“Good idea, sir.” My traitorous husband grins so wide, I fear it may break his face. If not, I may do it for him.
“It’s evidence, honey.” Dad tilts his head in the way that means he isn’t going to give in but still, I have to at least try.
“But how will I do my job?”
“You’ll get it back, soon enough.”
Sebastian-the-soon-to-be-divorced chuckles. “Maybe you could practice cooking some more.”
I wrinkle my nose and in the most mature way possible, stick out my tongue. “Maybe I’ll borrow yours.”
My dad opens our fridge and shakes his head. “I’ll tell Rose to drop off something to eat. Need anything else? Toilet paper?”
I laugh out loud. “Nope. Mr. Fix-it made us a bidet.”
His brows raise, walks into the bathroom, and snickers under his breath. “Huh. I’ll ask the guys to send you over some from the precinct. Need anything else?”
“Crime scene cleaner?” I point to the blood on the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Suds
Eventually, the police clear out. As I sit back and put my feet up on the coffee table, Sam borrows my computer. She says she needs to write up a press release for Suds and Sam. I’m happy we caught the bastard but not so thrilled with her almost dying. She don’t know it yet but she’s about to get an earful.
“Done!” Sam hits send with a flourish, grabs a couple beers, and brings them back to the futon. “Thus end-eth the case of the online strangler.”
I frown, not feeling like joking around. “We need to talk.”
“Oh, oh.” Sam plops down and spooks the kitten who jumps, scoots up the stairs, and with her head between the rails, drops a toy to the floor.
When Cat finishes her antics, I take a deep breath. I don’t want a big argument but neither do I want to have a business where my wife goes off half-cocked and puts her life at risk. “I think we should restrict our cases to divorces and white collar crime.”
Sam’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “Why? We just proved we’re real good at catching murderers.”
“We’ve been lucky.” I can’t even talk about how fucking scared I was. One of my worst nightmares is being unable to move while someone I love is about to be killed.
“No. We are both skilled professionals. That’s not luck, Suds.”
There is some truth to what she is saying but I will not cut her any slack. Somehow, trouble finds her and this time it was way too close. I almost couldn’t save her.
Watching the sick bastard go for her throat will live with me forever. “Maybe, if I wasn’t around to protect you, you wouldn’t be so damn reckless.”
I didn’t intend to say it out loud but it’s true. “When the FBI calls you and offers you your old job, this time you take it.”
“What? You can’t mean that.” The hurt on her face almost breaks my heart but I need to be strong.
“Sweetheart, you made good money with them. You had good insurance. Maybe it’s time you think about both of us instead of bein’ so fucking selfish. What if I had a real bad case of COVID and so did you? Our coverage is shit. We’d be up to our eyeballs in debt right about now.”
The tops of her cheeks flare bright red. “What about you? Huh? My dad offered you a job in the force and you turned them down. You’d have union benefits.”
“A desk flunky? Are you fucking kidding me?” I could never move up on account of my right eye and she knows it.
We glare at each other, probably angry at the serial killer but there’s no one else to take it out on. Some asshole violated the sanctity of our home and nearly killed us. Hell, it don’t take a fucking shrink to figure out what’s going on but neither one of us seems to be able to stop.
Me, being of the male species, am tired of her always wearing the pants in the family. Not only that, she saved me this time, not the other way around and it plumb pisses me off, too. And, why the hell didn’t I sense the killer when I went to pick up the package? Huh?
I picture her dad’s disappointed face, stand, and clench my beer bottle so hard I’m surprised it don’t shatter. “I need a walk.”
