07 Uncorked - Chrissy McMullen Mystery (28 page)

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Authors: Lois Greiman

BOOK: 07 Uncorked - Chrissy McMullen Mystery

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"Well thanks," she said. "For what you did. For saving his life." She tilted her head a little. "For saving my life."

I shrugged, humble as pie as I stroked Harley’s ear. He reciprocated by licking my knee. “So now Micky can tell Jamel his aunt is a hero.” She laughed, then glanced toward the window again. “About Micky…” I waited, and suddenly I saw it, that girlish expression emblazoned on her hard-ass features. I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again.

“You really do like him.”

“I do not.”

“Do, too,” I said. “You’re crushing on Micky Goldenstone.”

“Listen. I’m a grown woman. And a mother. I don’t—”

“You loooove him,” I said.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what are you…a two-year-old? I—”

“Holy crap!” I said, and sat back suddenly, as if struck by a revelation. “You’re human.”

She stopped, looking embarrassed as she scrubbed her hand across her face. “Well…

he is hot,” she said, and peeked through her fingers at me.

I laughed out loud.

She exhaled heavily, dropping her hand and looking sheepish. “I wouldn’t mind if you’d put in a good word for me.”

“Seriously?”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced away. “I just… Kaneasha, my sister…” I nodded, sobering at the mention of the woman who had overdosed shortly after Jamel’s death.

“She adored him. And I know…Micky’s got issues. He’s moody. And he carries around a shitload of guilt. Maybe for good reason.” She glanced at me. I neither denied nor confirmed so she drew a fortifying breath and shook her head. “You really are a shrink, aren’t you?”

“For quite a while.”

She nodded, then stood up. “Listen, I’ll get out of your hair. I really just came to apologize.”

“For…”

“For getting you involved,” she said. “I should never have called you. But Drag had gone nuts, and I was so close to the truth. I couldn’t call the cops and blow my cover.”

“Well…” I took another bite of ice cream. “…try not to do it again.”

“It’s a deal,” she said and headed toward the door, “if you promise to be more careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if some crazy bitch calls you in the middle of the night yelling about men with guns and bad tempers, you keep your ass out of it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I'm serious,” she said, sounding more like Rivera by the second. “Jackson may have found religion." She made air quotes with her fingers. "But don't trust him. Not ever. He's a nut job, and Drag's friends…a few of them have been indicted. But there are still some serious head cases out there. One in particular.” She scowled. "They call him Coke. He idolized Drag. If you even hear that name mentioned you run like hell."

“What about Pepsi?" I asked. I'd always wanted to be the class clown. But no one had ever taken me seriously enough. "Is he okay?”

“Listen, I don't care how suicidal you are,” she said, smirking a little. “You don’t want to get involved with him. Sometimes there really is loyalty amongst thieves.

Well…” She rose to her feet. “I’d better get going.” I glanced toward the outside world, wondering about head cases and guys with soda pop names. “Now?”

“Lock your doors.”

“Geez, you sound like a cop,” I said.

She laughed as she stepped outside.

I sighed, locked the door and traipsed into the kitchen.

The phone range just as I reached the table, nearly scaring me out of my skin. I stared at it, the thought of head cases making me nervous.

"Hello?" My voice was tentative when I answered.

"You okay?"

"Laney." I felt my shoulders slump with relief.

"You should get caller ID before you have a heart attack," she said.

I slipped into a chair, feeling floppy and old. "I think terror is good for my heart.

Keeps it pumping."

"Good thing you live in L.A. then."

I smiled. It seemed like forever since we'd spoken, though honestly, it hadn't been more than a handful of hours. "How'd filming go today?"

"All right until it rained."

I glanced outside. The temperature had dropped into the double digits. "I've heard of rain."

"How are you doing, Mac? Really."

"I'm good." I was lonely and tired and a little depressed, but I straightened my spine, remembering I should be pretty thrilled just to be breathing. "Excellent."

"You don't miss…" She paused.

"Marc?" I guessed dryly, and she laughed.

"Yeah."

"I think I'll live without him."

"I think you already were," she said.

I shrugged. "I guess. It's just… it was nice to say I had somebody."

"You have somebody."

"Somebody with testicles."

"So now I'm not good enough for you?"

I smiled, letting a little contentment steal in. "Have you told Solberg yet?"

"No. I’m waiting for the perfect moment."

"When there are no hard surfaces so that when he faints he won't hurt himself?"

"You're funny."

"I know."

"You sure you're okay?"

"I will be," I said and almost believed myself.

We hung up a couple minutes later. I glanced around the kitchen. The empty ice-cream tub remained on the table surround by a bevy of dirty dishes, but I wasn’t very motivated to clean up. Classy hadn’t worked out very well for me. Snoopy tended to get me killed. Maybe Sleepy and Dopey were more my—

A noise sounded from the entry, a creak of something so faint that it made my breath lock tight in my throat. The name Coke was conjured up like black magic in my brain.

My hand dropped to the silverware drawer without an order from its command center. I wrapped my fist around a steak knife and turned to face this new threat just as a man stepped into view.

