investigation.”
“And you don’t think someone’s going to recognize you?” Callahan asked. “And start asking questions?
Why is bodyguard-to-the-stars Alyssa Locke spending so much time with Assemblywoman Bonavita?”
“No one’s going to recognize me,” she said.
“I did.” He gave her an extremely inappropriate once over. “A beautiful woman like yourself… ? Although I gotta confess that the outfit you were wearing in those pictures in the
National Voice? Far
more memorable than what you’ve got on right now, toots.”
• • •
Toots.
The police detective had called Alyssa
toots
.
Not
sweetheart
or
honey
or
sugar
, but
toots
.
And Sam knew, as he leaned there against the wall in the assemblywoman’s front office, that this man’s choice of belittling term of endearment was not unintentional. It was meant to be a reminder of that other word that started with a
t
and ended with
ts
.
He settled back to watch as his wife sliced and diced this prick before kicking his ass out into the street.
And sure enough, before his very eyes, Alyssa seemed to grow about six inches taller. Her eyes—usually so warmly lit with laughter, or so soft when she awoke and smiled sleepily up at him—got positively glacial as she went into ice-queen mode.
Back in the day, years before they were married, back when Sam himself had been the target of Alyssa’s icicle-sharp contempt, it hadn’t just scared the hell out of him when she’d looked at him like that.
It had turned him on.
It still did.
Alyssa’s tone was frosty. And dismissive. “Thank you for coming in so quickly, Detective. I appreciate what seems like your genuine concern for Ms. Bonavita and her staff. I hope you can set your animosity aside as we work together toward the common goal of providing them with the best possible protection. For the moment, you
are
in charge of the police investigation, so I suggest you go investigate the whereabouts of Ms. Thorndyke and her cell phone. Nudging the lab for the results from their tests would also be a better use of your time than standing here arguing with me about something that’s not going to change.”
“For
the moment
, I’m in charge?” he asked, his voice loaded with amused disdain. “As full of yourself as you are,
princess
, youdon’t have the power to dictate who is or isn’t in charge of the investigation of a crime committed—”
“The crime committed here today,” she cut him off to say.
But he raised his voice to speak over her. “A crime committed in
my
precinct—”
Alyssa got louder, too. “The crime, or the
prank
, as you’ve dismissively referred to it more than once, was not merely facilitated by breaking and entering. The perpetrator used the U.S. Postal Service to deliver at least part of their threat. Which means,
Toots
, that this is a federal crime, and should be investigated accordingly.”
Sam had—always—found it unbelievably hot when Alyssa used FBI-speak, filled with words like
perpetrator
and
facilitated
and
accordingly
.
“Oh, come on,” the detective scoffed. “It was a freaking postcard, sent locally. There’s no need to bring in an outside agency—”
“Someone went to a lot of trouble,” Alyssa informed him coolly, “to set this up.”
“You bring in the FBI,” he pointed out, “this’ll never get solved. They don’t know the neighborhood, they don’t know jackshit. They’ll send in someone—”
“They’ll send an agent-in-charge,” Alyssa interrupted him again, “who has the experience and training to recognize the serious nature of this threat. This wasn’t done, Detective, by some irate person who simply wandered in off the street. The caulking on the drawer, put there to keep the smell from escaping? Whoever did this
has
visited this office. Whoever did this knows about the overheating issues.”
Sam could tell from Callahan’s expression that he hadn’t considered that—yeah, because he was too busy
“And you don’t think someone’s going to recognize you?” Callahan asked. “And start asking questions?
Why is bodyguard-to-the-stars Alyssa Locke spending so much time with Assemblywoman Bonavita?”
“No one’s going to recognize me,” she said.
“I did.” He gave her an extremely inappropriate once over. “A beautiful woman like yourself… ? Although I gotta confess that the outfit you were wearing in those pictures in the
National Voice? Far
more memorable than what you’ve got on right now, toots.”
• • •
Toots.
The police detective had called Alyssa
toots
.
Not
sweetheart
or
honey
or
sugar
, but
toots
.
And Sam knew, as he leaned there against the wall in the assemblywoman’s front office, that this man’s choice of belittling term of endearment was not unintentional. It was meant to be a reminder of that other word that started with a
t
and ended with
ts
.
He settled back to watch as his wife sliced and diced this prick before kicking his ass out into the street.
And sure enough, before his very eyes, Alyssa seemed to grow about six inches taller. Her eyes—usually so warmly lit with laughter, or so soft when she awoke and smiled sleepily up at him—got positively glacial as she went into ice-queen mode.
Back in the day, years before they were married, back when Sam himself had been the target of Alyssa’s icicle-sharp contempt, it hadn’t just scared the hell out of him when she’d looked at him like that.
It had turned him on.
It still did.
Alyssa’s tone was frosty. And dismissive. “Thank you for coming in so quickly, Detective. I appreciate what seems like your genuine concern for Ms. Bonavita and her staff. I hope you can set your animosity aside as we work together toward the common goal of providing them with the best possible protection. For the moment, you
are
in charge of the police investigation, so I suggest you go investigate the whereabouts of Ms. Thorndyke and her cell phone. Nudging the lab for the results from their tests would also be a better use of your time than standing here arguing with me about something that’s not going to change.”
“For
the moment
, I’m in charge?” he asked, his voice loaded with amused disdain. “As full of yourself as you are,
princess
, youdon’t have the power to dictate who is or isn’t in charge of the investigation of a crime committed—”
“The crime committed here today,” she cut him off to say.
But he raised his voice to speak over her. “A crime committed in
my
precinct—”
Alyssa got louder, too. “The crime, or the
prank
, as you’ve dismissively referred to it more than once, was not merely facilitated by breaking and entering. The perpetrator used the U.S. Postal Service to deliver at least part of their threat. Which means,
Toots
, that this is a federal crime, and should be investigated accordingly.”
Sam had—always—found it unbelievably hot when Alyssa used FBI-speak, filled with words like
perpetrator
and
facilitated
and
accordingly
.
“Oh, come on,” the detective scoffed. “It was a freaking postcard, sent locally. There’s no need to bring in an outside agency—”
“Someone went to a lot of trouble,” Alyssa informed him coolly, “to set this up.”
“You bring in the FBI,” he pointed out, “this’ll never get solved. They don’t know the neighborhood, they don’t know jackshit. They’ll send in someone—”
“They’ll send an agent-in-charge,” Alyssa interrupted him again, “who has the experience and training to recognize the serious nature of this threat. This wasn’t done, Detective, by some irate person who simply wandered in off the street. The caulking on the drawer, put there to keep the smell from escaping? Whoever did this
has
visited this office. Whoever did this knows about the overheating issues.”
Sam could tell from Callahan’s expression that he hadn’t considered that—yeah, because he was too busy
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