Ash Rising (DEAd Series) (22 page)

“You’re out at the lake house all by yourself,” Andy said. “Pretty remote. I can come stay if you’d like.”

“I don’t need a babysitter or guard, but thanks. Wouldn’t mind some company for dinner, though, if you and Lisa want to come out to the lake instead of me coming to your place.” And then he wouldn’t have to face Maggie and Abigail. “Been a while since we just sat around with a bottle of wine or two and relaxed. I’ll throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” Andy stood and slapped Ash on the back. “We’ll be over after Lisa gets done with her shift at the hospital.”

Andy left, and Ash turned to Pete. “Let me know what else Special Agent Justice overhears while undercover, all right? In case I should get a lawyer next time she wants to question me.”

“Ash,” he said reprovingly. “She doesn’t think you killed Rico or Gina any more than I do. She’s just doing her job, the same as you if you were in her position.”

Pete being right didn’t make the situation easier to bear. Ash wouldn’t mind seeing Special Agent Justice in any number of positions, and none pertained to work.

Emma stuck by the decision to keep her distance from the handsome inspector for almost three weeks, until she had to speak with him about a development in the investigation. Only to observe his honest reaction with her own eyes.

Yeah, right
.
She wanted to see something with her own eyes, all right, and not just Asher Beaulieu’s reaction to news concerning the Salvatore murder case.

Commander Davenport told her Beaulieu often used the pool at the gym and ran in the mornings before work, so she took a chance she’d catch him jogging the public trails. She attempted to get in a workout of her own but only managed about a mile before
the heavy drizzle changed her plan. Finding a spot sheltered by low-hanging branches of a tree, she hoisted herself up on a relatively dry fence rail and waited for the inspector. He had to pass her way to get back to the gym, so he’d appear sooner or later.

People scurried by, their speed in direct relation to the protectiveness of their rain gear. Young couples had fun getting caught in the wet and damp, and hardcore runners slogged through puddles. Emma tucked her waterproof jacket closer around her shoulders and came to attention when a lone figure crested the hill. She recognized him even in nondescript sweatpants and an oversized grey sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head to protect him from the rain. An unwelcome tingle of warmth lit her belly at the memorable set of his wide shoulders. She gave serious consideration to jumping into his path and tackling him, but his eyes found where she perched and pinned her in place.

And holy hell, those eyes.

“Special Agent Justice. This is a surprise.”
The cadence of his steps slowed as he came to a halt. At least he panted slightly, proving he was human. That disconcerting gaze stayed on her as he shoved the hood off his head and put his hands on his hips, breathing deeply. He lifted his left foot and stamped on the ground with a grimace.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Damn thing tightens up sometimes. Pretty bad muscle damage. Gives me a little trouble on days like today.”

“Oh.”

Her gaze dropped to his leg, and he stopped rubbing his thigh when he noticed where her attention had strayed. The reports she’d read detailed the many injuries he’d suffered in the blast. Amazing he could run at all, even after months of recovery.

“Don’t imagine you came out in the rain just to check up on me.” A dark brow rose when her gaze shot back to his. “Or did you?”

“What? No. I didn’t.” She jumped off the railing to stand in front of him. “Pete told me where you’d be. I came to let you know Leonard Moore was murdered last night.”

“Slick? Jesus.” Honest surprise flickered across his face. He paused, stared at her, and then blew out a breath. “Fuck. Tell me you didn’t find his body in the same damn clearing as Rico and Gina’s.”

“No, the men’s room at Clyde’s. Throat cut, same as both Salvatores.”

“Fuck,” he repeated, placing his hands on his hips and turning away. “Fuck!”

His shoulders tensed as he absorbed the news. Head lowered, he rolled his neck side to side before facing her again. “Someone’s working their way through Rico’s crew.”

“Yes.”

“Rival gang?”

“Not so far as we can tell. We’ve been monitoring everyone we know who was involved with Rico on both sides of the border and haven’t found anything to indicate that’s the case.”

“Someone with a more personal agenda, maybe? But who?” He stalked over to the railing to brace against the top as Emma shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t know either. Of course, I’ve been out of the loop for a while. Things change pretty fast.”

Emma nodded at his back. He wasn’t looking at her, so she spoke. “Yeah, I do. I was under with them for a while until Gina was killed, but… We’re still digging into the situation. We’ll figure this out.”

“Before everyone’s dead?” His eyes narrowed. “Jem—the kid. He was part of the inner circle. Jem McCrimmon. He’s Rico and Gina’s cousin, did a lot of odd jobs for Rico. Pete said we were watching him. Is he—”

“Still alive and well. We’ve got surveillance on him.”

“So it’s just him, me, and Tommy Bianchi left out of the original group. Of course, Tommy could very well be the one who killed them. Will he come after me? Or if it’s someone else, would they even bother with me at all? Can we use that somehow?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe you should be under surveillance, too, Inspector.”

