by Marci Bolden
Was that the problem? Had she realized he wasn’t as smart as he’d always presented himself to be?
“You okay, buddy?” Jack asked.
Josh looked around the crisp white hallway until he noticed a red sign indicating the staircase. He opened the door and stepped inside the echoing chamber. “Yeah. I’m good. Sure. How are you?”
“Good.”
Suddenly nervous, Josh didn’t know what to say. “You and Holly. You’re doing okay?”
“Uh-huh,” he drawled. “Unless you know something I don’t.”
Josh raked his fingers through his shaggy hair as he glanced around the stairwell.
“Joshua?”
“Huh?”
Jack was silent for a moment. “Do you know something I don’t?”
He creased his brow. “No. Why?”
Another stretch of silence on the other end. “How can I help you?” Jack’s voice was a bit more clipped than before.
“Um. Did Holly tell you I’m staying with Eva for a while? For a…you know.” He glanced around, seeking any sign of a camera or microphone. The last thing he wanted to do was blow Eva’s investigation by tipping off the perp…the bad guy…by talking about her case in a bugged stairwell.
“Yes. I think that’s very nice of you. Holly was relieved that you agreed to look out for Eva.”
“Well…Eva’s pissed. I’m kind of scared to go to sleep.”
Jack chuckled into the phone. “She can be a little frightening, but don’t worry. She’s too smart to kill you in a time or location where she would be the only suspect.”
Josh sat on the top stair. “That doesn’t help.”
Jack outright laughed. “I’m not sure what you’re after here.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he stared at a clump of mud embedded in the stair tread. “How do you do it, Jack? How do you let Holly continue to do her job? Especially after she got hurt not that long ago.”
“Well,” Jack drawled, “the biggest thing to understand, Josh, is that I don’t let Holly do anything. She’s a full-grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. So is Eva.”
Joshua closed his eyes. “That came out wrong.”
“I get it. I do. I’m used to being around strong women. I’ve worked with them for years. Holly’s strength and bravery don’t scare me, but I can see how you’d be unsettled by dating someone tougher than you.”
“Well…I…I wouldn’t say she’s—”
“Josh. I don’t have time to pussyfoot around. You want to hear this?”
He slumped. “Yes.”
“Eva has spent a long time learning how to take care of herself. Not just physically but mentally. If she weren’t capable of handling potential danger, she wouldn’t be doing what she does.”
“What if she gets hurt?” he asked, just above a whisper.
“You know, when all that stuff went down and Holly got shot, I was scared. I was terrified. The idea of losing her made my blood run cold. But she’s not a porcelain doll that I can set on a shelf. I can’t lock her in a room and tell her to stay. Even if she did listen—which she wouldn’t—she’d be miserable and resent me for making her that way. Yes, she puts herself in danger sometimes, but she does that to help people. To protect them. She wouldn’t be Holly if she weren’t trying to protect someone. And Eva wouldn’t be Eva if she weren’t doing the same. You know why she left the force. She didn’t feel like she was taken seriously. She had the option to switch departments or join forces with Holly. She joined Holly because Holly believed in her abilities. You have to, as well. You love her, right?”
Josh didn’t answer. He’d never said he loved her. Even when they were dating. He sure as hell wasn’t going to say it now.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Jack said by way of saving him the struggle. “We all can see that you do. So…loving someone means wanting to see them happy. Eva is never going to be happy sitting on the sidelines. Accept that. Or don’t. But if you don’t, any chance you have to fix things will crash and burn before it gets off the ground. You have to trust that she can handle herself and that she knows what she’s doing. Anything less is going to be treading on sensitive ground.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it and then opened it again as nonsequential words bounced around his head. Finally he managed to put a sentence together. “I wasn’t trying to get her back. I just don’t want her to hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Jack said, as if he knew exactly what was going on inside Eva’s head. “If she hated you, she’d be indifferent to what you think about her. She’s angry because she feels rejected by you. Women tend to feel rejected when men try to change them. So don’t try to change her, Josh.”
“I didn’t—” His denial fell short. He had. He hadn’t meant to, but more than once he’d suggested Eva only take research cases, lost-pet cases, or insurance-fraud cases while the other HEARTS handled the potentially more dangerous cases. He’d done that out of fear that someday she’d end up on his table at the morgue. Not because he didn’t think she was smart, or brave, or capable. But naturally, that was how she’d taken it. “How do I fix this?”
Jack laughed softly. “That, my friend, is a question for someone else. Start with Alexa. She’s the nice one.”
3
“Ms. Thompson,” Neal Price called as Eva left the community gym with a bag over her shoulder. Buried under the towel, shoes, and deodorant, Eva had a notebook, camera, and the thermal reader she’d used to search for hidden cameras in the common area.
She wasn’t exactly disappointed that the ladies’ locker room was clear of any spycams, but she was saddened to confirm that Wendi Carter had definitely been targeted. Eva’s next step was to determine why so she could follow the breadcrumbs to who.
She glanced at the teenage girl lurking behind him and smiled sweetly. Her greeting was met with rolled eyes, so she returned her focus on the man who had hired her. “Good afternoon, Mr. Price.”
