Deadly Chemistry (Entangled Ignite) (3 page)

Maybe Evan knew something that would help. He seemed to have an opinion about Dylan’s work situation.

“I was wondering—”

“Chief Crawford asked about you,” Evan said.

“Did he?” Great. “How is Dwayne?”

“Disappointed that you haven’t contacted him since you moved back to Tucker,” Evan said.

“I’m not sure—””

“I know that you think he’s disappointed in you because of your troubles, but I believe he’s a fairly forgiving person,” Evan told him.

Mike snorted. Crawford had better be
forgiving
, after all of the shit Dwayne had done in high school that Mike could use as blackmail material, were he so inclined. But he hadn’t contacted his old friend because he didn’t want to hear Crawford tell him he was tilting at windmills in his quest to find the source of Devil’s Dust.

“As a matter of fact,” Evan continued, “he said he was disappointed that you didn’t come to him when you moved back to town. Apparently, the Tucker Police Department has an opening.”

“I’m still technically employed by another department,” Mike said.

It was Evan’s turn to snort. “‘Suspended indefinitely, without pay’, sounds a lot like fired to me. I don’t know why you’d want to go back there, even if you were able to prove your innocence. And if you could work for someone who trusts you, like Crawford…”

Mike just shook his head. He wasn’t going to get into his desire for justice and redemption. “I’ll give Dwayne a call.” One of these days.

“Don’t forget dinner this weekend,” Evan said. “You agreed to bring the starchy side dish.”

“Potatoes. Yeah. I remember.”

“Or pasta, or rice. It doesn’t have to be—”

“Dylan wants Grandma’s cheesy potatoes.” Enough of the dinner discussion. He needed info on how Devil’s Dust was leaving campus, not a menu.

“Okay, potatoes,” Evan said. “And yourself. No matter how much you might want to drop off food and run, Grandma wanted us to have a home cooked meal
together
. We all promised her.”

“Grandma was out of her sweet mind with dementia when we made that promise,” Mike said. “She thought we were Great Uncle Samuel and Mom.”

Evan raised his eyebrows.

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’ll be there. Sunday. Five thirty.”

Evan nodded.

“I wonder if you—”

“There you are, Evan!” An old guy came around the corner, wearing a lab coat that fell all the way to the tops of his shiny saddle shoes.

Evan shot Mike an apologetic look. “This will take a while,” he muttered, then turned to Mr. Frump. “Hello, Dr. Jerrold.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Mike said, putting aside finding out how Lauren Kane’s drug—if it was her drug—was getting out of her lab and into the noses and veins of drug addicts.

“Have a good afternoon,” Evan said, and with that, he stepped around his brother and proceeded down the hall.

Mike tilted his head until his neck cracked, and then repeated the move on the other side. It was no use. He was going to have to hit the Advil.
And he needed to connect with Dylan to ask him what he knew about Lauren’s algae and Devil’s Dust. At least he finally had a lead. Even if it was his own kid brother.

…

After a long day of responding to calls about keys that didn’t fit in locks, overflowing dorm toilets, and windows that wouldn’t open, Mike tossed his tool belt behind the seat of his old F-150 and climbed into the cab. He’d rather have been back working as a cop—even directing traffic if he couldn’t be a detective again. But this maintenance gig was coming in pretty handy right now.

When he’d been fired, he’d already had a lead on where the Devil’s Dust was coming from—the university. He just needed a good excuse to be on campus. Pretending to be a student wouldn’t have worked—he’d have stood out like a sore thumb. So he’d called Jason, the maintenance supervisor, who had worked for Evan’s dad, Lloyd, back in the day. Lloyd taught Mike everything he knew about fixing stuff and had been more of a dad than Mike’s own sperm donor. Jason hired Mike, no questions asked.

The day had been long and relatively boring, but at least he’d found out where Devil’s Dust was most likely being created. What he hadn’t been able to do was get ahold of Dylan, no matter that he’d tried every which way to Sunday
to find him today. Damned kid. The delinquent knew it made Mike bat-shit crazy when he couldn’t find him.

He stuck his key in the ignition and prayed the old truck would start. It growled to life, and after coughing a few times, settled into a steady rumble. Too bad Dylan’s mechanic dad had been too busy shooting up heroin and beating his stepsons to show them how to do a tune-up on a vehicle.

