Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (19 page)

“Yeah, what do you have?”

He laughs, and his fingers comb through his hair. “Nothing. We can get take out.”

“It’s like two in the afternoon?”

“So? It’s Saturday. There are no rules on Saturday.”

I nod, placing my notebook on the table. “Okay, Frankie’s again?”

“I wish. They won’t deliver this far. Believe me I’ve tried.”

“Hmm, pizza?”

“I’m really craving something deep-fried and super unhealthy. How about Chinese food?”

“I can go for some wonton soup.”

“Soup? You’re going to get soup? No. No, that isn’t going to happen.”

“And an eggroll?” I offer.

“Junk food.”

“Fine, order me a chicken and broccoli. But don’t you forget that eggroll.”

“You got it, doll.”
Doll?
My heart stops. “Sorry,” he continues, “I don’t know where that word came from. My partner says that sometimes.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind it.”

He leaves me with a smile before wandering into the kitchen.

An hour or so later, we have assumed the same positions in the living room again. Before us on the coffee table sits an entire spread of food. I don’t know whom John thought he was ordering for, but it is definitely more than a girl my size can eat. I take a bite of an eggroll when I catch John out from the corner of my eye.

He rips opens the rice container and whisks some into his mouth with chopsticks. They act more like a shovel than a utensil. I try to hide the laugh bubbling in my throat.

“What? Come on!” he screams at the football game blaring on the television on the far wall. “If that were going any slower it would have a ‘Baby on Board’ sticker!”

I shake my head, finally returning to my homework. Settling into a spot between the floor and the coffee table, I open my notebook. The study guide seems to be coming along nicely. Occasionally, John kicks something or yells an expletive, but for the most part, I’m able to focus.

A little while later, I realize the cursing has stopped and the television is quiet. Curiously, I glance up. John is looking at me. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are… soft.

Breaking the moment, he blinks. “You’re really writing up a storm.”

“Yeah, writing helps me to remember.”

“What class is this for?” He slides across the couch and joins me on the floor. His tall legs slip under the coffee table as his arms wrap around me.

“Advanced Criminology.”

“Wow, your classes are no joke.” His eyes dart over my papers.

“No, I guess not.” I shrug. “I never really minded hard classes. I figure they’ll prepare me for law school. “

I pause, placing my pen down on the table – bracing myself.
Here comes the shock
.

“If anyone can do it, you can.” I look back at him. “You’re the type of girl that can do anything she puts her mind to. I wouldn’t expect anything less, little nerd.”

His hand grips the back of my head, pulling me to his lips. He then places a quick peck on my forehead before reaching for the remote. The volume returns to its loud state and some people sitting around a table begin reiterating details about the very game he just watched. I hide a small smile as I return my attention back to homework.

By the time I find my phone in my backpack, I have twelve missed calls and fourteen text messages. There is only one person in the world that would text me so much with no shame: Meggie.

I begin to listen to one of her many voicemails: Becca Swanson! What the hell are you doing that you can’t answer my million text messages? You better not be studying!

The next one: Listen, you better be having mind blowing sex that make your legs jelly so that you can’t possibly get to your phone. It had better not be something boring, like being in class.

After a few more, I just end up deleting them. The text messages start out with just a ‘
Hey
’, and then end up with the same comicalness as the voicemails. I should have made her wait even longer, but instead I call her back.

She picks up before the first ring even ends. “You’re alive!”

“I’m alive.”

“I thought someone may have kidnapped you because I said to myself, ‘there is no reason Becca Swanson wouldn’t call me back for
two
days’.”

“What if she was just taking a page from your book?”

There’s a pause. “Is she having mind blowing sex?”

“She is.” I glance up and notice John is watching me from his spot on the couch.

“Oh. My. God. Tell me everything.”

“Maybe later.”

“You’re still there, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I laugh.

She whispers now as if he could hear her, “Is it with that Hot Officer-Bouncer?”

I turn away from the couch, attempting to hide the smile plastered all over my face. “It is.”

“Go, Becca! I’m so proud of you. I can’t even believe it.”

“I’ll call you when I get home.”

“You better; I want to hear all about this. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

“I know. I promise to call later.”

We hang up the phone and I turn to face John’s curious eyes.

“Let me guess, Meggie?”

“How did you know?” I chuckle.

“She’s the only one that would excuse you for not calling her because you were getting laid.”

“How do you know that’s what she said?”

He gives me a face. “Becca, I’m a cop. I can read between the lines.”

“Guilty as charged.” I slip over the backside of the couch and into the space next to him.

“Now, I have to get to work in a half hour.”

“Good,” I mutter, with a soft kiss. “All I need is fifteen minutes.”

He groans against my lips as I climb into his lap.

Another weekend passes and is nothing short of amazing. The cute little moan that gets caught in her throat when I enter her; the way she is constantly looking to please me. If I could go back to my apartment right now, I would. I can’t seem to ever get enough of her. Those panties she wears around my apartment drive me crazy. They only cover half her butt cheek, but they are all lace so it’s like she’s wearing a thong. It makes me hard just thinking about it.

“John?”

