.38 Caliber Cover-Up. Angi Morgan

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      Deep breath. In through the nose…out through the… Shoot, that only made it worse. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the leftover Chinese takeout on the counter invaded her senses. Her stomach flinched, forcing her memory to a place she didn’t want to revisit.

      There was no way she could deal with Pike’s death now. But this guy had asked for her and had something to do with her murdered friend. There had to be someone she could call. She couldn’t let the guy die.

      That sealed it. She pulled her purse off the counter, sending quarters, dimes and eyeliner rolling across the floor. Her cell phone bounced once and popped the casing in two different directions. Her badge and lip gloss headed in two others. The man stirred.

      “God,” he moaned, his voice as deep as sin. “I passed out?”

      He rapidly blinked lashes too long to be considered manly. Yet on him, they framed a pair of ancient amber-brown eyes. Her right hand kept the towels in place as her left slid around her hip and rested on her gun.

      “Who are you and why can’t I call a doctor?” she asked.

      “Ah, crap. I’m going to puke.”

      “Terrific. As if bloodstained grout isn’t enough.” His stomach muscles contracted under the tips of her fingers as she heard the age-old accompaniment to dry heaves. Her own gag forced her eyes shut.

      One second she was preparing to jump out of the way. The next her shoulders were pinned to the floor with the stranger straddling her hips, her gun in his hand pointed at the ceiling.

      “Pike said you were good. The best,” he said, too confident and boastful in his dominant position. “Well, except me. I need some help, O’Malley. Pike left a package for me, and I need it. Tonight.”

      “If you know who I am, then why are you sitting on me?” Faker. He wasn’t the least bit woozy.

      One jab in his wound and he’d be writhing on the floor. If he pointed the barrel toward her, she wouldn’t hesitate. But there was something about him… Something that made her wait for his next move. Something other than Pike and Michael instructing her to trust him.

      “I’m asking, politely, one more time.”

      “Ask any way you want,” she answered.

      The solid weight across her legs was uncomfortable. He eased his hand from her shoulder, scooping up the bloody dishtowels along the way. The moment of alarm at being confined lifted, and she could think again.

      “I like you,” he said, leisurely lifting one corner of his mouth in a smile. “Pike must have been out of his ever-lovin’ mind.” He sat straight and tucked her gun into the front of his pants.

      Darby had opportunity. So why didn’t she jab her thumb into his side, buck him off her thighs and gain the upper hand? No, she waited for him to threaten her, and God help her, she was curious.

      Utterly ridiculous. Where had all her training gone? He didn’t feel threatening? A total unknown was demanding a package while he sat on her. What more did she need to act?

      “I can see the wheels turning behind your pretty green eyes.” He winced and slid his shirt up to staunch the dark red trickle with the towels.

      A waft of blood hit her nostrils. She covered her mouth, trying not to be sick, but her gag reflex kicked in full force.

      “God, you’re seriously turning sour.” He shifted to one side and she scrambled for the bathroom.

      She didn’t know how long she hurled. Only that after a while, he was there, holding her annoying curls away from her face while she grabbed her out-of-control stomach and heaved. She hated her newfound aversion to blood. It was more than embarrassing. If her brothers ever found out, they’d tease her relentlessly.

      “You okay now, Officer O’Malley?” he asked, grabbing a washcloth from the top of an unpacked box, wetting it like a nursemaid and handing it to her.

      “How do you know who I am?”

      “I came looking for you, remember?”

      She over-exaggerated her movements to lean against the tub. The porcelain cooled her hot skin. Her visitor might as well think she was still ill instead of capable of ramming her head into his stomach and sending him crashing into the laundry room. If all else failed, she could wait until he really passed out from blood loss or exhaustion.

      Which wouldn’t be too long from the looks of him.

      He swayed, using the doorframe to hold himself upright. Viewed from this angle on the floor, he was especially tall. He continued to hold the dishtowels under his bunched-up shirt with a bloodstained hand.

      She gulped down more nausea. “You need a…a doctor.”

      The stupid jerk had faked getting sick and grinned from ear to ear, leaving her to stare at perfectly aligned teeth. But that was the only thing perfect about his rugged-looking face and two-toned, brown-and-gold hair. A small trail of blood was smeared across his chin from a busted lower lip. His tanned forehead had road rash, with bits of gravel embedded in the lacerations.

      This close she could tell his nose had been broken at least once. His strong, square jaw matched that magnificent chest hidden under his loose shirt. The silver dagger dangling around his neck somehow made him as sexy as a pirate instead of creeping her out. And his eyes… Good grief, it looked as if there were a thousand lifetimes in those whiskey-colored spheres.

      “What I really need is whatever Pike left for me.” He drew a deep breath, grimaced and allowed a short moan to escape. “God, O’Malley, Walter Pike was more than a friend to me. You saw the picture. I’m one of the good guys.”

      “Who still has my Glock shoved down the front of his pants,” she answered, pointing toward her gun.

      “Where it’s going to stay.”

      “First things first.” She wanted out of the close quarters of the bathroom. “Just how hurt are you?”

      “O’Malley.” He rolled her name around as if he should be talking with an accent, his eyes never losing contact with hers. “I thought you’d be a bit more, well, manly. Pike never mentioned you were a woman. But we don’t have much time.”

      “I can hold my own. And Pike never gave me anything.” It wasn’t a lie.

      Pike had been shot at the academy and she’d found his body. He managed to say someone would come to her asking for a package, but he died before giving her details. She had no idea what it contained or where it was located. She hated to let her partner down, but she hadn’t had any luck finding what Pike had spoken about. Or any luck finding information that would clear her brother of murder charges.

      “Right.” He sank to the floor, sliding his back down the doorjamb. “Then why was I directed to come here?”

      “Let me call an ambulance.” Was he acting again or had the adrenaline rush finally worn off?

      “No.”

      “Then your handler.”

      “No СКАЧАТЬ