are you this accommodating to all your clients?”
Or does the fact that we almost got naked and ravished each other have anything to do with it?

Biting down on her lip, she studied his expression—mainly, his left eyebrow—and tried not to frown. She didn’t want to come off mad, just cautious. She couldn’t be mad when she hadn’t exactly discouraged him.

He might have started it, but she’d jumped in headfirst and into the deep end of the proverbial pool, too. Nope, she couldn’t be mad, but she really needed to be careful.

Having sex with him would have been over-the-top crazy. And she couldn’t afford any more craziness in her life. She’d already maxed out on craziness and didn’t have overdraft protection.

“Of course, I’m this accommodating.” His left eyebrow rose.

As if noting her focus, he ran a finger over his forehead and frowned. “Why don’t you grab some coffee while I take a shower?” He turned and walked toward the bathroom, and she could swear she heard him mutter, “A cold one.”

“How did it go?” Clark asked as Tony walked into the squad room and stored his gun in his desk.

“They wouldn’t let me in to see her. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

“Damn,” Clark said leaning forward. His desk chair squeaked.

The noise raked over Tony’s nerves. “Can you get a damn can of WD-40 and do something about that squeak?”

“In a good mood, huh?” Clark asked.

Dropping down into his own squeaky chair, Tony pushed a hand through his hair. It wasn’t the noise chewing on his nerves. It was his lack of sleep and the envelope in his pocket.

Divorce my ass!
The more he thought about it, the more he liked his plan. When he left this afternoon, he was grabbing a bag of clothes from his apartment and going home.

He knew she’d be madder than a wet hen hyped up on meth. But dealing with a mad LeAnn for a few days was better than losing her forever.

“Sorry. I just came from talking to Joey.” Tony looked over at Clark.

“Bad news?”

“Yeah.” Tony pulled the envelope out of his pocket and shoved it in his desk drawer. As close as he was with his partner, Clark wasn’t the person to talk to about LeAnn. The man had gone through a nasty divorce three years ago and was still fighting for custody of his little boy. He hadn’t gotten over the anger. His partner’s advice for dealing with any woman issue was the same.
Fuck ’em. Just fuck ’em—that’s all we should do with them. Not fall for them, not start caring, or giving ’em gifts. For God’s sake, don’t marry ’em. Just fuck ’em. As hard and as many of ’em as you can
.

Clark was one of the guys Tony had been talking about when he’d said nothing good came out of the relationships
with people a cop met on the job. Clark’s ex, Candy, had been a stripper. Clark had worked a robbery at the club—one look at Candy and he knew he could save her from the world she’d gotten caught up in. Didn’t happen. You can’t save somebody who doesn’t think they need saving.

“Are you going to share what Joey said or do you want me to try to guess?”

It took Tony a second to remember what they’d been talking about. “Joey said that Jack Leon didn’t have any defensive wounds. None.”

“So.” Clark leaned back in his chair again. “Either the killer walked up and surprised the hell out of him, or it was someone he knew and he didn’t think she’d stab him.”

“She?” Tony asked.

He leaned back and the damn chair squeaked again. “Didn’t ya tell me Nikki Hunt had a quarter of a mil reasons for him to die?”

Tony nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I got money riding on her being innocent, but I’d easily put a twenty in the pot if we could close this case. The boss has already scheduled a meeting with us tomorrow. My gut says he wants us to make an arrest. Supposedly, Leon’s daddy is friends with the mayor.”

Tony snatched up a pen and started clicking it. “I don’t give a damn who he’s friends with. I’m not making a bad arrest.”

Clark stared at him. “What? You don’t think she did it now?”

“I don’t
know
if she did it. She couldn’t have been the person who stabbed the Wise woman.”

“So she had an accomplice. As hot as she is, she probably has men lining up to do her dirty business.”

“But how does Ellen Wise fit into this? It made sense if the Wise woman was banging Nikki’s ex, but—”

“Maybe the chick is lying,” Clark said. “Maybe she was banging him and knew we’d trace the calls, and so she concocted the whole story.”

“I don’t think so.”

Clark reached down to adjust the back of his chair. “Do we know if it was the same knife used in both stabbings?”

“Not yet,” Tony said. “The hospital was supposed to e-mail over the pictures of Wise’s wounds and information on the wound size this morning. When I spoke to Joey, he didn’t have them. If they haven’t sent them in an hour or so, I’ll go raise hell.”

“I can do that.” Clark rolled back and tossed one foot on top of his cluttered desk. “I was going to talk to the Wise chick and see if she remembered anything else anyway.”

“Fine.” Tony clicked his pen, once, twice, three times. “Joey also confirms that Leon had a large amount of vomiting inducers in his system. But it wasn’t lethal. And Nikki Hunt had the same thing. If she’s responsible for giving him the ipecac, why take it herself? And why give him that if she was planning on killing him? Something isn’t right.” He clicked his pen three more times.

“Maybe she did all this just to throw us off.”

“Did she ransack her place, too?”

Clark cut Tony an accusing look. “Is all this doubt because your brother has the hots for her?”

“Hell, no,” Tony blurted out. “If I think she’s guilty, I’m arresting her.”

They both got quiet. Then Clark asked, “Do you believe her about selling her computer?”

