I dragged my gaze up to catch the alert eyes of the guy who watched my approach. He was decent-looking—in a prick kinda way that said he knew it. For a brief second, I wondered if they were on a date. It wouldn’t be the first—or even thousandth—time a couple snuck away to find a hookup spot.
But nothing about them screamed romance. Not unless coordinating suits revved their engines.
The tension bunching her shoulders was also a tip-off.
Tension that heightened when I spoke before the prick could alert her of my presence. “Can I help you with something?”
She spun to face me, her big brown eyes widening in recognition.
I liked that.
I liked it a whole fuckuva lot that I wasn’t the only one who remembered our brief meeting.
She masked it quickly and was all business when she asked, “Are you the owner?”
I lifted my chin.
Flashing a badge, she made a rushed introduction that wasn’t needed. “I’m Detective Oscar. This is Detective Matthews. What’s behind this door?”
“Stock room.”
“Can you unlock it?”
My instincts must’ve been working on a damn delay thanks to the distraction of seeing her, but at her questions, unease prickled at the back of my neck. My gut echoed the apprehension. With all the bullshit I’d been dealing with, it wasunlikely that she simply wanted to see what brands of liquor I served.
“Why?” I asked.
“We just want to have a look around,” Matthews answered. Contrary to his words, he didn’t seem too eager to do anything. He looked bored.
She, on the other hand, looked antsy as fuck as her watchful gaze darted around like she expected an ambush.
“Do you have a warrant?” I asked.
Detective Oscar arched a brow. “Do we need a warrant?”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“Are you going to answer my questions with something other than another question?”
Christ, she’s pretty when she’s irritated.
I remained silent as I folded my arms across my chest and waited.
Usually, my glower was enough to have whoever blurting their secrets.
The detective seemed like she was fighting an eye roll.
I had no idea if it was my expression or the fact he wanted to hurry this shit along, but her companion folded on her behalf.
“Someone called in a tip,” he said.
My gut clenched tighter. “What was it?”
It was their turn to remain tight-lipped.
Not that it mattered, and I told them as much. “Whatever it was, it’s bullshit like the other calls.”
“Calls? Plural?” he asked.
