Page 18 of Entranced
She pulled out a nickel-plated 38.
“A cop!” Bobby nearly screeched the words, while Eddie’s face settled into a thoughtful frown. “Jeez, Eddie, she’s a cop!”
“There you go. Don’t,” she warned as Bobby edged to the door. “Just have a seat, Bobby. On the floor there. And sit on your hands, will you?”
“You bitch,” Eddie said, in a considering voice that put Mel on guard. “I should’ve smelled cop.”
“I’m private,” she told him. “That might be the reason.” She gestured with the gun. “Let’s take it outside, Eddie.”
“No woman’s going to double-cross me—gun or no gun.”
He lunged.
She didn’t want to shoot him. She really didn’t. He wasn’t anything more than a fat, second-rate thief, and he didn’t deserve a bullet. Instead, she twisted, veering left and counting on her speed and agility and his beer-induced sluggishness.
He missed and rammed headlong into a twenty-five-inch screen. Mel wasn’t sure who was the victor, but the screen cracked like an egg, and Eddie went down hard.
There was a sound behind her. When she whirled she had time to see Sebastian wrap an arm around Bobby’s throat. One quick squeeze had him dropping the hammer he’d been lifting over Mel’s head.
“It probably wouldn’t have made a dent,” Sebastian said between his teeth as Bobby crumpled bonelessly to the concrete floor. “You didn’t tell me you had a gun.”
“I didn’t think I had to. You’re supposed to be psychic.”
Sebastian picked up the hammer, tapping it gently against his palm. “Keep it up, Sutherland.”
She merely shrugged and took another look at the loot. “Nice haul. Why don’t you go call the cops? I’ll keep an eye on these two.”
“Fine.” He was sure it was too much to expect her to thank him for saving her from a concussion, or worse. The best he could do was slam the door behind him.
***
It was nearly an hour later when Sebastian stood by and watched Mel sitting on the hood of her car. She was going over the fine details with what appeared to be a very disgruntled detective.
Haverman, Sebastian remembered. He’d run into him once or twice.
Then he dismissed the cop and concentrated on Mel.
She’d pulled off the earrings and was still rubbing her lobes from time to time. Most of the goo on her face had been wiped off with tissue. Her unpainted mouth and naturally flushed cheeks made a devastating contrast with the big, heavy-lidded eyes.
Pretty? Had he granted her pretty? Sebastian wondered. Hell, she was gorgeous. In the right light, at the right angle, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Then she might turn and be merely mildly attractive again.
That held an odd and disturbing sort of magic.
But he didn’t care how she looked, he reminded himself. He didn’t care, because he was plenty peeved. She’d dragged him into this. It didn’t matter that he’d volunteered to come along. Once he had, she’d set the rules, and he’d had plenty of time to decide he didn’t like them.
She’d gone alone into that storage building with a man built like two fullbacks. And she’d had a gun. No little peashooter, either, but a regular cannon.
What the hell would she have done if she’d had to use it? Or—Lord—if that mountain of betrayed lust had gotten it away from her?
“Look,” Mel was saying to Haverman. “You’ve got your sources, I’ve got mine. I got a tip. I followed it up.” She was moving her shoulders carelessly, but, oh, she was enjoying this. “You’ve got no beef with me, Lieutenant.”
“I want to know who put you on to this, Sutherland.” It was a matter of principle for him. He was a cop, after all, arealcop. Not only was she a PI, she was a female PI. It just plain grated on him.
“And I don’t have to tell you.” Then her lips quirked, because the idea was so beautiful, so inspired. “But, since we’re pals, I’ll clue you in.” She jerked her thumb toward Sebastian. “He did.”
“Sutherland …” Sebastian began.
“Come on, Donovan, what does it hurt?” This time she smiled and brought him in on the joke. “This is Lieutenant Haverman.”
