8:55 A.M.
Devlin opened the door of her black cherry Ford F-150 and lowered a black Merrell Strongfield Tactical six-inch boot onto the driver’s side running board. Glancing at a small two-door car parked behind her, she climbed down from the truck and shut the door before peeling back the left half of her lightweight navy-blue blazer, fishing out her cell phone, and trying Randall’s number for the third time.
His phone kept ringing.
She strode up the driveway, entered the apartment building where he was staying, and found his apartment. Envisioning the white two-door at the curb outside, she tried to recall the make and model of her partner’s rental car. Her detective senses firing when she heard his recorded voice for the third time, she clicked off, shoved the mobile into the left-front pocket on her blue jeans, and sent a forefinger toward the door buzzer.
*******
“I have to admit,” rising to her feet, Faith pulled her skimpy underwear to her waist, “your loyalty to my sister is quite admirable...frustrating, but admirable nonetheless.”
Randall fastened his jeans.
“Most men in your position wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to—”
“Slap the puck into the net?”
Sliding arms into bra straps, she stopped to smile at him. “So, you do know your hockey?”
“Not really, but I’m not totally ignorant of the game, either. And besides...” he laid hands on her hips and applied gentle pressure.
Going with the force, she spun in place and turned away from him.
“...it wasn’t too hard to follow your analogy.” He brought the lingerie’s band around to her back and attached the clasps.
“Thank you.” She hooked thumbs under the straps and adjusted them. “It’s not as much fun doing that in reverse, is it?”
Grinning, he eyed her lingerie, “Of course it is,” then hugged her waist and dipped his head to peck the nape of her neck.
“Liar.” She reached up behind her and cupped the back of his short, dark hair. “Back to the hockey thing. Hopefully someday...”
His kisses found the rounded bone at the back of her jaw.
“...someday soon, you’ll get a chance to score a goal.”
His brain worked overtime for a snappy comeback. “Actually,” he smiled, “I had my sights set on not just one goal but,” he paused, “a hat trick.”
“Ooh,” beaming, she cranked her head around to give him a single kiss, “I love an ambitious man.”
He folded his arms around her belly, each forearm nudging a clothed breast upward a bit. “Let’s hope I’m not all talk.”
Fifteen seconds of French-kissing passed.
Feeling himself swelling against her left butt cheek, Randall backed away, inhaled deeply, and expended a whirlwind of air. “We’re doing it again.”
Faith caught her breath. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
He stooped, picked up her pants, and held them out. “In time...”
She accepted the clothing.
“...I’m sure we would have.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Have you had breakfast? I don’t have much, but I can make you some—”
The doorbell rang.
He whipped his head toward the sound.
She put one foot into her jeans and joined him in staring at the bedroom door. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No one knows I’m even here.” He left the bedroom, jogged across the living room, and peeped through the hole in the door. Son-of-a— he whirled around and reversed course. Halfway to the bedroom, he snatched Faith’s leather jacket off the floor before darting into the private chamber and tossing the coat onto the bed. “Get dressed. It’s your sister.”
“Good. Now I can have that talk with her.”
“No. It’s not good. She’ll take one look at us and,” he gestured toward the front panel of her exposed thong, “well...what would you think was going on?”
Faith hunched her shoulders. “We didn’t do anything.”
He grabbed the door handle. “Let me re-phrase that. What would someone—who didn’t know that nothing had happened here—think?”
She bobbed eyebrows and jammed her second foot into her jeans. “Fine. I see your point.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Just stay in here and,” he noticed a weird smile on her face, “stay,” a beat, “quiet.” He frowned. “What’s with the look?”
“I don’t know. All of a sudden, I feel naughty...like I’m the mistress or something.”
Shaking his head, he chuckled, closed the door, and crossed the main area again while donning his shirt. He grabbed the doorknob, took a big breath, holding it for a moment, before exhaling and opening the front door. “Jessica.”
“I’ve been calling you for nearly an hour.” She brushed by him. “Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?”
“No.” He spotted his cell on the kitchen counter and lifted a finger. “I must’ve shut off the ringer on my phone.” He closed the door. “What’s up?”
