One Taste of Crazy (A One Taste Novel Book 3)

by Amanda Siegrist

  His stance straightened as his gut twisted with unease. “You think she left to find this killer?”

  “Dude, Dee and intrigue equals, hell yeah.”

  “She’s in so much trouble when I find her.”

  Newman grinned wickedly. “The naughty kind of trouble? I didn’t know you had that in you. You sly dog.”

  Sauer chuckled, despite the fear racing through his veins. “Yeah, well, I found out when she scares the shit out of me, the dominant part comes roaring out. She knows it, too.”

  “Yeah, knowing Dee, she purposely did it then.”

  “Let’s go.” Sauer headed for the front door, swiping his jacket from the coat rack before going outside.

  “Where are we going? We have no idea where to start.”

  “Let’s keep working the case. That’s all we can do right now.”

  Newman paused on the front step as Sauer locked the door. “We could put an APB out on your car.”

  Sauer gave him a look that said not to say anything like that again. “She didn’t steal my car.”

  “No, of course not. She just took it without asking.” Newman laughed as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You know that deserves at least a good spanking.”

  “Dude, I don’t…let’s go interview Dee’s neighbor again.”

  “Not the spanking kind of guy. Gotcha.” Newman laughed, then frowned a little. “We don’t talk about our relationships much. I know I give you shit about talking to women, but we don’t really talk. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime.”

  “You know, I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  And he meant it. It was nice to know he could go to Newman if he wanted. He was right. They didn’t have too many moments like this. Not like Zeke and Ben did. He liked it. It wasn’t something he experienced growing up. Of course, he had a few friends, but not a best friend. Not someone he shared secrets with about anything and everything. He wanted that. He wanted it with Newman. Because he was the closest thing he had to a best friend. He trusted Newman with his life. Being partners, he needed to have that level of trust. Because, like it or not, there could come a time when they had to depend on each other.

  Right now felt like one of those times. So many scenarios were running through his head even though he knew Dee left on her own accord.

  She left him.

  A part of him withered away inside. She didn’t trust him enough. So she left.

  Chapter 9

  “Stitch, my man. How’s my favorite hunk with the ink?” Dee sauntered up to the counter at Tat Me Tattoo Shop to a man built like a truck with tattoos up and down his arms, legs, neck, chest, and she’d never seen his ass, but she imagined that part was tattooed as well.

  “Well, if it ain’t Deena O’Malley, sweetest chick I know.”

  Her brow rose. “Me? Sweet? I’m pretty sure you’re the only person on this planet to say that.”

  “That’s because all those other people don’t know you like I do. I do recall in third grade you socking Jimmy Thomas in the nose because he pushed me off the slide. What’s not sweet about a girl sticking up for a scrawny ass little boy?”

  “Nothing scrawny about you now.”

  Stitch leaned on the counter, his biceps bulging slightly. “It’s been a while. You finally getting a tattoo? I’ve been dying to get my hands on that gorgeous body of yours.”

  “And ruin this perfection? No way. I like looking at your beautiful designs, but I’ll never get one.”

  “Pity.” He winked, then turned serious. “What’s up then?”

  “I had a small incident last night and—”

  “Back it up.” Stitch held up his hand as he walked around the counter and stood right next to her. “Define small incident. When it comes to you, nothing is ever small.”

  She wanted to huff and puff, but she knew she would never get anything by Stitch. She never had before. If there was anyone in her crazy, mixed-up life that she could always fall back on and trust, it was Stitch. She had to agree with him. It had been a while since they saw each other. Time never mattered between them. Ten years could’ve gone by and it would feel like just an hour had passed. Their childhood, well, they went through a lot together. That created a thick bond that couldn’t be broken. As much as he enjoyed teasing her about dating, or having sex, there was never any sexual attraction.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Rolling her eyes, she scoffed just a little because she could. “Some jackass broke in and attacked me. The police have no clue who it is, but I thought maybe you could help me.”