He turned to face her, leaned his hips on the rail and crossed his arms over his chest. A lopsided smile tilted his mouth. “To keep me safe, or to keep tabs on me in case I did kill them?”

“Yes to all the above.” She returned his mocking smile. She didn’t think he had anything to do with the murders, but she’d let him wonder. He was entirely too confident. And smirky.

“So, why you?”

“Why me, what?”

His gaze roved from her damp hair to her soggy shoes. “Why did you come tell me?”

“Pete didn’t want to get wet. I figured I could use a run, but I didn’t count on the weather being so bad.”

“Yeah.” He grimaced up at the sky, which still relentlessly spit moisture. “You’re welcome to join me, but I’m almost done. Can’t go as far or as long as I used to.”

He rubbed his thigh again and shrugged.

“That’s okay. I’m not any happier about getting soaked than Pete.”

He fell into step beside her as she jogged down the path. “Doesn’t seem to stop you. Nothing much does.”

“Inspector.” She fluttered her lashes. “Was that a compliment? Are we actually getting along? Or was it a dig about how much I annoy you?”

“You don’t annoy me.” He chuckled at the disbelieving look she shot him. “Okay, not all the time. Not that you annoy me, exactly. More like…”

He shrugged, casting her an awkward glance, and she nodded.

“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”

A smile almost appeared before he flipped the hood of the sweatshirt back over his head. He ran beside her until they reached her car in the parking lot.

“Well, this is me.” She gestured at the rental, and he waited until she unlocked the door and sat in the driver’s seat before placing his hand on the door. Emma looked up and got distracted by his eyes again, not to mention his face framed by the damp grey hood of his sweatshirt.

“Why you?” He repeated his earlier question. “Why did you come out and tell me about Slick?”

“Because—at the time—a jog sounded like a good idea. And I didn’t want you to be blindsided with the news.”

“You wanted to see my reaction.”

“Partly.” She shut the door but rolled the down the window. “I thought it might be better to get the info outside work and from someone you’d expect to hear bad news.”

He smiled, and the chill in the air no longer bothered her. “You do seem to be the bearer of those kinds of tidings. Too bad I’m not sure how I feel about the news.”

She tilted her head, encouraging him to continue.

“Not that Rico’s dead, or even Gina and Slick, for that matter. Not how or even who—only as it pertains to why. The why… That bothers me.”

“Bothers me, too, Inspector.” She started her car, but he reached in and touched her arm before withdrawing his hand.

“I just wanted to say thanks. For coming out this morning to tell me, even in the rain.”

“Better be careful.” She grinned as she put the car in reverse. “Looks like we’re being nice to each other again.”

The sound of his reluctant laughter faded as she rolled up the window and pulled out of the lot.

Emma had just opened a nice bottle of red wine when her phone rang. An unfamiliar number showed on the screen, but she answered the call anyway.

“Justice.”

“Special Agent Justice, this is Ash—Inspector Beaulieu.”

Emma pulled the phone away from her ear and blinked at the screen, as if that would help clear her confusion. Not only because Inspector Beaulieu had called, but also because of the warm rush the sound of his rough, deep voice triggered. She started to clear her throat but didn’t want the telltale sound to give her away. Taking an extra second, she made sure her voice remained cool and professional.

“Inspector Beaulieu. What can I do for you?”

“Meet me out in front of your apartment building in five minutes. I’ve got information on the Salvatore case I think you’ll find worth the aggravation.” A powerful engine rumbled in the background.

“Aggravation?”

“Of having to deal with me.”

The amusement in his tone prompted her smile, and she fought to keep the reaction from sounding in her voice. “Can’t you tell me over the phone? Or wait until we’re at work?”

“No, this can’t wait. I’ll be there in five. See you then, Special Agent.”

He hung up as she opened her mouth to protest. Emma stared at the phone for a second and then scrambled for the bedroom, skidding to a halt in front of her closet. Ripping the ponytail holder out of her hair, she fisted her hand in the loose strands and pulled until the sting brought some sense back into her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she muttered. “Get a grip. This is your job. This is purely professional and work related. You are not getting ready to go to the frigging prom.”

Flipping her head down, she gave her long hair a shake and grabbed a fresh shirt to throw on with her jeans. She might not be going on a date with the man, but she could wear clothes that didn’t look like she hibernated in them.

Emma dressed, ran a powder brush over her face, secured her weapon and cell phone, and ran downstairs to wait. She had just stepped onto the sidewalk when he pulled up in his racy little Mustang. After double-parking on the street, he got out and was at her side before she had a chance to step to the curb.

“Special Agent. Thanks for meeting me.”

“I think you can call me by my first name considering you pulled me away from a nice, relaxing bottle of zinfandel, Inspector. What’s so damned important you had to see me at—” She made a show of looking at her watch. “Almost seven o’clock on a Saturday night?”