Brody & Hannigan 02 - Grand Theft Lotto Read online

  Then he headed after Hannigan, who was making a beeline to the corner of the gym where Cade Sullivan was pounding the hell out of the weight bag.

  Sullivan didn't look up right away, just kept pummeling the bag until Hannigan cleared her throat. He looked up then, letting the bag go. Dodging its swing back toward him, he looked her up and down much the way Anton had. She wasn't much of a preener, but after her disastrous lingerie shopping trip the day before, she wasn't going to feel guilty about enjoying a little masculine ogling.

  And the added benefit of watching Brody stiffen with displeasure? It was flattering. So sue her.

  Brody flashed his badge. "Detectives Brody and Hannigan of the Weatherford Police. What can you tell us about a man named Dwayne Barlow?"

  "Amazing how nobody knows nothing," Hannigan said later as they walked out of The Body Shop with no real answers, only new leads to follow.

  "And they all want to get into your pants," Brody muttered, glaring back at the sight of both Anton Jones and Cade Sullivan standing in the plate glass window, watching them leave.

  "I think that was probably more posturing for you than for me," she said. "And you bristled so nicely in response."

  "I did not bristle," he protested, but he couldn't put much indignation behind the disavowal. He had bristled, like a damned dog guarding a female. Which was not a very flattering comparison.

  "You did," she said. "A little."

  He gave her a suspicious look. "Did you enjoy it?"

  Her bright gray eyes met his. "I did. A little."

  Damn, but he wanted to stop right in the middle of the sidewalk, push her up against the brick wall of the building behind her and kiss her until she begged him to take her home and finish the job in private.

  And if the two muscle-bound goons still watching them through the window got a good, long look at which man Hannigan really wanted, then all the better.

  "You do realize I have a pretty good idea what you're thinking right now, don't you?" Hannigan asked, sounding rather pleased with herself.

  "You do realize it's what I'm thinking ninety-nine percent of the time I'm with you, don't you?" he shot back, running his finger lightly over the curve of her collarbone and enjoying the hell out of the way her skin went vibrantly pink beneath his touch.

  "We're still on the clock," she said with a sternness that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

  "And when we're not?"

  She took a long, slow breath that made her breasts jut enticingly toward him. He closed his eyes, as if that would prove to be some sort of defense against his desire for her.

  It wasn't.

  "I have to go to my mother's tonight after work," she said, regret darkening her voice. "She told Marie she'd handle putting together a memorial service, and I told her I'd pitch in."

  He opened his eyes, the reminder of her cousin's violent death helping to cool some of his inconvenient ardor. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "I guess if you could find out if there's a way to expedite the autopsy so we can release the body to Marie, that might be helpful."

  "I'll see what I can do," he said, although he wasn't sure there was much that could be done to make the process go any faster. Examining the body was a big part of evidence gathering in a murder investigation. He wasn't going to push people to hurry through a process that might help them find the killer.

  Back in his car, he glanced at his partner, who still looked a little pink from his earlier flirtation. "So, what did old Greg Kowalski have to say that made you laugh?"

  "I don't remember," she said. He was pretty sure she was lying.

  "And what did he say that made you tell him to shut up?"

  The pink in her throat rose up to her cheeks. "I said that?"

  "You did."

  "I don't know—he probably made one of his usual wisecracks. You know what he's like."

  "Not nearly as well as you do," Brody murmured.

  She snapped her gaze up to his. "Brody, you know Greg and I were over a long time ago."

  "Still, you found him attractive enough to sleep with, even though you were working together."

  "For God's sake, Brody, how many ways do I have to tell you you're beautiful before you'll believe me?"

  "Beautiful?" He grimaced.

  "In the most masculine sense of that word," she said with a hint of a grin. "I know you're not stupid. I know you know you're attractive. I mean, look how many women you have to beat off of you on a daily basis."

  "And yet, you never bristle."

  "Oh, I bristle," she said with flattering conviction. "I'm just a lot better at hiding it."

