by Radclyffe
“It looks to me like she’s coming on board,” Bri said tightly.
“Yeah,” Allie said contemplatively, her soft Southern accent becoming more accentuated. “That’s how I read it too. So, you think she’ll end up partnering with one of us?”
Bri stiffened. “Why? You and I are partners. Reese won’t split us up.”
“I don’t know. We’re still the rookies, even if we have been doing this for a year. And Carter—well, Carter’s gonna have rank on us.”
“I guess it would be up to Reese.” Bri stood abruptly. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Take a tour around town.”
“Hey, fine by me. I’ll tell Gladys.”
Bri watched Allie saunter over to the counter, knowing without being able to see her face that she would be cruising Carter. Allie cruised every woman, gay, straight, single, or married. With Allie’s statuesque physique, her wavy mahogany hair, and her deep dark soulful eyes that promised fantasies come true, Allie generally got cruised back. Bri had only ever been in love with one girl, but for a few crazy weeks a year or so ago when her head was all turned around, she’d almost given in to Allie’s charms. That was behind them now, and she and Allie were partners at work and tight friends. She was probably one of the only people who really knew that Allie was a lot more than just a beautiful flirt. Allie was both beautiful and a flirt, that was for sure, but she was also loyal and tender and, underneath her bad girl image, lonely.
Carter looked up when Allie approached, smiled and said a few words Bri couldn’t hear, and then went back to her paperwork. From where Bri was standing, Carter seemed to be immune to Allie’s charms. But then, Carter was rock-solid married. Like Reese. Like her.
“All set,” Allie said when she returned to collect her gun from her desk drawer.
“Learn anything?” Bri settled her hat low over her brows and slid her weapon into her holster. She held the door open for Allie as they walked out the side door into the small parking lot.
“Nope,” Allie said, passing Bri and starting down the stairs.
Bri was right on her heels and when Allie abruptly stopped on the last step, she plowed into her and almost bowled her over. “What the fuck, Al.”
“What the fuck is right!” Allie sounded both shocked and angry.
“Uh-oh,” Bri muttered, finally noticing the redhead standing on the blacktop path ten feet in front of them, her face set and her eyes riveted on Allie. Bri hadn’t seen Ashley Walker for the better part of a year, not since Allie and Ash had split up. Ash looked thinner than she remembered, the lines around her eyes a little deeper, her body pared down to tight muscle and bone. She’d cut her thick, slightly curly crimson hair to just above her collar, and the sleeker look accentuated the tight planes of her cheekbones and jaw. Ash’s blue eyes flickered over Allie’s body and then resettled on her face.
“Hello, Allie. Bri,” Ash said in a low, throaty alto.
“Walker,” Allie said coldly. “What are you doing here?”
“Working a couple of dozen cases down this end of the Cape.” Ash slid her hands into the pockets of her khakis and swallowed around the dry, hard knot in her throat. She had known this first meeting would be tough, and she’d thought she was prepared for it, but she’d been wrong. She’d underestimated just how hard it would be to see the anger in Allie’s eyes and hear the loathing in her voice. In the eight months since she’d seen her, Allie had changed. She’d cut her long, dark hair to collar length, but that wasn’t it. She’d lost the sheen of innocence that had shimmered beneath the sexual allure that was as natural to Allie as breathing. She was still beautiful, even more so now because of the edge in the sculpted planes of her face, but she also seemed remote, untouchable. And that was right, wasn’t it. Ash had been the one to walk away.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Allie snapped.
“Courtesy call.” Ash tried not to wince when Allie snorted rudely. “I’ll just head in to see Nelson.”
“My dad’s out on indefinite sick leave,” Bri said. “Reese is chief now.”
“Oh, damn, I’m sorry,” Ash said. “Is Nelson okay?”
“He’s doing better.” Bri’s mouth thinned. “He had heart surgery about a month or so ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”
Allie strode down the path directly toward Ash, forcing Ash to sidestep hurriedly or risk getting knocked on her ass.