“I trust you are finding your way around?”
“I am. The amenities here are wonderful.”
He nodded slowly, eyeing her, clearly asking for more information. She wasn’t about to divulge anything, even in code, in public. Was the man an idiot? Did he want to announce to every resident in the building she was there to investigate a crime they didn’t even know had occurred?
Instead of tipping her hand to anyone who could be eavesdropping, she widened her smile and waved in a half greeting to the girl behind him, making another attempt at breaking through the cloud of emo weighing her down. She simply stared, almost angrily, at Eva. The girl had the same tall forehead as Price and her dark, beady eyes mirrored his. Eva was confident in concluding this was his daughter. The lack of personality was a good hint as well.
Dropping her attempt at socializing with the angry teen, Eva focused on the association president again. “I saw a flier for a potluck in the community center?”
“We have a monthly get-together for the residents. When the weather is nicer, we cook out in the back area. If the weather doesn’t agree, we use the community room. It’s a nice way to stay neighborly.”
“Great. Should I bring anything in particular?”
“Third floor residents bring a dessert.”
“Perfect.” She looked behind him again. “Will you be there, too?”
The girl scoffed, snorted, and rolled her eyes all in one unbecoming motion. “Only because I have to.”
“Cody prefers video games and talking to strangers on the Internet over actual human interaction.”
“Give it a rest,” Cody muttered, storming by her father and Eva.
He sighed and lifted his hands as a sign of defeat. “Kids, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Price closed the distance between them and lowered his voice. “Do you have time to meet me later?”
Eva tensed, his close proximity setting her on edge. Rolling her shoulders back only added an inch or so to her b
elow-average height, but doing so significantly improved her ability to stare straight at him in a way that warned against attack on an unconscious level. “I don’t have much to report just yet. Give me more time. I’ll reach out to you.”
He frowned.
“Mr. Price, I’ve been a resident here for all of four hours. Give me some time, please.”
“Well, it didn’t take you long to find the indoor pool and exercise facilities.”
Cocking her brow to let him know she didn’t appreciate the accusation, she said, “Or to confirm those areas are unaffected by your little problem.”
Realization dawned in his eyes. He let his allegation fall without an apology, however.
She hadn’t expected one. Price had already proven himself to be too proud to admit he could be wrong about anything. If he weren’t, he would have realized the ridiculous approach he was taking to the little problem she’d mentioned. “Have you spoken with the security company to upgrade the memory storage for this building?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Good.”
He simply nodded. “We’ll speak soon, then.”
“Yup.” She turned on her heels and focused on keeping her steps light instead of stomping as she was tempted to do. Jerk.
“He hits on everybody.”
Eva stopped her march and looked to the shadows where Cody was slouched in an oversize chair, staring at her phone. “Excuse me?”
She glanced up, the same unamused stare on her face. “You aren’t special. He hits on everybody.”
“He wasn’t—”
“Whatever.” She pushed herself up and left the sitting area without another word.
“Wow,” Eva muttered. Punching the button to summon the elevator, she silently thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have to contend with one of those on a regular basis. She’d been a moody teen, too, no doubt. But somehow the emo-tech era of today’s youth seemed a million times worse than the plain old-fashioned teen angst of generations past.
Inside the elevator, Eva looked up at the security camera. This particular recording device was intentionally placed to convey a false sense of security. If her instincts were right, somewhere in the building there were cameras recording unwitting females, violating their privacy in ways that would cause embarrassment and some level of trauma once discovered.
“I’m going to find you,” she whispered to the unidentified asshole hiding those cameras. The elevator eased to a stop, and the doors slid open in a smooth and silent movement. None of the jerky motions most residential buildings had. Eva lived in an apartment, and her ride to the fourth floor was akin to one at an amusement park—loud, bumpy, and slightly malodourous from all the various people who crammed their bodies into the small space.
The elevator at Jupiter Heights was more like a sixty-second, first-class journey. Hard to believe someone who could afford to live in a building like this, surrounded by affluent professionals, couldn’t control his voyeuristic intentions. Wasn’t that why porn had been invented?
But Eva knew it wasn’t about what he saw as much as how he saw it. The spying got him off. The outsmarting. The smugness of superiority. No worries, though. She’d knock the prick off his self-erected pedestal.
Opening the door to her new home, Eva immediately inhaled deeply. Something garlicky and spicy and…Italian…filled her nostrils, warmed her heart, and made her stomach growl. Joshua had a lot of natural talents, but the man was a living god in the kitchen. She eased her bag beside the sofa and toed off her tennis shoes. “Is that arrabbiata sauce?”
He smiled over his shoulder. “And ground sausage instead of meatballs.”
She moved toward the kitchen. “Pasta?”
He nodded toward the ridged tubes of penne straining in the sink. “Of course.”
“This just might work out after all,” she said under her breath. “Need help with anything?”
“Set the table?”
She grabbed silverware from the fully stocked kitchen and then opened two cabinets before finding a stack of industrial-gray porcelain plates. The crackled glaze made them look intentionally aged and used. She didn’t quite understand this design trend. Why buy something new because it looked old? Just go buy something from the consignment shop for half the cost.
