“Um….” Cara pressed her lips together, biting back the words she wanted to say. Fuck you, get out of my office, and tell that sorry sack of shit, asshole-from-hell brother of yours to take a flying leap…were just a few. Her clasped fingers turned white as she tried to contain the anger bubbling inside that was on the verge of breaking free. Most days she was a professional, but that name had her sprouting imaginary horns. She should send him packing. Would a kick in the ass, to pass along to his brother, be unladylike? “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”
“He said you’d say that. He actually said you’d say a lot worse, and told me not to bother, but I’m desperate. We’re desperate.” His wild blue eyes searched hers. “Please, don’t turn me away because of what Eric did.”
Cara held up her hand and rose from the chair. Any more mention of that name and he was getting a first-rate show. Stuff would be thrown; hexes would be made, and she would personally toss his ass out of her office…from the window. Screw trying to maintain an adult demeanor. Her shrink would charge overtime, and she’d need bail money, but it would be worth it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you. Maybe you should find someone else, a little less familiar.” Her voice was firm and final.He’d already ripped the Band-Aid off the wound. No way in hell would she wait around to see what was next. Childish, probably; unprofessional, absolutely, but it didn’t matter. Unless called by the President himself, or her mother dragging Cara by the ear, she wouldn’t be helping anyone with Eric’s DNA. It was a scientific fact that traits were passed around. She wasn’t chancing that Eric had received all the shitty ones.
Cara crossed her arms over her chest, for his protection, and to prevent her ass from having to spend a night behind bars. She rounded the desk and moved to the door.
“He said that you’d say that too.” Cooper walked to the door and held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you.”
Cara glanced down at his outstretched hand and shook her head. If Eric had told him about her ability, then thisspecial agentmust be thinking he was smarter than the average badge. With a single touch, she’d know everything about whatever he was working on, regardless of whether she’d wanted to or not. She may be blonde, but that sun-kissed shade came straight from a box.
Cooper’s lips twitched as he dropped his hand. Her reaction seemed to amuse him. “It was worth a shot.”
“Nice try, Agent.” Cara pursed her lips together. Bastard.
She watched him as he left the office and stood in front of the elevator. She was making sure he got inside.
“He’s a hottie. Who is he? Is he in the running as a baby daddy donor?” Cara’s sister, Harper, asked as she approached. Her model figure and porcelain skin turned the detectives into dogs in heat just by being in her presence. With Harper’s beautiful looks, and the calming gift she had, Cara and the others only brought her in on special assignments. Cooper might have had better luck with her.
“No one,” Cara said loud enough for Cooper to hear as she held his gaze one last time before he stepped onto the elevator. He frowned.
“Look at that pitiful face and tell me the truth. Did you show him your boobs and then tell him he couldn’t play?”
He should be so lucky. Cara, on the other hand, wouldn’t be. One touch and she’d know all of his dirty secrets, just like how she’d discovered Eric was screwing her best friend. One simple brush of his shoulder, and it was as if she was a voyeur watching the man whore and his skank getting busy in her bed. She’d tossed his ass out and burnt a perfectlygood bed, not to mention some of his “personal” items. He’d never miss them.
“I told him I couldn’t help him.” Cara walked back into her office. Harper leaned against the doorframe.
“Why not? He’s a cop, right? If it’s in an official capacity, we normally don’t turn them away.”
True as that statement was, it didn’t change a thing. Cara snagged the brownie from her desk and took a bite, savoring the chocolate as she chewed. It was either that or the booze in her drawer. Hell, it might take both. “His last name is Cruz.”
Harper’s luminous eyes widened in astonishment before they flickered in amusement. Cara could count on her sisters to enjoy watching her squirm. “Is he related?”
Cara nodded, not bothering for a verbal answer as she shoved another bite of chocolate-y goodness into her mouth.
“Ohhhh…well then. I guess that says enough because you know….the sins of the brother and all that.” She turned to leave and grabbed the door to shut it behind her. “You know…if that were the case, then we’d be responsible for every single one of Quinn’s actions too.”
Low blow. Cara’s mouth parted as she narrowed her eyes. It was one thing for Quinn to be crazy, another for someone toblame Cara. Her sister, Quinn, was the poster child of crazy town.
The brownie Cara had been enjoying suddenly tasted like sawdust as she swallowed around the lump lodged in her throat. Damn her. Harper quickly shut the door as the remainder of Cara’s brownie sailed through the air. It splattered against the door.
“See what you made me do?” A perfectly good brownie, ruined.
Harper peeked inside. “Don’t forget you drew the short straw and have to help Aunt Betty at the bar tonight.”
If Cara had another brownie, that one would be splattered along with the first. If Quinn was the poster child of crazy town, Aunt Betty was the founder.
Harper’s laughter carried past the office window, where she wiggled her fingers goodbye.
It wasn’t as though Cara was being irrational. It made perfect sense. Eric was a low-life, bottom-dwelling, scum sucker. It stood to reason the other Cruz would be too. DNA, damn it. Why couldn’t everyone else see the connection? Maybe if he hadn’t said, “Weneed your help,” she would have listened. She shook her head, probably not even then. Cara stomped over to the splattered brownie and started cleaning up the pieces, much like she’d done with her life after Eric.
Cara tossed the brownie into the trashcan, moved over to her window, and glanced out at the calming view. The crystal blue water of the ocean gleamed in the distance, lowering her blood pressure. The only thing better would be to hear the crashing waves. She made a mental note to take her recorder next time she went to the beach.
She’d expected to see tourists walking by on the street below, with shining bright sunburns, while wearing big straw hats and bikinis. Instead, she found Harper standing outside the building doors deep in conversation with theotherCruz.
The anger that had been simmering in her gut started to boil. The Thatcher clan was about to be minus one sister at Sunday dinner. Mom could always conceive another.