As the truck warmed up, he stared through the bug-splattered windshield at the biology building, simultaneously hoping for a sight of the sexy scientist and chiding himself for it. Then, as though Mike had mentally summoned her, Lauren came through the building’s front door, carrying a plastic grocery bag. She skipped down the steps and looked toward the parking lot, right where Mike was parked. The moment she locked gazes with him, she hesitated and lost her footing, flailing awkwardly for a moment. Mike grabbed the door handle, planning to scoop her up if she fell, but she regained her balance. A black plastic bag, like the one she’d shown him a few hours ago, had fallen out of the plastic grocery bag and landed on the bottom step. After quickly glancing around, she picked it up, wrapped the remnants of the grocery bag around it, and tucked it under her arm. She stepped up her pace and hurried toward her car.

What the hell
? Was she taking the drug with her? So much for being sure she was innocent. Looked like he’d be taking a little drive before going home tonight. The cute scientist needed a little following.

Chapter Four

In the parking lot of the Tucker Animal Welfare Society where she volunteered, Lauren squinted against the late afternoon sunlight as she handed a bag of fortified rat pellets to her elderly friend, Rick. When he’d called her earlier in the day and mentioned he was about out of food, she’d agreed to meet him here with a load of yummies for Nibbles. It bugged her to no end that she had to
steal
trash so that the aging guy’s aging rat could eat well. The animals in the biology building lived better than most humans, and their chow was top of the line. When new shipments of food were brought in, the almost-empty bags were tossed out, meaning loads of perfectly good food was thrown away. So every now and then, Lauren scooped up a bag and brought it to the shelter for Rick’s rat. On a strict budget, the senior had enough trouble buying healthy food for himself, never mind his pet.

Yeah, it was just a rat, and yeah, rats could survive on almost anything, but Nibbles was special to the old guy, and Lauren was a soft touch.

The old man thanked her for her trouble and got into his car.

It was really no trouble, since she had to come out here to medicate Miss Posey, the decrepit cat who was probably yowling away inside the cinder-brick sanctuary. And coming out here to feed Miss Posey had been a good excuse to send Alex’s last phone call to voicemail.

She felt kind of bad about that, but she’d just seen him and hadn’t been in the mood to be friendly. And sure enough, his message was an offer to stop by and show her how he thought she should scan all of her hand written notes into digital form with an app he’d found on one of his email loops. Even though she could use the help, he was just trying to find an excuse to spend time with her, and she needed to cut that cord. They had been coworkers for so long—she never should have stepped over the line with him and gotten intimate.

Rick tooted the horn and turned to wave at her, then pulled out of the parking lot, right into the path of a big pickup truck that was pulling in.
Crap
. She hated turning away prospective owners, but it wasn’t an adoption night. The shelter was closed. Who was this?

The truck’s movement changed the angle of the sunlight that had been reflecting off of the windshield, and Lauren saw the driver.

What the heck
? Was that Mike Gibson?

He noticed her at the same time she saw him, and even though she gave him a friendly grin, the look he put on his face was priceless—if one tried to put value on expressions of dismay.

Well, she hadn’t expected to see him, either. Besides, she already knew she needed to stay away from him, so the fact that he didn’t appear thrilled to see her should have been a good thing. Except her feelings had taken a little nosedive when he didn’t smile back. She seriously needed to get a grip.

…

Shit!
The truck resisted when Mike yanked the steering wheel. He managed to miss the dusty Honda by a hair and land the F-150 inches from the edge of a drainage ditch. The truck stalled, however, as the other car putted away. He cranked the starter, but he’d nicknamed the beast Old Faithful out of irony, not because the name fit.
Damn it.
He turned to watch the vehicle gain momentum as it headed down the road. There went the package of algae pellets, he’d bet his tool belt on it.

“Are you okay?” Lauren appeared, her hand on his window frame, peering in at him.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Well, then, hi, Mike!”

“Hi, Lauren,” he said, after a beat. “What are you doing here?” What else was he gonna say?
Hi, where is that bag of dried drug stuff you showed me earlier today?

“Um…I volunteer here a couple of times a week. What brings
you
out this way tonight?” She rambled a little, as though she were nervous. Because she was doing something wrong? Or was it him who made her nervous? “Are you interested in adopting a pet? We’re closed, but I’ve got to do something inside anyway, if you’d like to come in and look around.”

