Page 49
I had my marching orders.
Max didn’t pick up, so I left a message on his phone, explained that I was going to try Nick next, and stressed the urgency of his returning my call.
I got my first choice for an undercover partner on the second ring and was deeply relieved. “Mr. McCall.”
“Just Nick, Detective,” he slurred, his voice thick, like he’d been drinking. It was only six, but I guessed he’d had a day.
“I need to speak to you. Can I stop by your place?”
“I’m actually out. Do you want to come by Duck & Cover and pick me up so we can talk?”
I knew that was a bar. “That would be great.”
“Yes, it would,” he murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”
My initial plan was to go home first, shower and change before I went and pitched my idea to Nick McCall, but I needed to talk to him before he did any more drinking.
I took a cab downtown toward Rush, the street Duck & Cover was on, and the driver dropped me off at the light a block from the restaurant and lounge. The place was new and trendy and loud, without any really good food that I knew of, so because I was hungry, I was disappointed. I needed to eat, but I wanted something good. A big, fat porterhouse sounded like heaven, or some good Italian, but I would have neither, and so walking in, I was grouchy.
Spotting Nick across the room, where he was sitting at a table with three other men and a couple of women, I realized it might be more of a challenge to extricate him than I had first thought.
When I neared the table, he lifted his head and saw me. The smile I got was nice.
“Detective.” He exhaled long and deep when I was looming over him. “It’s really good to see you.”
I smiled back but realized suddenly what I had found alluring earlier no longer was. Or at least not for me. It was a problem I had been experiencing a lot lately—my complete and utter disinterest in any man who was not Aaron Sutter. I really needed to get the fuck over it.
“Let me introduce you.”
So I stood there and met people I didn’t give a crap about, not memorizing names, not even bothering to catalog them. Being as I was a cop, things stuck if I wasn’t careful. Trained to recall details, see faces and memorize them, remember the smallest tidbits of conversation, I had to make sure I focused only on Nick.
“So, can I—”
“Sit down and have something to drink. We’re celebrating.”
“What’s the occasion?” I inquired, but didn’t move.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and faced me. “We can get out of here, Detective. It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”
“Oh? What does it look like I wanna do?”
“Get laid.” He grinned, and it was sloppy, like he wasn’t in complete control of it. He’d had more than I thought. “I can help you with that.”
It didn’t matter. We would go back to his place and fuck, and I would explain what I really needed.
“Okay, come on. Say g’night to your pals.”
He wheeled around and gave them all a quick wave before he was facing me again. “Lead on.”
Outside on the sidewalk, I realized my phone was on death’s door.
“Hey, I gotta run home and grab my charger really quick.”
“I will follow you home, Detective.” He leered at me, his eyes making the lap up and down my frame.
“Okay,” I said, taking hold of his hand and walking toward the curb.
He squeezed tight. “That’s, um, nice.”