  He paused with his hand on the ignition key. "Why? Why hide it?"

  She didn't answer, looking down at her hands.

  "I won't hurt you," he added quietly.

  Her gaze snaked toward him, a hint of wariness darkening her eyes to the color of storm clouds. "You can't promise that."

  "I'll never seek to hurt you," he compromised.

  She released a small huff of breath and leaned her head against the back of the seat. "We're already so tangled up with each other I sometimes forget who I am. You've changed me. I guess I've changed you. That's a lot of responsibility for both of us, but we've managed to handle it so far."

  "And you're afraid to get any more tangled up."

  He saw fear in her eyes when she looked at him. "When things ended with Greg Kowalski, it hurt a little, but I was mostly okay." She reached across the space between them, brushing her fingertips against his cheek. He caught her hand, held it in place. "If I ever lost you, I would not be okay."

  "You will never lose me." He pressed a soft kiss to the center of her palm. "Wherever you go, no matter how far, I will find you."

  He felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment at his bald declaration. He'd never been one of those guys who made flowery speeches. Hannigan had never been the sort of woman who liked to hear them.

  But the emotion blazing in her eyes turned them molten silver. She unbuckled her seat belt, stretched over the gear console and kissed him.

  He dragged her closer, threading his fingers through her hair. Entangling himself with her, deepening the kiss with a hunger he usually kept tightly leashed.

  "Take me home," she whispered against his mouth.

  He groaned. "We're still on the clock," he said, repeating her earlier protest with even less conviction than he'd heard from her.

  "I don't care." She slid her mouth over his jaw and down the side of his neck, suckling lightly at the skin there.

  He somehow found the presence of mind to push her away, holding her at arm's length. His resolve nearly faltered at the sight of her passion-drunk eyes and kiss-stung lips, and for a second, his mind sidetracked into a lightning-fast debate of the pros and cons of hot, sweaty sex in the backseat of a department-issue sedan.

  But he didn't want his first time with Hannigan to be rushed and furtive. He didn't want to worry about the relative comfort of bare flesh on hot vinyl seats or the logistics of coupling without leaving evidence that could come back to haunt them.

  He wanted clean sheets, soft music—and no regrets.

  "Let's finish our shift," he said. "Then I'll meet you at your place."

  Her eyes glittered with equal parts frustration and anticipation. "I have to go to my mother's," she reminded him.

  Damn it. "So call me when you get home."

  "It might be late."

  He bent and gave her a hard, swift kiss full of promise. "I'll wait up."

  Chapter Eight

  Ruby Nell Hannigan was not a woman prone to crying fits, so finding her mother red-nosed and damp-eyed when she arrived at her mother's house sent Hannigan's gut into a hard knot. "Mom?"

  Her mother waved her hand, managing a watery smile. "I'm okay, honey. Just feeling a bit blue."

  "Because of Dwayne?"

  Ruby shrugged, wiping her eyes with a crumpled tissue clutched in one hand as they made their way to the war
m, roomy kitchen at the back of the house. "Not so much Dwayne, I guess—I can't say I was close to him at all, more's the pity—but Marie is just such a mess, it hurts my heart."

  Hannigan frowned, remembering Marie's strange calm when she and Brody had broken the news about Dwayne's death. She supposed grief had finally caught up with the poor woman. "Is someone staying with her?"

  "Becky was there when I called. I think Nan's driving down from Huntsville tonight or tomorrow."

  Hannigan gave her mother a swift hug. "I hate that what should have been a happy thing for you has turned so rotten."

  Ruby gave her a fierce squeeze. "I'm just glad you're not mad at me for buying the ticket."

  "It's not like you make a habit of gambling away your money." She leaned back and looked at her mother. "Right?"

  Ruby gave her arm a light slap. "Of course not! Who do you think raised you, young lady?"

  "I hate to tell you, we haven't made any progress on finding out who stole your ticket."

  Ruby shook her head. "It's not even important anymore. I'd have traded every penny if it could have kept Dwayne from getting killed."

