Amy sighed with happiness as she took Walker’s hand. “You ready?” she asked, happiness almost oozing out of her.
He winked down at her. “I was ready a year ago, woman,” he growled.
Amy laughed softly, but she turned to hand Lilly over to Nina and Hannah. “Let’s do this,” she said with a giddiness bubbling up inside of her.
The minister smiled and opened his book, cleared his throat and started the ceremony. Less than twenty minutes later, Amy turned to face Walker, a look of disbelief in her blue eyes. “We’re married,” she whispered, and everyone chuckled. Walker didn’t laugh, but the amusement lit up his eyes. Amy laughed herself, knowing that no one could look as happy as Walker did at this moment. That obvious sentiment at such a special moment made this momentous day, the day she’d thought would never happen, even more amazing.
“You’re okay?” she asked, smiling up at the man who had shocked her world from the first moment she’d locked eyes with him.
“I’m more than okay,” he replied back.
The clapping from behind them finally broke through their conversation and Amy turned to smile and wave to her friends and students from school on one side of the aisle while the hoots and hollers from the police contingent was a bit louder, rowdier.
Nina was laughing as well while Hannah, super excited that Walker had finally fallen in love, was jumping up and down with her excitement.
Walker pulled her against his side, waving to the people cheering, clapping and laughing. “They’re just astonished that three of us have fallen so quickly,” he said.
Amy giggled and snuggled closer. “Probably.” She turned, peering at Colt who was standing right behind Brock and Sam. “Soon though,” she said, eyeing the man in the dark suit.
An hour later, Walker pulled Amy onto the dance floor that had been finished just yesterday by the four men. She was surprised too, because she didn’t think that Walker knew how to dance. He was so big and muscular, one would think that he wouldn’t deign to dance, but as he pulled her out onto the dance floor, her eyes widened in excitement. “You dance?” she asked softly.
“For you, yes,” he replied and spun her around, admiring the soft, white dress as it floated around her beautiful legs. “Anything for you.”
She smiled up at him, her freckles standing out more as her pale cheeks blushed. She knew what he was silently telling him. She’d seen that look in his eyes often enough.
Amy laughed and moved back into his eyes, enjoying the way he swayed to the music. “You’re wonderful,” she said softly.
“I love you,” he whispered back to her.
Brock and Sam pulled Hannah and Nina closer, waiting until it would be appropriate to dance right alongside their friend.
“Where’s Colt?” Hannah asked, looking around for the fourth man in their contingent.
Sam and Brock looked at each other, a knowing looking in their eyes. “He left.”
“A while ago,” Sam confirmed. “He has something important to do.”
Nina and Hannah looked at each other as well, a smile growing on their faces. “Would it have anything to do with Chloe? That sweet woman we met at Walker’s place several weeks ago?” Hannah asked.
Sam shrugged his massive shoulder,
then pulled her out onto the dance floor. “I think you’re beautiful,” he told her.
Hannah gladly moved into his arms, shaking her head. “And I think you’re holding something back,” she replied right back to him.
“That’s certainly possible,” was all he would say.
Amy and Walker knew nothing of what was going on. All they knew was that they were finally married after too long of a separation.
“You’re police officers, right?” the tall, skinny guy behind the counter whispered, setting an enormous bag filled with food down on the counter. Even while he spoke the man glanced behind him as if to make sure no one was listening or watching.
“Detectives,” Colt corrected, handing the waiter some money
as his muscles tensed, expecting trouble. Colt sensed that Brock was alert as well, both of them immediately using their peripheral vision to scan the area for a threat.
The youngish cashier glanced behind him again, his eyes looking into the brightly lit kitchen
, which was closed off from the eating area by a pair of swinging doors. “My boss needs help. But she won’t admit it.”
“What’s the problem?” Brock interjected.
The cashier, who looked to be about twenty years old and spent way too much time styling his hair in Colt’s opinion, was obviously nervous and fidgety. With a look that should be reserved for Hollywood performers over-acting their scenes, he leaned forward and, in a stage whisper said, “Death threats!” His eyes were wide and he was nodding his head for emphasis.
With this “revelation”,
Colt looked at his partner, Brock Transom, and both of them relaxed somewhat, although they both remained on alert. “What kind of death threats?”
A d
eath threat was certainly a bad sign, but it was also a crime yet to be committed. There wasn’t as much urgency surrounding them, unless someone took the time to be specific, graphic, or referenced a specific event or timetable. Then the threats became something different.
Another employee, this one just as ostentatiously styled and excited, jumped into the conversation, leaning over the counter as if he might push a brown envelope over the surface filled with classified documents. “Are these the officers you mentioned?” he asked the
First Guy in a frantic whisper, trying to speak without moving his lips. Unfortunately, this gave him the appearance of a ventriloquist, and a bad one at that. They were obviously friends, and very close by the way they acted.