She had to wonder who’d stocked the apartment for Neal Price. He’d gone to great lengths to fake her and Josh’s residence at the condo, including a fabricated purchase agreement that Holly had insisted on. If the voyeur had inside access, finding out that Eva and Josh hadn’t purchased the condo would be inevitable. A moving crew had brought in boxes and furniture to make it look like they were actually moving in. Someone had to have bought all this crap. Eva hadn’t considered who that person was. She’d been too distracted by the man who would be occupying her space. She’d have to ask Neal who he’d worked with so she knew who else knew she wasn’t a real resident.
Josh dumped her favorite sauce into a serving bowl. “Find anything in the common areas?”
“No.” Returning to the kitchen, she checked the contents of the oven, and her mouth watered when she spied garlic bread, browned and crispy. If she didn’t hate Josh so much, she’d love him. Pasta with a loaf of perfectly toasted bread was her weakness. He knew this.
Suck-up.
With the cookie sheet of bread sitting on the stovetop, she swiped her finger into the remnants of sauce in the pan and licked it clean. Jesus. That was heaven.
“Good?” he asked, somehow materializing at her side.
She opened her eyes and moaned her approval as he dumped the pasta into a large bowl. He’d made plenty to have leftovers. If there was anything Eva loved more than a hot, steaming bowl of pasta covered in Josh’s arrabbiata sauce, it was reheated pasta covered in Josh’s arrabbiata sauce. Giving the chili peppers enough time to really do their thing made the sauce even better the next day.
Sitting at the table, she dropped a pile of penne on her plate, added far more sauce than needed so she’d have enough to scrape up with the bread, and dug in.
Josh’s manners were a bit better. He took a smaller serving—he’d rather serve himself seconds than throw something away. Amateur.
She smirked at her assessment but didn’t realize it until Josh pointed it out.
“I’m glad dinner made you happy,” he said.
Glancing up at him, taking a moment to process his words, she let her smile widen. Mostly because she hadn’t been grinning at what he’d assumed. “Thank you for dinner, Joshua.”
“You’re welcome, Eva.”
She took a big bite and gave him a thumbs-up. “Delicious,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “You’re getting Holly’s manners.”
Eva snickered, too. She wiped her face on a napkin and rested her forearms on the edge of the table as she chewed. When she swallowed her mouthful, she said, “Delicious. I wasn’t expecting dinner, so thank you. Really.”
“I like cooking for you. You know that.”
She lifted her gaze from the bread she was examining, her debate over which slice looked the most garlic-coated forgotten. She did know he liked cooking for her. She had liked cooking for him, too. Back before his conviction that she was a lousy investigator got to be too much for her to handle, they used to cook dinner together all the time. They’d be sure to make plenty so they could share their spoils with the HEARTS, which was much appreciated by the women. Most of them didn’t cook for themselves. Alexa’s abuela took care of her nutritional needs most days, and Rene preferred carryout, while Tika and Sam usually hit a bar and grill close by the office before heading to their respective homes. Now that Holly and Jack had made their hot little affair official, his mother Najwa tended to spoil them with delicious Egyptian dishes that the HEARTS were lucky enough to indulge in once in a while.
Eva’s favorite meals had always been the ones she and Josh made together. They had made a great team. They’d worked in perfect unison in the kitchen—and other places, t
oo. Sadly, he blew their unity into itty-bitty pieces by turning into an overbearing male. That wasn’t the first time one of her relationships had hit the skids because of her line of work, but this particular crash and burn still stung.
“There’s a potluck for the condo residents tomorrow,” she said, intentionally changing the subject. “We are supposed to take a dessert.”
His eyes lit with excitement. “Molten lava cake.”
She furrowed her brows. “Maybe something less ambitious.”
“Peanut-butter-and-jelly bars.”
“No peanuts. Unless you plan on carrying EpiPens to avoid a lawsuit.”
“Right.” He centered his attention on stabbing pasta with the prongs of his fork. “Peach cobbler. Boring but safe.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “Just how you like it.”
Okay. This was awkward. Josh twitched his nose as Eva’s long red hair tickled as he inhaled. She had warned him to stay on his side of the queen-size bed, threatening him with a litany of nonlethal wounds if he didn’t. But she didn’t say what the punishment would be for her rolling to his side of the bed.
Josh lay still, holding his breath so her strands didn’t flutter around his face again. But that only lasted a few seconds before he exhaled and immediately inhaled again. This time, he had to move. Had to brush the irritant from his face. But he did so slowly, so as not to disturb her. Not because he was scared of her—which he kind of was, to be honest—but because he liked the way her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and her hand rested on his stomach as her light breath teased his sparse chest hair. Even if her hair was torturing him.
Lightly brushing the instigating hairs from his nose, he slid his hand lower, daring to cradle her head in his palm. Then, as if of their own volition, his fingers curled into the messy bun she always pulled the reddish-blond mass into before bed. How many times had he held her like that as their bodies moved together under the blankets? How many times had he gripped her hair and pulled her against him so he could deepen a kiss?
