L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent Read Free Page B

flipped an avalanche of red-gold curls behind her shoulders. “Why didn’t you just say what you wanted in the first place? You could’ve saved us some time.”
    She spoke her mind, he had to give her that. “Why don’t we both have a seat again while I explain why I think it’s necessary?”
    Her tongue glided over a full bottom lip. Considering the request, he hoped.
    After a moment she said, “I don’t want to know why you think it’s necessary. I can tell you right now I won’t agree to it.”
    “At least hear me out.”
    She was quiet, which he hoped was a good sign. He needed her to agree. If he could get this done swiftly, without having to get a court order, he might be able to prove his theory, and if he proved his theory, he might be able to solve the case—and his partner wouldn’t have died in vain. And maybe, just maybe, he might be able to get his own life and career back on track.
    But he couldn’t tell her he had a score to settle. Because there was still the other question—had she been part of her husband’s illegal business? Though now, after meeting her, it seemed unlikely. Still, e had been fooled before.
    “Two minutes,” he said. “Give me two minutes, and if your answer is still no, I’ll accept it and go back to L.A.”
    Her gaze met his. Her eyelashes were long and dark, her eyebrows almost the same light color as her riot of curly hair. Her eyes bluer than…well, blue. And she was frowning, as if giving him any time at all couldn’t be good.
    Hell, how could she refuse a guy two stinking minutes?
    She strode back into the living room. Turning toward the window, she clasped both hands behind her neck and tipped her head from side to side, as if working out some kinks. The gesture exposed an inch of creamy skin between her white shorts and red sleeveless top.
    Then she lowered her arms and turned to face him. “Okay. Two minutes.”
    He didn’t let her see his relief. Now all he had to do was follow through. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his neck.
    She surprised him by asking, “Would you like some iced tea?”
    Her voice was low and sultry and to his ears, her question about iced tea could’ve been a line from an old Bogart-Bacall flick. If you want me, just whistle.
    “Sure, thanks.” An infusion of liquid might keep him from keeling over in heat prostration—and maybe extinguish the flames of testosterone suddenly warring with his rational thought. But he doubted it. He’d been watching her for three days to see if she had any contact with any suspicious characters who were supposed to be dead. He’d wanted to tap her phone, but didn’t have any evidence to do so. But watching her for several days, he knew one thing for sure…he liked what he saw.
    He drew a mental breath. No problem there, as long as he kept it in perspective.
    Something he hadn’t done with his ex.
    As soon as the woman left the room, he yanked off his jacket and adjusted his gun so that it was behind his arm and less visible. He couldn’t do anything about the holster, but if the gun bothered her, he’d take it off rather than put the damned jacket back on. As it was, he could feel the rings of sweat on his shirt under his arms.
    “I’m sorry it’s so hot in here,” she said, returning with a tray holding a pitcher of tea and two glasses. She set it on the coffee table. “These old homes don’t have central air, and since we usually only need it for a few weeks during the summer, I couldn’t see the point of converting the whole house.”
    She was nervous. He could tell by the way she avoided looking at him. Maybe she did have something to hide. “It’s hot everywhere. Just one of those summers, I guess.”
    After filling both glasses, she left the room again and came back with an electric fan. He’d already downed his tea by the time she returned.
    She plugged in the unit and adjusted the oscillation. Then she refilled his glass and sat opposite him on the overstuffed ottoman, her