by Lori Ryan
“Yeah,” John said, taking a step back. Yeah, he thought. Over. He needed to close this case so he could come back to her.
He watched to be sure she slid the deadbolt in place before he walked away.
He had one more cause to add to the long list of reasons these guys needed to be stopped, fast.
Chapter Thirteen
When he handed Eric his coffee, John felt only marginally better. He’d showered—a cold one designed to knock the Ava from his brain—and slept for all of an hour and a half before he had to head back in to the precinct.
He felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket and pulled it out. Lucia’s name showed on the screen. He hit the side button to lock the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket. It wasn’t that he minded talking to Lucia. They were on speaking terms.
He just needed to wait until his mind wasn’t so crowded with the case he was working so he could focus.
“Everyone else make it back?” John looked around the room.
Eric nodded. “Rhys and Mason are on their way up. Nate and Zaragoza caught a homicide. Guy was mugged and left in an alley. No witnesses or video, so they’ll get crime scene on it and then come back to get into this with us, if they can.”
They spent the next hour poring over tips that had come in on the precinct tip line. There wasn’t anything that looked like it would lead to more than a waste of time, but they had to chase the threads to be sure.
John looked up from his desk when Erica Cross, one of their technicians in the city’s somewhat small crime lab entered. She was a short African-American woman and not someone you’d notice on the street, but she was sharp as hell. Most people figured that out within a few minutes of talking to her. She followed every rule by the book and often worked miracles with the limited budget they had for the city’s lab.
Rhys was the first to speak. “What have you got, Erica?”
Eric, John, Rhys and Mason all stood, watching Erica as she stopped in the walkway between the cubicles.
“The hair’s not real.” She held up photos with evidence labels on them—blown up shots of the hair samples they’d found at the latest two jewelry store scenes.
“Hair that’s been dyed these bright punk colors can look pretty fake. I think the tech that collected this at the scene probably didn’t think anything of it, but I put it under the scope and it’s synthetic. A cheap wig.”
“Anything we can trace?” John asked. Not that he expected the answer to be yes, but sometimes you had to ask the question, even when you knew the answer.
“Nope. You can get it at any costume store, a lot of the big chain stores, a hundred stores online—”
“I get it,” John said, putting a hand up to stop her.
“Anything else?” Rhys asked.
Erica shook her head. “We’re going through the footage from the scene. Nothing we didn’t know. Officer Hall went in and was shot immediately. Like the witness said, the suspects started fighting right away. The one who shot Hall aimed the gun to fire another shot, but one of the other perps shoved him away and the shot misfired. We’ve got that bullet and the casing, but so far nothing is turning up in any of the databases.”
So their firearm wasn’t used in any crimes other than this one. At least no other crimes in a jurisdiction that would enter the information into one of the databases they relied on. Or it had been used, but the information wasn’t entered into the system yet.
They’d been told by the witness that the suspects began to argue as soon as the one had shot Officer Hall. They’d left, still shouting at each other, one guy practically dragging the shooter out the door.
Erica left, and the four detectives looked at each other. They went to the conference room and took seats, knowing without needing to say anything that they needed to pore through the evidence again.
John ran his hands down his face. “All right, we know these guys are covering anywhere that might have tattoos or piercings. They have fake dyed hair sticking out of their masks. We’ve been assuming they’re goths or punks or whatever because of their clothes and the hair color, but what if that’s all fake?”
Rhys nodded. “It ups the organization level of these guys a little. I mean, they not only covered everything, they purposefully left fake clues, they’re only hitting stores that won’t have a guard and that are less likely to have high-quality or hidden security cameras.”
“I feel like we just found out Santa’s not real,” Eric said.
Connie entered the room, carrying a tray of sandwiches. “Got food. I saw Erica in the hallway. She told me about the hairs.”
The young officer set down the tray and grabbed a sandwich for himself, then looked up like maybe he’d done something wrong by assuming he was staying.
Eric laughed and slid a chair closer to him. “Sit.”
Connie gave a nod and sat, looking around the table. John remembered when he’d been like that. Glad for any time he was able to spend in Major Crimes. He still loved his job a lot of the time, but cases like this got to him. The ones they couldn’t close stayed with him. That feeling when you weren’t able to get justice for a victim never went away. It ate at you day in and day out.
This was fast looking like it might be one of those cases, and the fact it involved a cop getting shot meant not closing it would burn even more.
Eric gestured to Connie. “You know Officer Hall?”
Connie’s face fell, and he nodded. “Our shifts overlap a few days a week, so I see him coming and going in the locker room sometimes. He spotted me at the gym a couple of times, too. He’s a good guy. Has a couple of cute kids he’s always bragging on.”
They all nodded as they ate. No one said anything, but they didn’t need to. It was unspoken that they’d move heaven and hell to get justice for Hall. When a victim was a cop, everything cranked up a level. Knowing it was a cop with kids, a young guy just on the force, really sucked. There were no more eloquent words for it. It just plain sucked.
