Chapter Three
Suds
Rushing to the address she gave me, I’m so fucking relieved when I see her, tears form which don’t sit right with me, not with all these cops watching.
Not wanting to appear pussy-whipped, I stomp over to where she chit chats with an officer in the lobby. “What the actual fuck, Sam?”
“Not my fault.” She whips out a palm and places it over my racing heart.
“Well, hell, of course it’s not. It never is.” I nod at the oldest of the uniforms, the one who seems to be in charge. “May I speak with my wife for a moment?”
The fiftyish man nods with something like sympathy in his eyes. The ring on his left hand indicates he’s married so probably has a clue.
I take a real deep breath, calm the fuck down, and pull her aside. “Were you hurt?”
“No. Nothing. Not even a close call.” She bats those beautiful big brown eyes at me and my cock, who has the worst timing, takes notice.
Thinking of toothless grannies in spandex shuts him down fast. Then, with the large brain back in control, I hiss out my breath ready to lose my ever-lovin’ mind. “I thought we agreed. Cheating spouses only.”
“I was. I did.” She pokes me in the chest with her index finger, brows furrowed over long lashes.
“So? What happened?” With my arms crossed, I will her to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and not a bit of bullshit.
Instead of being intimidated, my sweet little partner grins. “To the cheating spouse? I got his picture and-”
“No, sugar.”Grant me patience.“Why are the cops here? Why did you call?”
“Oh, that.” She waves her hand as if swatting away a fly. “I think someone was murdered.”
“Not murder. It was clearly a suicide.” An eavesdropping policeman steps into my wife’s personal space, his body language daring her too argue.
Bad move, dude. My ex-FBI wife does not appreciate condescending pricks.This should be fun. I stand back, waiting for sparks to fly.
Her tone could melt the paint off an old Chevy truck. “And how did the dead man hide the silencer after he offed himself?”
“There wasn’t one, ma’am.” He eyes her like he really believes he can convince her to change her story.
“Exactly.” She takes out her camera and starts showing him her crime scene photos. “But there should have been. The shot was definitely muffled.”
“Shock has a weird way of affecting memories.” When he pats her hand, she pulls it away and her voice goes up an octave.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I know what I heard. I probably even got a picture of the murderer.” As she scrolls through pictures, he grabs her new toy and removes the memory card.
“You can’t have that. I need it.” Sam struggles to snatch it back which pisses the cop off even more.
“Hand over your phone, too. Just in case you have crime scene photos.” He holds out his palm, brows raised.
“Sugar? You probably should do it.” As much fun as it might be to see her father take this macho idiot down a notch, I’d rather take her home to bed.
“Yeah? Fine.” She grabsmydamn cell and takes a shot of his badge. “Apparently, you have no idea who we are.”
Before she punches him and we end up downtown, I kick her foot out from under her, holding her as she flails.
While she’s flat on her back, I put my lips to her ear. “Unless you want to spend the night behind bars, pretend you’re sick.”
“Owww. Oh my God.” Sam rolls onto her side, her acting a mite over the top.
Feigning to be alarmed, I pat her cheeks. “Sweetheart, wake up. Someone, call a paramedic. I think she’s gone into shock.”