“Why should you know?” Allie said as she passed, a slight hint of DKNY’s Be Delicious trailing in her wake. “You’re not part of anything around here.”
“Tell Nelson I said hello,” Ash said quietly as Bri hurried after Allie.
“Sure. Thanks,” Bri mumbled.
Ash heard a car door slam, then another, and forced herself not to turn around and watch Allie drive away. She’d already seen her walking out of her life every day for the last eight months, and she heard what Allie didn’t say. You’re not welcome around here.
*
“I can’t believe she just showed up like that. Like she could just walk right in,” Allie fumed.
Bri wheeled the cruiser out onto Shank Painter Road and headed toward Bradford, carefully keeping her eyes on the road although she could have driven it blindfolded. Allie sounded mad, but underneath the mad was a little bit of quaver that sounded like tears. Tears just ripped Bri up. “She said she was here on business.”
“Of course she is. When isn’t she?” Allie folded her arms across her chest. “That’s the only thing that matters to her.”
“She definitely screwed up when she—” Bri caught herself just before she said dumped you. Allie was usually the one breaking hearts, and she’d taken it hard when Ashley Walker had called things off between them. Like a good friend, she said, “She didn’t know how lucky she was.”
“Old news,” Allie said dismissively. “Ancient history. Hell, I would’ve been out of there in a few more weeks anyhow.” She stretched her legs beneath the dash and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling of the cruiser. “I like variety. I’m not like you and Reese, Parker.”
Bri glanced over at her. “How’s that?”
“Pussy-whipped. Not my style.”
“Jesus,” Bri choked out. “You better not let Reese hear you say that.”
“I didn’t hear you denying it, though.” Allie tilted her head toward Bri and grinned. “Of course, you probably don’t have all that much imagination, seeing as you’ve been sleeping with the same girl for what—six years? God.”
“Don’t go there,” Bri said good-naturedly. Allie never passed up the opportunity to tease her about the fact that she’d only ever slept with one girl. She and Caroline Clark had been together since they were sixteen, and she knew she would never ever get tired of Carre’s kisses, or the sexy glint she got in her eyes when she woke Bri up in the morning wanting sex, or the way she cuddled in Bri’s arms after she came, sighing with contentment. Carre filled Bri’s heart with wonder. She made sense out of a crazy world. She was the one.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to pick on the afflicted.” Allie poked Bri’s arm. “Swing by the rescue squad station.”
“Why?”
“No reason. Just a friendly visit,” Allie said nonchalantly.
“Uh-huh. No reason like the new EMT in town? What’s her name?”
“Flynn.”
“So what’s her story?”
“Dunno.” Allie grinned at Bri. “Yet. She only got here a couple of days before the hurricane hit, and then we were all so busy with the casualties I barely had a chance to say hello. She did say we should drop by sometime, so I just thought it was time we got properly introduced.”
“Sure.” Bri headed over to Conwell. They worked frequently with all of the emergency personnel in town, and it wasn’t a bad idea to touch base with the new EMT, but she doubted that was the only reason Allie wanted to see the good-looking blonde. “Good idea.”
“Thanks.” Allie appreciated Bri not giving her a
hard time just then. She wanted to flirt with a woman, laugh with a woman, feel the heat of a woman’s appreciative gaze on her skin. She wanted to not think about what Ashley Walker was doing in town. Or how long she would stay.
Chapter Two
“You’ve got another visitor, Sheriff,” Gladys said when Reese picked up the phone. “Mighty popular today.”
“Anyone I want to see?”
“Oh, I think so. It’s Ashley Walker.”
“Send her in.” Reese walked around her desk and extended a hand as Ash tapped on the door, pushed it open, and entered. Reese liked the insurance investigator. They’d worked together before, had drawn fire together, and Ash had handled herself well. “Good to see you.”
