Chapter 12
M ichelle feathered fingers over her lips the entire drive home. He’d kissed her. It was better than she’d remembered… better than she’d fantasized. If something in the back of her brain hadn’t chirped at her, she’d be naked on his counter right now.
She clenched her thighs. Oh, how she wanted to be stripped bare and sprawled out under Nick Jolley again.
Rounding the corner on her block, her townhouse came into sight. An end unit with a two-car garage. The only thing that made it stand out was the flagpole in the tiny, dormant flower bed at the edge of the small front patio. A black and white flag with one blue stripe slapped in the spotlight. As she turned into the driveway, her vehicle’s headlights illuminated the garage door.
“What the—” A slur scrawled in red paint across the white panels slapped her into the present.
She slammed the gearshift into park and jumped from the vehicle. Her hand rested on her hip, inches from her Glock. Her head swiveled as she canvassed the area. No sign of movement. No vehicles parked on the block. Not even a neighbor’s dog in the window.
In the ten years she’d lived here, not once had her place been vandalized. Not one time. Sure, in her line of work she’d made a few enemies, but she couldn’t think of one that would do this. Not even the teenagers she’d busted for illegal substances last month.
She needed to check the perimeter. The moon hid behind a cloud. Grabbing a flashlight from her car, she pulled her gun. Silently, she moved to the side of the garage—no footprints. She moved to the other side. None. She glanced down at her new shoes. Shit, why didn’t she wear her boots home today?
She sucked in a breath and stepped into the ankle-deep snow. The cold bit into her feet, but she pushed through and circled the house.
No tracks. The windows were all secure. She holstered her gun and climbed into her car. She started the engine, tapped the garage door opener, and pulled into the garage. Should she call it in? Yes. She’d write up the details tonight and file the report in the morning.
Grabbing the box of cookies from her mom and the ones for the lab, she headed into her house. The soft patter of paws on the floor was the only sound she heard. She smiled as her cat rounded the corner.
“Looks like you had a busy day. Did you even get up off the couch to get a look at the jerk that spray painted all over my door?”
Charlie yawned and then licked his butt.
Figures. He was more a prima donna than a watch cat. Once he finished cleaning himself, he moved to the food bowl and meowed.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me get in the door and I will feed you.” She set the boxes down and did a quick sweep of the house, just to be safe. No intruders.
Returning to the kitchen, she found Charlie on the counter, pawing at the box of cookies.
“No buddy, not those.” Michelle moved the box with the cookies for the lab and pulled a cookie from the other box. She broke off a piece and handed it to him, then popped the rest into her mouth. Yup, Mom made good cookies. It was a well-guarded recipe handed down from her Grandma Swenson.
After filling Charlie’s food dishes, she checked the freezer for leftovers.
“Score.” Lasagna. What would she do if her mom didn’t send home leftovers? Right now, she didn’t care. She tossed the lid in the sink and popped the plastic container in the microwave. While the food warmed, she popped another cookie in her mouth. Dang, they were good.
She eyed the other box. A cookie halfway to her mouth. Could they be pot cookies? She’d only had two. Sure, it might not be enough for a true test, but… She looked at the sugary treat in her hand. She did have the munchies. Not to mention, Nick had been chatty. And he kissed her.
A shiver ran the length of her spine. Would he have done that stone cold sober? God, she hoped so.
The microwave beeped. She picked up the container. “Ow!” She dropped it on the counter and stuck her throbbing fingers in her mouth. Stupid, stupid. She knew better. The hot pads were in the drawer in front of her.
She snatched a fork from the dishwasher, stood in front of the sink, and dug in. Through the window, she stared. The night was still. Not a branch was moving. Could someone be watching her? Just because there were no footprints in the snow didn’t mean someone couldn’t have looped around the block and came in the back.
Naw. Most vandalism was by kids and a crime of opportunity. But this… this was targeting at her. If the perpetrator wanted to do more than piss her off, they had failed .
Finishing her food, she dropped the bowl in the sink. The dishwasher was full, but it could wait until tomorrow. Sleep called, even if work wouldn’t let her answer yet.
With a final scan of her yard, she threw back her shoulders, and flipped the middle finger to the window. You never know. If some idiot was dumb enough to graffiti her house and hang around, let him. Michelle didn’t care. She had her gun and her taser. Not to mention an armed security system. Let them do their worst.
