Authors: Carolyn McCray,Elena Gray
“I thought
you
were,” Callie replied, peeking her head into Alexis’ room.
“Ugghh, Callie. Not again.”
Although she really shouldn’t have been surprised that Callie forgot. Ever since grade school, the only things that Callie was sure to remember was a boy’s name and which store had the best sale.
“No worries,” Alexis said. “Chester chased it out. It’s probably in your room by now.”
Callie’s brown eyes widened. Her feet barely touched the floor as she hopped on Alexis’ bed. Dear God, Callie was such a girly girl. Her shoulder-length, curly brown hair was tucked neatly behind her ears. Her turquoise top was belted around her narrow waist. Straightening her skirt, Callie sat down on the bed.
“So, tell me more about Travis,” Callie said as she tucked her knees under her chin.
“I told you,” Alexis said over her shoulder as she walked into the bathroom. “He invited me back at ten.”
Alexis pulled on her black workout pants. Did they make her hips look big? She wasn’t about to ask Callie, because she would tell her the truth. Alexis wanted to keep the illusion that the spandex highlighted her toned abs.
Yeah, right.
“I can’t believe you kicked him!” Callie exclaimed. “That’s so unlike you!”
“I was stupid and desperate,” Alexis said, leaning out of the bathroom. She tugged on a pink tank top.
Another squeal came from the bedroom. Alexis rushed out, thinking it was the mouse again, only to find Callie holding up a surveillance photo.
“This him?” Callie asked. “Oh my God! He is hot!”
Alexis rushed over, snatching the picture from Callie’s hand. “How many times have I told you? You can’t rummage through my police files!”
It was no use. Callie simply grabbed another photo. “Look at those biceps!”
Alexis gathered all the photos and stuffed them back into the folder. “Damn it! I’m trying to maintain some shred of confidentiality.”
“Oh, please,” Callie said, rolling her eyes. “Like I’m going to turn informant or something. Come on,” she said, practically salivating. “In some of those, he looked almost naked.”
Callie wiggled her fingers out in front of her, just like she did when she wanted Alexis to share her lemon drops. It worked then, and it worked now. Besides, half the pictures in there were from Google anyway. Alexis opened the file, tugging the pictures out.
“Are his eyes really that blue?” Callie sighed. “Jeez, he is sexy. He is …”
“A criminal. Remember?” Was she really reminding Callie of that, or herself? With Callie gushing, it was easy to forget. Just because he was good-looking didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer.
“I’m investigating him,
not
scoping him out.”
“God, you are such a wet blanket,” Callie said, frowning. “You’re never going to loosen him up with that attitude.”
Alexis snatched the pictures away from Callie. “This is official police business. Not your … your usual …”
“What, Alexis?” Callie stared Alexis in the eye. “Oh … like acting at the local playhouse isn’t as important as your job? Hate to tell you, dear, but you’re doing the same thing I am.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Pushing herself off the bed, Alexis set the file on her dresser.
“Come on! Ever look up the definition of acting? ‘Pretending like you are someone else?’ Please. Undercover agents are just poorly trained actors trying to muddle through. You’d be smart to take some pointers from me.”
Alexis tried to judge whether Callie was serious or not. Acting and police work were definitely not the same. Callie’s life wasn’t on the line every time she stepped on stage. She didn’t have to worry if the actor across from her would pull a knife or shoot her in the back. “Whatever,” Alexis said as she slipped on her hooded sweatshirt. She grabbed her purse off the dresser and stepped into the hallway.
Callie rushed after her. “So, what’s your character’s motivation? Where is she coming from? What does she want?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Alexis hurried down the stairs to the main floor of their townhouse. Opening the hall closet, she dug through Callie’s designer shoes for her sneakers. How could one person have so many shoes? The overflow ended up in the guest bedroom closet.
“You might want to work on loosening up a bit.” Callie hovered over Alexis’ shoulder. “Anal retention isn’t your best look.”
Plucking her sneakers out of the pile, she glanced up at Callie with a scowl.