  “How so?”

  Just one of the many things she loved best about Stitch. He didn’t ask if she was alright. If she wasn’t alright, she would’ve told him. He bypassed all that mushy, how-are-you-feeling crap and got straight to the point.

  “The guy had a tattoo on his arm. He was wearing gloves, but his sleeve rolled up a little and I got a glimpse of it. Thought if I described what I saw, you might be able to identify it. I’m no expert on tattoos, obviously, but it’s nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  Stitch nodded his head and started to walk past her. “Let’s have a seat and do some drawing.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  “Anytime, doll. Anything for you.”

  Stitch took a seat on his stool, then rolled to his desk and grabbed his sketchpad. Dee tossed her purse onto his desk, then took a spot on the tattoo chair and lay back, relaxing.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you to get a tat? It’d be sexy as hell.” He rolled back over to her, his grin wide and wicked looking.

  “Focus. Don’t make me remind you how you got your nickname.”

  He laughed heartily and held his hands up in surrender.

  She had ceremoniously dubbed him Stitch in sixth grade. They had been on the playground playing around on the swings when the ‘meanies’, as she named them to avoid getting caught saying bitches, showed up. Not much affected her, or Stitch. But when the meanies showed up, most people avoided them rather than deal with their antics. They vacated the swings without issue, because her patience as a child was just as horrible as an adult. One meanie, Tiffany, had started to swing. Stitch turned back to grab his jacket and Tiffany’s feet connected with his head at just the right time. He went down hard, hitting his head on the pavement. He had to get ten stitches that day.

  He had felt like an idiot getting hit like that, not paying attention. Although, Dee thought Tiffany did it on purpose, because that’s how the meanies were. Just plain old mean. Nobody messed with her friends. Nobody. So she had a little chat with Tiffany after school. Dee was very proud of herself that day. She didn’t throw the first punch, but she threw the last one.

  Dan, Stitch’s real name, came up to her the next day after hearing what happened. He grinned, put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. That was his way of saying thanks. Her response had been, “Anything for you, Stitch.” And it stuck. She never called him Dan again. Neither did anyone else.

  Pencil poised for action, Dee started to describe what little she had seen of the tattoo. Very, very little of it. A small flame, black and white with a hint of orange. That didn’t seem unique at all. Although, the lines looked fine and accurate. Not some of the choppy stuff she’d seen. Which helped. Stitch knew all the great artists in the area, him being one of them. Now, she just had to pray her attacker had his tattoo done around here.

  What stuck out in the tattoo was the dagger embedded in the flames with the letters I and S sketched on the blade. It was the strangest thing. IS. What did it mean? Initials, perhaps? She still didn’t know how she managed to capture even that tiny picture of the tattoo. Maybe she was getting it all wrong. Then again, maybe she wasn’t. She normally didn’t get things wrong. Like, ever.

  “Look familiar?”

  Stitch raised a brow. “You didn’t give me much, doll.”

  “So.”

  Laughing, he stuck the
pencil behind his ear. “It’s not one of my designs, but I’ll ask around.”

  She stood up and grabbed her purse as Stitch slung an arm around her. They walked back to the front. “Something else is bugging you.”

  She wanted to play it off as if nothing was wrong, plaguing her mind since the moment Sauer asked her out, but Stitch could always read her. Almost from the first time they met. He didn’t phrase it as a question either, meaning he knew something was bugging her and wanted her to confide in him. Maybe coming about the tattoo wasn’t the only reason she came to see him.

  “Deena…”

  The way he said her name. So softly. So sweet. With so much concern. He was one of the few people who called her by her full name. Most people wouldn’t look at Stitch and see soft and sweet. More like, rough and dangerous.

  “Spill, doll.”

  Huffing a little, just to give him a hard time, she finally muttered, “I kinda met someone.”

  Stitch stopped walking, impeding her steps as well. He turned her toward him with a tender smile. Something he rarely offered to display. “That scares you.”

