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Rick came out with Fitz and stared at me. I wanted to melt. He was just as sexy as I remembered, and the way he looked at me as if he was surprised and pleased and confused all at the same time had me twisted up inside.
Rick was one of the few men who ever tied me in knots like this.
“Have a sec?” I asked.
Unspoken, in private.
“Of course.” He walked me through the back. He glanced at my hip. “You carrying?”
“My usual.” It was always a good idea to tell cops when you had a weapon, especially in their own house.
Rick and I had been to the range together many times. We were competitive. But win or lose, whatever we bet usually ensured we both won.
Rick was one of those guys I was super attracted to. All fit and lean and muscular with deep blue eyes the color of dawn, a square jaw, and dark hair that was always just over regulation length and curled at his collar.
Rick could have been a model. Knowing Police and Fire had a sometimes not-so-friendly rivalry, I once teased him he was so gorgeous he could be on the cover of the next Phoenix Firefighter calendar. He pretended to be angry and proceeded to do things to me in bed that he claimed no fireman was capable of.
I had to stop thinking about Rick and sex or I was going to make another huge mistake.
I’d promised myself three months ago when we had it out that I would not come back without a sincere apology coming out of this man’s mouth. A bit of groveling would be nice. Hence, we hadn’t spoken in three months.
Rick found a small conference room for us and closed the door. “I assume you want privacy.”
“I really want a computer.”
“You look good, Margo.”
“Liar.”
He smiled, shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d want me to comment on the dark circles under your eyes.”
“I like honesty,” I said and returned his grin. “A lot of late nights this week. I need a favor.”
“We haven’t talked in three months and you want a favor.”
“We haven’t talked because you haven’t called to apologize,” I said, losing the smile. “I don’t like asking you for a favor, but I don’t have anyone else to go to.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute and he didn’t avert his eyes. I refused to fidget. I stared back at him, as casually as I could.
“It depends,” Rick finally said. “I’ll help if I can.”
I had thought the entire morning as I was installing my new security system about how much to tell Rick. He would know if I was lying—or at least suspect—and be less likely to help. But I didn’t want to tell him everything. I knew him, and he would go after Peter Carillo.
Maybe I wanted him to, but not when it could jeopardize Rick’s career.
“Can you find out if someone ran my plates? It would be recent—the last forty-eight hours. Law enforcement, but not Phoenix PD.”
That surprised him. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you if the answer is yes, you’ll do it.”
“I don’t want to know if you’ve committed a crime, Margo. Don’t put me in that position.”
“I didn’t commit a crime.”
Rick and I had three fundamental problems in our relationship. One of them? He didn’t like how I sometimes crossed the line. I would argue I walked the line, but he didn’t concur. We had dealt with this conflict by, essentially, ignoring it.
He motioned for me to follow him to his cubicle.
