Page 55 of What About Love

Chapter 12

“ELAINE DANSON,” THEdetective, an older man in an ill-fitting sport coat, said in a grim tone. “Waste management found her in a dumpster in Reseda. As you can see, she was badly beaten and there were signs of sexual assault. The preliminary cause of death is multiple stab wounds to the chest.”

The pictures were gruesome, even to Angie, who’d seen enough horrifying crime scene photos to last a lifetime. With her face swollen and discolored, and blood matting her hair, the young woman was unrecognizable from the recent snapshots her family had provided. She had ID on her when found; her purse strangely left behind. The killer obviously wanted the police to know who she was without having to wait days for forensics.

Angie closed her eyes, breathing deep to quell the rising nausea.

T curled his fingers around her thigh. He’d taken the vacant seat beside her when there were plenty of others. She hadn’t wanted him there, but now she was glad he was.

“Do you need a minute?”

She shook her head.

Kieran Finnegan rose and poured her some water. Without knowing his name, she would have guessed his heritage the moment he opened his mouth and spoke in his smooth, rolling Irish accent. T had introduced him as Cap’s counterpart in LA, although with the company bearing his name, Tony was the CEO and oversaw it all.

She smiled her thanks as he set the glass in front of her. A taller, hotter version of Richard Madden, who she’d had a mad crush on sinceGame of Thrones, but more so as Prince Charming in the live action version of Cinderella a few years back. He had the same dark hair—his wavier from being overlong, with a hint of red that made it gleam auburn under the lights—but instead of blue, his eyes were a striking moss green. She’d yet to see a Rossi man, here or at home who wasn’t a ten. It played havoc with her libido, especially since T was an unarguable eleven.

If anyone could read her thoughts, they’d think it an odd time to be ogling the room full of men. But she’d learned distraction and compartmentalizing the best way to cope with the horrors of the job. Some cops cracked jokes—gallows humor. They weren’t insensitive they were just trying to make it through another day in the life.

After she took a drink, which somehow trickled past the lump in her throat, she gave her full attention to the detective, John something or other. She hadn’t caught his last name when Kieran had introduced him, still on edge from her scene with T and the horrible news that their serial kidnapping case had turned into a murder investigation. But now, she focused more sharply as he gave the rundown on the first, and probably not the last, dead Decadence submissive.

“He’s stepping up his game. The first two victims were a month apart, three weeks to the next, and the one last Saturday followed by only two weeks.” Kieran’s brogue had a low, musical quality to it. Like slipping into a hot bubble bath, she could have soaked in it all day if she wasn’t so freaked out over every aspect of the fucked-up mission.

“Are you ready for tomorrow night, Miss Hixson?” the older detective asked, his blue eyes dull in his sun-bronzed face. Having several more decades at this than her, in a much bigger city, what he must have seen. “If he follows this escalated pattern, odds are he’ll strike again this weekend.”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“That’s not true,” T interjected. “She’s new, has had minimal training, and only one night to draw the perp’s attention. There’s no guarantee he’s taken the bait. Tonight and Saturday are crucial.”

“Agreed,” Eric stated. “We’re not taking any chances. We’ve added extra security at the club and before she sets foot on the floor, we’ll have tracking devices on her.”

Considering her lack of places to conceal even a tiny tracker, Angie quipped, “Not in my shoes or clothing, I hope.” No one laughed at her nervous attempt at a joke.

“We’ve got this covered,” T responded gently.

Kieran slid a black velvet box across the table. When she didn’t open it, T did it for her, revealing dainty pearl drop earrings.

“Put these in now and don’t take them out until the mission is done.” He laid them in her palm and didn’t reach for the second black box until they were dangling from her ears.

The content of box number two had her wrinkling her nose. As she kicked off her sandal to slide the filigree toe ring on her right second toe, she muttered under her breath, “So yesterday.”

When she sat up, five sets of worried eyes settled on her.

“I’m good, guys, really. Let’s catch this jack weed so I can go home and get back to normal investigations, like cheating scumbag husbands and moms who embezzle bake sale money from the PTA.”

“Tony Rossi wouldn’t touch either of those bullshit cases,” T murmured.

“Neither would Kieran Finnegan,” the LA director concurred.

“Even so,” she sighed. “A girl can hope for normal.”

***

FOLLOWING THE MEETINGat Rossi, Angie escaped another face-off with T, thanks to Val who was at the office, dropping off something for Eric. They’d talked, and when she found out Angie hadn’t had breakfast, she invited her to lunch and shopping.

She took her to nearby Beverly Grove to her “favorite little” Asian café. They had the best egg rolls Angie had ever tasted, and she tried rice wine for the first time. Val’s ramen and spicy miso pork and her Kimichi chicken fried rice both had a kick, and they were feeling a bit warm.

“Do you like the sake?” her new friend asked after draining the tiny little ceramic cup.

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