“I don’t know, I’m checking on it. She’s supposed to be
here at three. And she’s not leaving until I get answers.” Tony scrubbed his palm over his face, only to realize he needed a shave.

Damn!
He wished he’d remembered before he’d gone to see LeAnn. She was a stickler for smooth cheeks, once claiming he’d given her whisker burns between her thighs. By damn he missed what they had—the friendship, the laughter, the sex. He’d been with a lot of women before LeAnn and not one of them compared to her. No one made him feel the same. No one moved the same. No one… tasted like LeAnn.

His dick twitched as he remembered those sweet little noises she made when he was between her thighs. Nine months of celibacy was a bitch. Sure, he’d had offers for company—his neighbor at his apartment, the new clerk here at the office. He didn’t want sex. He wanted LeAnn. He wanted his wife back.

“I heard CSU went over her car,” Clark said. “They didn’t find shit so far. But they’re going over it again later.”

Brought back to reality, Tony tugged at his pants leg. “Where’s Leon’s phone records? Who else did he talk to?”

Clark dropped his feet from the desk and started thumbing through his stacks of papers. Tony almost barked at him about not filing things, but at the last minute he held himself back. For all Clark’s flaws, he was actually a damn good cop and a decent guy. And Clark wasn’t responsible for Tony’s bad mood.

Still shuffling papers, looking for the phone record report, Clark asked, “Did you talk with the other lawyers at Leon’s firm?”

“Just the receptionist and one lawyer. He didn’t give me shit. I’ve got meetings with the others tomorrow.”

“Where the fuck did I put that phone record?” Clark paused in his search and looked up. “When you talked to Joey, did you get anything on the kid’s body from the convenience store?”

“He was shot with a thirty-eight, like we guessed,” Tony said. “And I was right. There was blood on the bat. O positive. Not the vic’s.”

“Have you told Shane? I’m sure he’s gonna want to run a test on his robbery perp. He really wants to take that kid down.”

“Not yet,” Tony said. “I was planning on giving him the heads-up this afternoon.”

Clark looked at him. “You mean after you give your brother the heads-up?”

Tony glared at Clark. “I didn’t say that.” But Tony wasn’t denying it, either. But since Dallas’s client could possibly be a suspect for this murder, if Tony chose to talk to him, it was within his boundaries.

“Here it is.” Clark passed him the phone list. “But the only suspicious calls were those from the Wise lady.”

The ride to her apartment was long and quiet. Nikki tried not to think about what almost happened between them. However, several times, the memory of how good his weight had felt on top of her, of how good his mouth felt, how his hands had held her breasts, would slip inside her head.

When he parked, she looked around to see where they were. They’d stopped in front of her apartment building at the manager’s office.

“We should talk to someone about fixing your door,” Dallas said.

Two minutes later, she stood in front of Mr. Wilde, the balding fifty-year-old manager whose straight-for-boobs stare always gave Nikki the heebie-jeebies. And while staring at her boobs, he told her she’d have to pay and arrange for the repairs herself.

Dallas, who’d remained quiet, walked right into the conversation. “You have a valid point,” he told Mr. Wilde.

Nikki shot him a what-the-hell glance. Whose side was he on? He ignored her and continued, “Ms. Hunt will be happy to pay for the repairs.”

Ms. Hunt nearly swallowed her tongue.

“Good.” Mr. Wilde’s gaze shot back to her unsupported girls.

“Excuse me?” Nikki said, and motioned for him to look at her eyes.

“But if she
does
pay for it,” Dallas continued, “I’ll see to it that every newspaper, radio, and TV station in town gets a report of every crime that has taken place near the apartment in the last five years. And I’ll inform them how badly the parking lot is lit, about how the security gate is broken. And I promise not to forget to tell them how the management isn’t doing anything about seeing to the safety of their residents.”

Dallas shrugged. “Oh, and since I’m a PI, and an ex-cop, I have pull with media contacts.” He motioned for her to leave.

She took one step, trying to figure out how she was going to pay for the door, when he swung back around. Nikki turned with him, and saw Mr. Wilde with his mouth agape and panic in his eyes.

In a confident voice, Dallas asked, “Don’t you think the owners of the property would prefer you fix the damn door?”

Mr. Wilde muttered something about having someone out ASAP.

As they walked to the car, Nikki looked at Dallas. “Thanks.”

He smiled, but when he glanced back at the office, a frown appeared in his eyes. “The jerk couldn’t keep his eyes off your chest.”

“I seem to have that problem lately,” she said without thinking and immediately wished she hadn’t.

“That was different.” His frown deepened.

“Sorry. You are right. I didn’t mean to lump you in the same category as… forget it.” She hurried across the sidewalk.

He caught up with her. “It could have been good.”

It had been good
, she thought. “It would’ve been a mistake. You said so yourself.”

She slipped into his front seat and shut the door, hoping to end the conversation.

He walked around the car, settled behind the wheel, and continued, “I’m not sure about it being a mistake now. For a while there, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. I know I sure as hell was.”

She felt her face flush. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“You brought it up.” His mouth spread in a sexy grin and his blue eyes twinkled with humor.

“Well, I’m ending it.” She gave him a hard, firm look.

“Killjoy,” he teased.

All she could think about was kissing him again. She looked away and reminded herself how dangerous just
being with him could be. She really should have called Nana.