by BJ Bentley
“Uh…” Maxie’s eyes darted between me and Vance before she answered slowly, “No?”
My eyes narrowed. “If you’re not sure, maybe you should come in and try this new blend I got last weekend. It’ll blow your mind.”
“I, uh, no, that’s okay.” Maxie smiled. “Really. You can get back to…whatever it was you were doing.”
“Appreciate that, Maxie,” Vance cut in. “Thanks again for stopping by,” he said as he swung the door shut in Maxie’s still-smiling face.
11
Vance
“Dude, I haven’t seen you in, like, a week.”
I scrubbed my hand down my face knowing I probably looked as tired as I felt. Since I’d glued myself to Poppy’s side a few days ago, I’d moved myself into her guest bedroom, which I thought would be more comfortable than her ridiculous couch, but, as it turned out, was far more hazardous to my health. Lying awake each night, knowing she was just on the other side of the wall, in her own bed, and dressed in another pair of adorable pajamas that I should not have found irresistible…well, it was torture. Since our insanely hot kiss Saturday morning, she’d been doing her level best to freeze me out. She spoke to me only when she absolutely had to, but she rarely looked at me and she never, but never, let me get close enough to touch.
“Yeah, I know,” I muttered.
“Your charge keeping you busy? You look like shit,” Colin ribbed.
I snorted. “Thanks, asshole.”
“But I’m your asshole.”
My charge, as she was, was currently in Captain Griffin’s office for their weekly heart-to-heart. Cap always liked to keep a finger on the pulse of his force, checking in regularly to make sure none of us suffered from burnout or were struggling in any other way. But Poppy being a Leighton also made her a special case, and Cap was taking extra care with her, particularly after the shooting over the weekend. I’d heard he’d wanted to assign her to desk duty so he could keep an eye on her himself. I don’t know how she talked him out of it, but if I had to guess, it probably had something to do with the threat of a ball peen hammer to his manhood.
“She’ll eventually come out of there, you know.”
I flicked my eyes back to Colin, who was smirking, and away from the Captain’s door, which I’d been staring at. Okay, I was a little obsessed, I’ll admit, but who could blame me? Following her on her daily runs was killing me. Watching the fabric of her joggers, or sometimes leggings, molding to her perfectly rounded backside did unimaginable things to my body, sending my heart rate skyrocketing in a way no cardio workout could ever accomplish. And that first morning, when she’d run from me, I was pissed that she’d intentionally put herself in danger. But there was something else brewing beneath the anger. A sort of anticipation. A primal urge. I was the predator and she was the prey, and when the adrenaline kicked in, I knew that when I caught up to her, the price for her resistance would be steep. It turned out to be a debt well paid.
“She’s been in there for a while.”
Colin shrugged. “No more than any other time Cap talks to her.”
I looked back to the door.
“You didn’t go there with her, did you?” Colin asked, keeping his voice low.
“What? Why would you ask me that?”
“Maybe because you’re acting like a caveman? I know you volunteered for the bodyguard gig, but you’re staring holes through the Cap’s door just waiting to catch a glimpse of her, and you’re so tense, you’re about to break that pen.”
I looked down at the pen clenched in my fist and dropped it on my desk.
“Look, I get it,” he continued. “She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, and she’s funny as fuck. Hell, when Zanetti tried to make a move on her, and she told him she didn’t even want to be in the same room as him without wearing a Hazmat suit, I about pissed myself. But she’s your mentee, man. And a Leighton. Let’s not forget that.”
I understood where Colin was coming from, I really did, but that didn’t stop the film of red now coating my eyes. “Zanetti made a move on her?”
“Dude,” he sighed, exasperated. “That’s all you got from what I’m telling you?”
“No, I get what you’re saying,” I bit out. “And for what it’s worth, you’re not wrong. Poppy’s all those things. But don’t you dare think for one second that I’ve forgotten just who she is.”
Colin held his hands up. “I just don’t want you to cross a line that can’t be uncrossed.”
I had to admit, it was a little too late for that. “Right. Everybody’s gotta keep an eye on Brody. He’s the maverick.”
“Your sarcasm is duly noted,” Colin said dryly. “Now—”
“Guess what, bitches! Ya boy scored tickets—”
I sprang from my chair at Zanetti’s obnoxious entrance, missing the rest of his announcement. Not that I gave the first fuck. I had a right hook with his name on it. Unfortunately, I also had a partner who had more sense than I. “Get out of my way, Colin,” I said over his shoulder.
Colin’s meaty palms landed on my chest, shoving me back a foot. “Calm the fuck down,” he hissed. “As much as he deserves it, for a myriad of reasons, you can’t slug the bastard.”
I fought against his hold. “The hell I can’t.”
“Well, at least don’t do it here where there are witnesses. You know, like the captain.”
I stopped struggling. “He really made a move on her?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “She put him in his place. Poppy can take of herself, and she doesn’t need you doing something stupid like getting suspended. Especially while defending her honor. Something tells me that would piss her off enough to have your balls in a less than pleasant way.”
My shoulders slumped. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“Which is all the time.”
