Quintic (45 page)

“
You should
show more respect,” Charles interjected, looking at Ham with red
cheeks.

“
Respect you
have to earn, kiddie boy,” Ham snapped back as Charles shook his
head. “Fuck, you mean to her? I show respect plenty. I never once
came on to her. And man, she’s the finest kitten.”

Chris knew
the part about not hitting on her to be almost
accurate. True as in not too heavy hitting, and not lately.
He damn appreciated it for what it was. A guy like Ham, knowing the
feelings his guy had for Patricia, that was as close to devotion as
Ham was ever going to give any woman, especially after the kiss in
the park during the quartet debacle.

Charles was
not con
vinced. “Where I grew up, we treat
women like women.”

“Meaning?”

“
Women are
more delicate. I know it sounds corny, but they need a man’s
protection.”

“
Roger
corny, kid.”

In his own
way, Chris had similar beliefs and acted accordingly, with her at
least. Although for the kid’s sake, Chris hoped Charles was not
going to share his views with Patricia, not if he wanted to stay on
her good side.

“Better you don’t tell Reid
about the delicate shit, rookie. The woman might break your
arm.”

“
OK, guys,
enough sweet talk for today. Go home.”

Chris locked
eyes with Ham, putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder and squeezing
gently. Ham nodded and climbed in
to his
car, pushing Charles lightly on his way.

“
See yah
Monday, baby boy.” The asshole never quit.

Chris looked Charles over. The
kid watched Ham drove away, cheeks still pinkish. He stood there
for a while and finally managed to look back at Chris.

“
He’s good,
isn’t he? T
hat’s why you teamed me with
him, right?”

“
Yes, he’s
good.” Chris smiled ironically.
“Appalling manners, an even worse temper. But he’s
good.”

“
That’s what
Patricia said,” Charles went on, cheeks turning red again. “Sorry,
I meant to say
Miss
 Patricia.”
Miss
 Patricia must have liked that. “But I don’t know how
she can stand him.”

Chris’
s smile grew. “Easy. Ham’s
great, and Patricia likes greatness.” Would that get the kid to try
harder, not for his boss but her? Shit. “Don’t worry so much about
what he says; look at what he does. He’s a good cop. You could
learn.”

“
Yes, Sir.
I’m trying, Sir. But he angers me. Sir.”

In
truth,
Chris was starting to like the
kid. “Getting angry can be good. It gives motivation. Teaches
self-restraint. Control. Like when you keep calling me sir.”
Too fucking old
.

“
I’ll try to
remember that, Sir. I mean Mr MacLaren. Chief.
Boss.”

O
K, the kid had had enough for
the day. Chris grabbed his arm and made Charles shake hands. “Try
getting some rest. You’ll have a lot of ground to cover starting
tomorrow.”

Chris too
was done for the day.
His jacket in the
trunk, he climbed into his truck, but when Charles came knocking on
his window, he cursed out loud before lowering the glass. “Go home,
Charles.”

“
Just one
last question, Sir. Uh, Chief?”

“
I’m sure it
can wait. Go home.” He started to raise his window, but Charles put
his hand on it.

“
Boss, is
she good?” What the fuck was he asking? Had it been Ham, he would
have already punched the jerk. “I mean, is Miss Patricia a
good cop?”

Chris
glared at Charles hard. “She’s not in the
force.”

“
I know. But
if she were, would she be good?”

“Why are you asking?”

“
She gave me
some advice.”

“
Pertinent
advice I’m sure. Go Home.” Chris sure as hell didn’t want to know
what guidance Patricia had given Charles. Her helpful instructions
might include another visit to a strip club, and if he knew, he
would have to do something about it.

“
Boss, I’m
serious. Is she good?” The kid pressed on. “I think she’s great. I
mean, she did discover two bodies, right?”
Yah right, by accident both times
. “I know she kind of stumbled upon them, but that still
counts, right? We arrived at the motel before you guys, and nobody
found him. She had me move some furniture, so she has ideas. She
behaved like a detective, right?”

They moved
the
furniture?
“What the fuck, Charles? For
Christ’s fucking sake.” Chris got out of the car to push Charles by
the shoulders, turned him around, giving him a shove toward his
car. “Listen up, kiddo, I’m only gonna say it once. Yes, she’s
great. Better than great, in fact. Way too smart. And yes, she had
ideas. Way too many if you ask me. But Charles, she’s not a
detective. She has no training; she’s dreamy, and she’s dangerous.
That delicate woman needing a man’s protection shit? It applies to
her ten times; she’s extremely dangerous to herself. So, as I told
you after the last incident, I’m telling you again. You’re not to
take her anywhere without telling me, however good her idea seems.
Are we clear on that?”

“
Yes
, Sir. Boss.”

“Good night Charles.”

“
Good night
Mr MacLaren, Sir.” The kid was hopeless. “Uh,
boss?”

Chris sighed
very loudly.
Take the hint,
kid!
“What the fuck?” Self-restraint had
its limits.

“Is that why you fired her?
Because you had to protect her?” Well, the kid might be picking up
on things.

“I did not fire her. She
quit.”

“
Then she
can come back, right? If she wants to, if she changes her mind, she
can come back work with us, right? Uh, work for you. You’d take her
back, right, Sir?”

“
Yes.” Yes,
he would, God helped him, he would take her back. Fuck, he was
crazy, but he missed seeing her at the office, stealing a look at
her, hearing her laugh or her snap back at Ham or whispering
secrets to Freddy. He sighed. A long, soft, resigned sigh. He
needed a drink. “Go home, Charles.”

“Good night Boss. Thanks for
the talk.”

No prob
lem,
kiddo.

Charles
yelled through the window as he was backing up, “I never did
either. Came on to her, I mean.”

