Switchblade Page 11

  “Pretty sure I did.”

  “Maybe you should’ve said it harder.”

  “Like that would’ve done any good. You’re kind of hard to run off.” I smiled. She hadn’t meant to cause me so much trouble. Any other time, I might have admired her fighting so hard for her family, but right now I just wanted to be alone and not deal with her drama. While I tried to think of a way to get rid of her for the night, I heard a loud voice call out.

  “Luca Bennett, you think you can stop entertaining long enough to talk to me about when you’re going to pay your rent?”

  Old Man Withers had finally caught me. I glanced at Ronnie who grinned at my predicament, and then back to Withers. “Do I break up your dates to ask you to fix my toilet?”

  He took his time looking Ronnie up and down, even licked his lips. She placed a hand on her hip and pushed her chest out a little, as if giving him a show. If she’d really been my date, I would’ve clocked him. As it was, I enjoyed watching their silent challenge. He looked back at me and said, “I’ll never understand how you get so many pretty ladies to go out with you.”

  “Not for you to understand.” I opened the door, walked to the kitchen, and fished out my coffee can. For the first time ever, I handed over the entire rent for this month and next to Withers, too worn out to enjoy the look of shock on his face.

  “What about the dog?” He pointed at Cash. “I don’t allow dogs.”

  I motioned toward the couch and Cash ran over, hopped on the cushions, and said his version of thanks. “You do now.”

  He knew better than to pick this battle with me, but he left grumbling.

  I shut the door and turned to face Ronnie. “Haven’t we seen enough of each other for a while?”

  “You look like you need one of these.” She hefted a six-pack of Blue Moon, condensation dripping from the bottles.

  I did and I wasn’t too proud to hold out my hand. I took the icy cold bottle to the couch and joined my dog. Ronnie stayed in the kitchen searching the cabinets. “You won’t find any clean glasses,” I called out.

  “Like that’s surprising. I’m perfectly capable of washing a glass myself.”

  I watched while she did just that, enjoying the contrast of her impeccable attire in my sloppy kitchen. When she walked into the living room with a tall glass of amber beer, I told Cash to get down and then patted the space beside me on the couch. She flinched only a little bit before sliding in next to me.

  She clinked her glass against mine. “See, it’s not so bad having me around.”

  “Are you back for good or just until you’re sure your little brother is out of trouble?”

  “Would it matter either way to you?”

  I should’ve never asked the question. I didn’t think I cared either way, and I sure didn’t want to send her the wrong signals. But since when did I care about signals? A pretty woman was here in my house wanting favors from me. That was signal enough. I needed to stop letting other stuff get in the way. Whatever I’d been feeling for Jess had been an illusion, my imagination on overload. She made that clear when she’d asked me to compromise who I was for her security, for her goals. If she loved me, she would know that had been too much to ask. She would know my cabinet was full of dirty glasses and she wouldn’t care.

  I answered Ronnie’s question in the best way I knew how. With hungry lips and searching hands, I closed my eyes and dove full in. She spilled some beer before I heard the glass thud on the table, and then her hands were on me, tugging at my shirt, raking my chest. Her lips were fuller than I remembered, her fingers softer, longer, more insistent. Within moments, my shirt was on the floor, my jeans unbuttoned. Cool air and warm lips skimmed my chest. Her hand found me wet and ready and she wasted no time, stroking, pushing, pulling. Eyes still closed, I let the sensations wash over me, around me until she was done.

  When I finally opened my eyes, she was perched on the edge of the couch, sipping her beer. A slight flush in her cheeks the only sign that anything had happened between us. Perhaps sensing I’d come back to life, she looked my way, a flash of smug in her eye.

  She’d been a tiger and I was her prey. Her willing, submissive prey. If I’d thought about it, I guess I could justify sex with her. Other than the first kiss, I hadn’t been the aggressor. I’d just lain there and taken whatever she’d had to offer, my only offering was an orgasm that hadn’t reached further than the nerve endings she touched.

