Stryker sat alone in the owner’s booth. But he wasn’t alone for long. Women paraded by, most stopped to say hello. Some even slipped into the booth with him. As Stryker nursed his drink, he seemed to know exactly what to say to ensure they didn’t overstay their welcome.
As Emerson waited for Casey, she wondered what life would be like with him. She wasn’t intimidated by, or jealous of, all the attention he was receiving. He was strikingly handsome, with a killer body, and an attitude that screamed “fuck off”. That, along with his sexy man-bun and permanent scowl, was an absolute chick magnet. Who wouldn’t want to get to know a man who wore his anger like a second skin? He commanded power and attention wherever he went.
There was no question he loved her, but was he a forever kind of man? Her heart wanted to believe he was, but was he the type of man she could be with for the rest of her life?
He’s a killer and I’m still a cop.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he pushed out of the booth, leaving the starry-eyed women to fend for themselves. With every step, her heart pounded faster. Despite some members’ attempts to chat him up, Stryker didn’t stop for anyone.
One testosterone-laden step at a time, he made his way toward her. When he squeezed in beside her and brushed against her shoulder, she had to fight the smile.
“Excuse me.” She loved the deep timbre of his voice, his slow, sexy cadence that turned her inside out.
But the pull was too strong to ignore and she found herself staring into his eyes, wanting desperately to kiss him.
“You are fucking gorgeous,” he murmured.
The bartender appeared. “Hey, Stryker, what can I get you?”
“Macallan, neat.”
“Coming right up.”
Stryker dropped his arm around the back of Emerson’s barstool and her pulse quickened. His penetrating gaze made her heart pound hard and fast.
As the bartender served him, Stryker dropped a hundred on the bar, and collected the drink. “Keep the cash,” he said to his employee. Then, he shifted toward Emerson. “You’re coming home with me.”
“That’s not happening,” she murmured, “becauseyou’recoming home withme.”
He flashed her a wicked smile before heading back to the booth.
The time ticked by quickly because the crowd was in constant flux. But at almost midnight, her hope fizzled. If Casey was coming, he would have shown hours ago.
Emerson handed the mixologist fifty dollars.
“This is way too much.”
“I didn’t order any alcohol. This should help offset some of the tips you didn’t make.”
Emerson made her way over to Nikki and squeezed in beside her. “When Lyle stopped by today, he saw the pics of Casey in my home office,” she whispered to Nikki.
“I’m having a hard time making the connection that those two are the same person,” Nikki said. “Are we calling it?”
“Yeah, let me get Stryker and we’ll walk you out.”
When Nikki drove away, Emerson slunk close. “I need your help.”
“With all that pent-up frustration?”
Leaning up, she kissed him. “I have Claire-Marie’s phone from evidence. Any chance we can download the data?”
* * *
That wasn’t what Stryker had in mind, but he could see the tension on her face, and knew the higher ups were looking for answers.
Once in the dungeon, he got to work. Using his IDware, the system found several hits. They saw the moment when Casey made his move. Claire-Marie had been talking to friends, then went to the bar for a drink. Within seconds, a masked Casey appeared beside her. The two started talking. Then, two people at the bar left and Claire-Marie and Casey sat.
“This is heart breaking,” Emerson murmured.
