Page 8 of Cutter

Cops and firefighters frequented this bar; no civilians were welcome here. Emily wasn’t concerned about the last group. Firefighters weren’t naturally suspicious. They weren’t trained to spy on people or listen in to conversations. Police officers were a different breed altogether.

As a junior detective and a woman who’d moved up the ranks from boots to detective, Emily Mayhew had generated attention. Especially when she rarely socialized at Last Call, and her companion, Yoanni Sanz, was the captain’s assistant. According to office gossip, Yoanni and the captain were involved in a romantic fling—a rumor Emily knew for a fact to be false.

For the next half hour or so, off-duty cops at the bar would be furtively monitoring everything the two women did. She had no choice but to wait until they lost interest in them. Emily would be almost finished with her first drink before she felt comfortable enough to tell Yoanni what she had in mind.

Reaching across the table, Yoanni squeezed Emily’s hand. “I see him. He’s coming.”

Emily glanced toward the front of the room. The weak light from the chandelier and what little brightness streamed through the front door’s glass inserts obscured his facial features. Though he stood in shadow, her mouth dropped a little at theoutline he cut. Immediately, her thoughts went to Cutter, and her heart leapt. This man was almost as tall as the biker, and the outline of his broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips were nearly identical.

“Oh my,” Emily whispered.

“Wait. His name is James.” There was an air of reverence in Yoanni’s voice.

The man arrived at their table, and Emily’s eyebrows shot up in admiration. James’s smiling full lips displayed a row of sparkling white teeth. His flawless brown skin, which every woman on the planet would kill to have, glowed just so in the bar light. His prominent cheekbones, highlighted even more sharply by his military buzz cut, gave him an exotic air. Emily’s fantasy-prone mind went off to faraway places. He could easily be a Berber of northern Africa or a member of a Bedouin tribe, nomadic denizens of the Syrian and Arabic deserts.

“Emily? James is talking to you. What will you drink?”

“Huh?” She blinked, snapping out of the fantasy, and turned to Yoanni, feeling flustered. Emily’s cheeks heated as she realized James had asked her a question, and she’d been gawking at him without replying.

“I’m sorry.” She pointed at Yoanni. “I’ll have whatever Yoanni’s drinking.”

“Right away. Two Moscow mules,” James said and turned.

She watched him reenter the gloom and slide under the bar. Her mouth still open, she turned to a grinning Yoanni.

“Wow,” Emily said. “He’s…amazing.”

“I told you. There aren’t many like James around town. He should be modeling in New York or auditioning in Hollywood.” Yoanni folded her hands on the table. “Have we waited long enough? Is it okay to talk now? What’s the mystery?”

Once more, Emily studied the area around their booth. The closest table was ten feet away. She didn’t recognize the twooccupants speaking over their beers, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Picking up the coaster James had dropped for their beverages, she rolled it playfully across the table. It was too soon to talk.

“What the hell, Emily?” Yoanni scrunched her lips.

Sliding the coaster back and forth without answering, Emily slowly glanced around the room.

“Okay. I get your meaning.” Yoanni nodded. “Did I tell you the news?”

“You haven’t.” She smiled at her friend’s talent to pick up unspoken messages, then switch topics on a dime.

“My cousin Cachi gave birth to a baby boy. I’ve asked Captain Weaver for time off. I’m flying to Miami on Friday. I plan to return to the office on Tuesday. I’m making it sort of a long weekend.”

“Cachi? That’s one I haven’t heard before,” Emily said. “You have such cute-sounding names. Is it a nickname?”

“It is.” Yoanni laughed. “Cachi is short for Cachita, which in turn is an affectionate nickname for Caridad. Caridad means charity, and it’s a popular name in Cuba. There’s a whole history and tradition around the name and the Virgin’s appearance at El Cobre.”

“Interesting.”

“The communist government has tried to suppress the worship and history, but they haven’t been successful. The people continue to venerate her. Huge parties take place on the eve of her miraculous appearance. I’d tell you more, but I see James coming with our drinks.” Yoanni jutted her chin toward the bar.

A flirtatious look passed between James and Yoanni when he served the drinks. Smiling, she briefly lowered her eyes.

“Thank you, James,” Yoanni whispered.

“You know it’s my pleasure, Yoanni.”

As James straightened and walked away, Emily stared at her friend. She’d never seen Yoanni out of words or blushing this way.

Emily leaned to her. “Is there something I should know? Are you two…?”

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