Bitter Black Kiss Page 7

  It appeared that the short, portly man wanted to get inside fast. Brody didn’t blame him. This was a cruddy part of town, and the pawn shop had already been robbed twice this year. Three other businesses here on Monroe Street, a liquor store, adult movies and a sandwich shop had been jacked a few weeks ago.

  Brody pushed away from the cool brick wall and sauntered across the street. Recognition clouded the shopkeeper’s puffy features, and he doubled his effort to get inside. Brody shouldered it open. The shop owner dropped his meal.

  “Why aren’t you happy to see me, Jimbo?”

  The man gave the door another push. When that didn’t work, he sprinted for the back room. Brody was on him in a matter of seconds. He grabbed Jim Evans by the back of the shirt. “Where are you going?”

  Brody shoved him against the counter and forced his arm behind his back. He didn’t care that the glass case bit into the idiot’s cheek. Jimbo was as crooked as they came and didn’t trust cops. That included Brody, especially since he had busted Jimbo a few times for fencing stolen goods.

  Brody wasn’t brimming with trust for the little weasel either. A few years back, he told police that Brody had provided him with items that had come up missing in the evidence room. It had been complete bullshit, of course. Still, no one knew how Jimbo had gotten the items, and he had refused to provide them with details.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong, I swear! I’ve kept my nose clean, just like you told me.”

  “Don’t give me the runaround, Jimbo.” After Nicole’s brush off, he was cranky, and he didn’t have time for games. The fear dancing behind Jimbo’s pig-like eyes fueled his fervor. He cocked his head and examined the guns in the case against the wall. “I need information. You help me out, and I’ll overlook the fact that half the stuff in the place is stolen goods.”

  Pinned to the counter face down, Jimbo had nowhere to go. He squirmed against Brody’s hold, his breaths labored. “Okay, okay. What 'd ya want?”

  “I want to see that gun.” Brody indicated a weapon beneath the counter. Its rubber grip was scuffed and scratched. Not something anyone would give a significant amount of money for.

  “You’re hurting me.” Jimbo’s eyes rolled, and he tried to get a better view of Brody. A puddle of drool formed beneath his cheek and ran across the smooth surface.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Brody jerked Jimbo’s arm up at a severe angle. It popped in the socket and forced a moan from its owner. Brody leaned closer so Jimbo could see the promise in his eyes. “You ever had a broken bone?”

  “Oh man, okay. Okay!” The struggle went out of the fat man. His body continued to tremble, but he stopped fighting. “Some guy brought it in last night. I didn’t get his name.”

  Now that he’d felt the pain behind Brody’s threat, Jimbo was more than eager to talk. Brody released him and stepped back, allowing the man to raise himself. His cheek was red and moist like his eyes.

  “A guy with buzzed hair and a gold front tooth?”

  Jimbo shuffled around the counter. “No. Some bum.”

  “Where’d a bum get a gun?”

  “Said he found it in a dumpster. I didn’t ask questions.”

  Brody didn’t let his disappointment show. He would have put money down that the late night visitor had been Tony.

  He used a pencil from the cup on the counter to lift the gun. He wasn’t surprised to find the serial numbers had been scratched off. The scent of gun cleaner wafted off the metal. Someone had taken their time cleaning it. The Smith and Wesson wouldn’t have any fingerprints whatsoever.

  “Did you wipe it down?”

  Jimbo drummed his fingers on the counter and cast a hopeful glance out the window. “No. I told you already. It came in last night before I closed.”

  Brody ignored Jimbo’s suspicious gaze. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and dialed Vasquez. He turned his attention back to Jimbo after he finished. “I want a description of this guy.”

  “First time I’ve ever laid eyes on him.” Jimbo rubbed at his shoulder. “He was just some skinny white dude.”

  “You got video in here?”

  Jimbo's face scrunched. “C’mon, man. You know what kind of business this is.”