Chris froze
for a nanosecond and shook his head in disbelief. He had never once
worried
about Charles coming on to her,
more the other way around. When flirting for research purposes, her
hard limit was brushing her hand on the fabric of a sleeve. She
wouldn’t have to go that far for Charles to fold. Chris was sure if
she wanted back, she had already figured out the kid was her
easiest access to the Lemieux case.

French Apples for
Two

“Y
ou smell funny,” were her first
words when he walked in the door.

God existed,
and He had her waiting for him at his place. She looked stunning;
she smelled wonderful. He caught a whiff of the food waiting in the
oven, Italian from the smell of it. She must have picked their meal
on her way over. He hoped she had brought him veal; he was in the
mood for something meaty. And apple, he wasn’t about to forget
about his French apple. Maybe they could eat the food in their
underwear. After the day he’d had, he
needed
to see one of those
delicately soft, lacy, frilly, sexy things she wore. Any would do;
he liked them all.

He
circled her waist, pulling her close, and tried
to kiss her.

She pushed
him away repeating, “You smell funny.”

Of course, I smell funny, Angel. I just spent an hour in a
cheap titty bar, my arm within a breath of an almost-naked, smelly
girl, chain-smoking cigarettes, as I charmed the sequins off of her
to get a lead on your ex-lover’s killer. And may I add just for the
hell of it, that I have listened to two of my officers arguing like
six-year-old, pledging their allegiances to you, Darling of mine?
During our afternoon of work, they may also have mentioned your
name and in the same sentence as the words ‘pole
dancing’.

He could
have been honest and admitted it all but then
what? She might have become angry about the sequins. Worse,
she might have wanted to know more. Either way, that conversation
would have distracted, and right now, he wanted her to think only
of him. The entire night. Better yet, he wanted her not to think at
all, about
anything
.
I will do all of the thinking, all of the
talking, the touching, the kissing, the licking, the
sucking
.

“
What is
that
smell?” She wanted to
know.

He kept it
simple.
“Work.” And again, he tried to
kiss her.

She slipped
away and rubbed her nose with the tip of her right forefinger. Not
good, the nose twitch nearly always preceded thinking.

“
OK, Angel.
I get it. Shower.” He sighed. The smell wasn’t that bad, was
it?

Yup
, it was. A shower was a
necessity; it was safer if she didn’t smell the cheap perfume on
him. He had left the truck windows open in the garage in the hope
the smell would go away before they used the vehicle again. He even
had a smoke or two on the way over, to get rid of the smell he told
himself. Yah right.

He had tried
calli
ng her again during the drive back,
at the hotel, on her cell and at his place. Since she had not
answered any of his calls, with the rain coming down hard, he took
it to mean she was in her room, curled up in a comforter in front
of the television, hopefully waiting for him, hopefully naked. He
had thought better to stop by his place for a shower and clean
clothes before heading over to her hotel. As a reward for his
shitty afternoon, Destiny had her waiting for him at his place. She
must truly miss him.

He had
barely begun soaping up when she called out, “Please hurry. I’m
starving.”

He too was
hungry
but not for the same type of
nourishment. A French dessert instead of French appetisers? To
expedite the meal, he walked naked into the kitchen, showing off
his erection. She had set the table so they were sitting across
from each other, which meant she was too far for him to put a hand
on her. He sat at the table and started shoving food in his
mouth.

“
I know
you’re sending me a message, Big guy, but for the life of me, I do
not know what it is.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at
him.

She was
wearing that little top he liked, the blue one with the shoulders
that kept
dropping down her shoulders.
Her bra strap appeared; he stared at the bluish silky ribbon, and
she put the sweater shoulder back in place. And repeat. With the
top, she was wearing a short dark-coloured skirt, Chris hadn’t
noticed the colour earlier, and sheer black stocking that stopped
mid-thigh. Those he had noted; the stockings made her legs look
even more delicate. Black heels. Wavy hair. Big smile. Clearly, she
enjoyed seeing him all worked up. Impatient. So much for Mister
Control. He might as well eat and act as if the sexy sight of her
didn’t arouse him. His cock might just do the same and get a rest,
or not.

She
chatted about some movie she had seen that
afternoon. “You should have seen the main character!” She went on
to describe the sexy actor, and then the people in the room. She
sprinkled her descriptions with silly comments to make him laugh.
His dick remained agonisingly attentive.

She sure was
taking her sweet fucking time eating that damn lasagna. He had
finished his veal in less than five minutes. The phone rang. No way
was he getting up to answer it. She looked at him, waiting. Since
he wasn’t mo
ving, she got up and
answered.

“
Wrong
number,” she announced, but it got her moving again.

N
o wonder she needed so much
sleep; she was one active slip of a thing, always in motion. Unless
they had guests at the table, she had trouble sitting still during
a meal. She went to get napkins, wine, water, a wipe for the
counters. He liked watching her sashayed about his place. She
touched his things as she passed by. A soft stroke of her fingertip
on the top of the couch as she hung up the phone, almost a caress.
Fingers pianoting on the kitchen counter as she considered which
plate to put the dessert in.

When she
crouched to get a plate from the bottom shelf out, her skirt hiked
up her thighs. Damn, he liked those stay-up stockings and their
lacy edges hinting under her skirt. The fucking meal was taking
forever. When she rose, she caught him looking at her; he was
practically drooling, the throbbing in his bat was getting painful.
She better not be expecting slow. As far as he was concerned, this
whole meal was foreplay.

She
sauntered back to the table with a plate loaded with cream puffs.
Tiny spoon-size puffs, dozens of them, half were chocolate-covered,
his; half were sprinkled with maple sugar, hers, and he suddenly
feared she was going to take her time eating those. She had the
biggest smile on her face. The damn woman knew he was
hurting.