her brain cells.
He firmed up his jaw, took a deep breath. “Just wanted to say what a great job I thought you did. Can’t be easy investigating this spree.”
Kylie sized him up. Didn’t seem to be an opening ploy for sex, though he was seriously sucking up. He seemed nice enough. “Thanks.” Lin brought her a bottle and a shot glass, and she poured herself a drink. “Want one?”
He shrugged, but his eyes lit up like a puppy offered a new toy. “Sure.”
Kylie gestured for another glass, and she poured him one. “Cheers.” She held up her glass to clink against his. He obliged. They drank the shots. “What’s your name again? Yesterday was, you know.”
His look of delight never faded. “Sam James. Second level with the Muraco force.”
“Of course. Sam.” She smiled warmly. After all, they were comrades, right? Fighting for the side of truth and justice? His boyish face even started to appeal to her.
Now that was the drugs talking.
Satisfied her self-prescribed regimen was working, she poured herself another, and sipped it. Blues took the edge off and sanded down raw nerves. The effects would fade within the hour. Most people used them to fall asleep at night, but they were useful in situations like this, too, where alcohol wouldn’t work quite as fast as she wanted.
“So are you—SIRT, I mean—going to be in town long?” Sam asked.
“I hope not.”
“Oh,” he said, taking a step back.
The hurt tone and his retreat made her reconsider her answer. “I meant, I hope the investigation wraps up quickly, and we can stop these killings.”
“Oh.” That brightened his face again.
What was she doing? She’d only be in town a matter of days or weeks. No reason at all to encourage any young buck, even one as friendly as this one.
“But we’re usually pretty busy with the case, you know, not a lot of free time.” There, a gentle letdown.
He got it. “Yeah, sure. Your team has that kind of rep.” He fidgeted. “Just wanted to say hi, and, um, good work.”
“Thanks, friend. Sam.”
Beaming, he backed away, almost tripping as he returned to his buddies’ table. They ribbed him and eyed her enviously. She just smiled and raised her glass to them.
After her third shot, the memories of the photos and dumpsters started to fade. The music seeped into her, creating a pleasant haze. Background noise filtered in, the conversations making her feel she wasn’t alone. Cops knew how to treat other cops, especially on the worst days.
As she took another shot, she noticed a man at a table near the door stared at her, dissecting her in a way that felt not like he was undressing her, but more like he looked past her skin, into her psyche, or perhaps her soul. Kylie stared back, putting a forbidding expression on her face. Usually, that was enough to scare off a would-be masher. But it didn’t seem to faze this one.
The man’s persistence triggered a defensive response, and she lost interest in the alcohol. She left half a dozen plat coins on the counter, enough to cover her tab and something for Lin, and then headed for the door.
As she approached the man’s table, he stood up. “Please join me,” he said.
“No, thanks, I’m on my way out.”
“Please,” he said firmly. She stopped to look at him. That glance froze her steps. His eyes were the exact yellow tone of the dead woman’s. Exact.
She surveyed the room, but no one seemed to be paying attention. One gesture from her would have garnered assistance, but those eyes compelled her to wait. “Why should I?”
His voice softened. “I have information that could be of use to you.”
“Then perhaps you should come to the Cendiary. That’s where SIRT’s camped while this investigation is going on.” Her mind clicked along frantically trying to reject the half bottle of alcohol she’d consumed. There was something about this man, something about him. His eyes, but more than that. Taller than most men, and broad-shouldered. Hair, perfectly combed, his skin, without a blemish. Not even the hint of an old scar. Clothing, unremarkable. Hands, not quite perfectly proportioned, his fingers a little long, the nails even but lengthy for a man.
“No. I need to talk to you now.” His gaze continued to dance with hers.
She blinked and looked away. “This isn’t a good time, friend.”
He cocked his head, a, thin eyebrow raised. “You consider me your friend?”
His hesitation made her miss a beat, too. “No, I don’t consider you my friend.” She frowned. “Come to the Cendiary in the morning.” She turned to go, but her wrist was suddenly caught in an iron grip.
Tugging on her captured hand, she looked over her shoulder. He held no apology in his eyes, and his expression was grim. He nodded to the empty chair beside his. “I need to talk with you, Investigator Kylie Sanderson. Please hear what I have to say before any more females are damaged or killed.”
Chapter 3
Suddenly light-headed, Kylie realized she’d been holding her breath. She leaned closer, speaking quietly, “You know me and what I’m investigating and you want to interfere with me?” She jerked her wrist. He released her, leaving behind a red mark.
“Interfere? Not at all.” He stood behind the table, his muscles taut as if he’d jump over it to chase her if she left. “Please sit down. You are attracting attention.”
“Me?” People at neighboring tables displayed a sudden interest in their conversation, if one could call it that. “Right.” Annoyed, she took the seat he indicated. “Whatever you’re trying to pull, fri—” She poked her finger at him. “Look, this isn’t a game. You’d better have useful information.”
She studied him, his eyes still fascinating her. No one had eyes that color. Except that dead body.
“What do you need to help you find the one responsible for these deaths?” he asked.
What in the hells did he mean? What do you need… As if he were some sort of fairy godfather? He’d just drop it in her lap and move on?
“You said you had information for me. Let’s hear it.”
At the next table, three city officers adjusted their chairs, intent upon her private conversation. She didn’t intend to share credit for her investigation with bumbling local yokels. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll talk outside.”
She jumped out of her chair in a flash, her hands close to her body so he couldn’t grab her again. He followed her to the street, walking past the bums and hangers-on without a word. Now what?
She’d put herself into a corner. She wouldn’t conduct an interview on the sidewalk in that kind of neighborhood. Muraco contained two fairly rough districts where crime lords conducted business just out of the sight of local governments.
The thought of sitting, trapped, in her car with a yellow-eyed stranger made her insides crawl. “Do you have a vehicle? You could follow me to my office.”
“No.” He stood with her in the middle of the street as cars passed going both directions. “It is dangerous to remain in the crosswalk.”
“Right.” She growled. Ten miles to the Cendiary. He could never walk there in a reasonable time. Her car provided the best alternative. She needed to learn what he knew. Something about him rang true.
When traffic cleared, she hurried across to the vehicle. He moved exactly when she moved, ending up near the back fender as Kylie stopped at the driver’s door, key in hand. She eyed him. “I’m armed.”