Dead Case in Deadwood (14 page)

"You. The Hessler house. The Carhart place. The stubborn
way you charge forth despite rational people warning you to stop."

Any notion I’d had about telling him of my adventures with
Cooper, Ray, and the Mudder brothers last night evaporated under the weight of
his grimace. My nose knew a fishy odor when it rose up, and Ray stunk like a
bucket of chum. I didn’t need Doc’s rationality at this point.

"I’m not ‘stubborn.’"

"Oh, really?"

Lifting my chin, I said, "I’m determined."

He grabbed his belt from the towel rack. "Spin it
however you want, you and I both know the results of your past sleuthing."

"Yeah, the bad guys lost."

"At the cost of some of your sanity."

I waved him away. "Hell, I lost most of that when my
kids popped out."

"Look at yourself, Violet." He pulled me in front
of the mirror, standing behind me, his chin level with the top of my head. "You’re
a mess."

"Hey!" So my hair was spiraling here and there
more than usual, and my eyes were a bit raccoon-ish and bloodshot around the
edges. I knew many parents who looked like they’d been run over by a herd of
buffalo on a daily basis.

"I was rushed in the bathroom thanks to Natalie’s
extra-long shower." I leaned closer, wiping at some eye shadow that had landed
a little off the mark in the chaos that was my morning. "Cut a girl some
slack."

"Let me rephrase that." His arms slid around me,
pulling me back against him. The heat of his body soaked through my dress, toasting
my backside like a marshmallow over a flame. "You’re a beautiful, sexy
mess and I can’t stop thinking about you …" he pulled aside the neckline of
my sheer white sweater, baring my shoulder except for a blue spaghetti strap, "naked."
His lips caressed my bared skin, sending a barrage of quivers down to my
fingertips. "Covered in bubbles."

"If you’re trying to charm me out of my clothes after
calling me a mess, it’s working." I leaned my head back against his chest,
watching him in the mirror as he worked his magic on me. "Don’t stop."

His hands spanned my hips, pulling me even closer. "Have
I told you how much I want you, Boots?"

"Every night." I groaned and moved his hands for
him, one north, the other south. "On Aunt Zoe’s freaking phone."

"Tell Natalie about us and we can toss the phones."

"I’m working on it."

Doc’s mouth reached the crook of my neck and he glanced up
in the mirror, catching me peeking as his fingers caressed. "What are you
doing, Violet?"

My face flushed at being caught peeping at my own peep show,
but I held his stare. "Watching you touch me."

He cupped my breast, stroking with his thumb. "Do you
like watching?"

"Touch me some more," I pressed my hips back into
him, the fabric a thin barrier between us. "See for yourself."

For a moment, he pushed back, exploring further. Then he sucked
in a breath and stepped back, holding his hands up like a dealer about to leave
the card table.

"Damn, woman. You make me want to tear your clothes off."

Gripping the edge of the sink, I scowled at him in the
mirror. "Prove it."

His lips quirked. "Frustrated?"

I growled. "I’m practically throwing myself at you here."

"And it’s incredibly sexy."

"It aches like hell."

"I ache every night after you hang up."

Him, too? Comments like that weren’t cooling my jets any. "You
could be a gentleman and help a girl out."

He shoved his hands in his front pockets, adjusting his
pants. "Come back after lunch when I have more time and I’ll see what I
can do."

"I can’t. I have to go see Cooper."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I don’t know. He told me last night that he has
something important he needs to talk to me about in private."

"Last night? Did you call him from the tub before you
called me?"

"No, I ran into him after …"
the viewing
"work."

"Come by my office when you’re done talking to him."

I shook my head. "I have to go to Jeff Wymonds’ to prep
for tomorrow’s open house."

"Fine, call me on your way to Wymonds’ place."

"Okay," then I thought about Cooper’s threat and
added, "that’s if Cooper doesn’t throw me in jail."

"I’ll accept your collect call and come spring you."

I turned and blinked up at him. My chest warmed like I’d
downed three shots of tequila without pausing to swoon. "You’d bail me out
of jail?"

He tucked a curl behind my ear. "Of course, Trouble."