  “You okay?” I asked as I pulled on my shirt and buttoned my jeans. I wasn’t the best host in the world, but leaving a woman unsatisfied wasn’t normally my style.

  “I’m good.” She set her beer down and reached for her bag. “Let’s talk about the case.” She spent the next thirty minutes going over her notes and asking me questions. I tried to focus, but my mind had shut down and I couldn’t process anything she had to say. Finally, she packed up her purse and stood to leave. I walked her to the door and she kissed me again without all the animal hunger. A nice kiss. A see you later kiss.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. See where things stand,” she said. And then she was gone.

  I stood in the doorway, the warmth of her kiss still lingering on my lips, realizing she’d never answered my question about whether she was back for good and wondering if I cared.

  *

  I woke to the sound of my ringing phone and I fumbled to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Luca, it’s Nancy. You asleep?”

  I held the phone away from my ear and checked the time. It was only nine p.m., but I was asleep. Hard asleep. The experience with Ronnie had left me drained. Having someone ravish your body is tough work.

  “I’m awake. What do you need?”

  “You still want to come over? Everyone’s gone now.” She gave me her address. “Don’t bring anyone other than Jess, okay?”

  I let her hang up without explaining that Jess wasn’t likely to be going anywhere with me for the foreseeable future. I took a quick shower to wash off the Ronnie, and then Cash and I headed to the car with the rest of the six-pack Ronnie had brought over.

  When I pulled up to Nancy’s street, I glanced around, looking for other cars, fully expecting there to be some kind of a surveillance on a cop who’d just been shot. Nancy lived in suburbia, cars with garages, and every garage door on the street was closed up tight. Not a car in sight. Odd. Still, on the off chance some of her cop buddies might drive by, I parked on the next block and walked Cash to her door.

  She answered before I knocked and pulled the now four-pack from my hand. “I could so use one of these.”

  I followed her to the kitchen where she opened a bottle for each of us and poured a bowl of water and set it on the floor for Cash. We both sat at the table. I’d never been to her place before. It was bigger than Jess’s small house. Bigger than I expected, prompting me to say, “Nice place. You live here long?”

  “A while. Thanks. I like it.”

  I bet. The kitchen was enormous. One of those gourmet kinds with double ovens, a fancy built-in fridge, and pots hanging from the ceiling. Reminded me of the kitchen Ronnie had when she’d lived in the snooty University Park neighborhood of Dallas. I caught Nancy staring at me, her brow kinda furrowed as she watched me assess her place. I kept my tone casual. “Guess, unlike me, you like to cook?”

  “Maybe I’ll cook for you someday.” She smiled and I saw a glimpse of flirting Nancy, the one I always avoided. Time to change the subject. I pointed at the sling on her arm. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. It was a little more serious than a graze, but the bullet went through and through. Hurt like hell at the time, but they gave me great meds.” She pointed to a burnt orange prescription bottle on the table, “And I’m feeling no pain right now. They say with physical therapy it’ll heal just fine.”

  I didn’t bother telling her that they lie. She might be able to use her arm exactly the way she had before, but it would always hurt a little, especially when it was cold outside. And she’d always be a little more
leery about engaging. Getting shot left more than surface scars.

  “Jess couldn’t make it?”

  “She’s got other stuff going on.”

  “Perez got to her.”

  “Perez is an ass. No one gets to Jess. She just needs to focus. She doesn’t need to spend time dealing with my shit.”

  “Sounds like trouble in paradise.”

  “Shut up, Walters. You want to tell me why you think you got shot?”

  Her response was immediate. “I think I got shot because I was meeting with you.”

  “Oh, really? Then I guess it wasn’t really a good idea to have me come over tonight.”

  “I mean meeting with you and Jackson. I think someone didn’t like the fact I’d taken you to meet him.”

  “If someone didn’t want me to talk to Jackson, seems like it would’ve made more sense to shoot him before he talked to me instead of after.”

  “Maybe. Maybe they figure if he’s dead, it’ll just be your word as to what he said to you.”

