Okay, Sylvie. Focusshe told herself as she heard Carla coming in. No need to let her partner know she was mooning over someone, even if she suspected it. They chatted on their way to the briefing, and after that, their shift that day passed without any big incidents.
* * *
The same couldn’t be saidfor the next day.
“Cookie, you’ve been a grump this whole shift. What’s up your butt?”
“Nothing. I miss Chewie.”And Alexshe thought but didn’t add. They hadn’t gotten together since Sunday at the ranch and only saw each other in passing at the kennel when she visited Chewie, where they didn’t have a second alone. They talked on the phone when they could, but they hadn’t so much as asked what the other was wearing, let alone repeated the festivities. That was actually all right. Now that her hormones had a chance to cool off a little, she thought it was best that they slowed down—not that her body agreed completely, but with everything going on, she needed her head to be in charge, not her nethers.
Or my heart.
She shut that thought down quickly, but she wasn’t quick enough to keep the blush out of her cheeks.
“You sure Chewie’s all you’re missing?” Carla asked as they drove toward Lyons.
Shit, shit, shit. This is why you need to cool it. “What?”
Carla grinned smugly. “C’mon.”
“Come onwhat, Carla?”
“You’re telling me that you don’t miss regular classes up at Chateau de Hot SEALs?” She nudged her. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
“Carla! Really, how old are you, twelve?”
Carla laughed and clapped her hands. “You are such a nun, Cookie, I tell ya. I was tempted to give up my Crazy Cat Lady card for a membership to I Love Fidos when I saw their pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“Yeah, Of the bodyguards for the festival. You got the email, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” Since they’d be walking around in plainclothes, Robert had emailed the bodyguards’ photos around so that any officer working the festival could recognize them in case they were breaking up a fight or standing too close to some of the talent. Good to know your allies. “Yeah, they’re hot.”
“Figured you’d picked one out by now.”
Sylvie gave her the side-eye. “No.”
“Your blush says otherwise.”
“I have not picked out a Watchdog bodyguard for myself.”Just the kennel master. Ugh!
“Probably for the best.”
“Okay, why isthat?”
Carla shrugged one shoulder. “Still don’t know where they’re getting their money is all.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “They are not drug runners, Carla.”
“Muscle for drug runners?”
“No!” That came out too harshly. But instead of getting upset, Carla laughed.
“You know what I think, Cookie? I think you—”
The radio cut Carla off. “Unit two-oh-three, we have a report of a vehicle stolen from the Glass Dealership, eleven-hundred fifty-one, over,” the dispatcher said.
“Ten-four,” Sylvie answered as she glanced at the clock. It was almost noon now. The car had been reported stolen less than ten minutes ago so she hit the lights and put on speed. They might still catch the joyriders. “We’re five minutes away. Description?”
