Page 56 of Playing with Fire

“The CDC did a full sweep of your house. It’s clean.”

“Good.”

“We have one question, however.” Amanda sounded far too amused for my comfort, which meant trouble for someone.

If Quinn kept frowning so much, I would worry for the safety of everyone in the cruiser, especially after the death of his phone. “What?”

“We never took you for the lace lingerie type, Gardener. What were they doing in the chief’s bedroom anyway?”

Oh no. Had I actually left the black lace bra and panties in his room? “I was trying to kill him in a way that wouldn’t get me convicted.”

Amanda clucked her tongue. “Try dangling them from the rearview mirror of his car. That might have better results. It seems your plan didn’t work.”

She and her partner laughed.

“I see dead cops,” I snarled, reaching for the cage dividing the front and back seats. My fingers brushed the metal grate before Quinn got his arms wrapped around me and pulled me back.

“Gardener’s a little cranky today. She had a long day yesterday beating up a gorgon and may need a few more hours of sleep.”

“A little cranky? Are you sure you’re safe back there, sir?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive until we get to the station. Relax, Gardener. You can nap in my office or in the break room. Hey, Vanderhorn. Ask the station to dig out a pack of the transformation pills—D grade should suffice. If any gorgons get any bright ideas, I think I’d enjoy watching them play with a napalm junkie.”

Still laughing, Amanda’s partner relayed Quinn’s orders.

There was only one thing I could say. “I hate you so much, Chief Quinn.”

He smiled as though I had given him the best gift in the whole wide world. “I know.”

Until my first sip of police station coffee, I hadn’t considered myself a coffee snob. “What is this sludge? Am I drinking sewage? Who made this? What decade was this made in?”

Perky leaned against the doorway into the break room and pointed at Quinn. “He did. It’s the station rule. Whoever walks into the break room when there’s only one cup left has to make the new pot. You were stealing my stale chips while he was making the coffee.”

How had stale chips become a part of my diet, anyway? I leveled my best glare at Quinn. “The angels couldn’t kill me, so you’re trying to finish me off, aren’t you?”

“Think you can do better?”

Every single cop turned and stared at the police chief. I arched a brow. “Raise your hand if you think the barista with more than ten years of experience making you dipshits coffee can do better than Chief Quinn.”

Perky raised his hand. “This dipshit thinks Gardener made the best coffee in Manhattan. I cried when you stopped making coffee I could buy.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Perky?”

“It’s the truth. Even Chief Quinn liked your coffee so much he had to have it at least three times a week or he complained.”

“Perkins!”

“I’m only telling the truth, sir. The woman’s a coffee goddess.”

“Don’t you have work to do, Perkins?”

Perky made a show of checking his watch. “Oh, look at that. I have some reports to file. Please be the first person to walk into the break room when there’s only one cup left, Gardener. Please.”

Since killing a law enforcement officer would land me in jail, I turned my wrath in the direction of the coffee maker. “You bought that at a discount store for less than ten bucks, didn’t you?”

Taking a sip of his coffee, Quinn gave the white plastic machine a pat. “Don’t you be mean to Suzy. She treats us real good.”

Several cops in the main room whimpered, and I suspected a few of them cried. How could I be mean to so many heartbroken adults at one time? Even I couldn’t do it. It was worse than kicking a puppy.