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I hear her chuckle as the engine roars to life. This woman slays me.
There isn’t a lot of traffic as we drive across town. I stay away from the major thoroughfares to avoid the throngs of tourists already arriving into the city for Mardi Gras, which is in eight days.
“What do you think this one was?” Dominique asks, her voice almost monotone. I can’t blame her.
It would be a completely stupid question to ask, About what? But I almost do. Because it is a pretty open-ended question.
I tap a finger against the steering wheel as I consider what I’m going to respond with first. She’s tired, we’re both tired. The other night was some out-of-this-world shit, and today was just completely fucked up. It’s been quite a week.
“First, I believe now more than ever, these are completely related to The Seven Deadly Sins. The question is, which one was this?”
She’s still watching the city pass us by through the window. “I agree. This one happening at a church solidified it for me. That’s why I want to talk to the sergeant. Working alone is great…”
“You’re not alone. I’m here,” I correct her.
She turns to face me, and her smile is soft and genuine. And it says thank you. I think so anyway. I give her a wink. I don’t comment, just appreciate the moment.
“Working as an independent has its perks,” she begins again, this time with a smile in her voice. “However, there are drawbacks. Like not being able to bounce ideas and theories off the rest of the team.”
We’re about a block away from the station. Even though it’s about nine at night, chances are good the sergeant is still there. Everyone is on overtime because of the murders.
“You want to tell him your theory?” I signal at the light.
From the corner of my eye, I can tell Dominique is scanning the area, searching for anything that might look suspicious. She’s looking for the killer. “I want to tell him our theory.”
Maybe it’s a little macho male pride, but that makes me want to beat on my chest.
“It’s all you, babe, we just seemed to agree on it.” I turn into the parking lot of the precinct, and not surprisingly, it’s full. I slide into a space and turn off the car.
“Yes, but I have a feeling the killer following me to your house is not by chance. Everything a serial killer does is calculated.” Dominique gathers her things, her notebook and the camera, and gets out of the car.
I hate to admit it, but I agree with her. I exit the vehicle, lock it, and reach her in front of the car. With a hand at her back, we walk toward the entrance. “I don’t think the sergeant is going to let me be a guest at your party. I don’t wear the same uniform.”
I hold the door open for her, and instantly the loud hum of activity assaults us as we enter the building. The place is a storm of controlled chaos.
“Yes, but you are part of the emergency responders who are involved with the crimes.” She turns to face me in front of the door that has Sgt. Harris printed on it. The glint of mischief is back in her eyes, and that is the best thing I’ve seen all day. “Don’t forget you are Beauchamp. That alone apparently comes with its own benefits.”
I tip my head back and laugh as I slip an arm around her waist and pull her close. She doesn’t push me away to stop the public display of affection we’re obviously giving everyone in the squad room, and there are a shit ton of people. “Benefits that I’m going to enjoy in every way.”
She places her hands on my chest as she arches a brow over one of her mesmerizing steel blue eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re spoiled? Because you most certainly are.”
I dip my face and place a kiss on her forehead. “As a matter of fact, they have, but ask me if I give shit.”
She shoves me away and chuckles, “You’re incorrigible.” She taps on the door.
“Funny. Your Aunt Hattie told me the same thing.”
“Yeah!” a male voice bellows from the other side of the door.
“I bet she did,” Dominique mumbles as she opens the door and leads us inside. The man behind the desk looks like he’s one bad news report away from a heart attack. A decent looking middle-aged man who’s got Too-Much-Fucking-Stress written all over him. I close the door behind us.“Sergeant, this is Ignatius Beauchamp. We just left the crime scene.”
He tips his head to peer at me standing behind Dominique. “And who gave you the goddamn authority to take my detective into a burning building?” The man snarls, the vein that feeds down the center of his slightly receding hairline looks like it’s going to burst.
“My captain did,” I reply unbothered. This guy does not matter even one little shit to me.
His brows shoot together as he stares me down. Finally, he straightens, and his gaze returns to Dominique. “You okay, Detective? I bet it was a shit-show in there.”
She takes a seat as she looks back at me over her shoulder and motions for me to take the one next to her. “Yes, I’m fine. It was definitely a shock when I first walked in. But it was good to get in before anything was touched.”
