Page 19 of Lake House Killer

“If his beverages are as strong as his seduction game, we might need to watch out,” she says.

“Do not fall under this guy’s spell,” I say firmly and only slightly teasing. I may not have known Nikki all too long, but one thing has become painfully obvious—she has exceptionally bad taste in men.

“Hey, I’m here looking for a love connection just like everyone else,” she chirps while adjusting the little red number she’s squeezed herself into. And with her crimson locks and matching lipstick, she’s a trifecta of trouble for just about anyone tonight—mostly herself.

I’ve squeezed myself into my go-to little black dress, my Glock sitting comfortably in my purse. And seeing that Nikki neither has a purse nor a jacket to conceal her weapon, it’s clear Jack and I are going to have to cover her.

We approach the registration table, and a woman with a clipboard and a too-bright smile greets us. She’s blonde and beautiful and looks impossibly young. Do they let teenagers into places like this? Probably.

“First time speed dating?” She giggles as she eyes the three of us and her gaze decides to settle on Jack.

Figures.

“You know what they say,” I mutter. “There’s a first time for everything,” I shoot back, trying to match her enthusiasm, lest my skepticism shows.

“What’s this?” Jack picks up a blue wristband and twirls it. “Do I get a prize if I make it through the night without cringing?"

“It’s your singles band,” the woman shouts over the music and budding chaos. “Blue means you’re on the market. Green means it’s complicated.” She licks her lips right at him. “So what color are we sporting this evening?”

“Blue all around,” I answer for him and the girl lights up as if she were the one who won a prize. And if she’s lucky, she just might. According to Jack’s history, he’s quite the ladies’ man.

“This is more his speed.” Nikki grabs a green band and winks at Jack. “Guess the two of you aren’t in the mood for the truth.”

My mouth opens and I gape at her for even suggesting it.

I take a blue band and fasten it around my wrist, the tiny snap echoing louder in my ears than it should. We ante up, and soon we move toward the bar as the scent of French fries and beer becomes more pronounced.

“So, what’s the strategy?” Nikki bounces in her heels as if she can hardly contain herself. “Flirt our way to the truth?”

Jack tips his head. “He seems to have taken a particular liking to Baxter. I’m pretty sure she could coax anything she wants out of him.”

Nikki shrugs. “Yeah, but she’s got boundaries.” She winks at me and it makes me want to swat her. “I’m willing to give one hundred percent. You know, in the name of justice.”

Jack leans my way. “If you’re wondering, she’s slept with a man named Justice, too.”

“Now that was just a fun coincidence.” She wags her finger at him. “And look at all the mileage you’ve gotten out of it? Don’t ever say I’m not a giver.”

I have a feeling Nikki has given her mother a headache or two as well.

Jack nods toward the bartender mixing a drink. “I’d say the first round is on me, but I’m driving.”

“I’m driving.” Nikki scowls at the thought just before they both look my way.

“What?” I ask. “Don’t tell me I need to get loaded in the name of justice.”

“How about in the name of research?” Nikki lifts a brow as if trying to entice me.

“How about we conduct research the old-fashioned way? By way of a suspect,” I tell her as I motion to the bodies filling this place to capacity.

As we edge closer to the heart of the crowd, the din of conversations becomes a backdrop to our mission. But amidst the noise and the chaos, there’s a thrill, too—a chase of sorts, and for me, that chase just so happens to involve tracking down a killer.

Although for as much as I’m here to keep an eye on Owen, a part of me can’t help but get caught up in the excitement of the night. There’s a heck of a lot of pheromones going off right now, and with or without my permission, some of them are mine.

12

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

The singles mingle event kicks off with the ring of a bell, echoing over the chatter like a starting gun at a race.

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