Chapter 1 #2
“Whatever.” Amelia didn’t try to hide her annoyance anymore.
Turning her attention back to the body in the room and away from a series of moving pictures in her mind that threatened to fully destroy her immediately, she busied herself taking pictures of the wounds—letting the grisly scene in front of her overtake the images fighting for attention.
“I count seven stab wounds with jagged edges,” Ameilia murmured as she photographed each one carefully.
He chuckled. “This is actually my crime scene. And, I’d like to see those wounds myself.”
He stepped closer but she placed herself between him and the body, unsuccessfully blocking his approach as he just went around her.
Amelia frowned behind her mask as she placed paper bags over the victim’s hands to protect any DNA evidence he might have grabbed off his attacker. “I hope you aren’t mocking me, officer. Or worse, doubting me.”
“It’s detective. And, I wouldn’t dream of it, Doc.” He stood over the body, making a few notes on an index card he’d pulled from one of his pockets.
“It’s doctor.” She looked up just as he winked at her.
He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a few pictures of the victim and his wounds. “Excuse me. I wouldn’t dream of it, Doctor.”
She scowled. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get things done so Jonah here can accompany me back to the morgue.”
“You and the vic are on a first name basis? Did you know him?”
Amelia unfolded the black bag for transporting the body. “Yeah, and we have a hot date on a cold table later today.” She exhaled heavily. “Of course, I don’t know him.”
He gave her a little nod and another panty melting smile—she hated herself immediately for acknowledging that he could affect her that way after a one-night stand years ago—before taking a step back through the door.
“I’ll drop by the morgue later then—unless that would be interrupting your date?”
His laughter pissed her off. “No need. I work alone. You’ll just be in the way. I’ll send my findings over to the department when I’m finished.”
“I’ll be waiting—make it STAT. I don’t want this killer getting away with murder.”
“You’ll get it when it’s done.” Amelia glared over the top of her mask. “I’m not rushing because you are impatient.”
His demeanor shifted as he looked at her, his expression serious. A very long ten seconds passed before he just nodded again, turned and walked away.
Had he recognized her?
God, she hoped not.
The moment he was out of sight, she felt his absence and hated herself for it. Amelia returned her attention to the victim with a sigh. Time to focus. Dead men do tell tales and this one needed to get talking.
Amelia sighed, forcing herself to focus on the body before her and not the body that had haunted her dreams for a very long time.
“Okay, Jonah. Tell me your story. I want to know who hurt you and why.”
A.J.
Her entire being radiated hostility and not one iota of recognition.
It may have been ten years, but he’d know that voice anywhere.
Sharp as a butcher’s knife and sweet as southern honey all at once.
A.J. had nearly turned and walked away the second she looked up at him, terrified his body would give him away.
An anonymous one night hook up meant never acknowledging that event again.
Memories assaulted him fast and hard—kisses full of passion, smooth, ivory skin that heated and flushed with his touch—raising his pulse and sending a rush of desire through him like a solid punch to the gut.
He’d follow her lead though. This was so not the time for any kind of reunion. His mind knew this, but his body seemed oblivious to his brain’s logic.
Now he stood in the middle of a dead man’s home where another one-night stand had most definitely not gone as planned. A.J. leaned against the door frame, studying the woman before him.
She’d been masked that night but that didn’t stop him from memorizing every single minute detail of the skin he’d been gifted access to.
White hot electricity arced and sizzled as they had danced in the dim light of the ball room.
When their lips met, flames could have devoured him and it wouldn’t have burned hotter or deeper.
Never before and never since had he experienced anything like it.
He’d felt the twitch of arousal the second the first word passed through those perfect lips. As though his entire being remembered hers. That twitch intensified as he stood there.
Meant to be a one-night stand, A.J. had thought about that encounter alone in the dark and the shower—and even in his cruiser once on a stakeout—many more times than he would ever admit to anyone. Including himself.
