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“What of it, sir?” Nico challenged, careful to keep his tone low, lest the whole island be let in on his business. “Cops get transferred all the time. Doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing my job.”
“You can cool it with the attitude,” West warned. “First of all, I have every right to vet you however I see fit. Second, this”—he opened his arms, gesturing to the crime scene around them—“is not quiet. This kind of shit does not happen here. But now that it has, I sure as shit do not have the time to deal with whatever issues you’ve got going on while trying to solve a murder. Now, I’ll ask you again. Is there something going on with you that I should know about?”
The insinuation that he was somehow a liability had Nico itching to knock the prick’s lights out on principle alone. Instead, he swallowed his pride, lifted his chin, and said, “Thank you for your concern, Chief, but I’m fine.”
“And you’re sure you’re up for this?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
West considered him a few moments longer, his eyes searching for any hint that Nico wasn’t as okay as he was saying, then nodded. “Okay.”
Nico stalked away, pausing at the door. “Have Zoe or Seth track down her phone and internet records. Maybe we’ll get lucky and snag a lead.”
West deflated his chest. “Will do.”
Chapter six
Around ten a.m., Lexie watched from behind dark sunglasses as Nico strode into JoJo’s Café, completely unaware of her presence.
It was a beautiful morning—too beautiful to be spent indoors. Having already ordered her breakfast, she was seated at one of the tables outside, books, pens, and headphones spread out before her, ready for a few hours of study.
Or at least she was until she saw him.
Nico wore his uniform today, the dark navy hugging his muscled form so perfectly that Lexie had to make a conscious effort not to stare as he approached the counter. The man unnerved her in the most wonderful way. Butterflies in her tummy. Pounding heart. More than once after he’d left the other night, Lexie had caught herself staring into space, thinking about him. Remembering how he’d smelled when he held her. How he’d felt. It was like she was back in high school, crushing on someone she barely knew, powerless to stop her mind from lingering over the brief time they’d spent together.
Surreal. That’s exactly how it felt seeing him again. Surreal and oddly healing. Besides the basics, she had never spoken of the accident with anyone else, so in her memory, it had faded, become a distant dream, something from another life. Nico being here reminded her that it had happened, that it was real. He was alive, he was well, and it was all because of what she had done.
He hadn't mentioned the things he’d said that day while he was barely conscious, and she didn’t ask. Curious as she was, she also knew better than to pry. Asking too many questions was a great way to have them returned, which was something she did not want. If he wanted to tell her about it someday, he would.
Tearing her eyes away from his well-shaped butt, Lexie tried to focus. She had less than two weeks to finish this assignment, and god knew she didn’t need the distraction.
After a heavy exhale, she read the same section of her textbook three times before a shadow came over the table.
“That looks intense.”
She looked up. “Only to the untrained eye.”
Nico smiled. “Touché.”
Silence settled between them. Two seconds. Three.
“So, you’re studying?”
“Uh, yeah. Business and economics,” she replied, removing her sunglasses.
“Impressive.”
“Hardly.” She scoffed. “Most people my age have finished college and have a career by now.”
He shrugged. “So?”
Her lips curved up at his bluntness—his sheer dismissal of something she’d felt insecure about for years. Not to be hurtful, she assumed, but because it truly didn’t matter to him that she was a twenty-seven-year-old waitress working her way through community college. Her father had never been able to afford tuition for her or Jake to go to some big, fancy school. He couldn’t even afford the non-fancy ones. Not like so many others whom she’d watched from the sidelines as they graduated high school then left to complete their various degrees—some never returning. A part of Lexie had always been jealous of that.
“So, how’s your first week going, Lieutenant?” she asked, changing the subject.
As soon as the words left her mouth, something in his demeanor changed. His posture became rigid, his mouth set in a bleak line as he looked anywhere but at her.
“Busy,” was all he said.
