Every time he calls me baby, obviously to irritate me, it has the opposite effect and I want to climb him like a tree, but I can’t let him know that. Pulling my face into a frown, I say, “Stop calling me baby. I’m not your damn baby. You try walking around here with no electronics or entertainment. I’m bored, and having some kind of connection to the world will be nice.”
He looks happy that he got a rise out of me, the sparkle in his brown eyes makes him even more handsome. “I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
Breathing a bored sigh, I look away. “I guess not.”
When Swan shows up while Abbot is in the shower, he has a tray of four coffees in his hand. There is an iced coffee, two hot coffees, and one that looks like dessert with whipped cream on top and a big pink straw. Swan takes one of the hot coffees out and hands the carrier to me.
“Are these all for me?” My eyes are wide as I look at the tray and then up at Swan.
“Yep, Abbot said all he knew is that you like your coffee sugary and to get more than one.” He takes a sip of the coffee in his hand. “My wife told me which ones she likes, so I ordered those.”
As I stare at the carrier, I try to remember when I saw or heard him on the phone with Swan. He must have texted him after he left the room. I suppress the smile that wants to break out on my face and look back up at Swan. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Abbot. He was kind of insistent, even when I told him I was running late because my daughter was being cranky.” He winks at me and takes another sip of his coffee before he turns to set his bag on the dining table.
Setting the drink carrier on the counter, I play the eenie-meenie-miny-mo game to choose which one I’m drinking first.
Because I’m drinking all of them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RHYS
“THIS PLACEis a dump.” Agent Corbett says as he kicks a microwave dinner container away from the ratty reclining chair with beer cans stacked around it.
He’s right, the place is a dump. It belongs to Terrell, the guy who was stabbed the other night. We had to wait for a warrant to get inside the house, but it looks like someone has beat us to it.
The small two-bedroom is a rental just north of Tulsa in one of the lower-income communities. Some houses in the area are well taken care of, with flower gardens around the crumbling sidewalks and swings for kids in the front yard, but right next door might be a house with boards on the windows.
This house seems to be just a couple of steps away from having boards on the windows. The outside paint is peeling toreveal a different color of paint underneath, and the roof has a tarp over one side to keep rainwater from seeping through.
The inside smells like an ashtray and old cooking oil, and a greasy trail in the matted carpet shows the high-traffic areas. Dishes are piled in the kitchen sink, and under those is what looks like mold.
I don’t answer but walk by him to the hall to check out the bedrooms. Someone already cleared out the house before we could get here. The card table in one bedroom is overturned with what looks like powder residue on the surface, and the closet door is open with boxes, magazines and clothes covering the floor from where they were pulled off the overhead shelf.
“We’ll need to process this room.” I say to Corbett, who is behind me. “It looks like he may have been mixing and packaging in this room.”
“On it, boss.” He turns to go to his car to get what he needs.
The only furniture in the other bedroom is a stained mattress and a box that was probably sitting next to it to be used as a table but is now on its side. The blanket that was on the mattress is on the other side of the room, and most of the clothes from the closet are on the floor.
“We won’t find anything here. If there was anything, it’s already been taken.” I want to hit something, but I turn and calmly walk from the room.
Sanders is in the bathroom looking through the drawers as I walk by in the hall. There’s still tension there. He’s been avoiding me all day, but I don’t give a shit. He deserved what he got.
I’d not worked with Sanders before this task force, I chose most of the guys on the team, but Sanders was highly recommended so I added him. I’m still trying to figure out why he was recommended.
“Anything?” I ask.
He doesn’t look up as he pushes a drawer closed with the tip of his pen. “No, I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
Fucking baby.
Gomez is on a stool, taking the return vent off the wall as I walk by him. The tiny laundry room at the end of the hall has a water heater with a rusted pan under it, an unplugged space heater in the corner, and an oscillating fan with the front cover missing. Next to the back door is an overflowing garbage can.
“Hey, Gomez.” I say over my shoulder.
“Yeah, boss.” He yells from the hall.