“Same here,” Ash said. “Sorry it has to be under these circumstances. Route Six looked like a war zone driving in. You hit hard?”
“Hard enough.” Reese sat in one of the wooden chairs and motioned Ash to the other. The hurricane that had trekked up the coast and savaged the Cape was the kind of natural disaster that occurred every few decades, and they’d had precious little warning. Their emergency response system had worked, and they’d managed to evacuate most of the visitors and many of the residents before the worst of the wind and surge had flooded the roads and most of the town of three thousand residents. In the week since the storm had blown out to sea, every law enforcement agent, volunteer firefighter, rescue worker, and public servant had worked eighteen-hour-days on the recovery effort. “Three casualties—one MI, one vehicular fatality, and one drowning. All storm related, but considering the amount of property damage we’ve got, it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“What’s the situation in town?”
“We’ve managed to restore most basic functions—pretty much the whole town has electricity again,” Reese said. “We’ve got problems with sewage containment—a public health consultant is coming in tomorrow to test our water and liaise with our public works department. I imagine you’re here about the property damage?”
“Property and personal losses,” Ash said wearily. “Mostly corporate claims, though.”
Reese noted the dark circles beneath the remnants of Ash’s summer tan. “You look like you’re running on fumes.”
Ash grinned ruefully and flicked a crimson strand off her cheek, automatically raking a hand through her hair. “My biggest client happens to insure ninety percent of the businesses on the Cape, which means we’ve got claims pouring in by the hour as people return and start assessing the damage.”
“I imagine along with the legitimate claims you’ll get some bogus ones too.”
“That’s pretty much my specialty these days—insurance fraud. My job is to screen the claims on-site and hand off the straightforward ones to under-agents. Anything that looks questionable…” Ash shrugged. These days insurance fraud often involved organized crime networks, since purchasing real estate was a popular way to launder money. So was destroying property and picking up the clean insurance payouts. “I get to dig around until I’m satisfied that the claim is valid.”
“What do you need from me?”
“I’d appreciate it if I could have a look at your incident reports to cross-reference with my claims.”
Reese pulled a pad off her desk and made a note. “Done.”
“And it would be helpful if you let your officers know that I’ll be poking around pretty much everywhere in town for the next few weeks.”
“Poking around.” Reese raised an eyebrow. “We had quite a few fires, at least one major. The fire marshal hasn’t even cleared half the damaged buildings yet. The town engineer has a list as long as his arm of public structures and businesses to be assessed for structural damage. I don’t want a building coming down on your head.”
“I’ve got a pretty good eye for structural integrity,” Ash said mildly, not bothering to mention she’d been an arson investigator with the Massachusetts State Police before going private. Reese knew her creds.
“I know you can handle yourself, but while you’re in my town, you’re my responsibility.” Reese tapped her pen on the pad. “I’ll need a list of properties you intend to inspect and your schedule.”
“I don’t mind giving you the addresses of the claims, but my schedule changes constantly, depending on what I find.” Ash shook her head. “There’s no way I can provide you with any kind of itinerary.”
“Then I’ll need you to check in regularly.”
“Reese,” Ash protested, “I know what I’m doing.”
“Don’t doubt it.” Reese spread her hands and said calmly, “The town is a mess, Ash. Parts of the West End aren’t even habitable yet. Hell, even some of the big places up on Pilgrim Heights got hit. I don’t want any more casualties, and I don’t think you should be working alone. I’ll have one of my officers accompany you as much as possible.”
Ash’s face lost all expression. “That’s not necessary.”
“There you go, trying to tell me how to do my job again.” Reese stood. “You’ve worked with my people before. We won’t get in your way.”
“I don’t suppose I can change your mind?” Ash said, getting to her feet.
Reese knew Ash didn’t expect an answer to her question. “Where are you staying?”
“At the Crown Inn.”
“Leave your cell number with Gladys. I’ll have one of our officers contact you later this morning.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Be careful, Ash.”
