Page 3 of Sexy Killer

"If I get you out of here tonight and you tell me who the guys were in the store as soon as you know who they are?—"

"Then we can go to dinner and take it from there. Are you serious about this, Victor? Or do I need to call you Detective Bennett?" She leans away from me as if my job leaves a stench that she can't stand.

"You can call me whatever you like, Chelsea. Are you ready to go?"

"As soon as you give me the discharge papers." She smiles.

I nod and leave the room, looking for the doctor and to make a call to my commanding officer. If there’s one thing I know for sure, Chelsea can probably tell me who hit her father's store. And if she doesn't, she's going to lead me to whoever did.

A smile spreads across my face knowing that certain things never change. Especially when I head back to her hospital room to see it empty. She's not going to get far since an ambulance brought her here, but this town is easy enough to navigate.

Even though she has a head start, I still beat her back to Francine's Jewelers. It doesn't take long before I see her get out of a taxi. Long legs clad in denim that hugs Chelsea's slender curves have my eyes watching her every move. She doesn't bother to look up and down the street, as she waltzes through the front door of the shop. I follow her inside, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape.

Chelsea stands in silence, turning slowly and scanning the damage, her eyes watering. Stubbornness and pride stop her from letting a tear fall. I can hear the shudder in her breaths as she wraps herself in her arms.

"What happened?" she whispers.

I shrug and stand beside her. "That's what I want to know from you. I know the smash and grab isn't your thing anymore."

Chelsea whips around to face me. "Don't you mean our thing? And that's the last time you try to pin this shit on me, Victor."

"The alarm was set and then shut off. The lock's not busted. The guys walked right in here, and then a few minutes later, you strolled in."

"If you saw that much, Victor and you found me here…" Her voice breaks. "What more do you think I know that I'm not telling you?"

"I have to be honest, Chelsea. It looks like an inside job, and this place hasn't been called Francine's for very long. Yet, your father still runs it. Wasn't he in debt pretty steep, Chelsea?"

Chelsea closes her eyes and shakes her head. "He was, and I've been busy with work, trying to help him make a dent in what he owes, but there's no work for me in this town. No one wants to hire me because of how I fucking look. I can feel their fucking disdain. 'How can a chick who looks like that teach me anything about holding a gun?'"

"I love the way you handle a gun." I smile and nudge her shoulder.

I could remind her that people have a long memory in this town. Before I was a cop, we raised hell in the nearby towns like we were Bonnie and Clyde. We were volatile and brazen as we used our mutual grief to bond and justify taking out our sorrow on any business with a cash register. It didn't last long, and we paid the price. That's more likely the reason people in this town don't want to work with her.

The gentle lean of her head against my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts as she says, "You love anything I handle for you, Vicky."

"It's been a long time since you called me that. Does that mean you're about ready to take that drive down memory lane? Or can we grab something to eat and talk some more?"

"I don't want to eat." She huffs out a breath. "They put my father in a coma, Victor. I want to hit something."

"Come on. Let's get out of here. We can head to the precinct so you can look through the book."

"Lead the way." She sighs, following me out of the shop and into my car.

The ride to the precinct is short and quiet as Chelsea keeps her eyes out the window. It's nearly midnight by the time we get there. It's quiet with the graveyard shift already out on patrols. Every other officer in the place doesn't care one way or another as I lead Chelsea toward a cubicle where a stack of case files sits on the desk.

Chelsea plops into the empty chair across me as I power my computer to show her mugshots. She scrolls through images for a few minutes before shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Vic. None of these guys look like him. Were you able to grab the security footage from any of the nearby stores? Maybe it caught them leaving."

"I'm waiting for some of the owners to get back to me."

"I'm not paying you OT, Bennett. I told you to go home hours ago. And stop fucking with that robbery, it's not your turn," my sergeant shouts from his office a few feet away.

I tip my head toward the door for Chelsea and me to leave. As soon as we're outside, she eyes me with a questioning glare.

"Was he talking about my case?" she asks.

"Yeah," I admit. "The officer who caught it wasn't moving fast enough for me."

"Aww, you still care about me." Chelsea's smile draws me close to her. She bites her bottom lip, grabs my shirt, and looks up into my eyes. I hate that she's right. When she leans closer, letting her lips brush against mine, my body reacts to her immediately, giving in to undeniable desire.

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