“Yes, ma’am.”
“I knew I always liked you, Nikki Harper.”
“I like you, too, Mrs Crane.”
Marilyn stopped washing the pan she was working on. “What did I tell you about that
Mrs Crane
stuff?”
“Sorry, Marilyn. Gram raised me to be polite, too.”
“Good thing you’re so stubborn. You’re going to need it.”
“Ma’am?”
“My boy is stubborn, too. You’ll have to fight for him.” Her green gaze—just like Pete’s—evaluated her.
Nikki almost dropped the dish she’d just dried. “I-I-I don’t know what you mean.”
“Nonsense. I’m not blind, sugar. I see the way you look at him. But more than that, I see the way
he
looks at
you
.”
Her limbs warmed and words dissolved. She’d noticed how Pete looked at her, too. He cared about her—he had to. His touches, kisses, they weren’t totally lust, were they? Was it too much to hope he planned on keeping her around? Probably.
She swallowed back a gulp. Had Pete’s mother pulled her into the kitchen to ambush her? “I’m…kinda stuck with him right now because of his case. Pete said I can’t really talk about it.”
His mother’s gaze called her on the bullshit she’d just spewed. “It’s always under the veil of the blue line, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s an open case—”
“Tell yourself what you need to, to get through the night, sugar. Just don’t let him go if you don’t want to. You’ll regret it. And so will he.”
What the heck could she say to that?
“I love him,” Nikki blurted.
Shit.
Why the hell had she said that?
Pete’s mom smiled—no, beamed was more like it. “Good.” She went back to scrubbing the pan.
Frozen by the counter, Nikki fiddled with the glass she’d just dried, bit her bottom lip and waited for Marilyn to speak. But Pete’s mom said nothing for a good five minutes.
“Plates go in the cupboard on the right above the microwave.”
Nikki jumped.
“Well, sugar, you said you wanted to help, didn’t you?”
Nodding hastily, she grabbed the plates and put them away.
“I love my Pete,” Marilyn said after handing her the pan and directing Nikki to its home. “But he’s just like his father. Can’t tell a good thing if she’s staring him in the face.”
Nikki paused. Should she comment? But Marilyn saved her the need.
“My point is, sugar, he can be stubborn and foolish.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Nikki whispered.
“Because if he hurts you, I want you to know I’ll kick his behind.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Suck harder, bitch. I paid extra.” Luca buried his hand in Prostitute Barbie’s bleached hair, making her take all of his cock. Pleasure from her hot mouth rolled over him. Damn, the girl didn’t have a gag reflex.
He hissed when her teeth grazed over-sensitive skin, but he liked it. Rocking his hips, he fucked her face until his balls tightened.
Hand at the back of her neck, he moved her head up and down the length of his dick, biting his lip to keep his moans and groans to a minimum. It might feel good as shit—however, there was no reason to let her know that.
She put her hands on both his thighs and raised herself on her knees, making sure to press her fake tits into him.
Luca grinned and put his hand around her throat, squeezing slightly as she sucked him off.
Pale blue eyes widened when he increased the pressure, and that just got him hotter. He lifted his hips and shoved his cock down her throat.
His spine tingled and his dick jerked in her mouth. “Unnnggh, I’m coming.”
Prostitute Barbie gripped his thighs until fake nails sank through the fabric of his slacks and licked every last drop of him like he was a popsicle.
What a good little whore.
She flashed a satisfied smile when she leant back. “Did you like that, baby?” She dragged her fingers down his chest—like that was supposed to turn him on.
Suddenly, he didn’t want her hands on him. Post-orgasmic haze faded. Caselli was after him. He needed to get the fuck out of this cheap motel. Find another. Stay close. They—police and his boss alike—would assume he’d hightailed it out of the city.
Luca needed to make sure Berto was dead. He’d shot him three or four times. Had he hit the woman at all? Berto’s whore had screamed, but he couldn’t be sure.
Shit.
Why the fuck did he keep failing?
Leaning up, Prostitute Barbie made like she was going to kiss him, but Luca turned his head. “I didn’t pay for that.”
The hooker pouted and plopped down on the bed beside him. “But I fixed your arm and everything.”
“I paid you for it.”