  “And you were just collateral damage?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You got a whole lot of maybes.”

  “What did Jackson tell you, anyway?”

  I studied her face. The question seemed honestly curious, but something felt off. Jackson had made sure Nancy didn’t hear what he had to say. Was that because he didn’t trust her? And who else besides Nancy knew I was meeting Jackson that night? I hadn’t told anyone. Sure, Nancy had gotten shot, but like she said, she’d been lucky—a comparatively minor injury. Jackson was the one who took the hard hit and, but for Cash, who knows what would have happened to me?

  Jackson hadn’t given me any concrete information that pointed toward Nancy or anyone really. The overall impression I got from him was that he didn’t know all that much, only that the CI was bad news and maybe Jorge was set up to take a fall.

  Nancy’s face told me nothing, but my instincts told me to trust no one. “He didn’t seem to know much. I’m not even sure why he agreed to meet me.”

  “Maybe he’s dirty and he wanted to see what information you have. Size you up.” She sounded genuinely curious, but I still wasn’t convinced.

  “And he couldn’t have gotten that from you?”

  She shrugged. “I guess he would rather assess the situation himself than trust a wet-behind-the-ears detective.”

  “Did you know he beat his wife?” I dropped the bomb and waited for the fallout. Nancy’s eyes widened a bit, but not enough to convey real surprise.

  “I heard a rumor.”

  “It’s true.”

  “And you know this because?”

  “Because I talked to the right people.” I let that sit a moment, but she didn’t have a response. “Talk to me about how Jackson reacted when you told him I wanted to meet with him.”

  Nancy shifted in her chair. The action was subtle enough that she could’ve blamed it on her arm if she hadn’t already told me how well the painkillers worked. I called her on it. “You want to move somewhere more comfortable?” I pointed at the armless chair she was sitting in. “Where you can rest your arm?”

  Again with the sly smile. “I can think of only one comfortable place I’d like to be with you, but”―she pointed at her sling―“you may have to do most of the work.”

  I’d always written Nancy’s flirting off to harmless fun, thinking both of us knew it wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t above sleeping with inappropriate women, but I’d always drawn that line at Jess’s cop friends, and as much as Nancy pretended she didn’t know Jess and I were really a thing, I wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was a secret. And I didn’t think Nancy was stupid enough to follow through. Nope. Her proposition was designed to get me off the subject of Greg Jackson, and although I desperately wanted to know why, I knew pushing her wasn’t going to net any answers.

  I stood up. “As much as I’d love to help you start your physical therapy, I’m bushed. Spending all night at the police station answering questions robbed me of my beauty sleep. Maybe another time?”

  “Sure, Luca. I’ll count on it.” Back was the confident smile, and I couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  *

  Cash and I stopped at Whataburger on the way home and loaded up on cheeseburgers and fries. When we got home, we wolfed down our food. After dinner, all I wanted to do was go to bed, but my brain wouldn’t shut down. I started pulling open drawers, looking for something to write on, but the best I could do was a stack of napkins from various fast food dives. Figuring that would have to do, I started making notes.

  Greg Jackson was connected to Jorge and to Teresa Perez.

  Jorge didn’t know Perez, but Jackson had been his partner.

  Teresa Perez was connected, in a bad way, to Ronnie, Jorge, and me. She was also connected to Jackson, but in a good way. Good for her, anyway.

  The CI, Roberto Garcia, was connected to Jackson who admitted to having used him in the past and to Jorge who he said paid him off to do illegal deals.

  Nancy was connected to Jackson and Jorge since they all worked in vice. Come to think of it, she was also connected to Perez since they all worked for DPD and they both played on Jess’s softball team. Or did, since I didn’t think Jess would be asking Perez back after today’s events.

  Focus. I added Nancy’s name to Perez’s napkin. Now I had a bunch of scrawled-on napkins and not a clue as to what to do with all the information I’d compiled. But I knew who would. I reached for my phone and started dialing out of habit. Halfway through, memory kicked in and I cancelled the call. Jess might answer, but she wasn’t going to help me figure out this case.

