Page 25 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Jenkins, this is Detective Richards. Can you check to see if there’s anything from the coroner on the Riverside Drive case?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.”

Leaning against the booth, I scan the pedestrians as they pass. My brain catalogs details as they go about their lives. A woman with a poodle rushes toward the subway station entrance. A mother with two kids in tow rounds the corner. Two men in suits also hurry to the subway. Another guy ascends the stairs and casts a cautious glance around before darting into a nearby street. A glint of light flashes in the distance.

“Richards, you there?”

I’m pulled from my people-watching. “Yeah, whaddya got?”

“Nothing yet. I’ll call you at home when his report comes through.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Disappointment chokes me as I hang up the phone. It’s only been a few hours, but I anticipated a little more expedition since the victim was high profile.

The city buzzes around me as I wander the streets. When I finally make it home, I ignore the pull to go up to the apartment and instead venture into the Black Penny.

Claude glances up from behind the bar. Chatter surrounds me as I weave through the crowd and take a seat on a stool toward the back of the room. My attention skims over the patrons, noting regulars and a few new faces. I don’t linger long. I’m not looking to make friends; I just want to drown my irritation in a barrel of whiskey.

“How’s your guest holding up?” Claude asks as he slides a glass onto the bar’s worn surface.

“She’s a fucking delight,” I growl. The liquor burns the sarcasm from my throat.

Claude chuckles and leans forward, resting against the edge of the counter. “That girl’s got you in a twist.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I throw back the rest of the whiskey, then tap the glass on the wood.

“She’s nice once she warms up to you.” Claude pours a refill.

My lips press into a thin line, and I regard my brother carefully before I respond. Claude’s always been a decent judge of character. It’s what makes him a great bartender. He listens. Watches. And nine times out of ten, he can spot a rotten apple from across the room. The fact that he’s taken a shine to the cat burglar who is sucking the life out of my sanity has my eye twitching and my teeth grinding.

“I take it she hasn’t warmed up to you yet.”

“How perceptive. Maybe you should become a detective.”

Claude shakes his head. “You could try being nice to her. She’s been through hell.”

I rake my fingers through my hair. “You think I haven’t tried being nice?” I lower my voice when the guy two seats down glances over at me. “I saved her ass twice, offered everything in my power, including my personal fucking space, to keep her safe while I finish this investigation.”

“You probably scare the shit out of her, Grant.”

A scoff rips from my throat midsip, and I nearly choke. “Iscareher? She told you this?”

“She didn’t need to tell me anything. I can see the way she tenses when you walk in the room.”

Stunned, I stare at him like he just sprouted another head or a brand-new hand. “I’ve beennothingbut nice to her since she showed up half-dead on my doorstep.”

“A little sympathy would go a long way.”

“I don’t do sympathy.” A frown pulls at my mouth. “I’m not her fucking shrink.”

“Maybe you should try to get to know her instead of barking at her.”

“I don’t bark at her.” My fist tightens around the glass, and I take a deep breath.

“She’s scared and alone. Right now, you’re the only person who can offer her any comfort.”

“I didn’t ask to be her fucking babysitter.”

“She’s an adult. She doesn’t need a babysitter. She needs a friend. Someone to talk to.”

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