Page 3 of Blood Moon

She tamped down mounting irritation, which would get her nowhere with him. But she couldn’t resist saying, “I came here with an open mind, willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you actually are an arrogant prick, aren’t you?”

“Hey,” he said, looking affronted, “if you’re angling for a rodeo—”

“I most certainly am not.”

“Well, who invited who? For reasons still unknown, by the way.” His eyes skittered over her. “I do have the right woman, don’t I? If your name isn’t Beth Collins, then—”

“It is.”

“Whew. I was about to get embarrassed.” With no attempt to suppress a grin, he slouched against the back of the booth.

To hell with irritation getting her nowhere. She let it show. “You’re enjoying yourself?”

“A little, yeah.”

“I assure you that this isn’t fun and games.”

“No?” He shrugged. “Okay. When are we going to get around to why you wanted to talk to me? I’ll admit to being curious. Especially now that I’ve seen you.”

She didn’t dare rise tothatbait. “You came here out of curiosity alone, then?”

“Honestly? No. I figured I owed you the courtesy of showing up because you pronounced my name right. Not Bow-ie like the rock star. Boo-ie like the knife.”

“Well, Mr. Bowie like the knife, in all seriousness, thank you for agreeing to see me without an explanation and on short notice. Let’s start over, shall we?” She paused. He gestured for her to continue. “The matter is important, and I’m on a deadline.”

He lost the smirk and studied her for a moment. The intensity with which she’d spoken seemed to have penetrated and captured his interest. At least he no longer looked like it was putting a strain on him not to laugh at her.

“All right, Ms. Collins, I’m here. I came at your request like I told you I would. What’s this about?”

She forced her shoulders to relax, mostly because the bartender, who was in her line of sight,wasobserving them as he polished a shot glass. She forced herself to smile at the disheveled man sitting across from her, then coyly lowered her eyes, as though flirting. Under her breath, she said, “Yesterday, did you tell anyone in the police department that you’d spoken to me?”

“No.”

“Or that we were meeting today?”

“No.”

“When you left the police station to come here—”

“It’s my day off. I came straight from home.” After a beat, “Straight from bed.”

She knew he’d added that to see how she would react, so she didn’t react at all. “Did you tellanyoneyou were meeting with me? Your wife?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Oh.” Her surprised reaction to that was involuntary. “You did.”

“Not anymore.” His brows drew together to form a deep cleft between them. “How the hell—”

“I was given some background information on you.”

“By who?”

Whom, she thought. But she didn’t correct him or give him a direct answer. “I also did some research of my own.”

His stare practically pinned her to the back of the booth. Without looking away, he reached for his drink and took a swallow. When he set down his glass, he said, “What are you up to?We’re a mediocre department in a modest city. And that’s a generous description. If you’ve got trouble, why call us?”

“You. I calledyou.”

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