Gerald Osborn entered. “I smell food.”
Eric pushed the sandwiches toward the end of the table where Gerald stood. “You have to work for it.”
Gerald nodded and sat as he grabbed one of the hot sandwiches from the deli around the corner.
“I heard we have fake hair.” Gerald’s words were spoken around a mouthful of food.
“Is there anyone Erica didn’t tell?” Eric wondered.
John snorted. “As far as she’s concerned, she just gave us our first lead in a week.”
“Not far from the truth,” Rhys said.
John couldn’t argue with that.
Zaragoza poked her head into the room. “Hey guys, Nate wanted me to see if you need anything. He’s going through missing persons reports for our victim in the alley. Said I should see what you need.”
With a body found in an alley, it takes time just to make an ID, and there often aren’t a whole lot of friends and family to interview. It was the nature of the thing. People who lived on the streets without a permanent address turned up in alleys. It didn’t mean they didn’t deserve just as much attention from the Major Crimes division to get justice for them, but it meant they often didn’t have leads to run down right away.
“Heard it was a mugging gone wrong?”
Zaragoza nodded, and John could tell she was thinking. She was the type of person who thought before she spoke. It would serve her well in their job.
“Young guy, wallet was there but cards and license and money are gone. Doesn’t look like he had any reason to be in the alley other than a wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. No track marks or anything. Doesn’t have the look of a coke head. He was in nice clothes. Maybe we’ll find out different, but I bet he was cutting through on the way to a bar or something, and someone jumped him. He fought back and got a bullet for his trouble.”
“Here,” he said, pushing a sandwich her way. “Eat while you can. This is your first homicide, right?”
She took the sandwich
and sat in an empty chair next to him, unwrapping the waxed paper that surrounded it.
“Don’t rush anything,” John said, “and stay focused on the victim. Remember that you’re doing all this for him, for his justice, not for yourself or your career or any of that.”
She nodded, listening as she chewed. Officers who moved up from patrol already knew one of the most important lessons in policing; eat while you can, when you can.
“Keep in touch with your ADA about the case and don’t be afraid to reach out and ask them if you have questions about your case or your evidence. Assistant district attorneys are there to help you out. They want a case to stick, so don’t be afraid to use them. Nate’s got good experience though too, so he’ll help you through this.”
She was nodding again when the conference room door opened, and Nate stuck his head in. “Marisol, we’ve got a missing persons filed on a guy matching our description.”
Zaragoza shoved the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth and balled up the wrapper, tossing it in the can.
John was envious. Getting an ID on their victim so quickly was a great break in their case. He’d kill for a break in the jewelry store case right now.
Chapter Fourteen
“Shouldn’t we be skipping the dinner out now that we—” Ava leaned across the table and whispered— “you know, decided?”
John leaned in and mimicked her whisper. “Decided what?”
“To, you know.”
A lazy smile took over his face. “I do know, but I want to hear you say it.”
Ava leaned back and laughed, picking up a sugar packet and tossing it at him.
She liked the way he scowled at her as he caught it and tossed it on the table. She didn’t know if he realized just how sexy he was. Probably.
“Just because I know you’re a sure thing now doesn’t mean I don’t want to take you to dinner,” John said, and Ava would be lying if she said part of her didn’t want to skip dinner. She wanted to run home with him and strip his clothes off and get to the “you know” part now.
But she also kind of did a melty thing at the idea that he wanted to spend time with her outside of bed. Not that getting all melty with John was a good thing. She needed to keep reminding herself that this was supposed to be physical only. Her feelings weren’t supposed to be getting involved here.
They were at a more casual place than the last time they’d eaten out together. Instead of Italian, they were doing Falafel pita wraps. John’s name was called and he went up to the counter to pick up their order. When he came back, he sat next to her in their booth, instead of across from her, passing her order to her.
“I haven’t seen anything in the news about any more jewelry stores. I’m on a mailing list with a bunch of other shop owners, though, and everyone is nervous at this point. Some of the stores that haven’t had a guard in the past are hiring temporary guards and others are putting in better alarms.”
“That’s good,” John said when he’d swallowed his bite. “You guys are still being careful?”
“Yes. Still walking out together at the end of the day, and we’ve got the front and back doors locked. We’re doing what you said, having the guard unlock the door as they see customers approaching instead of leaving it unlocked all the time.”
“The robberies have stopped for now, at least.”
“The last one was the one where Officer Hall was shot?” Ava asked.
John confirmed with a nod. “I have a feeling they know we’ll be on them now with all we’ve got. When an officer is shot, it changes things.”
She could see the tension in his body and knew he was upset they hadn’t made an arrest yet. She rubbed his shoulder with one hand as she ate her food.
He leaned into it and grumbled, making her laugh. He’d done the same thing in college when she would straddle him, settling in on his ass so she could massage his muscles. She smiled now, thinking maybe she’d give him a back rub later tonight. She didn’t know if he’d be spending the night, but maybe …
She couldn’t stop herself from remembering what his body looked like. Even back in school, he’d been muscled and hard all over. She loved running her hands over the smooth taut skin and feeling the sheer strength of him beneath them.
