“Keep me updated, Darby.”
I didn’t wait for a response because I had an appointment to get to.
42
DARBY
“I’ll find Rees.”
I grit my teeth as Jagg’s words echoed in my head.
No, Detective Max Jagger,I’llfind Rees.
While Jagg had been busy doing what he did best—playing knight in shining armor with Sunny,MissHarper,my ass—he should have been tracking down the lead I uncovered earlier in the day while doing the long list of to-do’s he’d given me. One of the many leads the perfect, infallible Detective Jagger had missed. That’s right, me, the rookie, the nobody, the loser, the pissant, had spent the morning casing a trailer park on the outskirts of town where it was rumored that Kenzo Rees was temporarily living. I’d gotten the information by spending the afternoon the day before getting an oil change—that I didn’t need—at an off-the-books garage run by former inmates. Thought it was a good bet. Gave it a shot.
I’d worn my most wrinkled Grateful Dead shirt, holey jeans and flip flops, and offered them fifty bucks for service. Once my truck was in the bay, I slipped on my headphonesto make them think I was lost in my music, but instead, I listened to the chatter while they worked. I caught bits and pieces, including Sunny’s name—noMiss Harperthere, trust me—Griggs’ name, and finally, “trailer number eight-forty-three.”
Bingo. A lead. One that Jagg should have hunted down.
You see, while brute strength and intimidation might be Jagg’s asset, mine was that I went unnoticed. I was just a regular, boring, normal nerd who could sneak through the shadows without so much of a glance.
As I’d already proven in spades.
Jagg was slipping.
And I was going to be there to pick up the pieces… and his badge.
43
JAGG
Iset a paper bowl of water next to the edge of the patio outside of a coffee shop namedDeja Brew,then settled into a corner table shaded by a massive maple tree. Max lapped up the water, leaving a trail of slobber across my boot as he plopped down next to my chair.
God it was hot.
I’d felt like an idiot ordering a bowl of water with my cup of coffee, but what was I supposed to do? I could only assume wearing a coat of fur in this blistering heat was nothing short of torture. That, and Sunny would have my ass if the dog got dehydrated while under my care. She probably had a test for it or something.
I looked down at the furball at my feet, his long tongue hanging out of his mouth, drooling with short pants of breath. He looked up at me and his tail thumped against the chair. I ruffled his ears and wondered how Brute’s vet appointment was going.
I’d chosen the outdoor patio for two reasons, one, I didn’t want to leave Max in the Jeep. God forbid PETA showup at my doorstep, and two, I wanted privacy for the meeting I was about to have.
After wiping my palm on my pants, I picked up my phone to check if I had any missed calls or texts from Sunny. I didn’t. Then I pulled up an image of Kenzo Rees. My jaw clenched. I clicked into my videos and watched the grainy black and white video of the Black Bandit sneaking out the back door of Mystic Maven’s Art Shop, moments before Seagrave was shot to death. I flipped back and forth between Rees’s image and the video, then rewound the video ten times watching the smooth movements of the heist, the speed, the single focus of the Cedonia Scroll, then the jog down the steps—and that damn limp.
The left hip limp…
The left hip…
Mind racing, I slid my phone into my pocket then took a sip of my eight-dollar coffee. I liked my coffee black, strong and piping hot. No matter what the weather.
I was scrolling through my unread emails when clicks of heels on the hardwood told me my company had arrived. I looked up to see a striking blonde in a grey skirt-suit and black heels that added four inches to her already tall frame. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a pair of thick, black, trendy glasses over blue eyes. I don’t know what I expected when I’d scheduled a meeting with an art investigator, but that wasn’t it. Add red lipstick and a loose tie and this chick could have walked straight out of a Poison video. And, yet, my dick had no response. Not a single salute.
Sunny.Sorcery. There was no other explanation to it.
I stood and thrust out my hand.
“Agent Morgan.”
“Briana.” We shook hands, hers strong and commanding as if to let me know that although she was one of the fewwomen in an industry dominated by men, she was no fool. Briana had an air of confidence about her as pungent as her spicy perfume. I knew her type, and I knew exactly how to do this dance.