First Guy nodded, his eyes glancing to the left and right, his body then twisting to look behind him. “Yes. But keep it down. If Chloe hears, she’ll wring our necks!”
Second Guy cringed and also glanced behind himself, obviously worried about their boss. “You’re right, but someone has to stop it. She’s just going to let it go on and on, hoping it will simply go away if she ignores it long enough.” They both looked at each other, then back at Colt and Brock. “She does it with her car too. Don’t even try to guess how long it has been since she changed the oil in that poor vehicle.”
“Or fixed that clicking sound in the back tire?” First Guy prompted.
Second Guy nodded. “And that irritating smell that happens when she drives over seventy…” he stopped, looked at the officers and finished by saying, “slightly over the speed limit.”
Colt’s eyes were going back and forth between the two men
– his impatience growing even as his tension was dissipating. It didn’t sound as if there was a current threat here, or these two would be ducking down behind the counter. “Perhaps someone should explain the problem and we can see if there’s something we can do to help.” He paused before he said, “We’re not very good at ignoring a problem until it smells bad.”
Now that they understood that there wasn’t an imminent threat, Brock glanced at his watch and Colt knew that his partner was eager to get out of there. He wanted to see his new wife, Nina, and spending time with these doddering idiots, who couldn’t even make up their mind to get help, wasn’t on Brock’s agenda. Nor was it on Colt’s.
Of course, the mysterious “Chloe” was probably the real nitwit. If she was getting death threats, she should have contacted the police immediately. As homicide detectives, it was always better to be called in about a threat than a murder. They generally preferred preventing a homicide over investigating one.
The two younger men, probably a couple, looked at each other,
then nodded as a silent agreement passed between them.
They
turned to face Brock and Colt, shoulders squared off and determined expressions on their young faces. First Guy spoke up, obviously the leader. “Chloe, the owner of this bistro, has been getting death threats in the mail, two or three a week for the past four weeks.”
Colt’s body stiffened
once again. One or two death threats would be bad. Getting two or three every week? What was the woman thinking to not bring them to the police?! “What is she doing about them?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing with both concern and irritation. “One or two death threats might only be someone trying to intimidate a person. But if this has been going on for a month, that’s a more serious threat.”
Second Guy threw up his hands. “That’s what we keep telling her!” he said, leaning forward with enthusiasm and excitement that someone was finally taking him seriously.
First Guy nodded emphatically as well, both of them in complete agreement and obviously relieved that Colt and Brock were taking on the problem. “We’ve told her repeatedly to go to the police.”
Colt’s frown deepened. “What’s she been doing with the death threats?” he asked.
The two men looked at each other again, one of them covering his mouth as if afraid to answer. The other looked up at Colt, then at Brock, and cringed. “Maybe you’d better talk to her. But don’t let her know that we brought it to your attention.”
Brock’s hands moved to his hips, his patience wearing thin. “How the hell are we supposed to tell her we’re going to investigate repeated death threats when she won’t even tell us she’s been getting them?”
Colt rubbed a hand over the muscles in his neck, trying to regain some of his patience. He was hungry and tired, he and Brock had been doing paperwork for the past three days and all he wanted to do was head home and watch the football game.
“Where can we find this Chloe woman?” he asked, cutting to the chase.
First Guy and Second Guy turned in unison and pointed towards the swinging door that led to the kitchen area. “Back there!” they whispered dramatically.
Colt smothered his amusement at their drama and moved towards the door. “You get the check,” he said to Brock. “I’ll go talk to this woman and see if there’s anything we can do to help.”
Brock chuckled and whipped out his wallet, thinking he’d gotten the better end of the bargain. Talking with what appeared to be an irrational and overbearing woman who wouldn’t take threats seriously was not on the top of his want-to-do lists.
As
Colt pushed open the door, the incredible smells that had been wafting around out in the dining area surrounded him. He stepped into the well-lit kitchen with stainless steel counters and white subway tiles on the walls. Colt’s mouth started watering just thinking about the sandwich he’d ordered. Brock and Colt came to this place at least once a week to grab a sandwich because they really were the best in town. Although the options were few – generally sandwiches and salads along with interesting non-alcoholic drinks – the freshness of the ingredients and the way they were prepared made the food stand out above the rest of the deli shops in the city. The sauces were incredible. His favorites were either spicy or savory, with just enough of a twist to startle the palette. The breads were top notch and the gourmet meats and cheeses were chosen to pair perfectly. One never knew what kind of sandwich would be available since the menu changed almost daily. And only two or three varieties were on sale each day, but people flocked to the bistro, more than willing to take whatever was being served because they knew it would be delicious.
