Page 12 of The Crime of Intensity

“I texted my brother before we stepped into the patrol car,” Marvin states. “With you mentioning it’s not a routine thing with the bodies piling up, I assumed it was linked to the case we’re working on.”

Strangely enough his reasoning makes sense, and I don’t feel like he’s stepping on any toes, especially not mine. It has nothing to do with the orgasm he just gave me. Though, I have to admit, it did brighten my mood. Who knew an orgasm would mellow me out?

“Good. Let’s hear what your brother has to say,” I state.

I’m about to step out of the car when Marvin blows my mood to smithereens when he says, “Why don’t I find out while you stay in the car?”

Glaring at the idiot I growl, “Why don’t you give your asshole a time-out by keeping it in the front seat since your mouth is farting bullshit.”

Ignoring him I quickly jump out of the car and stomp in Dean’s direction. “Dean, what do we have here?”

“Sexy sheriff,” Dean croons. “Why don’t you step closer so I can show you?”

My fingers curl into fists and I snarl, “Do all of you Cowboy Bikers Lawmen think with your brainless head between your legs? Or does it simply run in the Wolffield family?”

Marvin snorts while Dean chuckles. I’m back to ignoring the idiots as I make my way to the car. The trunk is open and there’s a guy in a biohazard suit taking swabs. And securing whatever he can find.

I get close enough to throw a glance inside and recognize the female agent who gave the interview. Dammit. Looks like she suffered more torture than the other female bodies we found until now. Taking a glove from my pocket, I slide it on and walk to the driver’s side of the vehicle. Leaning in the first thing I notice is the scent.

Marvin is leaning into the car on the passenger side, and I ask, “Smell that?”

“Bleach and peroxide. This car has been wiped clean,” Marvin states what I’m thinking.

Anger hits me. “We’re missing something here. The killer is taunting us, leaving the body and car for us to find because he or she knows there’s nothing that’s going to link back to the killer. He’s a fucking crime scene cleaning expert, destroying everything and leaving us standing with our damn dicks in hand.”

The corner of Marvin’s mouth twitches.

“Don’t say it,” I grit. “I know I don’t have a dick, I meant it as a metaphorical statement.”

The humor slides right off his face when he suddenly states, “You’re right.”

“Duh,” I grumble. “You had your hands in my pants and slit your fingers up my pussy instead of finding a dick and balls.”

“Does that mean I don’t stand a chance?” Dean whispers from right behind me, making me jump and lash out by jabbing my elbow into his ribs.

Dean grunts and stumbles back. Before I can say or do anything else, Marvin is suddenly in front of me and throws a punch in Dean’s face.

I grab Marvin’s arm and snap, “Stop.”

Marvin whirls around to face me, eyes blazing. “That’s why I tried to keep you in the car ’cause I knew that fucker would flirt with you just to piss me off.”

“Point taken, but you know I can handle myself,” I grit.

Marvin takes off his Stetson and stabs his fingers through his hair before placing it back onto his head. “I know, but he always pisses me off.”

“Ah, the true reason why you wanted to move here and stop working with him, eh? I get it now,” I whisper in an effort to lighten the mood. “He’s a bigger asshole than you.”

He shakes his head and I can see some of his anger and frustration slipping. “Glad you noticed.”

“I’m perceptive,” I simply state.

“You are,” he firmly states. “Which is why I think you’re right. The killer’s profession might just be a crime scene cleaner.”

CHAPTER SIX

– MARVIN –

“How did you get this list so damn fast?” Kathleen asks and practically rips the stack of papers from my hands.

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