  It was crazy scary how well Stitch could read her. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to come.

  “Did the asshole hurt you? I’ll fu—”

  “No!” Dee laid a hand on his chest to calm him down. His breathing skyrocketed, his face contorted in rage. “Sauer would never hurt me. Ever. He’s the sweetest, shyest guy to ever exist. I…”

  Stitch’s heavy breaths dissipated as fast as they started. “Shy, huh?”

  “In a very sweet, endearing way. We are the complete opposites. We don’t match at all. Barely have anything in common. I’m loud. He’s quiet. I’m crazy. He’s normal. I’m—”

  “In love with him and it scares the shit out of you.” Stitch shook his head as he chuckled. “Just say it out loud. Just once. It might calm you down.”

  “Don’t be silly. Sauer and I…love is…Stitch...”

  “Did you tell him?”

  Dee let loose a strangled laugh. “He probably hates me. I left this morning.”

  “Guys do shit like that all the time. He won’t hate you for it.”

  She puckered her brows, a deep frown forming. “When I say I left, I mean I left his house…right after we…while he was in the shower…and I took his car.”

  Stitch appeared to process everything she said, even as cut off as it was, then started to laugh. A deep, boisterous laugh that made her smile despite the turmoil swimming in her veins.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It kinda is.”

  “I hate you.”

  His smile grew as his laughter got a little louder, if that was possible. “You always have the craziest stories. I’m not sure I have one to top that. I was with this chick, Corianna, and she could do—”

  She lightly punched his arm. “I don’t wanna hear one of your sexual escapades. I’m having a crisis. Fix it.”

  “So you want me to kick this guy’s ass when he didn’t do anything wrong?” Brows high, eyes sparkling with mischief, he nodded. “Alright. I’m on it.”

  Another reason he was one of her best friends, and always would be. His ability to make her laugh no matter how horrible she felt.

  “Probably not the best idea. He’s a cop. I wouldn’t want you to get arrested for beating a cop.”

  “Wow, he’s definitely not your normal type of guy you date. A cop? And you stole his car?”

  “Borrowed.”

  “You took it without asking.”

  “Totally borrowed.”

  “The very definition of stealing is—”

  “Stitch…” Sounding whiny, even to her own ears, she started to panic a little more than before. Did Sauer think she stole his car as well? Maybe his feelings were beyond hate. Would he slap handcuffs on her the moment he saw her?”

  Throwing her a tender smile, he said, “Don’t worry so much, Deena. Wanna grab a drink?”

  Dee laughed. “At ten o’clock in the morning?”

  “Never stopped you before.”

  “Rain check. I should probably go back to Sauer’s. Call me as soon as you find something.”

  “Assuming I do.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Ah, the faith you have in me.”

  Stitch walked with her the rest of the way to the front and hugged her before she ventured outside his shop and debated on her next move. Head to Sauer’s to deal with his wrath? Or keep running?

  Did Sauer have wrath? Maybe he wouldn’t be that mad at her.

  No. She was just trying to pacify herself. He was pissed. Any sane man would be pissed.

  She started to step off the curb when a car came squealing to a stop in front of her. A man in a dark hoodie jumped out, grabbing her by the arm. Dee froze, shock overriding any other reaction.

  Stumbling toward the car as the man tried to shove her inside, she hit her head on top of the doorframe. Her purse fell from her grasp. Snapping out of it, she swung her leg up, connecting with him. She turned around to get another good kick in when Stitch came barreling out of his shop.

  The guy pushed her into Stitch, making them both stagger backwards. Her breath hitched as Stitch lightly shoved her behind him and then ran after the car as it raced away.

  The bastard tried to kidnap her. What was going on? First he tried to kill her, and now he tried to kidnap her.

  She fell against the door, almost slithering to the ground when a pair of strong hands grabbed a hold of her.

  “Shit, doll, was that him?”

