“I got a few things.”
Her beautiful smile replaced the worry lines. “I love housing vigilantes. Turns out, that’s my favorite thing to do. Who knew?”
Pima walked into the kitchen and stretched, then went over to the bags and rubbed against them. Stryker carried them into the living room and sat on the floor. Emerson joined him.
As he pulled the toys from the bag, Pima started purring.
“You bought him a three-story track chaser and a house with a scratching post. He doesn’t need any more reasons to love you, but these are gonna seal the deal.”
After biting into the catnip, Pima went berserk. He started rolling around, then jumped up and went on a tear with the toy in his mouth.
“I’m encouraging his lunatic behavior.” Next, Stryker pulled out the bag of dry cat food.
“Good luck,” Emerson said.
“He’ll eat it.”
She straddled him and sandwiched his face in her hands, dipped down, and kissed him. “Thank you for doing this.” She pushed off him.
“That was fast,” he said. “Get your ass back down here.”
“I can’t stop obsessing over Lyle.”
* * *
Though Emerson’s mood lifted while they made dinner, she couldn’t stop thinking about work. “Can you take a picture of Lyle and use IDware to see if he and Casey are a match?”
“I can, but those two don’t look anything alike,” he replied while flipping the chicken on the stovetop. “You need a grill, woman.”
“I don’t need a grill. I need to catch two killers.” He rubbed her taut shoulders. “A psychopath on a killing spree and the lunatic trying to take you out.”
Emerson pulled the corn on the cob from the boiling water. “Have you talked to Danielle?” She stirred the vegetables sautéing in the skillet.
“This morning,” he said. “I told her to take as much time as she needs. She told me that if you don’t find the killer, she will. I get what she’s going through. It’s like a switch gets flipped. Instead of drowning in grief, fury takes hold.”
Stryker poured dry cat food into Pima’s bowl. “Why do you think that reporter is Casey Quinn?”
“He’s been obsessed over my case, and I’ve caught him in a couple of lies.”
Stryker set the cat bowl on the floor. “Welcome to the human race. Everyone lies.” He left the room.
She plated their food, filled their wine glasses, and waited at the kitchen island. Stryker returned with Pima under his arm, the animal’s loud purrs competing with the music playing in the background.
He knelt, set the cat down, and placed a few pieces of dry food in his hand. Pima smelled the food, rubbed the side of his face against Stryker’s fingers, then smelled the food again. With his tail in the air, he moseyed out.
As Stryker sat beside her, she hitched an eyebrow. “Cat, one. Man, zero.”
He raised his glass. “Watch me win this food war.” She tapped her glass against his. They sipped the wine and started eating.
After slicing off a piece of chicken, he said, “I need to tell you my plan for Barca.”
21
Partners
At almost nine o’clock, Emerson slid onto the bar seat on L1 and ordered a sparkling water. Hoping to blend into the crowd, she’d worn a short black skirt and a snug top that revealed cleavage, and stilettos. Her eyes were framed in a black mask, and she’d hidden her blonde hair under a long, brown wig.
Ten minutes later, Nikki arrived and sat across the bar from Emerson. She’d worn a purple mask and pulled her dark hair into a ponytail.
