Gee, the mayor sure instructs her to work with him a lot, doesn’t he?

“Actually, ma’am,” Sheriff Bates says with a bright smile, “I’m leading the investigation, and I’m sure Randy won’t mind if my top detective leaves and you and I have this discussion. Now, I can get some coffee brought up to my office to keep our thirsts quenched.”

Jessica’s expression turns thunderous, and the angry furrows in her brow as she frowns do her absolutely no favors.

What? I’m a bitch. I never pretended I wasn’t. And this chick is ugly when she’s angry.

Mind you, so am I.

“Of course, sir.” She reaches behind Drake, and he steps back so she can pass. She pauses right next to me and turns to him. “I hope we can continue this tomorrow without any interruptions.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” I chirp, attempting my nicest smile. Unfortunately, I think it ends up more of a move-your-ass-before-I-bitch-slap-you kind of smile.

Ah, well. Sometimes, the fake smile works; sometimes, it doesn’t. What can I do?

Drake shakes his head as Jessica gives me a look that could sink a ship if it were a storm. She stalks off after the sheriff with way too much wiggle in her hips. The woman’s gonna fall over sideways if she keeps doing that. Her ass is like a grandfather clock on crack. Dong, dong, dong.

“Thank you,” Drake mutters, walking into his office. “Thought she’d never fuckin’ leave.”

“You do realize that her random appearances could be thwarted by the simple locking of your door?” I close said door behind me.

“But then I’d have to get up every time someone needed to see me and it’s so far away.”

“You’re so lazy.”

He grins. Lazily. “I know. You didn’t really order pizza, did you?”

I pout then twist my lips to the side and look away.

His answering chuckle is deep and sends a shiver down my spine. He takes two steps toward me. His hands frame my face, drawing my attention back to him, and I catch his smile just a second before he closes his lips over mine. I sigh into the kiss.

“Who told you to come save me?”

“Trent,” I admit, feeling the instant chill on my cheeks when he drops his hand and turns away.

He reaches up to loosen his tie.

“You didn’t answer your phones, and he said you were in here yelling.”

“Mmmm.” He removes the tie and balls it up, shoving it into his pocket. The thin end pokes out, shiny against his perfectly pressed pants. “She was being very…annoying,” he says carefully, tilting his head back and undoing the top button of his shirt. The second one follows. “Assumed that, given the apparently late hour, our discussion could be had over dinner.”

“Well, Trent didn’t tell me that.”

Drake smirks. “We’re tryna train you to keep your bullets inside your gun, cupcake. Not inside people.”

“I take offense to that. I only shoot people if they’re going to shoot me or themselves. And have shot my brother,” I add. “And maybe I wouldn’t need to shoot people if y’all showed up a little quicker.”

“I’ll take that to the next staff meeting,” he drawls, amused. “If you must know, and I’m real sure you do, the argument was over her refusal to move her ass away from my door so I could make her leave. Since I refuse to throw a woman around, I was stuck with her sob story about being overworked and no one liking her in this town.”

“You throw me around.”

“I throw you around when I’m going to fuck you. There’s a difference.”

“There damn well better be a difference.” I prod his chest after he grabs his jacket and comes back over to me.

“Come on.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him, kissing my temple. “Forget her. She won’t bother you tonight. Let’s get dinner.”

“Pizza?” My voice is hopeful. I follow him out of his office.

“Didn’t you say yesterday you were goin’ on a diet?” he asks, glancing over my shoulder.

“The last time Noelle went on a diet, she lasted two hours because Mom baked cookies,” Trent inputs, still leaning against his office door.

“Shut up!” I dart my fist out at him, and he only just moves to avoid it. “Mom does badass cookies. There’s no diet in the world that could make me give up those.”

“Or pizza, evidently.”

“You want me to teach your son more Italian curse words, huh?”

“Do it and I’ll tell Nonna you’re marrying Drake but y’all are gonna elope.”

“I’ll tell her you’re the one who told me to do it.”

My brother hesitates, grimaces, and gives in. Yep. He knows that Nonna’s wrath for such a suggestion would far outweigh her annoyance about me eloping.

Which, for the record, isn’t happening. No one is eloping. Least of all me.

“Bitch,” Trent mutters, disappearing back into his office.

I grin. Damn. It’s always a thrill to beat my brothers in a verbal battle.

Drake really did turn his phone off, and we had twelve blissful hours together before we were rudely awoken by a call from the station. There was a tip called into the station in the early hours. Toni Thompson was apparently seen by Jerry Parker, the owner of Holly Woods Inn, late on the evening she disappeared, with a guy he didn’t recognize. The decision to let Drake sleep until Jerry dropped by with the security tapes was a wise one, because for a homicide detective, he really isn’t a great person to wake up.

That’s a lesson I’ve learned, for sure.

I bump the office door open with my hip and sip my coffee as I walk in. Grecia is sitting in her small office, her feet against the edge of the desk, painting her toenail. She glances up with a guilty smile spreading across her face.

“Sorry,” she says, putting the brush back in the bottle of polish. “My girl canceled my pedicure this afternoon, and since Mike’s taking me for dinner tonight… It was quiet…”

I shrug. “If you knew how many times I’ve painted my nails when I’ve had nothing to do, you wouldn’t believe me.” And the big chip on my thumbnail tells me I need to do it myself. “That color is cute. What is it?” I peer over at the pink bottle.

Grecia’s guilty smile tugs into a smirk and she wiggles her toes. “I’ll bring it up when I’m dry.”

“And I’ll call Bek and get her to bring coffee.” I give her a thumbs-up and head toward the stairs.

I’m not a bad boss. Really, I’m more like a fellow employee than anything. But all of my staff members know I will kick their asses if they screw around too much. If you’re between cases and have nothing to do, go online and shop. If you wanna do a coffee run, do a coffee run—just bring me one, by accounts of fairness. And, on meeting mornings, hit up Gigi’s in Austin before you come to work.

The bastards still charge me for gas money. Even Carlton has caught on to it now. The guys have allocated themselves days to get the cupcakes, I’m sure.

My butt has barely hit my chair when Dean pokes his head through my door.

“You seen the news?” he asks.

I frown. “I just got here. Why?”

He walks into my office, all six foot five, two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and snatches my remote control from my desk. TVs in each office were a recent expense, mostly for this reason. Dean turns mine on and flicks to the news channel. The words that fill the ticker at the bottom of my screen send chills down my spine.

SECOND TEEN MISSING.

I pinch my nose for a second and motion for Dean to turn it up.

“…of Holly Woods, Texas, was reported missing by her parents in the early hours when she failed to return from a weekend at her grandparents’ and they found her phone turned off when they tried to call. She was due to fly into Austin-Bergstrom International Airport from Dallas, where her boyfriend was due to give her a ride home. He says she never turned up, but the airline has confirmed she did check in for her flight and was on the plane. Police in Holly Woods have taken him in for questioning, but he isn’t believed to be a suspect at this time.” The reporter pauses then looks directly at the camera. “Melissa Samuel is sixteen years old, with long, blond hair, brown eyes, and stands five foot six feet tall. She’s believed to weigh around one hundred and ten pounds…”