by Regan Black
He’d made such a point of asking if she’d be here; it seemed strange that he wasn’t. In these moments, she often wished she could drop in and check on Tyler, or any of the other kids in similar situations, but that crossed a fine line. No one wanted a parent to feel judged and pull a kid who was getting something from the program.
She was paring down leftover pizza slices, combining them into whole pies for kids to take home, when Tyler finally showed up. He was wearing a T-shirt advertising a classic video game and his dark hair fell across his forehead, hiding one eye almost completely.
“Hi,” he said with a half-hearted wave.
“Hi.” She put two slices of pepperoni on a plate for him, and he grabbed a can of grape soda from the ice chest at the end of the serving table. Inwardly, she winced. Pizza, soda and candy didn’t make for the healthiest of meals, but when they served salad and veggies, they typically wound up with more wasted food.
“How are things going?” she asked.
“Okay.” He wouldn’t quite look at her.
She followed him to a table and sat down in the chair next to his. Had Shane’s interviews made Tyler feel uncomfortable? If so, she’d put a stop to his witch hunt. No one at the training center would have helped the thief. She wanted to pepper him with questions, but experience had proven that would only put him on the defensive. Instead, she chattered about the action on various games until he almost smiled.
Acting this sullen was unusual for Tyler when his parents weren’t around. On his own, here and at the training center, he was much more animated and lively.
“I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you,” she said quietly. “You know you can trust me.”
“Uh-huh.” He folded a piece of pizza in half and took a big bite. “It’s no big deal,” he said after he’d chewed and swallowed. He tipped his head back for a long drink of soda and his hair fell away from his eye.
Danica didn’t stifle the gasp in time. His hair had been hiding an eye nearly swollen shut, already turning violent colors.
Tyler scowled and let his hair flop down again.
“Who did that?” she demanded.
He shook his head.
“This is no time to be stubborn. Tell me what happened right now.” If she had to call protective services and pull him out of his house, she’d do it. Tyler was one of the good kids. He had a future if they could only get him through high school without a serious misstep.
“I walked into a door.” The innocent tone lost its effectiveness when he sneered.
“Was that door at home?”
He shook his head quickly, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Tyler.” He’d been fine this afternoon. School had ended last week, so when could this have happened?
“Forget it.” He crumpled his paper napkin and added it to the two skeletal pizza crusts on the paper plate. “I got clocked by a bully, that’s all. Nothing to do about it but let it heal.”
She sensed that piece was true. Pockets of his neighborhood could be brutal. He was growing up only a few blocks from where Shane had lived…before he’d been sent to prison. Maybe Shane could get him to talk about whatever trouble he was trying to handle on his own.
“You have friends,” she said at last. “And friends listen. They help each other.” At his grimace, she gripped her hands in her lap to keep from shaking some sense into him. It wasn’t that easy to get through to teenagers. “Remember that.” She patted his shoulder. “And go have some fun tonight.”
She slid out of the folding chair and walked away. If he wouldn’t open up, she couldn’t do anything. No, Tyler didn’t have much reason to trust adults. Still it stung that he refused to open up. Yet, she reminded herself, in the past he often sorted out issues in his head first before sharing his process and conclusions with her. It was a trait she admired most of the time.
She kept an eye on Tyler, pleased that he stayed through the rest of game night, playing card games with a few friends. Hearing him laugh with his peers went a long way toward reassuring her. When game night ended, he rode home with a few other kids in the youth center van. His parents were either working late or not in the mood to come out and pick him up. Danica’s family was far from perfect, but she’d never doubted how much she was loved.
She helped the other volunteers with the cleanup, needing the distraction and the companionship to reinforce her courage before she headed home. Finally, she couldn’t stall any longer, and she walked out to her car. If she checked the back seat before she got into the car and overused her rearview mirror on the drive home, she was the only one who knew about it.
Unfortunately, she had to quickly put her brave face back on when she reached her condo. Shane was looming in the lobby, his arms folded over his chest and a glacial chill in his eyes. “Where have you been?” he demanded as she walked in.
“That’s none of your business.” The clock on the wall showed it was just past eleven. Surely any interrogation could wait until morning. She tried to pass him and he blocked her. When she glanced up, he was studying her too closely. “What are you doing here?” The question did nothing to back him off.
His gaze raked her from head to toe. “What are you wearing?”
“Clothing.” This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her in something other than training center gear. “Excuse me.” She moved toward the elevator.
“You didn’t pick up my calls,” he said. “Were you on a date?”
He’d called her? She’d silenced her phone to give the kids her full attention. “That also falls into the ‘none of your business’ category. Why are you here?”
“We need to have a conversation.”
“So talk,” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
“Privately,” he said through gritted teeth.
It finally dawned on her that Stumps wasn’t with him though his K9 badge was clipped to his belt. It was the closest he ever came to a uniform. “Where is Stumps?”
