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Deirdre Maple was watching him closely, her green eyes curious, knowing. And suspicious. She didn't trust Nik at all, and that was probably a good thing. It was a quality Mikayla should have developed before she let him into her bed. Not that he had any intention of betraying her, but she was so fucking trusting.
"The car was a late-model Civic," Deirdre stated as Mikayla continued to hold on to him. "Maryland plates." She quickly rattled off the first three numbers. "It was a grayish or silver color, hard to tell in the low light." She nodded to the busy street. "They shot up a side road and disappeared rather than continuing on Washington Street."
"I didn't see anything but the glass exploding into the shop." Mikayla pulled.
"I was watching the street." Deirdre shrugged. "Since the last time someone tried to gun you down, I've been trying to watch things better. I saw the guy stick his arm out the window toward our window, but I didn't see the gun and I didn't see his face." In the low light, it would have been easy at that angle to miss the gun, Nik thought as he turned and stared out the door.
"This is crazy," Mikayla whispered as she moved back only as far as Nik allowed her to go. "Why try to kill me now? I've been questioning people for weeks."
"Because you're getting too close," he snarled. "For God's sake, you have to stop this!"
It was a warning to him as well, Nik knew. A warning to back off, just as that first shooting had been a warning to Mikayla. To back off the investigation.
"And here's our friendly neighborhood Detective Dumbass," Deirdre's tone was nearly a sneer as several police cars pulled up as well as an unmarked car. Detective Robert Denover stepped from the unmarked vehicle, his bald head shining dully i
n the overhead lights as he propped his hands on his hips and stared at the front of the shop with a frown.
Deirdre moved back to Mikayla's side as Nik slowly stepped away from her to meet the detective as he entered the shop.
"Ms. Martin." He nodded back to Mikayla before his gaze swung to Nik, his gray eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Mr. Steele. I'm surprised to see you here." Mikayla's gaze flickered between Nik and the detective. "You know Detective Denover?" she asked him faintly.
"We've met." Nik nodded shortly. "He's investigating the Foreman murder as well."
Mikayla knew that, and she wasn't pleased with the efforts she knew he had put in on that investigation. He had been almost insulting the night she had reported the murder once she had told him who she saw.
Denover gazed around the shop, shaking his head before turning back to the officers behind him. "Find the bullet," he ordered them with a hint of frustration. "Get the statements. I'll go over your reports when I get back to the office in the morning." He turned to leave.
114
"You'll take care of this yourself." Nik wasn't about to let him leave without properly investigating the matter. He'd just about had enough of this bastard's attitude.
"You'll do it, or I'll make certain your chief hears about your neglect." The detective's lips curled mockingly. "He won't be surprised."
"But he may well be surprised when federal agents descend on his office with an investigation into how he's running it," Nik offered with mocking pleasantry. "I can arrange that, Denover. And I will arrange it."
He had every intention of arranging it anyway once this was finished. Mikayla wasn't being protected and Foreman's death wasn't being investigated as it should be. The fact that Maddix was good friends with both the mayor as well as the police chief and doing business with the city had given him a cachet he shouldn't have possessed. Denover's lips tightened as he threw Mikayla an irritated look. Shaking his head, he proceeded to at least oversee the search for the bullet and the statements Mikayla and Deirdre gave.
As they finished, Mikayla's father's pickup pulled in outside and the entire family spilled from the crew cab of the vehicle. Three brothers, a furious father, and a concerned mother.
For a moment, deja vu whipped through Nik. His parents had arrived at his home in a similar manner, his brothers and sisters close behind, the night his wife and daughter had died. They had gathered around him; they had sworn to support him. Until he'd gone against several politicians in his determination to find the men responsible for his wife's and daughter's murders. It was then that his family had turned their backs on him. Mikayla's family hadn't turned their backs on her when they saw how difficult the fight was, though. They were there. Her brothers lifted sheets of plywood from the back of the truck while her parents rushed inside.
"Nik." Ramsey Martin nodded in his direction as his wife, Jorrey, rushed to Mikayla's side. "I want to take her home."
It was a similar conversation that had been conducted the last time someone had shot at Mikayla.
"She's not a child." Nik shook his head. "Whatever Mikayla decides, I'll help her. But it's her decision."
"And I'm not moving back in with my parents." Mikayla pulled back from her mother's embrace with a frown. "I told all of you that." Ramsey dug the fingers of one hand into the back of his neck in frustration, worry and love apparent on his face, in his dark gray eyes.
"Mikayla, someone is trying to kill you," her mother argued.
"If someone was trying to kill me then I'd be dead," Mikayla pointed out, and Nik couldn't help but agree with her. "Someone is trying to scare me, and though they're doing a damned good job of it, I'm not running away and hiding." Mikayla said "Damned." Nik stared at her in surprise, as it seemed her parents did as well. Mikayla just simply never cursed.
"They're going to get serious," Ramsey protested. "I don't want to have to bury my own daughter, Mikayla. I'd appreciate it if you'd hang around long enough to make certain your brothers pay for my funeral."
Mikayla's lips twitched as she glanced at Nik. "He swears my brothers will sell his business and live high on the money for the few days it will last." 115
"Few hours," Ramsey snorted as he turned and looked at the three young men working quickly to close the front opening where the window had been. "And that's beside the point. The point is, this isn't going to work. I don't like knowing some bastard is shooting at my daughter."