“We have a new assignment.” Devlin glanced around the dwelling. “A bank robbery that killed two people. Thorn wants us to head out to the crime scene.”
“Sounds good.” He swung open the door again. “I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”
“We have a minute. Why don’t you give me the grand tour of your place? Do you like it?”
“It’s great. This is the living room.” He pointed to his right. “The kitchen over there has a nice little breakfast nook.” He swung the finger to his left. “There’s the bathroom and bedroom as well as a second room which is set up as another bedroom. But I’m thinking of making that into a home office.”
“My realtor contact told me—” rounding the sofa, Devlin spotted a woman’s blouse crumpled over a cushion.
Randall’s eyes zipped to the same area. A curse word entering his brain, he felt a bead of sweat run down between his shoulder blades.
Devlin stopped to stare at the article of clothing. “He,” she wavered, “he told me it wouldn’t have lasted long on the market.” Her body stiffening, she recalled the white car parked outside.
Randall noticed her posture change. His mental synapses fired off another curse.
She ambled toward the bedroom while picking up the top. “How about showing me the bedroom?”
He fast walked to the sleeping chamber and put a hand on the doorknob. “It’s just a bedroom...nothing special.”
She brought the shirt’s sleeves together and flattened the collar. “I’m curious as to what the previous owners left behind for you.”
He held a half shrug. “Just a bed and some furniture…the usual.”
“Is that so?” A foot away from him, she finished folding the apparel, held it in front of her white blouse, and confronted him. “Because I’m kind of thinking you never really know what surprises you’ll find in a bedroom.”
His heart thumping, he regarded her. That sweat bead that had been tracing its way down his back finally hit the waistband of his jeans.
Her jaw set, her face stoic, her spine straight, Devlin stared at him.
For the next ten seconds, the two marshals squared off against each other in a silent game of ‘chicken.’
Randall pursed his lips. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
She cocked her head. “And what would I be thinking?”
He let go of the knob and took a step backward.
She opened the door just enough to hold the folded garment in the gap. “That my sister left her shirt on your couch?”
A hand snatched the blouse.
Ten seconds later, Devlin pushed the door inward.
Her unlaced hiking boots on, her undone jeans up to her waist, Faith worked at buttoning the shirt she had been given.
Randall eyed his partner. “We didn’t do anything, Jess.”
Devlin eyed the thin strands of Faith’s red thong. “But could you have said that if I had pressed the doorbell two minutes later than when I actually did?”
“Two minutes? Yes. Five?” Trying to ease the tension, he teetered a flat hand and added a quick grin.
“Glad you find this so amusing.” She stormed away.
Well, that joke bombed. He went after her. “Jessica, I’m telling you that absolutely nothing—”
“You,” she whirled around and leveled a finger at him, stopping him in his tracks, “made me a promise.” Her eyes included Faith. “You both made promises to me.” A tick later, she left the apartment and slammed the door behind her.
Buttoning his shirt, Randall continued his way across the living room. “I’m going after her. I’ll try to explain—”
“No.” Faith caught his elbow. Fully clothed, her boots tied, she put on her leather jacket and flipped out her hair. “She and I need to hash this out. She’ll either be fine with you and me seeing each other...or pissed. But, either way, this needs to come to an end right now.”
“Should I come along?”
“No. This is between sisters.” Faith threw open the barrier, stopped in the archway, pivoted, and half closed an eye at him. “That five-minute remark, earlier. That was a joke, right? I mean I’m hoping to get more than just five minutes of stamina from you.”
“Ordinarily, I’d say definitely, but,” he gave her figure an exaggerated look and hiked his brows, “with the way you look,” before he shook his head at her, “I can make no such promises.”
She half smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Randall nodded once. “As you should.”
“I’ll also keep that in mind and try to,” she paused, “tone down my sexiness.”
“Please.” He raised hands in surrender. “I want no special favors.”
“No special favors, huh?” Still smiling, Faith backpedaled into the hallway. “I’ll remember that, too, when the time comes.” She did a one-eighty and was gone.
Picking up on her sexual innuendo, he sniggered and hung his head. You need to learn to shut your mouth a little sooner, Noah.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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