“Off duty at home,” he replied.
For some reason she would feel better if the little corgi were here too. She waved an arm toward the empty lobby. “Seems we’re alone enough.”
“Danica.”
The way he growled her name sent a delicious shiver down her spine and put visions in her head of far more intimate situations. Damn that dream-kiss. She was never going to take a nap again. A different explanation for his calls and presence occurred to her. “Have you figured out how to recover Nico?”
“No.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Can we please go up to your place to have this conversation?”
“No.” She had enough trouble with her imagination and Shane as it was. Having him in her house? Not a smart play.
Clearly frustrated, Shane crowded closer and bent his head to her ear. “There was another theft at the training center tonight.”
“No.” Her heart tripped and stuttered. “That’s impossible.”
“They took one of the Malinois puppies,” he said, his jaw hard as granite.
She clapped a hand over his forearm and jerked it back as if she’d been burned.
“I need to know where you’ve been,” he said.
Sure, he was investigating a case, but she was offended anyway. “I was not stealing a puppy,” she said when she could get the words through her clenched teeth. With her contacts, she could have a dog through legitimate means anytime she wished. “Am I a suspect?”
His stare felt as tangible as a caress. “No.” He shook his head. “The guard was bludgeoned and you don’t have the leverage.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips and stifled the groan building in her throat. She’d forgotten all about the new guard. “Was he killed?” she asked from behind her hand.
“No. But not for lack of someone trying.”
She turned on her heel, pacing the length of th
e lobby along the floor-to-ceiling windows that fronted the modern building. First Nico, fully trained and about to be assigned a partner, and now a raw puppy who could be turned to any purpose. The odds of two different dog thieves targeting the training center at the same time were laughable. “You know the Larson twins are behind this.”
He tipped his head. “I strongly suspect, since they have Nico, but I need proof. And motive for this second theft.” He folded his arms over his chest again. The pose did fabulous things for his biceps. “Right now I’m focused on finding the dog thief,” he continued. “It’s our best bet. If we do that the police can make him give up his buyer or whoever hired him.”
Of course, that made sense. “Where is the guard now?” She hadn’t even met the man and she felt terrible for him.
“Hospital,” Shane replied.
“Can we go see him?”
Shane’s muscular shoulders rippled under his T-shirt. “I doubt he’s up to talking. If the blow had gone an inch one way or another, he’d already be dead.”
“Who found him?” she asked.
“He called it in himself when he came to. RRPD responded and phoned to let me know.”
How was it that two violent attacks in two nights ended with successful thefts on both occasions? Her temper started burning through the shock, temporarily muting her dismay for the fate of the dogs.
“I’d really prefer to discuss the rest upstairs.”
There’s more?
“Or at the station, if you’re worried I’ll stain the carpets. This can’t wait until morning.”
“What?” It took her a second to register what he meant. “Oh for—” She marched over to the elevator and punched the button. When they were inside and the doors closed again, she whirled around and drilled a finger into his chest. His tough, unyielding chest, she noticed. “Stain the carpets? That’s beneath you, Shane.”
His eyes widened under arched eyebrows.
“Drop the self-pity,” she said. “I’m sure prison sucked.”
That blue gaze iced over. “You have no idea.”
“But you were exonerated,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’ve recovered and rebuilt—”
“Have I?”
“—your life into something remarkable. Your past isn’t why I didn’t invite you up.” The elevator doors parted at her floor and she stepped out, marching down the hallway. At her condo, she shoved the key into the lock and pushed her door open.
“Go on in,” she ordered. He did, eyeing her warily. She followed and slammed the door behind her. “Only one of us is a killer and we both know it isn’t you.”
CHAPTER 8
Shane couldn’t have heard her correctly. “What did you say?” And why would she say it? He’d been accused of murder and had met hardened killers. Danica was not in that league. Hell, she had perpetual innocence stamped all over her, despite the fighting-mad sparks in her eyes. With her hair down around her shoulders, and that soft fabric skimming her body, he wanted to gather her close and learn the textures of her hair, her skin. He shook it off.
“Let’s focus on one crime at a time, Colton.” She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and leaned back.
He liked it better when she called him Shane. It was as if she couldn’t make up her mind how to address him. Maybe, like him, she needed the reminder that he was a family enemy.
He corralled his errant thoughts, wishing he hadn’t left Stumps, his best friend and partner, at home.
“Fine,” he said, not at all convinced she’d ever committed a crime of any nature. “I need to speak with Tyler.”
She frowned. “You didn’t interview him this afternoon?”
“Not officially. He’s a minor.”
Although she didn’t reply, she rubbed her upper arm, her teeth nipping her lower lip. He recognized the evasive body language from his P.I. training and prison before that. Danica was hiding something. Interesting. What didn’t she want him to find out? Maybe she wasn’t as sure about the kid as she let on.