Lieutenant Jack Rivera stood in the doorway. He was silent and dark and bigger than life.

He hadn’t shaved in days. His hair was a little longer, his body a little leaner. But his eyes were the same shade of mesmerizing intensity as always.

It took a lifetime for me to find my voice and when it came it was little more than a croak. Even I didn’t know what I said, but his words were perfectly clear.

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head and glanced behind him. I’m not sure what I intended to see.

Perhaps I thought there might be a ventriloquist throwing his voice, but he seemed to be alone and absolutely sincere. “For breaking into my house?” I was trying to play it cool.

Struggling to play it safe.

“No,” he said and took a step toward me.

I lifted the knife slightly, remembering a thousand reasons why he should be sorry.

“For letting me believe you were really under arrest?"

He shook his head. "I was as much in the dark as you were."

I considered calling him a liar, but his expression was too angry, his eyes too direct.

"How about the senator? Was he in on it?"

"If I say yes will you make him suffer?" The first tiny flicker of humor shone in his dark-shadow eyes.

"I'll do my best."

"Turns out the old bastard knows more about my department than I do."

"Damn him!" I breathed.

"Already done."

I scowled, fighting the softness that threatened to well up inside me. "Why'd you go to Andrews's house in the first place?"

He shook his head as if seeing his own foolishness for what it was. "I was just planning to check things out." A muscle jumped in his cheek. A new ember of anger flamed in his eyes. "Maybe put a little fear of God in him, but he didn't answer the door, so I went back to my car, waited around a while, fantasized about beating the hell out of him. It wasn't until the next day that I heard some guy reported seeing me sitting out there in the dark."

"He recognized you?"

"Got my license. Said I was a suspicious looking character." His lips quirked up a little at the corners. "I didn't know anything about this deal they had brewing with Lavonn. I guess the captain was afraid I'd fuck up their setup if I was left at large once Andrews was released. Could be he thought I really would kill the son of a bitch if he…"

He fisted his hands then inhaled deeply as if steadying himself. "…if he touched you."

It was a pretty good explanation, but I pulled myself out of the grip of his gaze, holding strong. The knife was impressively steady in my hand.

“Then your apology must be for cheating on me.” My voice broke. I cleared my throat.

“I never cheated on you, McMullen. Not with that woman in the car. Not with Coggins’s girlfriend. Not with anyone.” He chuckled with dry humor and glanced at the steak knife. “I’m not that brave.”

I almost laughed. Relief threatened to flood my good sense, but we still had unresolved issues. Though for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what they were.

“Why are you apologizing then?”

His eyes were dead steady. “For making you turn to Marv,” he said.

I blinked back tears. Bloody traitors. “His name’s…”

“I don’t give a fuck what his name is!” he said, and suddenly I was in his arms. But the steak knife was between us.

“I have a new boyfriend,” I lied, and pressed the blade against his ribs. “He’s—” His lips descended on mine for one long, hard, brain-stealing kiss. I tried to keep my head, but my knees felt saggy and my heart overtaxed. He drew back, eyes blazing.

“—wonderful,” I breathed.

“He’s an idiot,” he growled. “Or he wouldn’t leave you alone. Wouldn't let you take such dumb-ass risks.”

My mouth felt dry. My resistance weak. “I was scared,” The words were a whisper.

"I'm sorry." He gritted his teeth against the force of his emotion. "Sorry you were hurt. Sorry you were threatened-"

"Scared for you," I corrected. "I didn't know where you were. Didn't know if you were safe. Didn't know if you were-" I rattled, but he bent his corded neck and kissed me again.

Heat sizzled through my system, setting any hitherto un-torched organs ablaze.

"I can take care of myself, McMullen," he said, and lifting me into his arms, carried me into the bedroom.

The mattress felt soft against my back, his body hard against my front.

"Holy crap!" I breathed as his belt came loose in my hands. "They were right. They were
all
right."

Lois Greiman was born on a cattle ranch in central North Dakota where she learned to ride and spit with the best of them. After graduating from high school, she moved to Minnesota to train and show Arabian horses. But eventually she fell in love, became an aerobics instructor and gave birth to three of her best friends.

She sold her first novel in 1992 and has published more than thirty titles since then, including romantic comedy, historical romance, children’s stories, and her fun-loving Christina McMullen mysteries. A two-time Rita finalist, she has won such prestigious honors as Romantic Times Storyteller Of The Year, MFW’s Rising Star, RT’s Love and Laughter, the Toby Bromberg for most humorous mystery, and the LaVyrle Spencer Award. Her heroes have received K.I.S.S. recognition numerous times and her books have been seen regularly among the industries Top Picks!

With more than two million books printed worldwide, Ms Greiman currently lives on the Minnesota tundra with her family, some of whom are human. In her spare time she likes to ride some of her more hirsute companions in high speed events such as barrel racing and long distance endurance rides.

http:/www.loisgreiman.com

http://www.facebook.com/lois.greiman

Blog with Lois @ ridingwiththetopdown.blogspot.com

Follow Lois on Twitter @loisgreiman

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