it slip.”
Searching for control, Parker dug his heels into the ground hard enough to leave dents in the blacktop.
Stephens shot from his car, leaving the engine running, and studiously avoiding Parker. “Well, if it isn’t the elusive Ms. Gray. I believe we have a conversation to finish, preferably in my office.”
Everly shook her head, wrinkling her forehead into a semi-confused expression. The woman could use some lessons in inscrutable.
“I can’t imagine what we have to talk about, Detective Stephens. I thought we covered everything before my unfortunate panic attack.”
Parker blinked. Everly? Panic attack? Not bloody likely.
“No, Ms. Gray, we didn’t cover everything.” He whirled on his heel, stomped to his car, leaned in, and pulled out a clipboard.
There was a picture attached. A photo of… “Is that me?” Everly’s voice held the uncomfortable screech of a cat in heat. She reached for the clipboard.
Stephens snatched it out of her hands, loosened the photo, and gingerly held it by the top edge—right in front of her face. Intimidation at its worst.
Parker snapped the photograph from Stephens’s fingers, the edge gritty against his skin. “You pulled this from the video feed at Steele Management.”
Stephens glared, then held out the clipboard—a silent command to return the photograph. “Looks like Ms. Gray knows more than she’s sayin’.”
Parker placed the picture under the clip, and gave it a tap with his index finger. “Be careful with your accusations, Detective.”
Everly closed her eyes, and blew out the mother of all sighs. “What exactly is it you’re trying to say, Detective Stephens?”
“It’s clear you had your hands all over Emir Tarik’s neck.” His lips smoothed into a slimy, smug smile.
“Hardly all over. I checked for a pulse.”
Parker shook his head. “Enough. Not another word, Everly, unless Drew is present.”
Stephens backed off. “Bring your attorney to my office, Ms. Gray. Sometime today would be good.” He tossed the clipboard on the passenger seat of his car, climbed in, and peeled out of the parking lot, the engine of his police-issue revving.
Everly grinned. “There’s way too much adolescent in that boy. Must be left over from when you beat him in every sport, Parker. Wonder why he’s so fixated on Tarik’s neck?”
Reese Bryant cleared her throat. “How about y’all meet me at the station? And plan for a long afternoon.”
Parker, Mitch and Everly gathered around Jayne in the sitting area of her new digs. Soft jazz played from an iPod station, and they had made fast work of a platter of sandwiches and bowl of potato chips.
Jayne grinned at her support team. “Glad you all could make it to my first impromptu party here at Apex PD Central. It’s not your gourmet restaurant, but a world better than the holding cell.”
Parker stuffed the last bite of a ham on rye into his mouth and squeezed Jayne’s hand, the rough edge of his fingers a sharp contrast to her smooth skin. Odd. His fingers hadn’t caught against her skin last night. To the contrary, they’d slid over her curves, leaving him hot and hungry for more. He yanked his gaze from the shimmer of her shirt, the way it hugged her curves, to examine his hand.
Mitch licked the potato chip salt from his fingers. “I’m shocked as hell at this collaboration we’re doing with Reese Bryant, but damn glad. Four hours, Jayne, and you’ve traced the link between Tarik and the missing funds. Gotta be a record.”
“Both Reese and I are damn good at our work, and together we’re worthy of Mensa status,” Jayne said, lifting Parker’s hand and examining his fingertips. Her touch was cool against his fevered skin.
“Did you burn yourself, Parker? You’re skin is rough and red.”
Everly sat up straight, raised her hand, and waved. “Hey, I get some credit for giving you the key to his algorithm. Using that weird
Searching for control, Parker dug his heels into the ground hard enough to leave dents in the blacktop.
Stephens shot from his car, leaving the engine running, and studiously avoiding Parker. “Well, if it isn’t the elusive Ms. Gray. I believe we have a conversation to finish, preferably in my office.”
Everly shook her head, wrinkling her forehead into a semi-confused expression. The woman could use some lessons in inscrutable.
“I can’t imagine what we have to talk about, Detective Stephens. I thought we covered everything before my unfortunate panic attack.”
Parker blinked. Everly? Panic attack? Not bloody likely.
“No, Ms. Gray, we didn’t cover everything.” He whirled on his heel, stomped to his car, leaned in, and pulled out a clipboard.
There was a picture attached. A photo of… “Is that me?” Everly’s voice held the uncomfortable screech of a cat in heat. She reached for the clipboard.
Stephens snatched it out of her hands, loosened the photo, and gingerly held it by the top edge—right in front of her face. Intimidation at its worst.
Parker snapped the photograph from Stephens’s fingers, the edge gritty against his skin. “You pulled this from the video feed at Steele Management.”
Stephens glared, then held out the clipboard—a silent command to return the photograph. “Looks like Ms. Gray knows more than she’s sayin’.”
Parker placed the picture under the clip, and gave it a tap with his index finger. “Be careful with your accusations, Detective.”
Everly closed her eyes, and blew out the mother of all sighs. “What exactly is it you’re trying to say, Detective Stephens?”
“It’s clear you had your hands all over Emir Tarik’s neck.” His lips smoothed into a slimy, smug smile.
“Hardly all over. I checked for a pulse.”
Parker shook his head. “Enough. Not another word, Everly, unless Drew is present.”
Stephens backed off. “Bring your attorney to my office, Ms. Gray. Sometime today would be good.” He tossed the clipboard on the passenger seat of his car, climbed in, and peeled out of the parking lot, the engine of his police-issue revving.
Everly grinned. “There’s way too much adolescent in that boy. Must be left over from when you beat him in every sport, Parker. Wonder why he’s so fixated on Tarik’s neck?”
Reese Bryant cleared her throat. “How about y’all meet me at the station? And plan for a long afternoon.”
Parker, Mitch and Everly gathered around Jayne in the sitting area of her new digs. Soft jazz played from an iPod station, and they had made fast work of a platter of sandwiches and bowl of potato chips.
Jayne grinned at her support team. “Glad you all could make it to my first impromptu party here at Apex PD Central. It’s not your gourmet restaurant, but a world better than the holding cell.”
Parker stuffed the last bite of a ham on rye into his mouth and squeezed Jayne’s hand, the rough edge of his fingers a sharp contrast to her smooth skin. Odd. His fingers hadn’t caught against her skin last night. To the contrary, they’d slid over her curves, leaving him hot and hungry for more. He yanked his gaze from the shimmer of her shirt, the way it hugged her curves, to examine his hand.
Mitch licked the potato chip salt from his fingers. “I’m shocked as hell at this collaboration we’re doing with Reese Bryant, but damn glad. Four hours, Jayne, and you’ve traced the link between Tarik and the missing funds. Gotta be a record.”
“Both Reese and I are damn good at our work, and together we’re worthy of Mensa status,” Jayne said, lifting Parker’s hand and examining his fingertips. Her touch was cool against his fevered skin.
“Did you burn yourself, Parker? You’re skin is rough and red.”
Everly sat up straight, raised her hand, and waved. “Hey, I get some credit for giving you the key to his algorithm. Using that weird
Similar Books
