Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1) (21 page)

“
Interesting, verrrrry interesting, Detective
,”
Bite Doc says, re-inspecting the photos of the latest vic, which I brought him this morning.
 “I’
ll load these into my computer, and then w
e’
ll compare both victim
s
’ bite wounds using computer-generated HVO
.
”

“
Wha
t’
n hel
l’
s HVO
?
”

This time his face flushes florid red.  I ignore the menacing look: Bite Do
c’
s on NP
D’
s payroll.  He will tutor me any damn time I ask.  I did
n’
t come here pretending to be an expert in forensic dentistry.  I came here to figure out how to catch a murderer.  I let him stew. 

“
I
t’
s our wa
y
”
—
for those of us in the know
, his baleful glare say
s
—
“
of using technology to strip your per
p’
s ego, once we get a good look at his teeth
.
”

That explains a lot.
 “
HVO.  Voodoo.  Is
n’
t it all the same
?”
I ask, deliberately tormenting him. 
I’
m a dick by temperament and by profession.  Do
c’
s look tells me he agrees.  Do I give a ra
t’
s ass?  No. 
I’
m twenty-seven, but I consider myself an old school, boots-on-the-ground investigator.  I do
n’
t completely trust computers or the geeks who use them.  That goes double for science, like odontology, or forensic dentistry.  I let Do
c’
s condescending glare go for the time being. 
I’
ll look up HVO later. 

“
When I get hold of him,
I’
ll worry about matching our per
p’
s teeth against your impression of the vic
s
’ bite wounds
,”
I say, glancing at my watch.
 “
I guess you and I are about finished
?
”

Gluing his gaze to the color photos, Bite Doc says, clearly unwilling to let my remark go
,“
Yes, well,
I’
ll let you know what else we uncover about your per
p’
s exciting personality by examining his teeth and your vic
s
’ bite wounds
.
”

“
Exciting
personality?  Doc, I have other words for him.  Sadistic pric
k’
s one
.
” 

Plus more terms of endearment I keep to myself.  No need to offend Do
c’
s Mormon faith too unnecessarily.  I scan the lab, looking for a spot to interview Alaina Colby. 
I’
m certain Bite Do
c’
s not going to let me use this most sacrosanct of all Verbote Denta
l’
s holy spaces.
 “
Do you have an employee lounge I can use
?
”

“
This way
,”
he says.
 “
You can use my storage are
a
—”

As Bite Do
c’
s booting me from his lab, the hallway outside erupts in screams.

Doc lists his leonine head sideways.
 “
What on earth is that
?
”

“
Le
t’
s go find out
,”
I say, certain my little dance
r’
s making another get-away attempt.  By now,
I’
m starting to feel her, to get a sense of Alaina Colb
y’
s MO.  Sh
e’
s a runner, as well as a dancer.

Chapter 18

“
Halt!  Police
!
” 

I hear Officer Barbie yelling behind me. 
I’
m running down the hallway expecting to be plugged in the back any moment, but before I have time to worry about being shot, I slam head-on into a hard wall of muscle. 

“
Oomf
!
” 

“
The hell
s’
s going on here
?”
the wall says, a tangle of arms as taut and unyielding to my escape efforts as a steel cable. 

“
Stop fighting
!
” 

His arms encircling my rib cage, he whisks me up off the carpeted hallway, sending a thrill shooting through me.  Before he plops me back down, I wrap my brain around the hardness of his arms.  H
e’
s got, if not the grace of Mikhail Baryshniko
v’
s highly conditioned lean dance
r’
s body, then at least Mish
a’
s strength.  His arms still around me, I wiggle against him.  Let him play rough cop.  Maybe
I’
ll get lucky: h
e’
ll cuff me. 

“
Aidan, uh, Detective Hawks
,”
Officer Barbie says, running up and coming to an abrupt halt
,“
sh
e’
s trying to escape
.
”

“
Miss Colby
,”
he says
,“
is that true
?
”

I turn in his arms and stare up into his eyes. 
Aidan.
  So my LE
O’
s got a first name. 
Aidan.
Detective Aidan Hawks. 

Like they did across the room in Oma
r’
s, our gazes lock, and I feel it again, like an exquisite punch of adrenalin
e—
and lus
t—
and something else, an attraction my Literature prof calls th
e“
ineffable effable
.
”
 
This time the feelin
g’
s more powerful, since
I’
m wrapped in his embrace.  I
t’
s like nothing
I’
ve ever felt.  The intense buzz fills me, sets up a thrum deep in my belly.  When he smiles, the feeling grows more intense, a tender river of liquid fire screaming through my core and slamming against my brain. 

Then I notice something weird.  Why is he staring into my eyes like this?  Are my feeble efforts to untangle myself from his arms amusing? 

For a second, my old insecurities surface. 
I’
m Crip,
that
girl.  I do
n’
t deserve the warm happy rush
I’
m feeling. 
I’
m not Cinderella to her handsome prince:
I’
m a Goshen Colby.  My famil
y’
s Duck Dynasty, but in a trashier and a more darkly re-imagined way, like
Silence of the Lambs
.  And this man, whose body is electrifying mine, is a LEO.  H
e’
s the
law
.

Despite sagging self confidence, I do
n’
t fight the feeling.  I love the pull of his upper lip into that sexy snarl that my mom would kill fo
r—
if it did
n’
t belong to a cop.  I
t’
s dumber than asking for champagne at a Colby hog roas
t—
i
t’
s right down embarrassin
g—
but I want to reach up and rough up his blonde buzz cut.  Except
I’
d have to stand
en pointe
to reach him.  H
e’
s so tall.

