07 Uncorked - Chrissy McMullen Mystery Read Free Page B

table. Holy crap, I thought, and wiped away the memory with a sweaty imaginary hand.
    “Well…” I got my snotty tone back with some difficulty. He was looking all lean and masculine. I can’t be trusted with lean or masculine. “It’s late. I’m sure you have to get to work tomorrow,” I said, and turned away with resolute good intentions.
    “I’m taking the day off.”
    I practically stumbled over my own feet as I turned back toward him. “You? The dark detective?”
    His scowl deepened. “I’ve taken time off before.”
    “I must have been busy that hour.”
    “You still pissed because I didn’t have more time to screw you?” For a second I almost considered remaining above such adolescent banter, but the moment passed like a bullet from a semi automatic. “I’m pissed because you had time to screw everyone…” I stopped myself. I didn’t really know if he had slept with everyone or not. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was perfectly happy with my current guy. He was intelligent, intuitive and well read. That was so much better than irritating, insane and, well—
    “I didn’t sleep with her,” he said.
    Anger spouted up in me like Old Faithful on Viagra. “Well, I’m sorry if I interrupted before you could get the job done.”
    “I told you before,” he said. “I was questioning her.”
    “Really? It looked more like mouth-to-mouth.”
    “I was on a case.”
    “What case?”
    “A case that I can’t talk about.”
    “Do they always tell you not to talk about who you sleep with?”
    "Listen, I think we've got a bad cop in the department. Things aren't…" He stopped himself, rose abruptly to his feet, barely wincing at the sudden movement. “I guess this was a bad idea.”
    “You bet your nuts it was.” We stared at each other. I knew better than to open my mouth again, but the words came nevertheless. “Why’d you come here anyway, Rivera?” He turned away. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
    I drew a slow, steadying breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked you in the balls either.”
    He snorted, narrowed his eyes and turned back. “Is that an apology, McMullen?” I shrugged a little. “Probably the best you’re going to get.” He smiled and lifted his hand. For a moment I thought he was going to touch my face. I braced myself for the impact. But he took a step back and sobered immediately.
    “Andrews is getting out of jail,” he said.
    The floor jolted beneath my feet. I felt the blood rush from my face, felt my knees buckle. “Jackson Andrews?”
    “Yeah.”
    I sat down hard in my kitchen chair. Andrews had had his hand in numerous criminal activities but was best known as the inventor of a dangerous blend of chemicals called Intensity. From the little I knew of the situation, his incarceration had done almost nothing to slow its distribution. “When?”
    “Today.”
    “Today!” I jolted from my trance. “Shit, Rivera. That means…” I could barely force out the words. “He’s already loose.”
    He nodded, sober as a nightmare.
    “Couldn’t you have waited a little longer to tell me?” The words were weak. It’s a bad sign when I can’t even issue sarcasm with decent volume.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, and wonder of wonders, he actually looked sorry. “I didn’t think you’d want me to…” He paused, atypically uncertain. “I didn’t want to interfere in your life.”
    Since when? I wondered, but I didn’t say it out loud.
    “When you said there was someone parked on your street, I…” He blew out a slow breath, shook his head once. “I need you to keep your security system armed, Chrissy.” I nodded. “I really did think I had the door locked.”
    “You did.”
    I stared at him.
    He glanced away. “I had an extra key made before we split up.”
    “You have a key?”
    “You were always getting yourself in scrapes. I wanted to make sure I could get in if I needed to.”
    I tried to dredge up the appropriate amount of rage, but I was