  "We haven't found any sign that what happened to Dwayne is connected in any way to your missing ticket," Hannigan said quickly. Looking for a change of subject, she sniffed the fragrant air. "What's cooking?

  "Turnip greens, cornbread, pinto beans with smoked pork loin and banana pudding for dessert." Ruby lifted the lid of the pot of beans and let Hannigan take a long sniff.

  So much for wearing skimpy lingerie anytime soon, she thought, her mouth watering so much she thought she might have to grab a napkin to wipe up the drool. "Smells amazing."

  "You should have asked Lee to join us," Ruby said, slanting a speculative look at Hannigan.

  She'd actually considered it, but there was no way she and her partner could have hidden their attraction from her mother. Ruby already suspected there was something going on as it was. Hannigan supposed if she and Brody managed to make it all the way into the bedroom next time, she'd have to tell her mother about the change in their relationship.

  But so far, making it all the way to the bedroom had been proving almost as difficult as finding a missing Lotto ticket.

  "I think he had plans," she said casually, not mentioning that his plans had included taking Hannigan to bed. Some things just weren't appropriate topics of conversations with a girl's mother.

  "Oh." Ruby sounded both surprised and disappointed. "I didn't know he was seeing anyone."

  "Mother, you just met him this morning. Of course you don't know whether or not he's seeing anyone."

  "I just haven't ever heard you mention a girlfriend."

  She took pity on her mother, as much to prepare her for the potential change in Hannigan's relationship with her partner as to wipe the mildly disappointed look off her face. "Actually, I don't think he's seeing anyone at the moment. His plans aren't date-related."

  At least, she amended mentally, not related to a date with a woman not named Stella Hannigan.

  "He's very handsome."

  "He is indeed," she agreed readily.

  "And kind. He was a real sweetheart, helping me out when I asked him to." Ruby stirred the beans, slanting a quick glance at Hannigan over her shoulder. "It's not that often you find a man who's both kind-hearted and drop-dead gorgeous."

  My mother just called my partner drop-dead gorgeous, she thought, stifling a grin.

  "He's not gay is he?"

  Hannigan froze. "No. Definitely not gay."

  "I'm not one of those people who judges."

  "I know you're not. But Brody's not gay." Trust me, she added silently, remembering the earlier grope-session in the front seat of Brody's car.

  "You look a little flushed." Ruby reached out and pressed the back of her hand to Hannigan's forehead. "You're not coming down with something, are you?"

  Hannigan ducked under her mother's touch. "No, I'm fine. Just did a lot of walking outside today—guess I didn't put on enough sunscreen." She waved her hand. "What do you need me to do? Set the table?"

  "Actually—"

  The trill of Hannigan's cell phone interrupted her mother. Making an apologetic face, Hannigan checked the number. Brody, she noted with surprise. "Sorry mom, I have to get this."

  She walked out of the room and answered in a low tone. "Brody?"

  "Sorry to call you in the middle of your dinner with your mother, but I miss you." His voice was warm and sexy enough to melt her bones.

  "You're a bad, bad boy," she murmured, making him laugh on the other end of the call.

  "You're counting on that, aren't you, Hannigan?"

  Heat rocketed through her, straight to her sadly under-used woman parts. "You want me to race through dinner, don't you?"

  "Would you?"

  "But it's turnip greens, cornbread, pinto beans with pork loin and banana pudding for dessert."

  "I could be there in ten minutes."

  She smiled at the phone. "Actually, she wanted to know why I didn't invite you to dinner."

  "What did you tell her?"

  "That you had other plans."

  "I assume you didn't mention that what I was planning to do tonight was you?"

  She almost giggled. And she rarely giggled. "I did not. But she did ask if you were gay."

  He did laugh. "Yeah, no."

  "That's what I said."

  "You'll hurry over, right? I mean, I know she's your mother and it's been a rough couple of days, but—"

  "I'll hurry, I promise." Anticipation sang in her blood. "I might even break some speed laws, but that'll be our little secret."