He glanced at the building behind her. Huh. It was an animal shelter. “Um…” He scratched his chin, a day’s worth of stubble rasping under his fingers. He’d lost the guy in the Honda, who might—or might not—have the drugs in his car, but he might as well find out what Lauren was up to here. He scrambled to come up with an answer. “I…uh…yeah. I was thinking about looking into getting a dog—something Dylan could take care of, learn some responsibility, but if you’re closed, I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble! Let’s see who we have that might suit you.” Her sunny smile was so guileless that Mike was strangely ashamed that he was only pretending to want a dog. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, and opened the truck door. He looked toward the road one more time, then turned back to her, smiled, and said, “Fine. Let’s take a look.”

Lauren unlocked the big metal door and headed inside. He followed her in, only to be greeted by a cacophony of meows, woofs, and an occasional…bray? It took him a moment to readjust to the sudden wave of sound, and he looked around for Lauren. Aaaand there she was, bending over in those pants again to lift a cat into her arms.

He looked away—he should be mentally measuring the building for clandestine drug manufacturing space. “Does this building have a basement?”

“Huh?”

Subtle, Sherlock
. He thought fast. Difficult when his brain was vacationing in his pants. “On the way over here, I was listening to a news story about tornados.”

She seemed to accept this, started to speak, but he cut her off.

“I guess a cinder block building doesn’t need a storm cellar. Just a big internal storage room or something.”
Yes
, he was still the master of redirection.

“Well, we don’t have one of those, either, but then we aren’t in Kansas, right? Or a trailer park
anywhere
.”

“Good point.”

“What made you decide to adopt a pet
today
?” she asked, emphasis on today.

He needed a dog like he needed—well, he didn’t need a dog. Or a cat. Or a bird. Not even a fish, for that matter. “I heard this place was here, and I wasn’t doing anything else, so—”

Her face lit up. “You’ve heard of us? That’s so cool. We’re kind of new, so it’s great to know that the community’s taking notice.” She put the gray tiger cat on the floor, and it sauntered to a chair and jumped onto the seat.

“As a volunteer, what do you do here?” he asked. He wondered what she would say. He guessed “making drug deals” wasn’t going to be her answer.

She went to a cabinet behind the counter of the little office and took out a prescription bottle. “I’m the drug pusher,” she said.

The look on his face must have given away his thoughts, because she grinned.

“Kidding! We have an old cat who’s just getting over pneumonia, and she needs antibiotics. And an antidepressant, because she’s…well, anyway, you’ll meet her soon enough. The day person, Carol, dosed Posy before she left at lunch time, but I promised I’d take the night shift.”

“So you work here nights, even after you’re done doing mysterious science stuff?”

She laughed, a pure, sweet sound, and something zinged through him.

“I’m never done doing science stuff,” she admitted, “although, I sneak away now and then. But this isn’t work.” She picked up a package of cat treats and gestured toward another door. “We’ll just go through here.”

The room they entered had a wall of cages housing a variety of sleeping, meowing, and hissing cats—and one rabbit. The bottommost cage on the right side was draped with a towel. Lauren knelt down next to it and said, “Miss Posy, time for your medicine.”

When the most horrendous growl Mike had ever heard from a living creature came from behind the towel, Lauren looked up at him and shrugged. He tried not to notice that her top pulled down and displayed
almost
enough cleavage.
Completely
enough would be if that top accidentally shredded and floated away.

Aaaaand she was on her knees in front of him. He cleared his throat and squatted next to her.

“She’s a little grumpy by nature,” Lauren told him. “Actually…it might be good that you stopped by. She doesn’t like most people, but she seems to hate men less. Maybe you can hold her while I give her the pill.”

“Why is she behind a towel? Is she shy or something?” Or was the cat hiding a brick of illegal drugs?

“Or something. She just seems to like being in the dark.” Lauren pulled the towel aside, and Mike came face-to-face with the biggest, ugliest orange cat he’d ever seen. But no Devil’s Dust, unless the beast was responsible for creating it from the bowels of hell. Its eyes didn’t quite glow with demon fire, but…

“Holy shit,” he said.

The cat hissed.

“Now, Miss Posy, come on. It’s time for your goody.” Lauren turned away to open the pill container, taking one out and wrapping it in a piece of something soft and squishy. She looked at Mike. “If she sees me open the container, she won’t come out at all.”