“Asshole.”
“Yours.”
Poppy chose that exact moment to exit Captain Griffin’s office. “What’s going on?” She peered at Colin hurriedly snatching his hands from my chest.
“Nothing,” we both answered, like two kids caught doing something we most definitely shouldn’t have been doing and fully prepared to blame the dog should the need arise.
“Whatever. I want to talk to Kayla Santulli today,” she said, walking around my desk to get to hers.
Against my better judgment, I found myself agreeing. “Okay.” I still hadn’t been able to find Mark Santulli, and between being on Poppy twenty-four seven and working the Granger case, I didn’t have the usual time I’d dedicate to my off-the-books activities. Maybe Kayla could provide us with new information. Or maybe she’d slam the door in our faces. Regardless, giving in to Poppy might get me back in her good graces, and right now, that was all I cared about. “Let’s go.”
“Really?” Poppy’s narrowed eyes scanned my face.
“Yeah, rookie, really.”
The Santulli house looked no different than the last time we’d visited. The yard was still overgrown, the paint still dingy and chipped in places, and the curtains blocked out any prying eyes. Something tickled at the back of my neck and my sixth sense kicked in. Something was off. The neighborhood was eerily quiet, not even a bird chirp disrupted the stillness. Trying to place why that made me so uneasy, I barely had time to register Poppy waltzing up to the front door.
“Poppy, wait!”
She paused, one fist poised to knock, and glanced over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Something just doesn’t feel right.” Now, standing behind her, my hand instinctively went to my weapon. I moved to the side and gave her the okay to knock.
Poppy knocked on the door, and we waited. No answer. She knocked again. “I think you’re right,” she murmured. “Something’s not right.” Her own hand went to her service weapon as she called out. “Mrs. Santulli? It’s Officer Leighton. Detective Brody is with me. We’d like to speak with you.”
I listened for movement in the house while my eye
s scanned the neighborhood. I saw a curtain ruffle in the house across the street but saw no other movement. And I didn’t hear anything coming from inside the Santulli residence either. It was possible that she just wasn’t home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that stole down my spine and settled in my gut. Something was definitely wrong.
I laid a hand on the door knob.
“What are you doing?” Poppy hissed.
“You said it yourself; something’s not right.”
“We can’t just break in! Maybe she’s not home.”
“Or maybe she is.”
Poppy frowned. “What if she’s just in the shower and didn’t hear us?”
I dropped my hand from the knob. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“We still can’t go in there without a warrant.”
“Fine. You stay here. I’m going to take a look around back.”
She huffed but held her ground. “Fine.”
I rounded the side of the house, noting the way the air shifted as I got closer to the back yard. It was as overgrown as the front but with a small shed at the edge of the property. I approached the shed first, my curiosity getting the better of me. There was a small window on either side of the ten-by-sixteen foot building, both of them painted black. Well, if that doesn’t look suspicious… The door was secured with two heavy padlocks, one that required a key and the other requiring a combination. At least one of the Santullis was paranoid. I made my way to the back door of the house. The curtains were pulled the same as they were at the front. The trash can next to the back steps was overflowing, and I could smell something that smelled distinctly of…
“Ahh, fuck,” I muttered, hurriedly trying the back door and finding it unlocked. I drew my gun before throwing the door wide and stepping inside, weapon raised. The smell overwhelmed me, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I gagged. I pulled the collar of my t-shirt up over my face, struggling to catch a breath that wasn’t putrid.
My eyes watered, both from the smell and the sight of Kayla Santulli’s body on the kitchen floor, slumped against the cupboards.
I quickly and quietly cleared the rest of the house, making sure there was no one else there, before striding to the front door. I unlocked it and opened it just enough to bark at Poppy, “Get back in the car,” before shutting the door in her shocked face.
I dialed dispatch and called it in, speaking through the cotton that was still pulled over my face. In minutes, this place would be swarming with uniforms, CSIs, and the coroner’s office. I disconnected the call just in time to herd my disobedient rookie into the bathroom where she could safely throw up her breakfast in the Santulli’s toilet.
“Thought I told you to get back in the car,” I said as she rinsed her mouth out, spitting it into the sink.
“I heard something. Turns out it was my renegade partner breaking and entering!” she snapped.
I took a deep breath to calm myself and immediately regretted it. Choking back the threatening bile, I set her straight. “I’m not your partner; I’m your superior, and I gave you a direct order.”
Large green-gold orbs blinked before narrowing into slits. “Right. Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”
“Poppy,” I sighed.
“No. You’re absolutely right.” She held up a hand to ward me off. “I’ll go back to the car now and wait for the backup I assume is coming.” She stepped around me, and I reached for her before I could think better of it. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, snatching her wrist from my grip and hightailing it down the hallway toward the living room.
I couldn’t stop the flinch when I heard the front door slam.
12
Poppy
Shit.
Fuck.
Cocksucking motherfucker.
