Page 3 of More Than Nothing
He gave her a brief nod and swept eyes as tough as black granite over her stepbrothers and their friends. They fixed on Dean, who stared blankly back from under his beanie.
“You’ll want to hand over the cash you took from the next table.” Flat and uncompromising, the man’s suggestion was not a request.
Elenie stood up, dumped the dustpan and its contents onto the tabletop, and thrust out her hand. Pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket, Dean slapped it into her palm with a shrug.
Behind the counter, she busied herself at the cash register. Mr. Sexy Forearms slid a card from his wallet, his stare never wavering from her face, and the dry tinder inside Elenie’s chest threatened to smolder and burn.
Get a grip, girl. He’s in uniform, therefore he’s dangerous. Out of bounds. Not. For. You.
She wished with all her heart that she was someone else.
“Roman Martinez! I heard you were in town.” Dragged back to earth, Elenie watched Nathan Reyes reach out and the two men clasped hands. “Where’ve you been working?”
“Detroit PD. Homicide division.” The words sounded forced on the hot stranger’s lips.
“You’re not just visiting either, by the looks of it?” Eyes alight with interest, Nathan gestured to his uniform.
“I’ll be taking over from Chief Roberts at the end of the week.”
Oh, dear God.That was both the answer to Elenie’s prayers and a huge complication, all rolled into one.
“This guy. Best cleanup hitter Pine Springs High ever had!” Nathan said, turning to fill in Brody McAlpine with a broad grin.“No one could touch us when Martinez was on the baseball field. We all thought he was headed for the big leagues.”
The new chief smiled but Elenie noticed his fingers had clenched around the credit card in his palm. Ignoring Nathan’s comment, he gave Brody a polite chin lift. “Pretty sure I recognize your face, sir. It’s good to see you again.”
The three exchanged a few more words while Elenie rang up the check. Heart as heavy as a bowling ball, fingers slippery with milkshake on the buttons of the card reader, she tried to pretend she wasn’t an unholy mess of chocolate flavoring and ice cream and just did her job.
So, she’d been humiliated in front of the mouthwatering Roman Martinez, former Golden Boy of Pine Springs High. What did that even matter?
He’d find out soon enough why the Daxes didn’t feature on the Christmas card list of anyone from the local PD.
Chapter 2
Roman
The emergency call came through just after two a.m.
Instinct had Roman up and dragging on his clothes before he’d finished the conversation with Chief Roberts. He rang his new deputy, Dougie Taggart, from the SUV, collecting him on his way, and pulled up behind the ambulance outside the Masons’ house less than ten minutes later. There was no sign of the chief himself as yet.
More than a dozen young people loitered anxiously in small groups. It looked as if others might have left. Two boys were attempting to gather the numerous bottles and cans tossed all over the front yard. A bonfire, lit in an old trash can on the grass, was still smoldering but on its way out. As Roman and Dougie jogged up the path, no one was brave enough to catch their eye.
“You stay out here,” Roman instructed. “Start taking names and statements. I don’t want anyone else to leave without giving you their details. Tell Roberts I’m inside when he gets here.” He headed for the front door. A blond girl, pale and shaky, stepped back as he strode in. “Don’t go home without seeing my deputy,” he told her. “Where are they?”
She gestured toward a huge kitchen-diner off the hallway.
Bypassing a large central island surrounded by white glossy cabinets, Roman took a chokehold on his focus when it threatened to desert him. His chest felt too hot, his fingers too cold, but he swept his eyes over the scene, taking mental photographs he’d review later.
Two paramedics were kneeling on the floor, a teenage girl lying on the tiles between them. She wore a short lilac dress and her legs were bare. Her shoes were nowhere to be seen, toenails unpainted. Drawing closer, he could see an intubation tube had been inserted into her airway. One of the medics was rhythmically squeezing a bag to push air into her lungs, while the other monitored her vital signs.
Three girls sobbed in each other’s arms, their cries covered by the music still belting out from speakers hidden somewhere in the room. A couple of boys hovered uncertainly, clearly torn between comforting the girls and watching what was happening on the floor.
“What’s your name?” Roman asked the kid nearest to him, relieved to hear his voice sounded normal.
“Charlie Randall, sir.” The boy’s eyes darted left and right.
“Whose party is it, Charlie?”
“It’s mine. Mine and my brother’s.” A taller guy, definitely older, appeared in the doorway. Gray-faced with shock, he met Roman’s eyes with gritty courage. “I’m Kai. Kai Mason. This is my parents’ house.”
