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The Cop Chapter 1 | page 1 | page 2 | excerpts
“Who in the hell are you?” Nik Angelis asked as the tiny redhead stepped out of the cupboard. “Who are you?” she countered. “I’m a cop, so I get to ask the questions.” She didn’t look like she’d played a part of the carnage in the church, but his thumbs had begun to prick the moment he’d stepped into the sacristy. That always told him that something was about to go down. And it didn’t sit well with him that it had taken him so long to sense her presence in that cupboard. “Who are you?” he asked again. “I’m the caterer for the wedding. Now it’s your turn.” Nik narrowed his eyes. For a little bit of thing she had guts. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed it, but the church was getting crowded. The EMT’s were dealing with Father Mike and Roman Oliver. He’d arranged for both of them to be transported to the new St. Jude’s Trauma Center, and he’d sent the first crime scene team to the choir loft because he’d wanted a few minutes alone with the body in the sacristy. He’d called his captain, and D.C. Parker would want a full report as soon as he disentangled himself from some big Charity Ball he was attending. “What’s your name?” Nik asked. “You know, you don’t look like a cop. Those clothes are a bit casual even for a dress down Friday. Do policemen even have casual dress days?” She lowered one of her hands and held it out to him, palm up. “Show me some ID.” For such a small package, she certainly had a big mouth. Nik swept his gaze over her. She couldn’t be more than five foot two, but her stance and the way she was looking at him radiated enough attitude for a woman twice her size. She had her hair twisted up on her head, but a few damp, red curls had escaped. Her ruffled front white shirt was tucked into black pants that showcased surprisingly long legs. His gaze lingered on them a moment before he shifted his attention back to her face. That was when he noticed the eyes. They were green and direct, and for a moment he saw nothing else. “Well? You do carry ID, don’t you?” Annoyance and something else moved through Nik as he forced himself to blink and break eye contact. Then he gave her his cop smile, the one his partner Dinah said looked like a sneer. “Dream on, sweetheart. Let me make this as clear as possible. I not only ask the questions, I give the orders. Turn around, put your hands flat against the door of the cupboard, and spread your legs.” There was a beat before she did what he asked, and he couldn’t prevent the ripple of admiration that moved through him. He’d always been a bit of a sucker for a woman with guts. He was halfway through patting her down when he realized that he’d made a huge mistake. He had actually begun to enjoy the feel of those tight little muscles, soft curves, and slim bones beneath his palms. Dammit, he was a professional. This was a crime scene that needed his full attention. The moment he straightened, she whirled to face him. In that moment when their bodies brushed against each other, a blast of heat shot through him. What in hell --? He took a quick step back, but he could tell by the way her green eyes darkened that she’d felt it too. “Who the hell are you?” he asked. She lifted her chin. “I told you. I’m the caterer.” “Detective Angelis?” Nik recognized the voice of the young officer he’d left with Father Mike, but he kept his gaze on the redhead. “Now, you know my name. What’s yours?” “I’m J.C. Riley. I made the 911 call, and I want –” Nik held up a hand to cut her off. “What is it, officer?” “Sir, they’re about to take the priest away.” After tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans, Nik grasped the little redhead around the waist, lifted and plunked her on the counter. “Stay put, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you later.” |
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