I chanted the words over and over in my mind, wanting so desperately to scream them out loud and praying that my mother would forgive me. I sat in Vance’s car, as instructed, seething with fury. I may not have been a venerated detective, but I was a police officer, and I was bound to encounter such things as dead bodies. I should be inside that house investigating with the rest of the team. Instead, I was relegated a safe distance away, like a child being shielded from something too traumatic for my delicate female sensibilities to handle.
God, the boys club really freaking sucked.
And Kayla Santulli. Damn it. That was just one more black mark against Vance Brody. Maybe if he’d let me come back and speak to her sooner, I could have prevented this. She’d trusted me, I knew she did. And I’d let her down. I should have bucked against Vance’s edict and just done what I thought was right. Isn’t that what he does, himself? Bends the rules to suit him? What does it matter so long as the job gets done?
That wasn’t me though. Never had been. I liked structure. Rules. A clear chain of command. Hell, the Law & Order theme song probably played each time I walked into a room.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened as the world closed in. Black clouded my vision, and the only sound was that of my blood roaring in my ears. Gasping for air, my hand fumbled for the door handle. It seemed like an eternity before my fingers finally made purchase, and even then it was useless as the door was wrenched from my grip. Two hands grabbed my ankles, spinning me sideways so my feet were planted on the pavement. A firm hand gripped the back of my neck, shoving my head down between my knees.
“Breathe, Pop. Just breathe.” Heath’s cool, calm voice broke through the panic.
I closed my eyes, focusing on my breath. I inhaled for a count of four, exhaled for a count of eight. It was like muscle memory finally kicked in, forcing my body to perform a task it hadn’t had to carry out in years. A task that, in my panicked state, my mind couldn’t call up on its own.
Feeling more steady, I looked up at my big brother. “Thanks,” I whispered, blinking away the tears that had begun to gather in my eyes.
His hand, where it still rested on the back of my neck, gave me a reassuring squeeze. Heath stood, looking down at me with a carefully blank expression, though I knew him well enough to see the concern in his eyes. “You haven’t had a panic attack since Dad died.” His brow furrowed. “Have you?”
I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. When our father had been killed in the line of duty, it had been a shock, and it sent me into a tailspin, mentally and emotionally. Dad was my hero, and he’d been Heath’s too. A few years after that, when our mother had passed away, we’d expected it. She’d been ill for months, and I had dedicated my life to ensuring her comfort and making sure she had everything she needed while she wasted away from the cancer. When she finally took her last breath, it had been a relief. I’d been a daddy’s girl, but I’d loved my mother. I hated seeing her suffer. Thanks to the morphine, she’d passed away peacefully in her sleep, and I took my first deep breath in years.
What happened to Kayla was horrific. In just the small glimpse I’d caught before my nose clued in and my stomach rebelled, I could see that she’d been brutally beaten before she was killed. It might have even been what killed her. It was sickening, and no woman deserved that, let alone at the hands of someone who’d vowed to love and cherish her, if Mark Santulli was indeed her killer. My mind was reeling with what that meant.
“It’s my case,” I croaked, pulling myself up to stand next to Heath.
“I think you should sit back down,” he none-too-subtly suggested, his hand on my shoulder.
“It’s my case,” I repeated.
“Okay. Then why are you out here in the car instead of inside conducting your investigation?”
My mouth twisted. “Fucking Brody,” I muttered.
Heath’s lips twitched slightly. “Guess he’s taking his vow to protect you pretty seriously,” he muttered.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “I think I hate you both for that.”
Heath’s face lost all humor. “You’re all I’ve got left, Pop.”
That wasn’t exactly true. He had his wife, Amelia, who was pregn
ant. He had a brand new life to look forward to. But I knew what he meant. Our mom and dad were gone, and we didn’t have any other siblings. In a way, it was the two of us against the world. It was too bad we were also now against each other. “You can’t coddle me, Heath.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Come on.” He gestured for me to follow him.
“Where are we going?”
He stopped abruptly and turned to meet my questioning gaze. “You said it’s your case. We’re going inside.”
“But--”
“You can do this, Pop.”
I wrestled with the emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. I’d never acknowledged it before, but Heath’s approval was something I craved, and his support bolstered me. “Yeah. I can.”
We passed the crime scene techs who were just finishing roping the area off with yellow caution tape and strode toward the front door of the Santulli residence like we owned the place. We paused only to slap on some disposable booties and gloves before going inside.
But we weren’t exactly welcomed.
“What are you doing here? This isn’t your scene.” Vance’s irritated growl was directed at Heath, but his narrowed eyes were on me.
“Well, Brody, if you’re not able to teach your trainee proper crime scene protocol, I’ll just have to do it for you,” Heath taunted.
“The hell you will,” Vance returned, practically puffing his chest like an ape.
I fought against rolling my eyes and lost. “How about you two reschedule your pissing contest so we can do our jobs?” I asked loud enough to elicit a few snickers from the other uniformed officers within earshot and wondered if any of them had ever had the balls to put these two swaggering peacocks in their place. Doubtful.
Neither Heath nor Vance appreciated me giving them lip, but honestly, I was over it.
Surprisingly, Vance was the first to break. “Fine,” he relented. “Officer Leighton, please do come here.”
