“Detective Shayne Black.”
“Finn O’Lachlan,” I returned, grasping her outstretched hand.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,Kier.What I don’t know are your intentions with my best friend.”
Hell. I was in trouble.
5SATAN’S LACKEY
Waverly
My surroundings were a blur as I flew down the road with lights and sirens on full blast. I’m sure I looked like a wild woman when I took off, sprinting out of the office without a word as to why. No one tried to intervene, although Duncan was hot on my tail. He jumped in the passenger seat and remained quiet, even after my call connected with the car’s Bluetooth. By the way his fingers flew over his phone, he’d caught on to what was happening and was relaying the information to the rest of the team.
When we skidded to a stop at the scene of the accident, an emotion I’d never experienced before clawed at my chest.Jealousy.Finn and my best friend were side by side, leaning up against her car, while another officer stood in front of them. They were close…way too close in my personal opinion.
At forty-three, Shayne was five years older than me. Her ash-blond hair was cut into a tapered pixie bob which framed her slender face and highlighted her hazel eyes. She was beautiful and very muchnotinto men, which made myreaction all the more strange. From the way her eyes lit up in amusement on my approach, Shayne noticed too.
Just great. I’d never live this down.
“Here’s the report number for your insurance company, Mr. O’Lachlan. I’ll be in touch if I find anything.” The Huntington police officer handed him a piece of paper, then headed back to his patrol car.
Stowing the green-eyed beast away, I pulled my shit together long enough to ask Finn, “Are you okay?”
“I’m pissed.”
“Pissed beats dead,” Duncan interjected.
He grunted his agreement.
Before I could do something embarrassing, like put my hands all over him to check for myself that he was uninjured, I turned to Shayne.
“What do you have?”
“Black Dodge Ram,” she answered. “Older model. I didn’t get close enough to see the plate.”
“Dammit, I don’t like this,” I seethed.
“Nobody likes a drunk driver, Waverly,” Shayne quipped. “Especially so early in the afternoon.”
“I wish it were that simple, Shayne.”
Finn nodded when I glanced in his direction, giving me the permission I sought. For the next ten minutes or so, I brought her up to speed about the threats he’d been getting. She listened intently, and by the time I finished, she understood why there was doubt as to whether the hit-and-run was, in fact, an accident.
In the meantime, the tow truck arrived. The driver hooked a cable to the underside of the SUV, then used a winch to ease it out of the small ditch it had landed in. From the minimal amount of visible damage, it appeared drivable,though the idea of Finn behind the wheel again made goosebumps skitter down my spine.
“Do you want me to haul it to Mo’s?” the driver called out.
Mo’s was the garage the FBI used to service our vehicles. They were fast yet thorough. I was on the cusp of instructing him to load the SUV onto the flatbed when Finn answered, much to my displeasure.
“Not necessary. Appreciate your time though.”
Shayne interlinked her arm with mine. “Take a walk with me.”
“I—”
“That wasn’t a request.”
She moved, I followed, since the alternative would’ve been to dig my literal heels into the asphalt and they were far too pretty to scuff up. We didn’t go far, since we were in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, on a heavily wooded backcountry road.