  Nodding, she tried to gain her equilibrium back. She needed to stay strong and in control. Letting this asshole get to her wouldn’t help her.

  Stitch started to let go. All her strength left, her stance faltering. His hands instantly went back around her.

  “Come on, Deena.” He opened the door and walked her inside, pushing her to sit down on a tiny leather couch near the door. “What’s your cop’s number?”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. Sauer? He wanted to call Sauer. That was a very bad idea. The last time she was attacked, he didn’t take it well. Well, if one considered kissing her not taking it well.

  Grabbing her chin firmly, a scowl on his face mixed with concern, Stitch said again, “His number.”

  “He hates me.” Three little words said in a whisper, yet reverberated around the room. Sauer had to hate her for leaving the way she did. He wouldn’t be happy to hear she was attacked again. She had no one to blame but herself.

  “I’ll kick his ass if he says one hateful word towards you.” Stitch stood up, looking outside the shop window. He started walking to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Your purse is on the sidewalk. You said the guy’s name was Sauer. I’ll find his number on my own.”

  Dee made no move to stop him. It was better this way. So much better to let Stitch talk to him. Sauer didn’t want anything to do with her. He had to hate her. No man ever stuck around for very long. Which is why she always left them first. Her heart could survive if she walked away first.

  So why did it feel like her heart would never recover?

  ♡

  “Move.”

  “Who are you?”

  Sauer looked the guy up and down, deciding whether he wanted to take him down. The dude was big. Really big. Muscles lined his arms and chest, tattoos as well. He clearly worked out often. He also towered over Sauer by a good few inches. He wasn’t short, almost six feet, which made this guy well past six feet.

  Six feet of an angry, tattooed, muscled man stood in his way to Dee. He might be shorter, but he could knock this guy to the ground. He worked out as well. Almost every day. For at least one hour, lifting weights, doing exercises, working on defense moves. Not only was he picked on and teased, but he had the misfortune of getting beat up as a kid. He swore to himself he’d never let that happen as an adult. So yeah, he could totally take this guy.

  But should he?

>   Obviously, he was a friend of Dee’s, considering he called him from Dee’s phone, not Dee herself. The question he didn’t want to answer was what kind of friend was he? If he kicked her friend’s ass, what would Dee say about it? Would she hate him?

  Did it matter anymore? She left this morning. Without a word goodbye. She probably didn’t hate him, but she didn’t like him as much as he liked her.

  He had to quit thinking about that. She was attacked again. Almost kidnapped. He needed to see her. Pull her into his arms. Hold her. Regardless of how she reacted. This dude needed to step out of his way. He was prepared to do that by any means necessary.

  “Move.”

  The guy cocked his head to the side, his arms crossed. “Who are you?”

  “Gentlemen, we could be here all day.” Newman smiled at the guy, producing his badge. “Detective Newman. This is my partner, Detective Sauer.” Newman tossed his head toward him. “And if you don’t move, he will kick your ass. It’s written all over his face. Not something I’ve seen before. I’m a little worried. You should be, too.”

  The guy leaned closer, his scowl deepening. “You hurt Deena and I hurt you.” He turned around and opened the door to the shop.

  Sauer followed him inside, even more curious about his friendship status with Dee. Deena? Not many people called her that. What did it mean?

  Dee sat on a leather couch near the front door, head down, hands in her lap. She looked…broken. The only word he could think of. He didn’t want to think of her like that, but the way she sat there looking lost and sad and maybe a little confused, all he could think was the word broken.

  Where was his strong, forceful Dee?

  Newman stayed by the front door as her friend took a spot near the counter, leaning against it, crossing his arms again with a fierce scowl on his face. Sauer ignored the warning vibes flowing off him and knelt down in front of her.

  “Dee?”

  Her eyes shot to his. Panic, fright, and just a little bit of defiance gleamed his way. “Sauer…”

  “Are you okay?” She nodded once, her eyes glossing to her friend behind him. That pissed him off. “What the hell happened?”