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Salem laughed. “As much fun as that sounds, I don’t know if it would be effective. Besides, I like working at the Bureau. I like thinking I can make a difference on a more global scale. And the fact is, Craigie is just smart enough to know what to put in my file so I can’t turn this back on him. Besides, he didn’t fire me; he transferred me, which he is completely within his rights to do.”
“But Alaska? What are you going to do, catch drunken idiots shooting reindeer out of season?”
“Actually, that’s more the purview of the State Police and Parks Department. I’ll still be doing my same job. You know that what I really want is a European posting. Maybe up in Anchorage I’ll have a boss that sees women as equals, and eventually I’ll get that.” Dani arched her eyebrow and gave Salem a mild stink eye, to which Salem held up her hands defensively. “Hey, a girl can always hope.”
As they finished dinner, Salem noticed Warrick speaking to their waitress. “I think someone is paying your bill.”
Dani turned and smiled. Warrick really treated Dani well and must be hell on wheels in the sack, as Dani was positively radiant around him.
“Knowing Warrick, he’s paying your bill, too…”
Salem growled. “He doesn’t need to do that.”
“Thus, why he intercepted her. Face it, this time he outmaneuvered you.”
Dani had a point. The last time the three of them had gone out, Salem had done the same thing. She grinned. In fact, she’d done it in the same restaurant. Warrick caught Salem’s eye and pointed his finger at her and gestured as though it was a gun. Salem laughed. The guy was dominant, possessive, careful with Dani’s safety, and could be overbearing. But he was hard to dislike.
They left their table and joined Warrick just outside the pub. He grinned and said, “Gotcha.”
“This isn’t over,” Salem said in a mock-threatening tone of voice.
“Come on, Dani, we’ll walk Salem to her place and then head home.”
“I can get back to my loft on my own. She may have to put up with your overly protective ways, but I don’t get the offset of having you rock my world each and every night.”
Dani stepped between them. “All right you two, that’s enough. Warrick, Salem is quite capable of taking care of herself and getting home. She doesn’t live far. If you let it go and take the win for paying the bill, I’ll give you a blow job when we get home.”
“The things you do for a friend,” laughed Salem. “You’re too good to me.”
“Not that good,” quipped Warrick. “She was going to do that anyway.”
Salem laughed. “God, you’re awful. I don’t know why she puts up with you.”
“As you said, I rock her world every chance I get. Are you sure you’ll be safe?” he asked.
“I am, but thanks, Warrick. And Dani, make him give you an orgasm for me.”
Dani looked at the small group of patrons who had stopped to watch the verbal sparring—some were amused; others were aghast. Dani flashed her badge, “Seattle PD. Nothing to see here, move along.” The people disbanded and Dani shook her head. “I swear to god, I’m not taking the two of you out in public anymore.”
Warrick chuckled and leaned over to kiss Salem’s cheek before silencing Dani with a far more passionate kiss—downright swoon worthy and it didn’t stop until Dani melted into him. “Sorry, Salem. We’ll behave better in the future, won’t we, beloved?”
“Speak for yourself,” teased Salem. “You two go on. My place isn’t far and has one of the lowest crime rates in the city. And the last time I checked, I’d taken more than a few self-defense classes.”
“Besides, if I know Salem,” said Dani, “she’s still carrying Mr. Pointy.”
“Mr. Pointy?” asked Warrick, confused.
Sometimes, Salem wondered where Warrick had been raised. There were so many cultural references that just went over his head. How could anybody who lived through the turn of the 21st century not know Mr. Pointy was Buffy’s weapon of choice in the cult classic Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Salem had been a huge fan of Buffy’s skills, and by the time she entered the Bureau’s mandatory self-defense classes at Quantico, could take down all of the instructors.
One of her fellow trainees who hailed from Kodiak Island up in Alaska—and who was the one bright spot in being assigned to Anchorage—had given her a set of six beautiful hand-carved stakes as a kind of combination joke and thank you. She’d tutored him in some of his classes. The stakes were quite beautiful and had been made by a cousin or brother. The man apparently was known worldwide for his handmade climbing tools—ice axes, in particular.
She’d begun carrying one at all times with her in her bag because… why not? After all, you never knew when you were going to need a wooden stake, and it was a great conversation starter. She’d used it for one purpose or the other over the years and it had become something of a trademark for her.
Heading towards her loft, she moved the stake from her bag to her pocket, keeping her hand on the grip. The general area might be safe, but it was dark, and Seattle was a big city. Salem had put her gun in her gun safe earlier in the afternoon. Removing her gun from the safe, putting it in her holster, and carrying it in her bag had seemed like a lot of bother for dinner with a friend a short walk from her loft. Instead, she relied on the fact that one of her Mr. Pointies was safely tucked into the special sleeve she’d had sewn into her leather Coach hobo bag.
As she walked along the sidewalk, the hair along the back of her neck began to rise—her hackles, if she’d been an animal. It was an instinctual warning system that even humans in today’s technologically driven day and age hadn’t quite dispensed entirely with.
Hearing someone step out from a darkened doorway, she noticed the streetlamps were all out, leaving only the faint ambient light that came from windows with their blinds or curtains drawn. She picked up her pace and listened acutely as whoever was behind matched her speed.