  “Seeing how your shop’s been hit twice, I’d think you’d take notice of someone coming in right as you’re closing. You must have noticed more than that.”

  Jimbo swallowed hard. “He had a baseball cap pulled down low so I couldn’t see his eyes. He had dark hair and a scar on the side of his neck. He wore leather or vinyl pants, and I don’t remember anything else.”

  “You sure?” His smile was menacing. “Think carefully.”

  “I just wanted him to leave so I could go home.” Jimbo wrung his hands with frustration. “Plus, he kinda gave me the creeps.”

  “But you bought the gun anyway. What do you mean, he gave you the creeps?”

  “He was different.”

  Brody leaned closer and grinned. Jimbo gasped and shrank back. He was certain the shop owner had viewed his pointed canines. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

  Jimbo backed away. A dark spot spread across the front of his pants and the shop filled with the smell of urine. “I’m not, I swear.”

  Brody skirted the counter. Jimbo stumbled backward and pressed his back against the farthest wall. He didn’t complain about the DVD players and camcorders that bit into his back.

  He avoided the puddle Jimbo had made and rummaged beneath the counter for a clean bag. Once he found a suitable one, he dropped the gun inside and said, “If the guy comes back, I want to know the moment he steps through the door—no, onto the curb. You understand?”

  Jimbo nodded with enthusiasm. Brody was confident the spineless crook would agree to most anything at this point.

  “Don’t screw me over, Jimbo. You don’t want to make me angry.”

  “But you can’t do that. You’re a cop.”

  “Not anymore."

  Behind them, the door jingled and made a whooshing sound. Eva Vasquez walked toward them. Jimbo looked disappointed.

  Brody sighed. “I said I’d bring it to you.”

  “I was in the neighborhood. What’s going on?” She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. Her attention fell upon the bag in his right hand. “Is that the weapon?”

  He handed it over. “I don’t think it’ll be much help. It’s been scratched and wiped.”

  Vasquez plucked the weapon out and examined the barrel and cylinder. She rubbed her finger over the area where the serial number should be. She finished her inspection and dropped it back inside. After Jimbo had given her a description of the guy who sold it to him, she moved toward the door. “Don’t leave town, Jim. I’m sure we’ll want to visit with you again.”

  Moments later, Brody stepped out of the shop and followed her across the street. Jimbo locked the door behind them. Brody felt a devious grin spread across his face. Just knowing he’d put the fear of god in the lowlife made his day.

  “I wish he’d given us more to go on. What’d you do to him?” Vasquez didn’t slow her stride.

  “Nothing.”

  “He pissed his pants, Brody.”

  He kicked a pebble across the street. If she hadn’t shown up, he might have gotten more out of Jimbo. “Maybe he has a bladder problem.”

  Brody shoved his key into the car’s lock. Vasquez’s grabbed his upper arm.

  He scowled at her hand, and she released him. “Are you moonlighting at Bitter Black?”

  He managed to keep his face from showing annoyance. “Not exactly.”

  “You’re spending a lot of time there. What are you up to?”

  “I like to dance?”

  A slight grin lifted the corner of her mouth. “One of the uniforms said you were a DJ. You forgot to mention that.”

  Brody rolled his shoulders. “It pays the bills.”

  “You shouldn't be anywhere near Sean Stone
.”

  He checked his watch. “He’s not the only one I’m watching.”

  Vasquez offered a perceptive look. “I suppose she’s about five-six, blonde, and blue-eyed?”

  Brody laughed and scratched at his chin. “That’s about the size of it.”

  She rolled her dark eyes heavenward. “She’s all wrong for you.”

  “Yeah well, Stone’s not my type either.” Without further explanation, he opened the car door.

  “We need help in special crimes. You should give up the DJ gig and come back.” Vasquez crossed her arms over her chest. “You looked good in uniform.”

  He swung the car door shut, but leaned out the open window. “Who said I wanted to come back?”

