Page 6 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“Put your stuff in storage and move back in, peanut. This will always be your home,” Dad said, placing the hot sauce on the kitchen table.
I sighed. God was it tempting, but I was a big girl now. “I’ve almost saved enough money for a down payment on the Benson place. I love the house, and it has an acre lot.”
“You can live here rent free and you’ll have enough money by December to buy the place,” Mom pointed out.
“I wouldn’t feel right freeloading off you. You’ve done so much for me already.”
Mom hugged me tightly. “You’re the daughter of our hearts. Never forget that.”
“I won’t.” I kissed her cheek. “You literally saved my life.”
A muscle twitched in Dad’s cheek. “Your grandfather was granted an early release from prison for medical reasons.”
“What?” I dropped down on a kitchen chair. “How is that possible? He tried to kill you, and he was going to give me to that pervert.”
“He has liver cancer, and his jailhouse lawyer got him released for humanitarian reasons,” Dad said grimly.
I threw my hands up in disgust. “Humanitarian reasons? Seriously? I still think he had something to do with my parents’ deaths.”
“The Alpha Dogs could never find any evidence to prove that sweetie,” Mom replied.
“I know.” Gemma and I had made several trips to Albuquerque to talk to witnesses, and the arson investigator, but we never found any new evidence.
Mom placed a plate with a Mexican omelet and toast in front of me. “Eat up. You’re on duty in forty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I dug into the omelet. God was she a good cook.
Someone banged on the kitchen door. “Let go of my pants, you little furball.”
Crap! That was Sergeant Bergman, and he didn’t sound happy. I jumped up.
“I’ve got it,” Mom said and hurried over to the door.
Dad growled, “That cat is a menace.”
“That cat is family.” Mom opened the door. The kitten was clinging to Sergeant Bergman’s left leg. “Off, Miss Kitty.”
Miss Kitty zoomed into the kitchen and jumped onto the table.
I grabbed her before she could help herself to Dad’s omelet. “Bad kitty.”
Mom took the dirty, white kitten from me. “What did you get into?”
“Looks like manure,” Dad drawled.
I looked down at my hands. Damn, it was. With a sigh, I headed for the kitchen sink.
“I’ll deal with you later.” Mom stuck Miss Kitty in the pantry. She meowed loudly in protest.
Sergeant Bergman let out a long breath. “I need to borrow some coffee and a lint brush.”
I opened a drawer next to the sink, pulled out the lint brush and handed it to him.
“Thanks.” The sarge brushed away the long, white hairs clinging to his pants.
I washed my hands. “Wasn’t it Sergeant Denson’s turn to buy coffee?”
“It was, but he got tied up on that ten car pileup.”
