Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) (24 page)

Gomez waits at the front door. He hands me the keys without a word.

The morning heat envelops me when I walk outside. I slide into the car and drive away.

Chapter Twenty-Five

MY APARTMENT IS CRAMPED
, hot, and lonely. I guess it’s always been this way, I just never noticed it like I do now. I turn the thermostat to its normal
I’m home
setting. After staying at Moon’s, the heat is unbearable within an hour.

I check through my messages, glad that the cell phone from my car was waiting in the rental. Three missed calls from Terry, one from Brenda, and one from my dad. Crap. I forgot about calling my mother. I make the call. My mother is a wonderful person, but she has her moments. This is one of them. She talks my ear off for an hour while I swelter. I finally tell her I have other calls to make and need to get to work. She disapproves of my job and doesn’t ask specifics. She disapproved of law enforcement too. I’ve come to terms with it, and maybe one day my mother will realize that a boring eight to five job is not my thing.

I call Brenda next.

“Hey, girl, you had us worried,” she says as soon as I identify myself. “Terry was planning to call in a missing person’s report if we didn’t hear from you today.”

I’ve always disliked Terry because of his profession. His moral compass concerning women has never been up on my list either. “Is he in his office?”

“He is and the door’s closed. You’ll never believe who’s in there with him.”

I’m not in the mood to be conspiratorial. “I give, who?” I ask trying to sound like I care.

“Sheila Bradford, the woman who took out the lawsuit. I’m code-naming her BF for big foot. She’s at least a foot taller than Terry. You have no idea what the past few days have been like. He’s like a little boy with a plastic pumpkin filled with candy. I think this is loooooove.”

My heart clenches. I fucking miss Moon, and the last thing I want is to hear about someone else’s budding love life. Besides Moon, there is so much happening right now. Serious life and death drama unfolding. “When he comes out, will you have him call me? I don’t want to come to his office, and I need him to meet me.”

“Are you okay?” I can’t be sure Brenda knows all the details of the case I’m working for Terry. I also don’t want to involve her any more than necessary. And I’m not fucking okay.

“I’m good. I’m just playing it safe right now.”

She makes a slight humming noise and I know I’m not fooling her. “Look, I know Terry was very worried about you. Dixon Connor was found dead in his cell yesterday. They’re saying it’s suicide. Terry doesn’t believe it. I’ll have Terry call you as soon as his lady love leaves.”

I stop breathing. Moon had to know this. Why the hell didn’t he tell me? “Thank you. Gotta go, Brenda.” I cut her off quickly and know she can’t be pleased.

The last person I want to talk to is Moon, but I need answers. I take out the phone he gave me, which I took from his bedroom, and make the call. Gomez answers. “Yes, Miss Kinlock?”

“Is Moon available?”

“No, that’s why I’m taking your call.” Gomez is pissed off at me too. He’s made that clear. I don’t know if Moon is actually busy or just refuses to speak to me.

I’m pacing in my small apartment and I swear I want to hit someone. “Do you know about Dixon Connor?”

I can hear Gomez breathing. What I don’t get is an answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I have no idea what Moon’s current game is, but people are dying,” I spit out. I’m so frustrated, I end the call. I continue to pace for about five minutes without a return call from Moon or Terry. It’s only wishful thinking about Moon. I know he won’t call. I had hoped that Terry would, though. I’m a sweaty mess when I head into my room to put on my standard work clothes. I refuse to sit still. These last three days with Moon have been a fairytale. I need to stop thinking with my lady bits regardless that the sex was smoking hot. I’m over it now. If I tell myself that a thousand times, it just might be true.

I’m out of my apartment ten minutes later. It’s time to take a trip to my old precinct. I won’t be terrorized by Kennedy. I bring both cell phones with me, but neither ring as I drive into the Sunnyslope district to the Wendell Precinct. Even though the rental car’s air conditioner is more powerful than Sally’s, it’s hotter than hell, and I know the outside temperature has spiked a few degrees. Or maybe it’s just my temper. Two people murdered. I don’t need proof to know Dixon Connor’s death was not suicide.

I run through the bank drive-thru around the corner from my destination and take out $100. It’s bittersweet to pull up to the station. I loved this building. Not because it’s anything special. The building is non-descript and unwelcoming to the average person. For me, it was home. Shortly after my retirement, I was still invited past the security door inside the lobby. Becoming a PI changed that; I haven’t been behind that door in more than a year.

I’m not here to gain entry into the inner sanctum, though. I need information. Most people don’t understand the inner workings of a police precinct. A records clerk is the department’s gold mine of knowledge. I’ve heard them yelled at, complained about, and put down by the public in general. I hate to admit that officers are occasionally guilty of the same thing. Meagan, the Wendell Precinct records clerk, is loyal to the officers. She also has a big mouth and that works into my plans.

I walk inside and there isn’t much of a temperature change from the hundred and something degrees outside. It’s probably in the mid-nineties in here with no air circulation to speak of. Smaller precincts like Wendell don’t want you to be comfortable while you wait for whatever it is you need. Behind the security door and into the belly of the department the temperature will be thirty degrees cooler. It’s kept almost frigid because officers wear a lot of gear and need to cool down as soon as they enter the station.