  She went on like she didn’t even hear him. “You’d have to start at the bottom, but I know you’d make detective again in no time. We need you, Brody. If we had someone like you, someone who understands what special crimes is dealing with…” Vasquez’s voice rose, and each word was spoken in such a rush that her accent broke through. “The Lycanthropic population has increased. You could help us understand the thinking behind the local pack and the rest of your kind.”

  “I’m not interested.” The car roared to life.

  “Think about it?”

  “They fucked me once. I won’t let them do it again.”

  Chapter Seven

  The ocean lapped at the sand in a rhythmic night song. Moonlight wove seductive patterns across black waves. “Ride the Lightning” by Metallica and laughter echoed down the beach. The scent of their bonfire, hot dogs, and roasted marshmallows, made his stomach grumble.

  He turned his attention back to the house he’d been watching for the last fifteen minutes. The target moved past the front window.

  He watched Stone’s waterfront property for two nights in a row. Stone never did anything spectacular and his goon, Tony, was always at his side. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Stone had remained in San Diego so long this time. Stone usually stopped in to check on things for a few days then would travel back to Los Angeles. Not this time. For some reason, he had chosen to stay past his welcome. Something kept him here, and Brody aimed to find out just what it was.

  Not one to complain about the opportunities handed to him, he continued to watch the silhouettes framed in the window. Realistically, he should abandon the nightly vigil. So far, it had been a big waste of time. There had to be better things he could do to further the case.

  Brody repositioned himself. The seat of his jeans was good and soaked, not to mention full of sand. He was about to call it a night, or morning as it were, when he spotted someone running on the beach.

  Nicole didn’t live on the water. Her apartment was four blocks away, but there she was on the shoreline. This just might prove to be a productive night, after all.

  Tanned legs carried her toward him, though it didn’t appear she noticed him yet. Blonde hair streamed behind her. A smile, something he had seldom seen her wear, transformed her features. She looked liberated, thrilled at the sand and salt water that lapped at her ankles. Drop dead gorgeous.

  Nicole streaked past then skidded to a halt. She turned to look over her shoulder, and the smile fell away to reveal a look of suspicion. She plucked the earphones from her ears and allowed them to dangle around her neck.

  “Hey.” He gazed up at her with a lazy smile, pleased that she was here.

  He tried not to notice the rise and fall of her breasts. The well-toned thighs were harder to ignore. They were at eye level. The curve of her buttocks was the perfect shape. Heat rose to his cheeks, and his groin twitched in appreciation.

  “I didn’t know you lived out this way.” She had to know a DJ couldn’t afford the rent on the swank condos and vacation properties.

  The situation reminded him of bumping into a co-worker while shopping and speaking out of obligation. The only difference, he was comfortable in her company. It would be difficult, but he decided not to allow his attraction to lead him. He didn’t want to scare her away again.

  “I live a few blocks that way.” He pointed in a random direction. “I wanted to enjoy the beach while it’s quiet. It’s the only time I can come out here without being pestered by kids or fat guys in Speedos.”

  He watched Nicole turn to survey the dark water and the line of sand that went further than either of them could see. Off in the distance, the bonfire glowed orange.

  “It is quiet.” She grinned and nodded toward the bonfire. “Well, with the exception of the eighties metal revival up that way.”

  Nicole had moved closer. The shorts scarcely covered her ass. If she kept putting that beautiful booty in his face, his jeans were going to get very uncomfortable.

  She sank to the ground beside him. “Want some company?” The expression on her face was somewhat disheartened, yet hopeful. There was nothing he wanted more at that moment.

  He twisted his upper body to face her. “You okay?”

  She must have remembered he was just a DJ, and she was his boss. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

  “Try me.” He traced a line in the sand with his finger. “I’m a good listener.”

