Jane
whirled toward him, her gun drawn and her body surging with a quick,
fluid power. Before he could even blink, her gun was aimed at his
heart.
“What
kind of idiot stalks a homicide detective?” Jane snarled at him.
The
woman had bite. He normally liked that, a lot. But this wasn’t
about pleasure. This was about business. Strictly business.
“Stalking is a very strong word,” Aidan murmured, “I was
merely…hoping for a chat.”
She
didn’t lower her gun. “So we could finish our conversation from
earlier?”
He
nodded.
“Conversation…interrogation…I
guess you could call it whatever you wanted, Aidan.”
Ah,
so she’d been digging into his life. He wasn’t worried. The cops
knew only what he allowed them to know. “Aidan Locke,” he said,
inclining his head toward her. “At your service.”
The
gun still wasn’t lowering. So, he just stepped forward, and he
kept advancing, until the gun pressed into his chest. “I didn’t
kill that poor girl.”
“So
your staff at Hell’s Gate told me, again and again. The ME said the
victim died less than an hour before she was found.”
Made
sense, considering that Aidan knew the killer would have only hunted
at night.
“And
everyone who works for you was quick to point out that you’d been
having some kind of grand opening bash at that time, and you were
right at the bar, serving drinks for all to see.”
“Glad
you checked out my alibi.”
“I
checked out you.”
Then, finally, she lowered the gun. But her delicate shoulders
remained tense and her chin had notched into the air. “I also sent
in one of the uniforms to find you right after that little
disappearing act you performed on Bourbon Street, but you were
nowhere to be found.”
Light
from a street lamp fell onto her face. A rather striking face. Not
beautiful, but better. Her eyes were a bit exotic, turning up at the
corners. Her nose was long, elegant. And her thick hair was slipping
out of the ponytail and sliding around her face. Softening her.
Tempting
him.
Not
now. Business only. Pleasure later.
“I
want to help,” Aidan said. The words were true enough. He did want
to help. He’d find justice for that poor victim. After all, giving
her justice was his job.
“Glad
to hear that.” Jane nodded.
So
serious. He
knew quite a bit about the new detective. Facts that he’d read
weeks ago when she’d first been vetted for the open homicide
detective position. Though he doubted the woman realized he’d
been
the one to approve her promotion. When it came to homicide cops in
the Big Easy, he always had final say. After all, he didn’t want
anyone getting in his way.
There
was a status to maintain.
“If
you’re helping,” she continued, “then I’d like you to turn
over your bar’s security footage from tonight. I could get a court
order, but that would just take precious time. Time I don’t need
to waste.”
No,
he didn’t imagine that she liked wasting time.
“I’ll
help,” he said again, nodding.
“Good.”
She holstered her weapon. “And if we’re going to talk, we’re
going to walk at the same time. I want to see what else the ME has
for me.”
The
walk wouldn’t be far. And the ME would have nothing for her. Aidan
had seen to that.
But
he fell into step beside her, automatically slowing his faster stride
to match up with hers. Her scent wrapped around him—something soft.
Feminine. Probably one of those lotions that human women were always
using. He rather…liked her smell. What was it? He inhaled again.
Apples
and…lavender. A nice blend.
Only…there
was something more. A deeper, richer scent that was pulling at him.
Drawing him closer to her.
Tempting.
“Are
you sniffing me?”
He
stopped.
“Because
that is some weird serial killer shit if you’re doing that. Don’t
make me go for my gun again.”
From
the corner of his eye, he saw that her hand was already near the
holster.
“You
smell good,” he said, deciding to go with the truth. “But I’ll
try to stop the ‘serial killer shit’ for you.”
“You’d
better.” Her steps didn’t hurry. She wore boots and jeans.
Jeans that hugged her legs and ass ever so well. He’d noticed the
ass-hugging earlier, before
she’d
turned with her gun drawn. She had on a jacket, one that looked a
bit battered, so he couldn’t tell much about her upper body. He
suspected her breasts were as perfect as her ass.
.jpg)
