Reese smirked, shaking his head as he carefully lifted his beer to his lips and swallowed a few gulps. “I was, but shit. Didn’t think you’d do it.”
“Your fault, not mine,” Davis mumbled, lifting his beer again.
“So, since you hit me, I deserve an honest answer at least.” Davis glared his way, and Reese held up his hand in surrender.
“Easy, slugger. You don’t have to hit me again. I get it. Not my business.” He motioned to the paper facedown in front of Davis. “Find anything?”
Davis glared at Reese, who smiled wider. “I thought I already proved I’m a friend, not a foe.”
“Right.”
“Just offering help if you want it.”
“The kind of help that ends up on the captain’s desk?”
Reese barked a laugh. “Fuck no, and I’m offended you’d insinuate that I’d be whispering anything at all to the captain.”
Davis grinned. “I have to ask. Seems that’s how things work around here.”
“With Harper, maybe. Not with the rest of us. We stand together, but we also don’t respect cops being pussies.”
Davis offered a nod. “I think I got it covered. I’ve already started working my way through the list. Got it down to twenty. Shouldn’t be hard to weed out a few more.”
“If I can help . . .”
“I let you know.”
“Hey, stranger . . .” They both looked up to find that a third person had joined them. Davis was already familiar with Sam, and Reese wanted to be, based on how he checked her out.
“I assume by the greeting, you two already know each other,” Reese said smoothly. Sam flashed him a smile before her eyes lowered to Davis.
“We’re familiar.”
Reese stood, pointing to the chair he was previously occupying. “Here, you can take my seat. I was about to head out.”
“You sure? Don’t want to interrupt.” She kept her eyes on Davis, waiting for his approval, but he kept quiet while Reese spoke up.
“I’m sure, sweetheart. Have a seat, but be careful about what you ask him. He’s in a bit of a mood, and it might grant you a mean left hook if you pry where he doesn’t want you.”
Davis laughed arrogantly, and Sam’s eyes bounced between the two men with her brows furrowed.
“See you around, Davis. The offer stands. Enjoy your evening, sweetheart.” He winked at Sam and walked away. She eased into the seat across from Davis.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
He shook his head. Regardless of what was going on, he liked Sam. He wouldn’t be an asshole just because he was frustrated by things he couldn’t seem to get a handle on . . . the case, but more importantly, his feelings for Cassidy.
“What are you drinking?”
“Nothing, actually. I placed an order to go, saw you over here, and decided to say hi.”
He watched her face, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. When he was satisfied she was, he nodded.
“You work with him?”
Before he could speak, she added, “Cheap shoes and typical detective attire—dead giveaway. You’re about the only detective I know who doesn’t look like one. If I didn’t know you personally, I’d swear you were an underwear model or something.”
Davis belted out a laugh. “Underwear model?”