She picked up Charlie and headed upstairs. She had a report to write.
***
It was a quarter past eleven when Michelle walked into his office. “I got a present.”
Nick took in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, then he spotted the paper in her hand.
“The lab guy owed me a favor. He ran the cookies right away.” She dropped the paper on his desk.
Nick scanned the report. “Positive.” Not that he could tell from their taste test. He’d wanted to kiss Michelle for days. A little weed in his system didn’t affect that.
“I have to run down some red paint today, but then I will check the system for prints.”
“Paint?” Nick caught the way she dropped her gaze when she mentioned the paint. There was more to it.
“For a case.”
Nick could feel the vein pop on the side of his head. “What aren’t you telling me? ”
“It’s just a vandalism case. No big deal.”
There. She did it again. “What was vandalized?”
“It’s just police business.”
Nick stood and crowded her. “Mickey, I’ve known you since kindergarten.”
“Before.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Gotcha. She was hiding something. He leaned in. Her eyes lifted to his.
She bit her lip. Fuck. If she didn’t break soon, he’d touch her and then he’d be the one to break. “Mickey?”
“Fine. Someone redecorated my garage door last night with a particularly festive slur.”
“Festive?” Nick ground his teeth. “Something to do with Santa’s hoes?”
“I’m sure it’s just a kid. Someone I probably caught ditching school.”
He slipped his hands up her arms and gently gripped her biceps. “It could be related to the mall trouble.”
She snorted, but didn’t move from his grasp. “Please. I don’t work at the mall.”
“No, but you are working this case.”
Her complexion paled, making the freckles on her nose stand out even more. Nick wanted to kiss each and every one of those little brown spots. “I think we should consider the possibility that it’s related.”
“I’m not ruling out anything.”
“Good. Then I will call the hardware stores and see if they have sold any cans of red paint in the last week, while you start on the prints.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay.”
He kissed her nose, just a soft brush of his lips .
Surprise lit her eyes, curiosity floated in their depths.
Shit. He wasn’t going to kiss her today, not with all they had to do, but when she looked at him like she couldn’t believe he’d actually just kissed her, all his resolve fled. His head dipped, hovering an inch from hers. Waiting. One Mississippi. Two Mississ—
She tipped back and touched her lips to his.
He walked his fingers up from her biceps to the ball of her shoulder. They skated over the curve of her throat, around to the back of her neck. That soft wavy hair brushed the tips of his fingers. He itched to grab a fistful and anchor her to him, but he didn’t. Relaxing his hands, he concentrated on her mouth.
Oh, that mouth. She could melt him with just the slightest movement of her tongue. It was sexy as hell, and she did it now.
Nick groaned. He felt the smile cross her lips as she pulled back.
“What was that for? Have you been eating more pot cookies this morning?”
He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Honey, I don’t need drugs to want to kiss you. That comes as natural to me as breathing. Always has.”
Always will, was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Not the time.
He stepped back and picked up the lab report. “Mind if I make a copy before you take this?”
“Sure. I should have the full report by tomorrow. He just did a quick run for cannabis this morning.”
He scanned the report with his phone and gave it back to her. “Tonight is pizza night. Why don’t you come over after work and we can discuss our findings?”
“What about Ava? ”
“She likes to read in her room before bed. She’s already at a sixth-grade reading level.”
“Wow, she must have gotten that from her mother.” Michelle smirked.
“Funny, but probably true. Anyway, she won’t be listening to us. Does six work?”
She nodded, then turned toward the door. “Oh, the store owners can email a list.”
“Got it.” He put his hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels as he watched her go.
If Nick found the bastard who desecrated her house before she did, she’d be arresting him for assault.
***
Nick had no idea that so many stores in Ashwood sold paint. He started at the local hardware store, then the craft shop, followed by the Hobby Hut on Third Street. He checked with the Dollar Tree and finished with the two stores in the mall that sold paint. One was his own father’s place of business. He didn’t realize they had a section in the back.
But what was more mind-boggling than the number of places was the number of people buying red paint in December. He shouldn’t be surprised with the holidays, but it wasn’t exactly painting project weather. He slammed the truck door and dropped the latest list in the passenger seat, along with the other lists.
