Page 32 of Hot Cops

Johnny’s face darkened with fury. “Listen you little whore, if you know where my Bella is, you better start talkingnow.”

Riley attempted to lean toward the furious man but Aaron held her back. Jesus, now he had two pissed-off loose cannons to deal with. Yeah, coming here hadnotbeen a fantastic idea and he could see Tris taking a swing at him if he ever found out.

“Let’s go, Riley,” he said, leaning down to speak in her ear to be heard over the loud music. “He doesn’t know where she is. This is a lost cause and I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” A quick survey of the room proved a couple of men were getting brave as they started to move closer. In about two minutes, he suspected things were going to get very ugly.

Riley shrugged off his hand as he tried to pull her off the barstool. “Did you call me a whore?” Riley asked.

“Tell me where Bella is.” Johnny stood, his voice raised over the din in the room. The two men who had been approaching them took one look at Johnny and turned around. Great, Aaron thought. The regulars were afraid of the pissed-off Wayne Newton wannabe. This wasn’t good.

“Or what?” Riley taunted. “You gonna order up a hit on me too?”

Aaron closed his eyes briefly and prayed for the patience not to turn Riley over his lap right here and spank her ass for real. “That’s it. We’re fucking leaving.”

“A hit?” Johnny seemed completely taken off-guard by her comment.

“A friend of ours said you ordered a hit on the last guy Bella took off with.” Aaron shook his head. Jesus, Riley sucked at the subtle art of interrogation. She’d just blazed her way across the bar and asked what she wanted to know. His first instinct was to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and get her the hell out of there.

Johnny’s response, however, pulled him up short.

“A hit?” Johnny repeated, this time roaring with laughter as he said it. Aaron looked around and noticed the room full of drunks almost seemed to release a sigh of relief. He wished he felt as comforted. “Holy fuck. That is so twisted and stupid, it’s funny. How the hell could I order up a hit? And what dumb cunt told you that?”

Riley looked back at him and gestured as if to say, “Hegets to use that word”, and Aaron narrowed his gaze. “What happened to letting me handle this?”

“You take too long. Hell, we’d still be sitting here sipping our beers if I’d left it up to you. I’m sort of horny. Itismy honeymoon, remember?”

Aaron shook his head. “This is my job, Riley. There’s nothing wrong with erring on the side of caution. Taking your time to feel out the situation.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Jaysus. I can tell you right now, I’m not gonna spend my life waiting around for you to make decisions. I donothave time for that shit.”

“Listen, sweetheart…” He dragged out the term of endearment, lacing it with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “All I’m saying is?—”

“Who the hellareyou two?” Johnny’s laughter had subsided, but at least his anger hadn’t returned. Aaron began to get a sense the man wasn’t as dangerous as they’d been led to believe. Despite his odd attire, he looked as though he could just as easily be sitting at the end of the bar in Pat’s Pub, shooting the shit over the latest sporting event with Riley’s pop and brothers.

Riley turned and gave Johnny an exasperated look. “I told you. I’m Riley Young. This conversation is going to take too damn long if I have to keep repeating myself. Your…” She paused and Aaron assumed she was searching for a polite word for prostitute. “Lady friend, Bella, was last seen with our friend Trev. Trev’s wife is here now and she’s looking for him. We said we’d help because she’s just found out she’s pregnant.” After a brief pause, she added, “With Trev’s baby. We were hoping you might know where he and Bella are. Maybe you could help us find them.”

Johnny shrugged. “And why should I try to help you find this man for his knocked-up wife?”

“You donotwant a pissed-off, hormone-imbalanced Johanna Blankenship running around Vegas. She makes this room of roughnecks look like a bunch of choir boys.”

For the first time since they’d engaged the man in conversation, Johnny’s gaze landed on him. “You married this woman?”

Aaron nodded wearily.

“Voluntarily?”

Aaron barked out a brief laugh as Riley put her hands on her hips. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re sitting here dressed like a washed-up goddamn Vegas singer and you’re criticizing my husband’s choice for a wife?”

“Wayne Newton is far from washed up!” Aaron could see Johnny’s previous anger was nothing in comparison to his sudden fury now. Obviously, Riley had attacked him on a very personal level. “Where the fuck are you from? Wayne Newton has performed over thirty thousand shows here in Vegas—at the Tropicana, the Stardust. He has a street named after him. He was onDancing with thegoddamn fuckingStars. Jesus, they call him Mr. Las Vegas, for fuck sake! Where’s your respect?” His voice and his body had risen throughout his recitation of Wayne’s resume until he was towering over them, and quite a few of the people sitting nearby moved away.

The bartender stepped closer and looked at Aaron. “Did you just insult Wayne Newton in front of Johnny?”

Aaron shook his head.

Johnny pointed at Riley. “No. She did.”

“They call him Mr. Las Vegas?” she asked. “Seriously?”

Shaking his head, Johnny resumed his seat on his barstool. “Fucking tourists. Yes. That’s what they call him.”

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