Page 27 of Dead Drift

She wondered if he’d thought of her as she had of him over the years—daily, nearly hourly. His kiss the first night back . . . She exhaled, shifting in her seat. It’d been some kiss.

Frustration seared through her. She was a strong, independent woman, but somehow he frazzled her brain and muddled her thoughts. Somehow she’d regrouped after he’d left, focusing all her energy into finding him. Now that she had found him, or rather he’d found her, what did she do with all the energy coursing through her? With all the emotions rattling inside?

It crushed her when he left the first time, and he’d surely made no promise to stick around this time. How would she handle his leaving again? She had weathered the crushing blow of his disappearance, but it’d nearly killed her. She had no desire to go through that again.

Her chest tightened, her breath constricting.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing over as he shifted lanes.

“Fine. Why?” The nanosecond the loaded question left her lips she knew she’d screwed up. Fine. Always leave it at fine.

He studied her before turning his eyes back to the road. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine.” This time she left it there and shifted her focus out the window for the remainder of the ride but felt her eyes widen as they pulled into a tattoo parlor lot.

Kate furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”

Luke pulled the keys from the ignition. “I’m getting a tattoo.”

She frowned. “What does this have to do with the case?”

“My local handler informed me that the guy who runs this place, Hank, also rents out his vehicles to Ebeid’s and Stallings’ men.”

“Oh.” Declan had recently discovered that Max Stallings and Ebeid used the same cargo ship to smuggle in their contraband—Ebeid for weapons, parts, and most frighteningly, terrorists. Max smuggled weapons, but even more horrifyingly, modern-day slaves.

There was no point in Luke’s going directly to Max or his man Lennie—neither of them would talk. Declan had tried and couldn’t get anything out of them. A tattoo artist was often like a barber. They talked while they worked. And if Luke played the role right and asked the right questions . . .

Luke stepped from the car and walked around it, opening the passenger door for her. “By the way, I’m Garrett Beck, and you’re my girlfriend, Jasmine. If you get the opportunity, casually ask if you can get a consult with Tanya. She’s the owner’s wife. You might be able to get something out of her.”

He took hold of her hand as they strode across the paved parking lot to the set of glass double doors painted in fantastic, colorful mandala patterns. His skin felt so good pressed to hers. She struggled to breathe.

“Just say you aren’t sure what you want, but you’ve heard she’s great at custom designs.”

She nodded. “Got it,” she said, trying to ignore his touch. She already had a tattoo in mind, had for a while. She’d just never taken the step to get it.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said before opening the door.

“What’s that?”

“Remember we’re in love.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.

Heat rushed through her limbs. What had she gotten herself into?

13

Detective Crest?” Griffin asked the man before him.

The tall, slender man about Griffin’s age looked up from his desk. “Yes?”

Griffin extended his hand. “Detective McCray,” he said. “We spoke on the phone.”

“Right.” Crest stood and shook his hand. “Your timing couldn’t be better.”

Griffin arched a brow in confusion. “How do you mean?”

“I just got a call. Two women out walking along the river discovered human remains.”

“Do you think it’s our killer?”