Thirty-two. That’s how many people bought paint. Correction. That’s how many paid with a card. There were at least a dozen more that paid cash .
Nick blew out a breath and checked his phone. He’d talked to his father this morning, but the doctor wasn’t ready to let him out yet. Nick promised to swing by around lunch, even though his father swore he was fine and wanted to be released.
Nick headed for the hospital. He glanced at the stack of papers in the seat. Michelle wanted them emailed to her, and he had the store managers do that. He didn’t say he wouldn’t keep a copy for himself. Something in his gut stirred. He’d bet his dog tags that this was related to Staniski and Garmen.
When he parked at the hospital, he shoved the lists in the console and picked up a bag. Nick’s clipped steps echoed as he crossed the entrance and made his way to the elevators. He nodded to a couple nurses at the floor station as he continued to his father’s room. The door was closed. He knocked and slowly opened the door.
“Come in. I hope you’re here to take me home.” Russ Jolley had never been good with hospitals. To be honest, neither was Nick. A vision of his mother in a similar bed flashed in his mind. Nick shook it off.
“Maybe. What did the doctor say?”
His dad grumbled and slumped back in his bed. “Something about another test.”
“Well, I have something to cheer you up.” Nick set the bag of cookies on the bed. His dad’s face brightened.
“Are these from my office?”
Nick didn’t want to get into that just yet. “No, even better. Mrs. Swenson made them.”
“Ooh, Irene has the best baked goods. The woman could have run a bakery.” Russ bit in and groaned. “Yup, as good as I remembered.”
A light rap sounded on the door a second before a young woman stuck her head in. “Mr. Jolley. I need to draw a little blood. ”
“Alright.” He turned to Nick. “I swear they have enough of my blood to fill a bathtub by now.”
The nurse laughed. “Not quite.”
“Do you know when my father will be released?”
“The doctor will be doing rounds this afternoon. You’ll have to check with him. I’m sure he will want to check out your father before he signs off on the release.”
Nick nodded. What she hadn’t said in words was clear on her face. He wasn’t going home today.
The nurse finished up and packed up her cart. Nick held up a finger to let his dad know he’d be right back. He followed her out into the hall. “How is my father really doing?”
“Quite well for a man who was hit by a car. His arm will take some time to heal, but it’s the swelling in his head that the doc wanted to monitor. It’s going down, and he is improving by the minute. The doctor will come by soon and you can check with him yourself.”
“Thank you.” Nick slipped back into the room. He sat on the chair beside the bed and leaned in, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Dad, the cookies you had in your office. Who gave them to you?”
“I don’t know. Tyler was working the front, and he just brought them back. Said they were left on the counter.”
Shit. “Did he see who put them there? Or was there a note?”
Russ shook his head, then winced. He stroked his fingers across his forehead. “I don’t remember.”
“It’s okay.” He rested a hand on his father’s arm. “Do you have pain? I can call the nurse.”
“I just moved too fast. It’s alright.”
Another knock on the door, this one louder than the other, alerted Nick to the doctor. “Hello, Mr. Jolley. How are you doing today? ”
His father’s face lit with joy. “I’m perfect. Thanks for all the great service, but I can go and free up this bed for someone who really needs it.”
It was bullshit, and the doctor saw right through it as easily as Nick did.
“Don’t you worry about the bed space. Let’s see how you are doing.” He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to his father’s chest and neck, then pulled out his penlight and checked his eyes. “I think I’d like to keep you for another day. Do a test in the morning. If all is good, then you can go home.”
Russ slumped back on the bed. “Fine. But can I get some milk to go with the cookies?”
“Sure. I’ll have them send it right in. Then I would like you to rest. We’ll be in to check on you regularly.” The doctor closed the clipboard cover and then hung it on the end of the bed before leaving.
“You heard him. You’re doing great. But you need to rest. We need you back to full strength,” Nick reassured his father.
“True. I need to be in top form for the kiddos.” He set the cookies aside and rested his head back on the pillow.
No way Nick was going to let his father play Santa with a broken arm, concussion, and God knows what else. But if you told him that, his father would be up and arguing. The opposite of what the doctor ordered.