Her friend scowled right back. “Seriously, Alexis. Any guy who looks like Travis isn’t going to groove on some of your more difficult personality traits.”
“And what would those be?” Alexis asked as she tied her shoes.
“Remember, you asked …” She ticked off each point on her fingers. “Let’s start with compulsively neat, overachieving, and inflexible …” she smiled as she said the last word. “And pouty,” Callie added.
Alexis rolled her eyes until she realized that she was, in fact, pouting. But Callie should try growing up with three brothers and a police chief father.
“Where you going?” Callie questioned as Alexis swiped her keys out of the bowl on the entry table.
“I’ve got to meet him, remember?” Alexis zipped up her hoodie.
Confused, Callie glanced at her watch. “But that’s in two hours.”
“I’d like to get there a bit …”
“Add
pathologically
early to that list. You have
got
to mellow out, girl.”
“I’ve got a job to do,” Alexis snapped.
“Which is to snare a man,” Callie responded. “And I’m telling you, with your attitude, you ain’t snagging nobody.”
“Really?” Alexis countered. “Because I’ve got a date tomorrow night.” Okay, that wasn’t exactly true, but she had been asked
out
on a date tomorrow night.
“Wow!” Callie exclaimed, pushing the door closed. Alexis tried to get by, but her friend leaned her back against it, blocking the townhouse’s only exit. “Is this some kind of record? Three whole dates in a row before you dismiss the guy? How’d Nick get so lucky?”
Alexis sighed. She now knew how a criminal felt while being interrogated. “Callie, can you just let it go?”
“Miss Frigidaire turning up the heat a bit? Have you even let him kiss you, yet? Huh?”
Alexis ignored the question, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. She tried to push Callie aside. As stubborn as Callie was, she wouldn’t budge. Alexis walked toward the kitchen, hoping that Callie would leave her post at the door.
“My point exactly,” Callie pressed, following Alexis down the hall. “Now, cough it up. Why another date? Is it because your dad likes him? Or is it because he doesn’t?
Alexis could feel her temples begin to throb. While she was in the kitchen, she might as well grab some aspirin, too.
“Dad likes him, but …”
“Remember that time you went out without your dad’s approval? Wow, talk about ruptured blood vessels.”
As Callie rambled on, Alexis grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and tossed the bottle of aspirin in her bag.
“What was his name? The hottie with the fierce abs?”
“It was Fernando,” Alexis replied. She left the kitchen and made her way back to the front door. “What does that matter? It was back in college.”
The night air was cool as Alexis stepped out on their porch. Callie followed in her socks—too distracted, it appeared, to bother putting shoes on.
“I know, but it’s the only time I saw you be daring. You’ve got to tap into that energy. I’m telling ya.”
What was wrong with playing it safe, anyway? Wasn’t her career dangerous enough? Why must her personal life mirror it? Alexis was content with her life. Wasn’t she?
Callie’s tone suddenly got serious. “I’m not kidding, Alexis. You’ve
got
to be bold. Take the initiative! Make this Travis Dekker want to know more about you.”
Alexis forced a half smile to her lips. “Thanks for the advice.”
“No prob,” Callie said. She stepped back so Alexis could get into her car. As Alexis backed out of the driveway, her friend shouted, “I’ll be waiting up!”
Well, Callie was going to be disappointed when Alexis got home.
This was strictly a business call.
CHAPTER 4
Alexis stepped into the deserted studio. She could hear the
clang
of lockers and muffled laughter from the back of the studio. Alexis had waited in her car for over an hour, watching to see who entered and who left. Unfortunately, there was no action. Nothing to report on. She guessed that she was going to have to get up close and personal to get any information.
She walked toward Dekker’s closed office door, hoping that he hadn’t forgotten about their lesson. Muffled shouts came from the other side of the door. Alexis stepped back as the door jerked open. A wiry man in rumpled pants and a button-up shirt backed out as Dekker stalked toward him. The veins bulged in his neck.