  Back to the napkins. I shuffled them around and finally settled on the one that seemed central. Confidential informant, Roberto Garcia. He wasn’t going to be easy to find, and he probably wasn’t stupid enough to talk to me, but my gut said he was the key to everything. I pulled out my laptop and started searching. After about a half hour of wishing the guy didn’t have such a common name, I shut it down. Finding a guy like Garcia was going to require good old-fashioned street work. I’d get started in the morning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  My phone rang in the few minutes before I planned to get out of bed. You know that time, when you think you have a few more sweet moments of sleep, but whatever it is that’s interrupting you is going to last too long for you to be able to return to slumber. Ruins my day every time.

  Maggie’s voice was way too loud for morning. “Luca, do you want us to pick you up?”

  “What?” I yawned and rubbed my eyes while I tried to figure out what she was talking about and why it couldn’t wait until a time when normal people started conducting business.

  “We got donuts. We can swing by and get you.”

  Mark’s. That’s right. I’d stupidly promised to help Maggie and Dad decorate the newlywed nest this morning. The very last thing in the world I wanted to do was be stuck in a car with them. The second to last thing was having them show up on my doorstep. “I’ve got an errand to run on the way,” I lied. “Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

  I used one of my spare napkins to jot down the location, hung up the phone, and took Cash outside to do his business. Old Man Withers was out front, and I could tell he wanted to give me a lecture about his alleged no pet policy. Whatever. I’d spent countless nights cursing my former next-door neighbor’s mutt for barking at every damn noise he heard. At least my dog knew how to behave. To taunt Withers, I walked Cash around the entire perimeter of the apartment complex before heading back to our place. Once we were back inside, Cash sat at my feet staring up with hungry eyes. I poured some food in his bowl. “Eat up, but save some room for donuts,” I told him.

  A quick shower later, I grabbed my notes and Cash and left for the day. I figured I’d put in an hour with Maggie and my dad, and then Cash and I would figure out a way to find Garcia.

  Mark and Linda had moved to Texas from Boston just before the wedding. They’d pur
chased a bungalow in the coveted M Streets in East Dallas, an investment made possible by a generous gift from Linda’s uber wealthy parents. The house was tiny, but probably cost more than a couple of apartment complexes in my part of town. I pulled into the driveway and parked behind Dad’s beat-up Oldsmobile. Cash and I walked up onto the porch, and I peered into the big window. Maggie and Dad were sitting in the living room with a dozen Krispy Kremes between them. I rapped on the glass and Maggie appeared at the door.

  “Luca, come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  I pointed at the half-empty box. “I see you found a way to kill the time.”

  Dad stood up and wrapped me in a hug. “Hey, how’s my girl?”

  Last time I’d seen him we’d both been pretty wasted, which was usually the only time Dad was this affectionate. I sniffed the air. No scent of morning beer. Maybe he was glad to see me. Maggie broke up our father daughter moment.

  “You brought your dog?”

  Cash was sitting at my side. He couldn’t have been better behaved, which was quite an accomplishment considering a tiny white fur ball was hissing in his direction. “Sure. Why not? He’s way better behaved than that dust bunny.”

  “That’s Snowball.”

  I’d always been the butch one, but the fact that Mark had a cat named Snowball made him even more tease-worthy than ever. “Cash, try not to eat the marshmallow.” Cash responded with a few yips that sounded like he was sad to be denied the tiny snack. I reached into the donut box, fished out a glazed, and split it with him to make up for his loss.

  Maggie shook her head. “Guess that dog really is yours.”

  I wiped the glaze from my fingers and said, “Let’s get this show on the road. I have to be somewhere.”

  Maggie held up a bag from Party City and started pulling out streamers, confetti, string, and a bunch of foil letters that spelled Just Married. I gathered the object was to trash their place so they’d be sorry they ever left. I could do that better than most, but I listened to Maggie’s instructions anyway because not to do so would’ve kept me there twice as long.