She wasn’t classically beautiful in the supermodel sense, but beyond stunning nonetheless. Her beauty went far deeper than physical attraction. The moment he touched her, A.J. had been a changed man. Every single cell in his body remembered the feel of her against him.
Amelia—he only found out her name after some serious detective work—appealed to him in ways no other woman ever had. She’d assaulted all of his senses simultaneously simply by existing in the same space as him.
A.J. had plenty of lady friends, as his Memaw referred to the women he dated. But not a single one of them had left him gasping for air both physically and emotionally, the way his encounter with her had.
His spidey-detective senses had missed one thing though.
One, very big, impossible to ignore thing.
She ‘d taken the job at the medical examiner’s office.
They would be working this investigation together.
The first of many in their busy tourist city.
No way could he pretend like he didn’t who she was indefinitely.
Fuck.
“Detective Gibbs?”
Forcing his focus back to the present, A.J. found one of the crime scene techs sporting an annoyed look, standing in front of him holding something.
How long had she been standing there?
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I said, I think we found the murder weapon.”
He looked a bit closer at the knife she held and shook his head. “Nope. That’s not it.”
The tech frowned. “It has blood on it, Detective.” A.J. heard the duhh in her voice, loudly punctuating the end of the sentence.
Straightening his shoulders and staring down at her from his full height, he said, “The medical examiner said the wounds were jagged. That indicates a serrated knife. Bag that one for testing but also keep looking for the actual murder weapon.”
“She could be wrong.”
Oh, this woman was trying his patience. “Have you recently received your medical degree and certification in medicolegal investigation? Because that’s what you would need to challenge her findings at this point.”
The tech pursed her lips, her brows furrowing as her eyes narrowed. The air between them became charged with hostility. He could tell she wanted to argue with him but instead she nodded. “I’ll get this bagged up.”
As she walked away, he heard her mumble “what an asshat” but let it go. He had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.
A dead man.
The woman of most of his dreams and every single one of his fantasies for the last ten years.
A case they would now have to work together and he’d have to act like she didn’t throw his entire self into high alert just by existing.
None of that mattered, except the dead man. Making up his mind to stop wasting time obsessing over a one-night stand that obviously meant way more to him than her, A.J. pushed all thoughts of Amelia to the part of his brain where things go to disappear. He had a murder to solve.
“Get your head in the game, man,” he murmured as he passed through the apartment. Stopping at the bar top counter, he noted the license laying on the counter.
“Did someone remove this ID from the victim’s wallet?” he asked whoever was listening.
“It was already out when we arrived,” a uniformed officer responded.
Did that mean Amelia had pulled it out or did the perpetrator do it? The good doctor knew the victim’s name. But she could have just seen the license the way he had.
Maybe the victim had done it himself.
Too many options that might have absolutely nothing to do with the case.
A.J. took one last look around, made a few notes and then left the scene.
Outside, several officers tromped through the fresh snow with flashlights poking in bushes, searching garbage cans and peering down into the sewers.
It was much colder than normal for early November.
As he reached his department issued SUV, someone yelled out.
“I think we found the murder weapon!”
An officer stood near some bushes a couple of houses down the block, waving her flashlight. Several people ran over to the place she stood. A.J. followed.
As he approached the small group, the same crime scene technician that had found the first possible weapon, pulled on a pair of gloves.
“Everyone step back!” She spoke with the air of confidence of someone who hadn’t just tried to pass off another knife as the article of murder.
After taking several photographs, she leaned down and scooped the knife into a plastic tube, sealing it with evidence table and signing her name and date on the seal. Rising, she nodded toward A.J. “Serrated. Just like you said. I’ll still have them both tested though.”
He nodded curtly. Heading to his vehicle, he debated what to do next. At nearly three in the morning, his options were limited. Mostly just sleep or watch reruns on T.V.
His stomach growled loudly.
The decision had been made.
Unable to remember when he last ate, A.J. turned his SUV toward his favorite twenty-hour diner near the hospital. He always did his best thinking with a stack of pancakes and a pile of bacon.
A.J. had a lot to think about, too. Mostly work but not all.