"That’s sweet. Why?"

"Are you fishing?" His grin was playful.

I planted my hands on my hips. "I’ve been dangling bait
in front of you since I walked in your back door."

"What exactly are you fishing for?"

Hmmm.
Good question. I chewed on my lip. This thing
with Doc was not supposed to be happily-forever-after, just fun-for-now. But the
prudent part of my brain kept insisting that if I was going to break my best
friend’s heart, it should be for something a bit more substantial than just a good
time under the covers.

The question was, did Doc want more? Or was casual sex plenty
for him?

Now was not the time to dig into that conversation, partly
because of his soon-to-arrive client, but mostly because the idea of talking
about it aloud with him made my stomach contents want to bubble up my esophagus.

With a shrug, I skirted his question. "Only my mom and
Natalie have ever bailed me out of the slammer."

"How many times have you been in jail, Violet?"

I laughed way too loudly. "Who counts that kind of
stuff?"

His forehead crinkled. "This is beginning to feel like
an episode of
Hee Haw
."

The front door of his office jingled.

I raised my eyebrows. "You installed bells."

"I didn’t want to be caught off guard if I was busy in
back."

Busy with whom?
I almost asked, then bit down on my
jealous ogre’s tongue.

Doc leaned out into the hall. "I’ll be right out."

I picked up my tote to leave, and then remembered the peace
offering I’d brought. "I have something for you before you go," I
whispered.

He glanced toward the front of the office as I pulled out
the centuries-old book I’d snuck from the Carhart place after my showdown with
the demon-raising bitch who’d torched my Bronco—also known as Lila to those who
didn’t get a stabbing headache at just the sound of her name.

Holding the book out to him, I continued under my breath, "To
show you that I’m not hiding things from you,"—
well, only a couple of
things
—"here."

He took the book and turned it over in his hands. "What
is this?"

"The demon cult book I borrowed from Lila." My lip
curled into a sneer just saying her name; I couldn’t help it.

"
Borrowed
?"

"She doesn’t need it, anymore."

"Does Cooper know you took it?"

"Of course not. You can’t tell him, either. He’d lock
me behind bars in a heartbeat for withholding that."

Doc flipped through the pages, his face growing more rigid with
each creepy drawing of hideous demons committing vile acts. He closed the book,
his jaw taut.

"Truce?" I offered my hand for a shake.

Taking it, he pulled me toward him. Then he leaned down and
spoke quietly in my ear. "Thank you, Violet."

I breathed in the musky scent of his aftershave, letting it
soak into my senses to savor later. "For giving you a freaky book on
demons?"

"For not hiding it from me."

My gut twinged, my conscience reminding me about the things
I was still hiding. The urge to bury my face in his chest and tell him
everything about Ray rolled through me, but the creak and groan of a chair out
front kept my lips locked shut.

I glanced toward the front room. "I’d better go."

"Call me," he emphasized his request with narrowed
eyes.

"I will."

"And tell Wymonds to keep his hands to himself." Doc
dropped a quick kiss on my lips, then winked at me. "When it comes to you,
I don’t like to share."

My cheeks heated at the memory of Jeff and the kiss he’d
stolen a couple of weeks ago. "If you’re worried about Jeff kissing me
again, don’t. It’s not going to happen."

I’d sooner have my tonsils removed while I was wide awake,
which is kind of what kissing Jeff had felt like.

"Good." He rubbed his thumb along my jaw. "You
give me enough other things to worry about."

"What can I say? I live to torture you."

"More than you know." His lazy grin in place, he led
me to the back door. "Now go sell something." After a nudge into the
sunshine, he added for my ears only, "And try to stay out of jail."

* * *

I forced my feet to walk across the sizzling asphalt parking
lot toward the front doors of the Deadwood Police Station. The afternoon sun rained
heat down on my head, just like Cooper was doing.

I jutted my middle finger at the sky on the way up the
steps.

When I grabbed the metal door handle, I got the static-electric
shock of my life. It zapped me clear to my toes.

"Yabba dabba!" Jerking my hand back, I stepped
back, twisted my ankle, stumbled sideways, and slammed my hip into the center
handrail. "Damn it!"