  There was a ringing sound. "That's my home phone," Brody said. "Call me when you're on the way."

  "Okay." With a sigh, Hannigan hung up the phone and turned to find her mother standing in the doorway from the kitchen.

  "Dinner's ready." Ruby said with a slight smile, making Hannigan wonder just how much she'd overheard.

  In the kitchen, her mother had already set the table, put ice in the tea glasses and filled the plates. As Hannigan pulled out her chair, Ruby went to the refrigerator and pulled a large pitcher of tea from inside. She poured tea for them both and sat across from Hannigan, unfolding a napkin and dropping it on her lap before she spoke.

  "So." Her gaze met Hannigan's with frank curiosity. "Who, exactly, are you willing to break speed laws for?"

  Before Hannigan could work out a safe response, her cell phone rang. She looked at the display. Brody. "Sorry, Mom—I have to take this." She swiped the screen to answer. "Hey, what's up?"

  "That was the station on the other line," he told her briskly. From the sound of it, he was in his car, on the move. "There's been a break-in at The Body Shop. Anton Jones is dead."

  Hannigan tightened her grip on the phone. "When?"

  "Sometime after the gym closed at seven. I'm headed down there now."

  "I'll meet you there."

  "I can handle it if you want to finish dinner with your mother."

  Hannigan glanced across the table, not missing the still-curious gleam in her mother's eyes. "I want to be there. This could be connected to Dwayne's murder."

  "Oh, I think we can be fairly sure of that," Brody said grimly.

  "Yeah? Why?"

  "Because a witness saw a black Kawasaki Ninja tearing down the road just a few minutes before he stumbled onto the body in the alley behind the gym," Brody answered.

  Hannigan's stomach tensed. "Cause of death?"

  Brody's voice was bone dry. "Garbage spike shoved through his throat."

  Chapter Nine

  "This is crazy." Hannigan paced in quick, tight circles a few feet away from the crime scene, as if the whole gruesome mess offended her personal sense of logic.

  Brody watched her go, secretly enjoying the sight of his partner doing what she did best—worrying the hell out of a problem with all the ferocious intensity of a cat toying with his prey. "It is," he agreed.

  She stopped
mid-stride and turned to look at him. "Where did he find a garbage spike?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do you think he brought it with him?"

  "I don't know that, either."

  She shot him a frown of pure frustration and started pacing again. "We have two men, both associated with this gym, murdered by impalement. We have a black Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle seen fleeing both scenes. I might suggest we're dealing with a serial killer. But that makes no sense at all. Of all the crazy-ass ways to kill a person—"

  "I know."

  She paced over to him, stuck her pugnacious little chin out and glared. "Stop humoring me."

  He smiled a little at that. "Sorry."

  She dug her fingers through her hair, shoving the thick, dark bob away from her face. "No, I'm sorry. This is just so—"

  "Crazy," he finished. "I know."

  "What are we missing?"

  "Well, we've got an APB out on the bike. Odds are, he's already changed the license plate from last time—we didn't get a full plate number this time, but what we did get doesn't match the last one."

  "You don't think it could be two different bikes?" she asked, her brow furrowing again.

  "If the COD were different, maybe. But how many times is your cause of death 'impalement by a metal rod'? And add to that the fact that Dwayne and Anton were acquainted—"

  "Just barely," she reminded him. "Anton said he didn't come around here so much after the previous manager left."

  "The implication being that Dwayne might have been mixed up in that steroid investigation mess." Brody eyed the gym. "You know, technically, the gym is a potential crime scene. Anton worked there, and for all we know, the attack on him may have started in there."

  "Nobody's been inside?" she asked, surprised.

  "They concentrated on where the body was found. The door was locked when they arrived, so they figured Anton must have locked it behind him before he was attacked out here in the alley."

  "How did they know to call us in?" she asked.

  "Anton had my card in his pocket. The responding officers found it and called me."