This place was so popular, some days there was a line out the door. Actually getting a table was the equivalent of finding gold in the middle of the Atlantic. It was easier during the dinner rush
, but basically impossible during lunch. While the peak demand was flowing, there were about ten people behind the counter putting sandwiches together as fast as possible. They were bought up as soon as they were made, no matter how many ready-made sandwiches were stacked up in the refrigerated section before the lunch rush started.
So as Colt stepped into the warm, scent filled kitchen, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. The lunch rush had died down and the dinner rush hadn’t started
. Although he had been one of those customers standing in line several times before, he had never seen the owner. In no way would he have imagined the woman standing at the stove, stirring something that smelled like heaven.
She was shorter than he would have pictured.
And blond. And damn, her profile looked good! She appeared to be about twenty-five years old, although surely she had to be older to be the owner of such a successful bistro. Her short, pixie haircut made her neckline look delicate, waif-like. In fact, her whole body looked slight, as if a gentle breeze might just blow her over.
And then she turned to look at him, a startled expression in her enormous hazel eyes. Colt looked across the kitchen at her and swore that the air shifted when her long lashes moved. Or was that the gut punch to his stomach at the sight of this woman?
His eyes traveled downwards, his muscles tightening for some strange reason. He’d seen beautiful women before. Hell, he’d dated half the single, female population of Chicago. Maybe more! But something about this woman struck him in a different, more vibrant and challenging way. And then his eyes latched onto her tee-shirt. Oh yes, her breasts were full and voluptuous, but it was the words that caught his attention, and that in itself was shocking. “Leave me alone, I’m only speaking to my cat today” was emblazoned in black letters on a white background. He chuckled, wondering if this woman actually had a cat.
“Something tells me you’re not here for the job.”
Colt’s eyes traveled back up to hers and he tensed even more as he realized she was looking at him anxiously. “I’m Detective Meyers,” he explained, extending his hand in greeting.
After having spent more than ten years on the police force, six of them as a detective, he was rarely surprised any longer by a person’s reaction to various situations. But for the second time in only a few short minutes, this little lady surprised him.
Instead of taking his hand in greeting like a normal person, or even telling him to get lost because she didn’t need his help, she grabbed a wooden spoon. “Mark, I’m going to beat you for this!” And she started to charge towards the doors.
Colt was stunned for
half a second but then his reflexes returned. He took a step forward and grabbed the woman around her waist, lifting her up so that her momentum was stopped. She’d only made it to the doorway, halfway in the kitchen and halfway in the dining area, but she still wiggled her slender body against him and he gritted his teeth as his body reacted to her delectable struggles.
“Let me go!” she growled furiously, glaring at the two men who were cowering by the countertop. “They’re rat finks and they need to be beaten!”
First Guy, who was obviously named Mark, spread his hands wide, plainly trying to calm her down but without much success. “Someone needed to step in, Chloe,” he explained placatingly. “You were trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, but clearly, something is seriously wrong.”
Chloe obviously didn’t agree
, because she tried to jerk out of Colt’s arms again, attempting to reach the two men who had ratted out her problem to strangers. “No! The only thing wrong is that you told this gorilla,” she spat out, glaring up at Colt who was still holding her off the ground, “something that I didn’t want anyone else to know about. Now you’re in big trouble!”
Mark’s posture suddenly change
d and he stood up straighter. “You can’t handle this problem alone!” he said forcefully, standing up straighter before looking Colt up and down. “And of all the people who might help, this guy looks like the answer to several of your issues.”
Chloe knew exactly what he was talking about and her mouth fell open in horror. “I don’t have any issues!” she came right back angrily.
“Least of all problems that someone with more muscles than brains could solve.”
Mark looked at Colt and then smiled back to Chloe. “Honey, you have huge problems. And if you don’t want to deal with them, then let this guy solve my problems!” He chuckled before shaking his head, tilting his head with a sigh. “But he probably doesn’t swing that way so you’re stuck with him.” Then Mark shook his head as if trying to shake off disappointment, focusing back on Chloe. “Besides, if you play your cards right and show those deadly dimples, I’m guessing your major one, namely the fact that you haven’t let a man into your bed in years, could be solved immediately.”
Chloe blushed when she heard the deep chuckle right by her ear. She was having a really hard time ignoring the intense heat that was singeing her skin, caused by this man’s chest against her back. The muscular arm wasn’t relenting, so she took out her frustration on Mark. What she going to do to a guy holding her a foot off of the floor?! “Mark, drop it! I don’t…you can’t…” She couldn’t come up with words that wouldn’t reveal too much, so she lifted the wooden spoon in the air. “Just come closer, you wimp! Just two feet! I dare you!”