“Not to worry,” Ash called over her shoulder as she left. “Careful. That’s my middle name.”
*
Rica Grechi finished taping up the padded wrapper on a small oil painting and smiled as she handed it across the counter to a customer. “This is a wonderful gift. I’m sure your sister will love it.”
“Thank you so much,” the middle-aged woman said. “I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to get here, what with all the mess out on the roads.”
“I really appreciate you braving the chaos to come in.”
“Oh, it was worth it. I just love your gallery.” The customer gathered up the painting along with a voluminous purse and several other packages. “I’ll be sure to tell all my friends to stop by—as soon as things get back to normal. Whenever that is!”
“Thank you,” Rica called.
The bell over the door chimed just as the woman reached it, and Rica prepared to welcome another customer. Then her pleasant anticipation changed to a quick thrum of excitement when she recognized Carter holding the door open for the customer to exit. She hurried around the counter just as Carter shut the door, and flipped the store sign to Closed.
“Come on in the back,” Rica said, grasping Carter’s hand and pulling her through the gallery.
“Glad to see me?” Carter inquired with a suggestive chuckle.
“Nope. Had enough of you last night.” Rica smiled to herself, remembering how hungry she’d been for Carter and just how many delicious ways Carter had made her come. When they reached her office, out of sight of the front windows and the people walking by on Commercial Street, Rica threaded her arms around Carter’s neck and kissed her. Carter made a low, growling sound in her throat and tugged Rica’s silk shirt free of her pants.
“We’ll see about that,” Carter muttered.
“Not so fast, stud,” Rica said, bracing her arm on Carter’s chest. Carter’s eyes had already taken on that intense focus that signaled she was aroused, and as much as Rica loved to know that she could put that look in her lover’s eyes in under a minute, she didn’t want to get distracted. Well, she did, but not just yet.
“After a greeting like that, you’re going to put the brakes on?” Carter tugged Rica closer and caught Rica’s earlobe between her teeth. She nipped and grumbled, “Tease.”
“Mmm, like you mind.” Rica kept her arms around Carter’s neck, but leaned back in her embrace, preventing Carter from enticing her into more kisses. Kissing Carter was an addiction she had no desire to control,
and once she started, she wasn’t likely to stop. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. That was just a little hello kiss.”
Carter contented herself with running her hands up and down Rica’s slender back. Rica had left her long, wavy midnight hair down, and it flowed around her pale, oval face like a frame on a classic painting. Rica’s ebony, almond-shaped eyes glowed with happiness and excitement, and that was all Carter needed to see for her world to feel complete. She kissed Rica’s forehead. “Tell me your news.”
Rica tilted her head, studying Carter with a playful expression. “What makes you think there’s news?”
“It’s written all over your face.” Carter skimmed her thumb over the faint dent in Rica’s chin. “Give.”
“I’ve just landed a new client—Gillian Fitzgerald.”
“The expressionist?” Carter whistled. “She’s hot right now, isn’t she?”
“The New York Times is calling her one of the most exciting avant-garde painters of the last half-century. And she’s agreed to let me open her new works here, before we move them to Manhattan.”
“You’ll need to spend some time in the city, then,” Carter said casually. She didn’t like the idea of Rica moving back into the kind of circles where she would be vulnerable to her father’s or his associates’ influence. Don Alfonse Pareto had been suspiciously absent from Rica’s life in the last six months, but Carter didn’t believe the reprieve was permanent. Rica was the don’s only child, and Pareto had made it well known that he expected to turn his business enterprises over to his daughter, or his daughter’s husband, when he retired. Just because Rica had informed her father that she had no interest in his business at the same time she’d told him she was a lesbian and in love with Carter, didn’t mean the don was on board with Rica’s program. But Pareto was Rica’s father, and she loved him, so Carter said nothing.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rica said quietly.
“Do you?” Carter nuzzled Rica’s neck. “Then you’ll leave that sign on the front door and sneak out the back with me for an hour or two.”