She said nothing as Luca stood and shoved his dick in his pants. His right arm smarted but he ignored it. He needed to get rid of Prostitute Barbie. Needed to look around and make sure no one had found him. Glancing around the room, he took comfort in the three guns he spotted. Damn good thing he’d stuffed one of his duffles with ammo.
“What about me?” She frowned.
“What
about
you?” Couldn’t the bitch tell he was done with her?
Those blue eyes flashed and she crossed her arms over the fake double-Ds. They sat high in the black pleather corset, threatening to pop out.
Luca liked big tits like any other man, but this girl wasn’t his type. She’d just been available. He liked them dark, Italian-looking.
Ah, so this one actually enjoys sex
. “I don’t remember paying to get
you
off.”
The girl huffed and puffed.
Luca leant down over her plastic body, forcing her to lie back. He wrapped his hand around her neck. “You have a problem, sweetheart?”
Applying pressure caused her eyes to widen again. Her cheeks flushed red and it had nothing to do with arousal.
Her fear made his dick twitch. Maybe he’d fuck her after all. She’d got an extra hundred bucks for getting the medical supplies from the pharmacy and dressing his wound and she’d even dug the bullet out. Like she’d done that a time or two.
“Hmmm, who would miss you if you were gone, babe?”
She sputtered and struggled beneath him. Clutched at his wrists, her nails bit into his skin. Luca didn’t care.
Now his cock was hard as hell, the zipper of his slacks cutting into him.
He released the girl and she rubbed her neck. Glared at him. “My pimp will kick your ass.”
Luca laughed. “Not likely.” He moved off the girl.
Her eyes raked his form, stopping at his tented pants.
“I changed my mind. Get naked. You want fucked, I’ll fuck you.”
When she touched her neck and hesitated, he growled.
“Take ’em off, or I’ll rip ’em off. I only need your cunt.”
* * * *
“Someone reported a big black Hummer abandoned behind an empty rent house down the street from the trailer park.” Jared Manning jogged over from his work area in CID, a small piece of paper in hand.
“Oh yeah?” Lee asked.
“Just wait for the best part.”
“What’s that?” Pete reclined in his chair.
“Guess whose prints were all over it.”
Pete met Jared’s dark eyes. “Whose?”
“Billy Madden’s.”
“Not a shocker,” Lee said. “We knew he was the getaway driver.”
“Yeah, but now we have some physical evidence,” Pete put in.
Lee nodded.
“Anything else interesting inside?”
“Lieutenant Wells had it impounded. You want to process it? Or you want me to?”
Pete shrugged.
“What’d ya say, Petey, shall we go and check it out?” Lee winked.
Jared snorted.
Pete frowned, but let it slide. “Sure, why the hell not?” Pete looked at Jared. “Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
Although the impound yard wasn’t far, Pete didn’t want to be gone for an extended amount of time. He’d told Nikki not to move from the station. A part of him didn’t like leaving her, even though processing one vehicle shouldn’t take too long.
“So, how’s it going?” Lee asked as she strapped the seatbelt on in his Crown Vic.
“You’ve been with me all day…”
“Not talking about the case.”
Pete sighed. “Then what are you talking about?” He started the car, not looking in her direction.
“Right.”
“How’s my brother?” Pete fired back.
Lee fidgeted—actually fidgeted—and stayed silent for way too long.
“Ah, I see. You can pry, but I can’t.” He grinned. It wasn’t often he could make her feel uncomfortable.
“Not prying.”
“Right.” Pete smirked.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Let’s just say when I kissed you, I kissed the wrong Crane.”
Pete laughed. “Okay. I don’t want to know more.”
“Didn’t think so.”
He pulled out of the PD lot. Radio chatter was the only noise in the car.
“Your turn,” Lee said.
“For?”
“No, no. I share, you share. It’s only fair. And don’t say shit about me rhyming. It was an accident.”
One corner of his mouth shot up. His heart skipped a beat. Pete tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “It’s…complicated.”
Lee frowned. “As complicated as sixteen hundred miles?”
He glanced at her and couldn’t look away for a moment. Her expression was tight. Un-Lee-like. Did she care for his brother?