He felt like he’d doubled in size, broader across the shoulders and chest than he had been back then. Her mouth watered at the thought that she’d get to explore him soon.
Ava looked at her wrap. She’d taken all of two bites, but she wasn’t as hungry as she’d been a few minutes ago. At least, not for anything on her plate.
“John,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder. It felt good.
His smile was lazy and slow as he turned his head to look at her. “What can I do for you, Av?” he asked, shortening her name like he had in college and lowering his voice to a tone that said he knew damned good and well what he could do for her. His eyes seemed to darken as he looked at her and she bit her lip.
“Take me home,” she whispered.
He had them out of there and in her living room inside half an hour. The drive had been torture. John had kept one hand on her leg the whole time. The simple stroke of his hand up and down her leg shouldn’t have been as erotic as it was. But, damn, the contact of flesh against flesh, the way his hand gradually went higher and higher on her thigh had taunted and teased in the best of ways.
John was just as she remembered, only more so. He was overwhelming, his powerful body hummed a constant thrum of arousal to hers as he stripped her down. She forgot to feel self-conscious at the fact she’d aged and wasn’t as thin as she once was.
There wasn’t room for any of that. There was only him. His mouth on her skin, heated breath on her neck, her shoulder, her breast as soon as he’d gotten it bared to him. Her breath seemed to come in pants as he worked his way over her skin, moving south.
Ava looked down at John as he knelt before her, the sinew and muscle of his shoulders broad and tantalizing before her. He sucked on her nipple, making her gasp as his hands held her hips in place, kept her locked in his arms.
“You always were good at that,” she sighed, her whole body feeling the tingle and spreading heat of his actions. “Always so good with your mouth.” She wrapped her arms around his head, then let them fall to his shoulders, reveling in the warm, smooth skin.
“It’s what I’m good for,” he said, his mouth moving to the other breast.
Ava stiffened. “Good at. It’s what you’re good at, you mean.”
John growled and ignored her words, but Ava tried to pull his head up to look at her. Something about the way he’d said those words—what he was good for—struck her and stopped her cold. She wanted to know what he meant.
He didn’t let her pull him away from his focus, though. He nipped her stomach playfully then worked his way down her body, and she was lost. Her breath came faster as he stood and lifted her, bringing her into the bedroom.
He swore as he laid her on the bed and moved over her. It was no surprise when she felt his erection against her as he settled next to her and ran his hands over her body. He was as ready for this as she was.
Lord, she’d missed this man. She didn’t want to admit how much she’d missed him, but she had. No man had made her feel the way he did. Every part of her thrummed with arousal and the sweet tantalizing anticipation of what was to come. She wriggled, trying to get closer to him.
A deep laugh came from him as he ran a hand down her arm and used it to pin her to the bed beneath him. He pinned her lower half with his leg, heavy and strong on top of hers. “Always so impatient, Ava.”
“John,” she panted, “I need.”
“I know.” His torture was thorough and relentless and unyielding as he used his mouth and hands on her, then.
And it was perfect. Exquisite release came as an orgasm swept through her. It was only then that he put on a condom and entered her. And with that, the spiral that had built in her before began again, and she was begging a
nd crying out his name when he came inside her, pulling her with him in another deliciously sensuous finish.
She collapsed against him, his arms warm and hard as they wrapped around her. She was drowsy, deep in the pleasurable coma that came after incredible sex. Still, she remembered his words from earlier.
She spoke into his chest as he held her against him. “So good at that, John. You’re so good at that, but you’re also good for so much more.”
He didn’t answer, and she felt his breathing steady and slow into the deep rhythm of sleep.
He was good for so much more.
Chapter Fifteen
John was awake long before the phone rang. He’d slept for a couple of hours, wrapped around Ava’s long limbs. It was the kind of sleep he’d been needing—deep and dreamless. But soon his body had woken him, stirring and wanting more of her. It had always been like that with Ava. In college, when they’d been together, the sex was so much more than it had been with other women.
And right now, he not only wanted her, he wanted to be with her. He wanted to go back in time and have a chance at a real life with her. A chance to wake up with her again and again. To put the smile on her face she’d given him at dinnertime before she invited him home.
And the kind of smile she gave him when she thought something was ironic. And the kind of smile she gave him when she had thought of a funny joke or memory. And the one where she talked about her father and sister. He wanted all of that.
He amputated that thought line, carving it out of his mind before it could take hold. It wasn’t a place he could go. Wanting like that wasn’t a good idea for a man like him.
He had just moved on to thinking about waking Ava with his mouth and focusing on the things a man like him could have in his life, when the phone rang.
Ava looked up at him with sleepy eyes, and he couldn’t honestly say he regretted the night in any way. She was warm and soft curled against him. Damn, that softness was doing all kinds of things to make him hard. She ran her hand over his chest and he went rock hard, giving serious thought to ignoring the phone in favor of Ava.