“He had nothing to do with these thefts.”
“I’d like him to convince me.” Before she could toss him out, he stepped deeper into her space and checked to see her reaction.
She rolled her eyes and then gestured for him to continue. “Take the grand tour,” she said. “That was the kitchen. This is the great room.” She gestured to the wide sliders. “Mountain view is that way.”
He moved toward the sliders. Overall, the place was neatly kept and still felt homey. She hadn’t decorated with an overtly feminine style. That wouldn’t have fit her anyway, though he couldn’t pinpoint why he held that opinion.
Her midnight-blue couch was flanked by two comfortable-looking chairs. The seating area was anchored by a coffee table made from an artistic slice of a tree that would have been at home in an art gallery. The television was a respectable size and the dining table had room for six. He supposed that fit, considering her family.
He assumed the hallway she did not label led to the bedroom. “No dog?” Hearing a hiss he thought came from Danica, he spun around.
“Hush.” She wasn’t even looking at Shane. “Be polite, Oscar.”
He realized she was speaking to an enormous creature padding into the room from the darkened hallway. “What is that?” Based on the sounds, it was feline, but it outsized a normal house cat. It was big enough to pass for a bobcat or lynx that should be roaming that mountain view.
“Be polite.” Danica said to him this time. “This is my cat, Oscar.”
“You’re a dog trainer,” Shane said as she bent to let Oscar head-butt her hand. “Shouldn’t you have a dog?”
“I have plenty of dogs at work.” She rubbed the cat’s ear. “A good cat doesn’t mind the hours I put in at the training center. He’s a Maine coon and completely tame.”
“If you say so.” He wasn’t sure what to do with himself or how to get the conversation back on point. She hadn’t exactly invited him in for a drink. Had she been on a date? “You weren’t stealing puppies and you weren’t trying to rescue Nico dressed like that.” He ignored the challenging eyebrow she aimed at him. “Would you please tell me where you’ve been?”
“Game night at the youth center,” she replied. “Tyler was there, too.”
“The entire time?”
She bit her lip again. “He was late,” she admitted.
“That’s what you wear to game night?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Her gaze sharpened and her lips pursed. “You are not criticizing my wardrobe.”
He shook his head, trying not to laugh over inadvertently offending her. “More likely you ignited a few crushes among the teen set.”
“Quit teasing me,” she snapped. “Tyler couldn’t have been involved.”
“You said he was late,” Shane said. “Did he tell you why?”
“Would you like something to drink?” She started back toward the kitchen. “Tyler isn’t the thief,” she added as she walked away.
The flowing tunic and snug leggings drew his gaze, showing him a different, stylish side of Danica. He liked the view more than he should have. “You keep saying that without giving me any reason to believe it.” He leaned against the wide pass-through between the kitchen and dining area.
“My word should be enough for you,” she said. “Beer or water? I’m having wine.”
“Water, please.” He accepted the bottle of water she handed him. “I didn’t say he did it,” Shane pointed out. “I just said I wanted to talk with him. Although he might have been able to drug you, he’s too scrawny to have successfully taken out the guard tonight.”
“Then why drag him into the investigation at all?” She poured a glass of red wine, came back around into the main room with him and curled into a corner of the couch.
“He knows the t
raining center,” Shane said, barely keeping a leash on his exasperation with her. “Someone left the gate unlocked last night. Tonight too, most likely. Stumps and I found a temporary training center ID where we think the thief watched and waited for his moment to attack you.”
Her eyes rounded. “When were you going to tell me?”
“You went home early.” He purposely evaded the precise time of the discovery. “And then you didn’t answer your phone.” He’d been far too concerned with her safety, but he kept that to himself, as well.
“Tyler loves his work,” she insisted. “He wouldn’t do anything to put the team or the dogs in jeopardy.”
“Is he acting normal?” Shane demanded.
“Not exactly,” she replied. “That doesn’t mean he’s acting criminal, either. Who knows what’s going on at home?”
“You clearly have a soft spot for the kid.” He decided to test her a little. “And if I take your word on Tyler, I should take your word on that comment about you being a killer too, right?”
She blanched, but rallied quickly. “Yeah, actually.”
He rolled his eyes and strolled over to the sliding door, though all he could see was the reflection of her. “Tyler is hip-deep in this mess, whatever you want to believe,” he said, turning to face her.
She shook her head stubbornly.
Shane tried to appeal to her protective and compassionate nature. The same facets of her character that would never allow her to kill anyone. “The sooner I have the information, the sooner I can protect him. If it is Tyler, he’s vulnerable to the thief and whoever hired him to take those dogs.”
“You’ve got it wrong.” She didn’t sound so sure this time. “There has to be another explanation. Tunnel vision is bad for investigative work.”