“Get the hell out of my studio and don’t ever come back!” Dekker’s finger jabbed the man in the chest—hard enough that the guy stumbled backward. “If I get a whiff that you’ve ratted me out, your family can start searching the obituaries for your name.”
The man’s eyes sought out Alexis. But she could offer him no protection, not if she wanted to keep up her cover. Visibly shaken, he rushed past her, letting the exit door slam closed behind him. Seeing Dekker like this, muscles taut and eyes hardened, was a little too close to his sparring video. She was tempted to turn and follow the man out of the studio. She would hand the case back to Beck and accept the razzing of the century.
Then Dekker met Alexis’ gaze. “Punctual, I see.”
Dekker’s tone was level as his demeanor went from sixty to zero. Suddenly he was calm, despite the heated altercation of only a second ago.
“What was that about?”
“I find obituaries fascinating. Don’t you?”
“Um …” Obituaries. Alexis was at a loss. Was he being serious? Or testing her to see how much she had heard?
“I love to scan them,” Dekker continued as he guided her toward the workout area. “Read through them. See who’s died.”
Side by side, Alexis realized that he towered over her. She resisted the urge to step away. She struggled to control her breathing as he went on.
“How old they were, what they used to do, and who’s outlived them. If I like their story well enough, I send them flowers or go visit the graves.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
All she could do was stare.
“A little humor?” Dekker smiled at her and winked. “Lighten up.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her toward the studio. “I hope you catch on to karate faster.”
“Me too,” Alexis replied, avoiding his gaze.
Although Alexis was beginning to sense that Dekker’s humor was not without foundation.
He stopped them in front of a black, heavy bag hanging from the ceiling. “All right. Let’s see your stuff.”
Alexis looked from Dekker to the bag, suddenly nervous now that she had to perform in front of him. He was an MMA champion. But come on. She could hit a bag. How badly could she hit a bag?
Dekker lifted a brow at Alexis, waiting for her to make a move. She approached the bag, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants. Assuming a fighting stance, she planted her feet wide apart. Alexis’ right fist, then her left, pounded into the bag. The solid bag didn’t shift under her blows. She kept the moan to herself as the pain shot through her knuckles.
“Again,” Dekker barked.
Alexis blew out a breath. Clenching her fists, she extended her arms with a one-two punch. The bag still didn’t budge. Damn. These bags were three times heavier than the ones she was used to.
“Again. Harder.”
Focusing her attention on the bag, Alexis flexed the muscles in her arms. Her grunts were loud in the studio as she punched with full force. Alexis repeated the movement, falling into a steady rhythm. Sweat trickled down her back as she looked at Dekker for approval.
“Not too bad,” he mumbled.
Not too bad? Her freakin’ arms felt like rubber. She’d probably be lucky if she could lift her coffee cup in the morning. “Thought I’d punch like a girl?”
“Something like that. Now, let’s work on your side kick.”
Alexis looked at Dekker warily, remembering her last attempt at a side kick.
Dekker smirked. “It looked like it needed some fine-tuning.”
Embarrassed, Alexis watched Dekker take the fighting stance. Legs spread, he stood perpendicular to the bag. Lifting his right leg, he bent it at the knee. Pivoted and perfectly balanced, he extended his leg chest high. Re-tucking his leg, Dekker placed his foot back on the floor.
He looked at Alexis. “Now, give it a try.”
Alexis unzipped her hoodie, stripped it off, and tossed it in the corner. She resumed her fighting stance and mimicked Dekker’s movement. Well,
tried
to mimic his movement. It turned out that college was a long time ago. What happened to muscle memory kicking in?
“Again,” Dekker demanded.
She repeated the movement until her legs begin to shake.
“Now, I want you to do a spinning side kick. Like this.”
Dekker approached the bag, muscles bunched. He fisted his hands and raised them. Dekker lifted his back leg, spun one hundred and eighty degrees, and smashed his foot into the bag. It creaked on its chain as it swung toward the ceiling.
“Wow,” she said without thinking.
“Well, you seem easily impressed.”