  Nicole was the last one to see Amy Dahl alive. Hank was her dealer. Plus, he wasn’t convinced she wasn’t more involved in Stone’s business than she let on. Maybe if he offered a shoulder to cry on, she might let something slip. Hundreds of questions flitted through his mind. Was Stone the one bringing BST into the city? Did she know the delivery date of the next shipment? Was she involved with Stone or was it strictly a professional relationship?

  Nicole pulled her knees up and rested her chin atop them. She gazed out at the ocean and seemed comfortable sitting in the dark with him.

  He kept an eye on Stone’s house. There wasn’t much going on there. Stone was on the phone, waving his free arm. Tony’s shadow walked back and forth. At one point, he stopped to look out the window then began pacing again.

  Finally, Nicole broke the silence. “I feel like I owe you an apology.” Her fingertips touched his arm and lingered there. “Remember what we were talking about at the restaurant? I think I may have overreacted.”

  Brody didn’t know how to answer this. He picked up a stick next to him and jabbed a hole in the sand. She could say what she wanted. He knew the truth. He felt the change of body heat, heard her heartbeat and breaths speed up. If just for a moment, she was turned on by him.

  “You aren’t the first hottie to shoot me down.” He offered a charming smile to hide his insecurity. Why did he keep offering himself to this woman? She would continue to snub him, and he wasn’t getting any of the information he needed. He didn't know if she thought she was too good for him or maybe she was just emotionally unavailable, but it sucked all the same.

  Her gaze drifted over him then settled on his shoulder. “How’s your bite?”

  The stick dropped from his fingers. He’d forgotten all about the ruse and hadn’t bandaged the fake wound in days. “All better, thanks. It wasn’t that bad to start with.”

  She touched his arm, higher this time, feeling for a scar perhaps. Why did her interest in him revolve around this one thing? Damn it, couldn’t she see there was more to him than just the virus?

  “I’ve had a lot going on and I could never catch you alone at work.” She stared out at the waves licking at the sand. “Did you call my cell last night?”

  He’d forgotten about that. She was here, giving him an opening. He ducked his head in feigned embarrassment.

  “Sorry, I didn’t answer. I’ve been avoiding someone and thought you were him. I should have called you back.”

  Her hand rested on the curve of his upper back and sent some seriously mixed signals. It sent a warm rush throughout his body. He knew she was offering compassion and comfort, but part of him hoped for a more intimate reason to touch him. “I was going to apologize for acting like an ass. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.”

  She leaned her shoulder against his for a moment.
“I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you too.” Damn it, did he say that out loud?

  Her cheeks flushed, and she averted her eyes. “I’ve been worried about you and how you’ve dealt with the changes.”

  Both Stone and Tony had disappeared. The motor in his mind whirred to keep up with their conversation and to think up a believable response. He cast a quick glance at the moon. For reluctant Lycans like Nicole, the full moon posed a problem. Something about it urged them to change. The lunar seduction was almost too much to resist. Some couldn’t. He was an unusual case, able to change at will and without the aid of BST. He attributed this to his childhood and trying to find an escape from the bad things that had happened to him. It was incredible what the mind could do if one only focused hard enough and willed it to happen.

  He strove to think up a believable concern a newly infected might have. “I’m a little nervous about the full moon. It’s like what, a couple weeks away?”

  Nicole looked like she’d just received a face full of frigid water. Her hand fell away from him, and her fingers sought out the set of crescent-shaped scars on her left shoulder. “Two.”

  Question after question formed on the back of his tongue. He had to slow down, think about what he should ask.

  “Do you plan on going to the Wild Hunt?” The flyers were all over town, inviting those with a second nature to join and partake in the fun. Every year the Lycanthropic community hosted a huge party. For some, it was a time to rival leadership. For others, it was a time to have fun, hook up or just hang out.

  She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Her blonde brows knit together with disapproval. “Are you?”

  “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Can I ask you something else?” Never one to test the waters, he usually jumped in feet first. He didn’t see any reason to change now. Even if he had to dream up bullshit inquiries to make her talk, he would question her all night.

  She didn’t turn her head, just her eyes.