This didn’t bode well. I hadn’t even made it through the
front doors yet and I was already taking a beating.

Straightening my shoulders, I yanked the door open and limped
inside. The acrid stink of burnt popcorn in the cool air set me even more on
edge.

Behind the front desk, a silver-haired cop with a red,
bulbous nose, who knew my name all too well from my past visits, didn’t even
bother trying to hide his laughter.

With a huff, I pointed back at the doors. "You need to
do something about that."

"Sure thing, Ms. Parker," he said between
snickers. "How ‘bout I arrest it for battery?"

Leveling a glare at him, I dropped my purse on the floor and
leaned on the high counter. "Funny guy, eh? Here’s one for you. How many
cops does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

He glanced behind me. "I’ll bite, how many?"

"Just one, but he’s never around when you need him."

The cop grinned. "You hear that Detective Cooper? I
think Ms. Parker has a bone to pick with you about our inability to make it to
her crime scenes on time."

I groaned inwardly and turned to find Cooper standing behind
me in jeans, a button up shirt, and loosely knotted tie covered with little
dots.

Where had he come from? Thin air?

His glare drilled holes clear through my skull. "I’ll
have to be more diligent about trying to read her mind when she stumbles
blindly into her next kidnapping."

Natalie was confused. Cooper didn’t have a crush
on
me; he just wanted to crush me, period.

I lifted my chin, my back all rigid as usual when facing off
with Cooper’s stainless steel eyes. "Don’t bother. I think at a
college-reading level. You’ll just get frustrated by all of the big words."

A low whistle came from the desk cop. "You going to let
her get away with that, Detective?"

"Probably not. Keep your cuffs handy." Cooper
nodded toward the long hallway that led to his office—a route I knew from
first-hand experience, unfortunately. "Let’s go."

He made me lead the way. My low heels clacked on the scratched
linoleum, the sound echoing off the scuffed white walls.

Dead Realtor walking.

His stealth had me glancing back to make sure he followed.
He did, his expression unreadable.

Inside his four walls, I dropped into the chair opposite his
desk and waited for him to start chewing me a new asshole.

He shut his office door and leaned against it. "My house
is ready to show."

"Uh …" It took me a couple of heartbeats to grind
gears and shift from playing cops-and-suspects to Realtors-and-clients. "Okay.
I’ll bring a yard sign over later this week."

He pulled two keys from his pocket and handed them to me.

The keys were warm in my palm. Cooper had body heat? No
shit. There went my theory about him being a killer robot sent back in time to
terminate me before I spawned the child who would save mankind’s future.

"One is for my back door, the other for the garage."

I slipped the keys inside my purse. "Do you have an
alarm?"

Shaking his head, he sat on the edge of his desk. "No
need. Everyone around here knows I’m a cop."

"Right." Which led me to ask, "Do you have
any guns in the house?"

He shook his head again.

"Did you take down the artwork over the mantel?" I
was referring to his oil painting of dogs sitting around a poker table cleaning
their guns—handguns, shotguns, and semi-automatics. As intriguing as the dogs
with guns were, the Georgia O’Keefe "Black Iris" print I’d found at a
thrift store would add more buyer appeal and looked great with Cooper’s black
leather furniture and the dark maroon curtains we’d hung.

"Yeah, I switched to that flower print."

"Great."

"Uncle Willis won’t stop staring at it, though,"
he said, a shadow of a grin hovering on his lips.

I looked to the heavens and sighed.

Harvey had fallen in love with the print at first sight. But
his fascination had little to do with O’Keefe’s talent, which became clear
after he declared the print reminded him of some good times he’d spent dallying
with a dark-skinned
señorita
in a brothel just over the Nevada state
line.

"Thanks to him," Cooper added, "I’m having
trouble seeing the damned thing for the flower it is."

I changed the subject to something less squirmy for me than
talking about female nether regions with Cooper. "Why am I here,
Detective?"

He picked up the grip-strengthening thingamajobbie he kept
on his desk. Some people squeezed stress balls for relief. Cooper worked on
improving his choke-hold.