Cavanaugh's Bodyguard. Marie Ferrarella

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      “No. As a matter of fact, I’d highly recommend it,” Bridget replied as the man tugged his sagging bath towel back up to his waist.

      King looked slightly amused at her answer. For a moment, it seemed as if he forgot he was annoyed and transformed into a player right before her eyes. “Really? Most women don’t say that to me.”

      It was Josh’s turn to be annoyed. He didn’t particularly like the way the victim’s so-called boyfriend was eyeing Bridget. He moved forward, placing himself between King and his partner. “What are you doing going to the gym in the middle of the day? Don’t you have a job you’re supposed to be at?”

      King had already walked into his bedroom to get dressed. He left the door open; whether it was as an invitation or just to be able to hear better wasn’t clear.

      “Not anymore,” the man bit off. “My company decided to relocate to Utah last month—without me.” There was a bitter note in his voice. “I’ve got to do something to keep myself occupied during the day so I go to the gym. I’ve got seven months left on the membership. No sense in letting it go to waste,” he retorted defensively. It was obvious that this wasn’t the first time he’d been asked about his free afternoons.

      King walked back into the living room where he’d left them. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a light green golf shirt. He was still barefoot and he hadn’t bothered to try to towel dry his wet hair.

      “Look, what’s this all about, anyway?” he asked, looking from one to the other. “Is this Karen’s idea of some kind of a joke?”

      “Why would you think that?” Bridget asked. It seemed to her rather an odd thing for the victim’s boyfriend to think, especially since they hadn’t told him anything yet. Just what sort of a relationship did King and the dead woman have?

      “I dunno. Maybe she thinks sending over two pretend cops might get me to find a job faster. Well, it can’t. I already told her, there’s nothing out there. I’ve been looking my butt off and I can’t find anything decent to even apply for,” he answered angrily.

      Bridget didn’t bother pointing out that they weren’t “pretend cops.” He would realize they were real soon enough. “You didn’t go out with her last night.”

      She didn’t make it sound like a question, but he answered it anyway. “We had a fight.”

      “About what?” Josh asked.

      “Aren’t you paying attention?” King demanded, clearly annoyed at the interrogation. “About me not working. She hates it,” he complained. “Karen earns a boatload of money at that place she works, but she wants me to be paying all the bills. She thinks that’s what a ‘real man’ is supposed to do.” He sneered at the very thought. “Well, the hell with that and the hell with her!”

      Josh continued asking questions. He kept his voice mild, as if they were just having a harmless conversation instead of King just possibly painting himself into a corner. “Just how heated did the argument get between you two yesterday?”

      King shrugged, as if this was nothing new. “We got a little loud, she threw a few things at me, missed, then stormed out.” And then King narrowed his eyes, asking a little uneasily, “Why? Where is Karen?”

      “Didn’t you wonder that before now?” Bridget asked, curious.

      King’s temper flared. He was the kind of man who didn’t like to be questioned about his behavior. “I thought she crashed at one of her girlfriends’ places. Frankly, I liked the peace and quiet for a change.”

      What a bastard, Bridget thought. This was why she steered clear of relationships. It was all sweetness and fun in the beginning. And then the gloves came off and people started to be themselves—people she could very well live without. Or at least that’s the way it had been with the few relationships she’d had. Most of the time, the guys either wanted her to stop being a cop—or they wanted to handcuff her with her own cuffs. Which was why she was currently taking a break from dating altogether.

      “That’s good,” she told him coolly, “because that’s something you’re going to have to get used to.” Unless the county decides you killed her and then you’ll be getting a whole bunch of new roommates.

      “What are you saying?” King demanded, letting his temper flare. “Where is she? Where’s Karen? Something happen to Karen?” he asked, the tone of his voice taking on an unsteady lilt.

      Bridget exchanged looks with Josh.

      One of them would have to tell the annoying man the woman he’d just been ranting about was dead. She decided to spare Josh since he’d just made her realize that it brought back such harsh memories for him of the time he and his mother had been on the receiving end of those awful words.

      “Mr. King, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but your girlfriend was found dead this morning in the alley behind The Warehouse Crowd,” Bridget told him. She assumed the victim’s boyfriend was familiar with the club that was predominantly frequented by an under-thirty crowd.

      King looked utterly stunned as he stared at her. “Dead?” He repeated the word as if he didn’t quite understand what it meant. His breathing grew noticeably more shallow and faster as he asked, “You mean like in a homicide?”

      “Exactly like in a homicide,” Josh confirmed for King.

      Dark brown eyes went from one to the other like marbles pushed to and fro by the wind. King still appeared dazed, but anger began to etch its way into his features.

      “Who did it?” he asked. “Do you know who did it?” This time, it was a demand.

      “Not yet, but that’s what we’re trying to figure out by piecing things together,” Bridget told him, doing her best to sound sympathetic even as she was still trying to make up her mind about King. “Do you know if Karen had any enemies, any old boyfriends who didn’t take kindly to being dumped by her?”

      “We’ve been together for three years. There are no boyfriends,” King said vehemently. “And she didn’t have any enemies. Karen could be a pain in the butt sometimes, but then she’d turn around and be this sweet, amazingly thoughtful woman who made you feel glad just to be alive and around her. Everyone liked Karen,” he insisted. King suddenly looked stricken, as if what he’d been told was finally sinking in. His voice became audibly quieter as he asked, “She’s not coming home?”

      Bridget shook her head as sympathy flooded through her. “I’m afraid not.”

      His knees giving way, King sank down on the cream-colored sofa. He dragged his hands through his hair, distraught. “Last thing I said to her was I didn’t want her coming back,” he confessed brokenly.

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