I blink. Matt is sitting at the bar beside Mr. Collins, pads of paper between them. “Yeah?”

“Are we going to get this started?” My partner’s voice seems to gain more authority as the days go on.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His bushy eyebrows arch.

“Yeah, let’s go. Who’s up first?”

“Taylor,” Matt announces. I haven’t seen Taylor since that night.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Let me know if there is anything you guys need. I’ll just be in my office.” Mr. Collins climbs off the barstool.

“Thank you,” we both reply.

After Mr. Collins steps away through the kitchen doors, I feel Matt watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” I’ve been working with Matt for over a year now. If he thinks there is a facial expression I haven’t seen of his, he is sorely mistaken.

“Let’s get down to business.” Matt remarks.

“I’m waiting on you.”

Taylor comes from the kitchen with a sandwich between his hands. His dark skin glistens in the bright daylight filtering in from the front windows. His muscles flex under a white tank top as his arms lift the sandwich to his mouth. He walks up beside us at the bar.

“Hey, Smith, I hear you guys wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, it’s about that night they drugged the girl. We just want to take a statement from you.”

“What do you need to know?” He props himself up on a bar stool. It looks funny, like an elephant on a unicycle. It doesn’t appear normal.

Matt takes the lead as we talked about earlier. He thinks I may be too invested in this case. He wants the questions to be calculated and firm. When he said it to me, I was actually offended. If there is one thing that I’m good at, it’s my job. The fact that he thinks I can’t do that because of a
girl
is insane.

I zone back in halfway through the questions. “Did you see the girl in question?”

“I saw her once or twice. I didn’t exactly keep tabs on her all night. There was a problem at the door that pretty much took my attention most of the night.”

“Around closing time, you saw Smith leave his post. Tell us about the events leading up to that.”

“I had just come back in after the police cleared the front door. I was standing post inside the vestibule when I saw Smith climb down and dash out the back door. That’s not like him. He’s the sternest motherfucker I’ve ever seen when at his post. Naturally, I expected a fight was breaking out. I followed. He was on the edge of the back patio. Two guys were running away through the parking lot and there was a blonde girl in Smith’s arms.”

“How did the girl look?”

“Damn.” He rubs his hand on the back of his bald head. “She looked pale. Her eyes were closed, hands and legs were limp.”

“What did Smith say to you?”

“He told me to cover for him, that he was taking her to the hospital.”

“Did you think that was odd?”

“That Smith stepped up to help an unconscious girl? No. That’s Smith.”

Taylor’s brown eyes meet mine and I nod in appreciation. At least someone here knows I take my job seriously.

“Okay. I think that’s all we need. If we find the guys, would you be able to ID them in a line up?”

“I only saw their backs while they were running away. I don’t know how much help I can be.”

“Okay. Thanks for you time.” Matt nods dismissively.

“Thanks, Taylor, I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you, Smithy.”

After Taylor leaves out the back door, I turn back to Matt. “Who’s next?”

“Mack?”

“Oh.” That guy puts Taylor’s muscles to shame. “Let me get him.”

Mack was just where I expected, in the kitchen. A few of the bouncers were around the tiny little television, watching the baseball game.

“Mack,” I call over their rants. His bald dome is a head above everyone else and he turns at the sound of his name. “Can we talk to you for a second?”

He nods. Reluctantly, he turns away from the television and follows me back out. Instead of sitting on the tiny stool, he leans against the bar. Matt begins his line of questioning again.

“I don’t know how much help I will be. I was posted on the other wall.”

“Did you see this girl in question?” Matt shows him the picture Becca gave us.

“Oh, I do remember her. She always comes in with that redheaded friend. You know the one.” He nods toward me.

“Yeah. I know.” We share a knowing smile.

“What am I missing here?” Matt looks between the both of us.

“Nothing.” I hide a laugh. “It’s just she’s… memorable.”

“I see.” His eyes are skeptical, but he continues his questioning.

“I saw her there, but most of my night is busy keeping drunken college guys from killing each other. To be quite frank, weekends are insane. I wouldn’t be able to say with complete certainty that it was that night. They all kind of blur together after a while.”

The interviews continue that way, one after another, for what feels like days, but is probably only a few hours. We interview bouncer after bouncer and Rick the bartender again. Matt is deep into questioning the second bartender when aggravation takes over.

First of all, this bartender is a complete tool. His name is like Kyle, Keith, or something similar. Absolutely the biggest tool I’ve ever seen. He dates girls half his age and even gives
me
the creeps. Matt asks him all the usual questions, and he deflects each by cracking jokes. He acts like this is a game. My temper flares under my skin.

“The girl in question… did you see her with anyone?” Matt continues.

“Yeah, I saw her with a couple of boys all night. She seemed pretty interested in them, if you know what I mean. It just looked like she wanted it.”

“Uh, do you—”

My fists clench. Before I know it, I’m spewing words at him. “She asked for it? Is that what you are saying?

“Smith.” Matt’s even tone attempts to deflect.

“I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself every time you take a girl home, you scum—”

“Smith!” Matt interrupts.

I tear my eyes away from creepy Keith. “What?”