Page 42 of Killer Knows Best

“And that is what attracts me to you most,” I say with a wink.

Riley comes back with three piping hot slices of apple pie along with a fat scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on each one. She doles out the coffee before heading off to help with the rest of the tables. It’s a busy one tonight. All of Pine Ridge Falls looks as if they’ve shown up for a midnight snack.

“Speaking of loyal…” Nikki says as I’m about to dig into my apple pie when she narrows her eyes on Jack with a sly smile. “I bet you weren’t too happy when that guy back at the party was all over Fallon.”

I filled her in on what led to the spontaneous combustion that sent everyone at the party running for cover.

I tweak my brows over at him in amusement and he all but bristles.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cocks his head. “I was a little too occupied to notice a thing.”

“Oh, come on, Stone.” Nikki belts out a laugh. “Rumor has it, the second that guy got too close to your honey pot, you were ready to rip his head off. Don’t worry. I happen to think jealousy suits you.”

As much as I want to play it cool, I can feel the warmth rising to my cheeks. Jack throws a look my way, his brow furrowed as if he’s waiting to see how I react. He has that unreadable expression,the one that says he’s pretending he doesn’t care, but he does. I know it’s true.

“It’s not jealousy,” Jack says, feigning indifference. “I just don’t like seeing people pawing at my—” He cuts himself off but glances my way, and it’s impossible to miss the way his jaw tightens.

Nikki laughs, tapping the table. “Better get used to it, Stone. Fallon is gorgeous. You’ve got a lifetime ahead of other guys wanting your woman.”

The wordlifetimelingers in the air like an unidentifiable scent, and my mind twitches trying to figure out if it’s sweet or something foul that I should run from.

A flash of an image pops into my head—Jack and me years from now, still bantering, still fighting crime together, maybe more than just partners.

It’s a dangerous thought and one I don’t let myself linger on for long, but it’s there all the same.

“All right, enough of that. Let’s talk shop,” Jack says, steering the conversation back to safer and perhaps saner territory. “Nikki, how exactly did you mirror Karen’s phone?”

“Simple enough.” Nikki sits up a little straighter, clearly proud of her latest technical feat. “When she handed me her phone, it took me less than three seconds to install the spyware the men and women in the cyber division dreamed up. There are other apps like it out there for the general pop, but this is ours. It’s virtually untraceable. I’ll give you both a tutorial at some point. Now, anything Karen Holt does, we see. I’ll send you screenshots the second something comes through.”

“Good move,” Jack says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sounds too good to be true, but I want updates as soon as you hear anything.”

I’m about to nod in agreement when the door swings open, and in walks a gray-headed skeleton with dark circles under hereyes. Her clothes are limp and look as if they’re perilously close to sliding right off her frail frame. Her pants do just that, but she catches them before they get to her thighs. Good grief, she’s essentially the stripper that none of us asked for.

Here comes trouble and yet trouble has nothing on Jack’s mother.

29

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

Sandy Stone, the woman who gave Jack life, looks as if she’s been dragged through a meth lab and back—and didn’t fare well in the process.

She stumbles her way through my mother’s diner with her eyes wild, her clothes disheveled, and muttering to herself in such a violent manner it makes me wonder if we can add a psychosis to her laundry list of mental misgivings.

More than a few customers in the diner look her way, and judging by their worried, outright frightened expressions, she’s clearly made them uncomfortable.

“For the love of—” Jack mutters under his breath as he tenses and I note the muscles in his neck going rigid.

Sandy eventually stumbles her way over to our booth, knocking over a couple of chairs as she goes, which stops any and all conversations in the place, leaving the eighties music bleating from the speakers sound like less of an intrusion than she is.

“What in the fresh hell—” My mother looks ready to blow a gasket from behind the counter, but it’s clear she’s biting her tongue—for now.

“Jackie,” Sandy slurs and her voice carries through the diner. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Are you trying to avoid your own mama? Slide on over, son. I’m so hungry I’m going to start gnawing on the table.”

“You’re not gnawing on anything,” he tells her sternly. “Because you’re not staying.”

Sandy scoffs at the thought and in doing so sends a wave of fumes to this end of the table, causing both Nikki and me to wince.

Buddy dives under the table because he’s smart. And to be honest, I’m considering it as an option myself.

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