Page 68 of Liar's Point

Emmet leaned in. “And we’re having this conversation because even after you got your ass kicked last year, you still insist on going it alone all the time.”

Her cheeks flushed. She didn’t like being reminded of being jumped by two guys when she’d been touring a crime scene last year. Emmet had given her hell for going over there alone late at night, and she’d admitted it was a tactical error. But he never missed a chance to bring it up again.

“I told you,” she said, “I was going to ask Owen to come.”

“Right.”

“I was!”

“Nicole, please. I know you. You were on your way over here by yourself, and if I hadn’t insisted on coming, you’d be out here on your own again walking into who the hell knows what.”

She stared at him, fuming. Why couldn’t he just take her at her word? She had been planning to ask Owen to come out here with her. Maybe it wasn’t the first thing she’d been thinking about when she called him about this lead, but she would have asked him. And if she hadn’t, he would have suggested it.

She turned away as her eyes burned with tears of frustration. What the hell? Why was she getting emotional, and in front of Emmet, of all people? She hated that he refused to forget about her mistakes.

“Nicole.”

She looked at him.

“Let’s just do this together, okay?” His voice was softer now. “No more arguing.”

“Fine.”

“We’re not in competition.”

She started to disagree but stopped herself. She often felt like she was in competition with him. But maybe that was just her. She was the only female detective on the squad, and she constantly felt pressure to prove herself.

Silence settled over them as Emmet watched her. The only sound was the whisper of wind buffeting the truck, and the air felt charged suddenly. Emmet’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and her stomach did a nosedive.

No.

No possible way was he thinking about this now.

He lifted his gaze, and a jolt of yearning went through her. Something in his expression made her think he felt it, too. Surely she was reading this wrong. But his eyes were locked on hers, and he was so close she could feel his body heat.

He turned and opened the door.

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm, and he turned around. “We didn’t decide on a plan.”

He shook his head. “We’ll scope it out and see.”

He got out of the truck. Nicole did, too. She locked the doors from inside to avoid making a noisy chirp with her key fob.

Emmet stepped onto the sidewalk and looked at the building. His posture was tense, and his hands were loose and ready at his sides as they started down the path.

“It’s just around back, two from the end,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I looked at a site map of the place.” She glanced around, noting the rows of cars in the poorly lit parking lot. There was a guy parked on the end, sitting behind the wheel, his face illuminated by a phone. And she noticed a woman in a patch of grass on the corner. She had a phone in one hand and a leash in the other as her dog squatted near the sidewalk.

“No lights,” Emmet said, nodding at the second door from the end, number 149.

The two windows that belonged to that unit were dark.

Emmet walked up the sidewalk of the neighboring apartment. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a flashlight, then cut across the lawn and strode right up to the window.

What was he doing? She hissed his name, but he waved her off. Nearing the window, he leaned close and peered in, as though he might see through the mini-blinds.

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