She turned back around and showed the glob to the cat. “Lookie here! Treats!”

Mike was charmed in spite of himself.

“Okay, I’ll open the cage, you reach in and grab her.”

“Are you sure she won’t scratch my eyes out?”

Lauren smiled at him. “Nope. But you’re the Possum Wrangler, right? You’re probably braver than the Crocodile Hunter. I’m pretty sure you can take on one little old lady.”

“Elderly human ladies are my specialty.” Mike thought about his grandma and how he’d always managed to convince her to slip him an extra cookie after dinner, and her old friend Miss Emmie, who seemed to have a soft spot for him. “Not so sure about old cats.”

But he reached into the cage anyway and took out the giant cat. Its hair was matted in some places and missing in others. He held her around the middle, legs splayed, facing Lauren, who shook her head. Guess she was serious about him holding the cat. He tucked the beast against his chest. The damned thing started growling again.

“She likes you!”

“She’s growling at me.”

“That’s purring.” Lauren expertly pried the cat’s mouth open and shoved in the pill. Her head was inches from his face, and he breathed in lemons and flowers.

Mike cautiously shoved the thing back into its cage, where it turned and glared at him.

Lauren shook her head. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it much longer.” She looked like she might cry.

“Why? You’re giving her medicine.”

“Yes, but she’s got a nervous condition, which seems to be made worse by being here at the shelter. She doesn’t get along with the other animals. She scratches at herself constantly and keeps getting abscesses. If we can’t get her adopted, I’m afraid we’ll have to have her put to sleep.”

“Why don’t you take her home?” he asked. Lauren seemed like the type who would take in ugly strays on a regular basis. Hell, she was being nice to him.

“Kevin doesn’t like her.”

“You’re married?”
Aw, hell
. He hadn’t meant to ask that. He didn’t care if she was involved with someone or not. Well, maybe he did. But not because he was interested in her. If she was involved with someone, he needed to know if they were part of whatever was going on with the disappearance of the drugs from her lab.

She laughed. “Kevin’s my cat. I took Miss Posy home overnight once, and it got bloody. No, I’m single. Um…” She shook her head, and Mike detected a faint blush. “Do you want to see the dogs? We’ve got an awesome lab mix. He’s perfect for a guy. He loves to play catch.”

Playing catch sounded do-able.

However, fifteen minutes later, he was the shell-shocked foster dad of a cat. Not an energetic, mixed-breed dog who would play catch and be a girl-magnet, but one very ugly, very neurotic cat. Lauren had convinced him that, even though the damned thing needed medicine twice a day, it would be lower maintenance than a dog, and fit into his and Dylan’s irregularly scheduled lifestyles better. The way she looked at him, like he was some kind of a hero, made it almost worthwhile. He was only keeping it until they found another home for it, though.

“Your name’s not staying Miss Posy,” he told the thing as it dug its claws into the upholstery of his truck. It glared and snarled. He slammed the door, which bounced open again. He grabbed the cat before she made a break for it and repeated the process. On the third try, the door stayed shut. He turned to find Lauren had followed him out of the building.

“What are you going to call her?” she asked.

“Possum.”

She grinned, but then her expression grew into a hot stare that traveled from his eyes to the vicinity of his mouth. His own gaze moved along a similar path over her face, but he didn’t stop at her mouth. He went as far as to see the blush that stained her upper chest and the slight rise of hard nipples behind bra and sweater.

Okay, he admitted it. He wanted her. Shit, he’d just named his fucking cat after the very moment they’d met, a whopping twelve hours ago.

Her chest rose and fell. He looked back at her face, and he realized that
she
realized he’d been staring at her breasts. And was smiling shyly instead of looking offended. He needed to get out of there before he kissed her. Hell, he already needed to adjust his jeans.

He stepped away and shoved a hand through his hair. He hadn’t found anything fishy at the shelter, in spite of asking every question he could think of to get her to show him the facility. There was no mysterious room full of Bunsen burners and barrels of chemicals or anything, no boxes filled with empty drug vials, waiting to be filled.

He couldn’t think of another reason to stick around. Not one that didn’t involve pressing Lauren up against the side of his truck and kissing the hell out of her. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

She nodded, then licked her lips and said, “Um, yeah. Okay. If you—” She gestured to the newly christened and howling Possum. “If you need any help, advice or anything, let me know.”