If you’re filing a police report and it’s deemed worthy, you’ll be escorted inside to a desk sergeant. Officers come into the department to prepare for their shifts and write reports. And they enter through a private door inside the fenced officer parking area. They do not come into the office to take reports. Officers need to be seen on the street even if it’s on the way to another call. I have no idea how other departments are run, but I know Phoenix PD. These substations are bare-bones minimum and not designed for civilians. I love it.

A small bulletproof window inside the tiny lobby is located on the right-hand side of the door I walk in through. The walls are painted white over cinderblock with no decorative embellishments at all. I walk over and press the buzzer to the side of the window. It takes about sixty seconds for Meagan to leave her desk and walk to the service window. Her eyes grow large when she sees me.

“Hi, Meagan, how are you?” I say with a smile. It’s clear she’s unsure how exactly she should answer and that’s too damn bad. She has a slight look of horror on her face as she examines my stitches and bruising. Today I make orange look good.

“I’m good Offi… I mean Mak. How may I help you?”

I would so love to be Officer Kinlock again. I do my best to give nothing away. “There was a homicide a few days ago. She was a client of mine and I’d like a copy of the preliminary report if the case was handled by Phoenix PD.”

Her lips tighten. “If it’s ours, you’re aware I need to charge you for the report, right?”

I bite back a smartass retort. “Absolutely, Meagan. I wouldn’t expect anything other than being treated like the general public.” I could have gone to any Phoenix substation and requested this report. It just doesn’t suit my purposes to go elsewhere.

She grabs the records request clipboard that rests to the side of the window and pushes it through the two-by-eight inch opening in the glass. I fill it out giving Penny’s name and date of birth and also give my information, including my driver’s license number, before pushing the clipboard back through. Meagan glances at the name without recognition. I have absolutely no idea how deep the corruption within the department runs, though I would be quite surprised if Meagan were involved. The biggest reason is that she considers herself one of the team, but the officers feel much differently about it. She’s a civilian, and they don’t trust her. End of story.

“Let me see what I can find. Would you like to leave a number and I’ll call you when and if the report is available?”

“No, I’ll wait here.” She gives me an impatient look and I ignore it. The last thing I want is for my request to go on a stack of others. If I wait, she’ll check now. I sit in one of two green, hard-plastic, metal-framed chairs. They’re as uncomfortable as I remember. A cell phone rings in my pocket and I pull both of them out. It’s the one Moon gave me and aka criminal shows on the caller ID. I hit Ignore. Two minutes later, the phone rings again. This time, I turn off the ringer. I am not speaking to him inside the substation.

Fifteen minutes later, Meagan walks back to the window and I approach. “It’s six pages, and will cost thirteen dollars,” she tells me. “Nothing but the preliminary is available at this time because the case remains under investigation. Would you like a copy of the full report once it’s released?”

“Yes, thank you.” My mind is reeling. I know it’s only a preliminary report from the responding officer and then a detective, but six pages bothers me. I’ve had more than six pages on a standard burglary. “My office number’s on the request. Could you also do me a favor and give Officer Kennedy a message?” I used his title on purpose. I don’t want Meagan’s panties twisted because I’m not treating Kennedy with respect. She nods. “Thank you. Please tell him I enjoyed our lunch the other day.” I don’t wait for the shocked look to leave her face. I never dated officers while on the force and everyone knew there was no love lost between me and Kennedy. The rumor mill will explode before I leave the parking lot.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I CAREFULLY SLIDE BEHIND
the hot steering wheel. With even more care, I gingerly put my seatbelt on. I pull out of the parking lot and notice one of Moon’s black Caddies across the street. It pulls out and follows me.

I take a few turns and enter the I-17 on-ramp. The Caddy stays a safe distance behind me until I take the Peoria turnoff and head into Ghetto Center. That’s not actually the mall’s name, it’s just what it’s known as. Off the road that circles the mall there’s a large store that’s been vacant for years. It went out of business ages ago and no one ever moved in. This isn’t the nicest neighborhood. I drive into the parking lot. The Caddy pulls up beside me and Moon opens the back door. Gomez is driving and he isn’t looking at me.

I pop the locks and Moon opens the passenger door.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks before he shifts his body inside. He’s not wearing a jacket and he’s a bit more disheveled than I’m accustomed to.

I’m more than ready for this macho thug game. “I’m working a case. What the fuck are you doing following me?” I don’t think he’s prepared for me to throw his shit back at him. He’s seen me at my weakest. It’s time he knows what I’m made of.

He looks up like he’s asking God to intervene. Tiny dots of sweat show on his neck, and the collar of his shirt is damp. I swear I won’t lean over and lick his skin no matter how bad I want to. When he turns back to me, his eyes are stormy dark. “You are playing with fire and this is not a game.” He says it slowly, almost like I’m a child.

I give my own clipped response. “I’m quite aware that two people are dead. The information about Dixon Connor should have come from you. If I don’t have all the cards in the deck, then someone is cheating. My job is to investigate Kennedy. I’m being paid to do that and you won’t stop me. Just because we fucked like rabbits last night does not mean I stopped doing my job.”