“Feels like it,” he muttered.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Lee’s voice was low. Pained, even.
What the heck’s that about?
She looked out of the window and said nothing more. He didn’t push her.
By the time they’d parked and got out of the car, Lee had a smile back in place.
Something lurked below the surface, but what? His gut told him Lee was a deep, complex person, despite the constant humour and appearance of a perpetual light nature. He’d suspected she was a former alcoholic, but only because she never drank. Declined all offers at his parents’ and every evening they’d shared a meal at his place, or even at Dixie’s. But every time Pete or Nikki or even Nate had touched a beer, Lee’s eyes would dart to the bottle or can then away. Like even looking was too much temptation.
When curiosity had got the better of him, Pete had asked Cole, only to get nowhere. Lee’s former partner hadn’t a clue. Cole had just affirmed he’d never seen her drink, either.
If she wanted to open up to him, Pete would listen. He wouldn’t push her. He liked her too much to lose an argument about something that wasn’t his business.
He gestured for her to walk in front of him, watching her figure. If Lee wanted Nate, so be it. Good for his brother. Pete could see it. Nikki was right—they looked good together.
If they wanted a relationship, they’d make the distance work.
What about Nikki? Him and Nikki…
No, don’t think about it.
The sex was great. That was all he needed to know right now. Or ever. It wasn’t like they could actually be together long term.
She was young and vibrant. He was inappropriate for her all around.
And Chief… His boss was going to kick his ass if he found out they’d slept together. Were still sleeping together. God knew Pete wasn’t letting her out of his bed until he had to.
Until the case is over.
Then what? It wasn’t like he could go back to normal. He’d had her. He…cared…about her. Pete almost choked when another word came to mind, but he shut it down, put it in a vault and threw away the combination.
Of course he cared about her. She was his lover, his witness, but more than that, she was his friend. Sure, he’d known her for a few years, but she’d been a work acquaintance. The case had forced him to get to know her. She was strong, passionate in and out of the bedroom. She cared about her friends, her job. Loved her gram. She was funny, sexy and adorable. Gorgeous inside and out.
Nikki was…perfect.
Lee stopped to open the office door, and Pete came up short, almost bowling her over. He turned his body and ran into the side of the building instead. His forehead smacked the doorframe. His vision blurred and his temples throbbed.
“Shit!”
“Pete, crap. What happened? Are you okay?” Lee grabbed his arm. She steadied him when he wobbled on his feet, her grip surprisingly strong.
“I’m fine.”
Jesus.
He rubbed his head. No chance to even play it off.
What a fucking jackass.
“What happened?” His temporary partner stared at him, her gaze raking his face then his body. “Did you trip?”
Pretty bad when your knee-jerk is ‘I wish.’
“I must have.” Heat burned his neck and he fought the urge to tug at his collar.
“Hope you don’t end up with a shiner. You hit pretty hard.”
“Shit. No one will believe I actually walked into a door.”
“A building, actually.” Lee flashed a crooked smile.
“I’m glad I can entertain you.”
“Hey, we can always tell people Nikki beat you up. She does have a temper.”
Pete glared. “Let’s just get this done.”
“Here, let me open the door for you. I don’t want you to walk into it.”
He ignored her laugh at her own joke and followed her into the building.
They were able to bag some hair and collect some fibre particles that were a possible match for what had been found on Billy’s clothes and body, but the Hummer had been wiped clean by someone who’d known what they were doing.
Not one fingerprint on the leather seats, door handles or console. The only place that had prints was the steering wheel, and like Manning had told them, they were a match for Pete’s dead informant, Billy Madden.
They’d been left on purpose. Pete didn’t buy that Billy was the one who’d wiped the car down and accidentally left his prints on the wheel.
“What a fricking waste of time.” He sighed.
“Not really,” Lee said, hipping the door shut. “We got these.” She held up the bags of fibre and the dark hair they’d found in the carpet on the driver’s side of the big SUV. “And we’ve learned that the prints on the steering wheel were left deliberately.”
“The hair is black. Could be any one of them.”
“Right. But it could actually place Marchetti or Donati
in
the car. Goes from circumstantial to physical.”
“True.”
She smiled and tucked the sealed bags into the black case.