For a few heartbeats, we stand scooped into each other, me gazing up into his eyes and fighting the pulsing lust heating my belly.
 “
I was
n’
t trying to escape
,”
I say, shoring up my nerve and sucking air in tight little gasps, becoming acutely aware we have an audience.  When he releases me, I see the vicious look on Barbi
e’
s face. 

Sh
e’
s jealous.  Good.

“
Sh
e—
she did
n’
t read me my rights
,”
I say, trying to recover from the bolt of whatever just hit me.  Squeezed between Officer Barbie and Detective Hawks and feeling my common sense returning, I finally recall: these two are Newport PD.  Homicide.  I pray
I’
m wrong, and that Detective Hawk
s—
Aida
n—
is here to arrest me, not my deadbeat murdering brother. 

“
She did
n’
t Mirandize me
,”
I say. 

Officer Barbie laughs, more coldly this time.  

“
Who says w
e’
re arresting you?  And for what
?”
Aidan says, scowling over my head at her, his green eyes sparking with anger.  I hope he kicks her butt up between her perfect shoulders, if he can reach that high. 

“
W
e’
re not here to arrest you
,”
he says. 

“
Alaina, wha
t’
s all this?  What have you done
?
”

Hearing Brick growl behind me, I turn.  H
e’
s standing in the hallway, waving his scalpel.
 “
Brick,
I
—”

He stares at Aidan.
 “
Is this who called you from the bar
?
”

“
Noo
o—
not exactly
.
”
 
Feeling Aida
n’
s and Officer Barbi
e’
s gazes drilling into me, I cross my arms.  Why is everyone acting like
I’
m a suspect?
 “
Someone needs to tell me wha
t’
s going on here
.
”

“
I need to ask you some questions
,”
Aidan says.
 “
About your friend
.
”

“
Oh?  I thought you came here to sweat me, uh, to question me abou
t
—”

I zip my lips. 
I’
ve got to protect myself and Robin.  If he and Officer Barbie are here about something else, like Stoke robbing Oma
r’
s, then
I’
ve still got to tread carefully.

Wh
y’
s he keep staring at me like that?
 

I smooth my gypsy hair, but it climbs my shoulders like bold black honeysuckle.  The gesture makes him stare harder.  Recalling how he saw me bare breasted last night, I shiver.  If
I’
d planned on seducing him to distract him, I do
n’
t think I coul
d’
ve done a better job.  H
e’
s either entranced, or h
e’
s a lech.  Hot yes, but still a lech, if that gaze he keeps shooting me means what I think it does.

“
Your friend
,”
he says at last
,“
has met with . . . serious trouble
.
”

“
Stoke Farre
l’
s in trouble
?
”
 
I almost laugh, but do
n’
t.
 “
What sort of trouble
?
”

“
Le
t’
s find a place to talk
,”
he says.  Ignoring my reference to Stoke, he glances down the hall toward the storage room.
 “
There
?
”

“
Sure
,”
I smile, hoping he does
n’
t mind my sleep-deprived look of exhaustion, the kohl and purple eye makeup left over from last night, my wild-ass gypsy hair.  Compared to Officer Barbie,
I’
m a mess.  But do I care?
 “I’
m all yours
,”
I say, breathless, my heart still thumping from his embrace, although he let me go when Officer Barbie shot him a hot-eyed, disapproving glare.
 “
Uh, what I mean is,
I’
m here until two, and then I gotta leave. . .
.
”

I shut up.  Does he really need to know
I’
m going looking for Robin after
I’
m done here? 

H
e’
s shooting me these vibes, eating me up with those green eyes.  Looks like my ruse to distract hi
m’
s working, but if not, then what the hell?  Let him carry the ball.  I let go of my earlier insecurity, and relax.  H
e’
s not here about Robin, and I like not having to work so hard.  I slide him a long sideways glance, joy and lust vying for top spot in my belly.  Who said I have to take him home to meet Berta?  All I need is one night.  Maybe sleeping with a cop is
n’
t all bad.  If it was, my body would
n’
t be suffering such a scorching heat wave.  Would it? 

“
We need privacy
,”
he says, and turns toward the copy room.

I follow him toward the cramped storage space, th
e“
employee lounge
.
” 

Officer Barbie shoots me a look:
I’
ll get you, my pretty
. 

Ignoring her, I enjoy the view of Detective Aidan Hawk
s
’ retreating torso.  Tight buns.  Long, athletic hips and legs.  Whoa!  I
t’
s all I can do to make myself remember h
e’
s here to ask questions. 
I’
ve no idea wha
t’
s come over me: a bad case of instant hots for a LEO I barely know at all.  I feel so deliciously . . . trashy.
 “
Like an alley cat casing a tuna-fish can in a city Dumpster
,”
Berta Colby would call my risky chemical attraction.

“
Mother
,”I’
d tell her
,“I’
ve learned all kinds of alley-cat behavior from you
.
”

At the moment,
I’
m grateful for her genes, but
I’
m not half as savvy as my feline mom, not when it comes to navigating bac
k—
or blind alley
s—
and definitely not when it comes to lusting after LEOs. 

If I had the chance to get to know Detective Hawks the way my bod
y’
s begging to, how long would it take to learn the extent of my n
aï
ve
té
?