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Laughter broke out among the guys, even though Linc saw Maria, the office secretary, rolling her eyes at her desk. She happened to glance over at the same moment and locked eyes with Linc. They both gave each other a meaningfully blank stare, and Linc had to resist a laugh. Maria was newly married and very proud of it, showing off her new hyphenated last name and big sparkly diamond ring with enthusiasm. But since getting married, her already low tolerance for the boys’ talk around the office had gone down considerably. She was professional, and she adored the guys on the force like they were her own brothers, but Linc always found it amusing to see her reactions now that she was a married woman.
Linc was always observant; he tended to listen more than he spoke. He could look fully focused in his own little world on the outside, but on the inside, he was vigilant. Thoughtful. He caught details. He noticed how people reacted differently to Seth and to him. They both commanded a lot of respect, but Seth made people laugh, and Linc made them feel protected. They made a great team for this reason, especially when dealing with vulnerable victims of crime, nervous witnesses, or even frightened criminals themselves.
“Granger, Malone,” called out a deep, gruff voice from across the office.
Linc stood up. He and Seth both turned to face the voice, looking suddenly very serious. It was Lieutenant Pearce, their superior officer, beckoning them to come into his office. The others quickly went quiet and took their seats.
“Quick chat,” the lieutenant said.
Seth and Linc nodded and went straight to his office, closing the door behind them. The lieutenant sat down in his desk chair and looked at them with an easy smile.
“You’re not in trouble, boys,” he said. “But what’s this I hear about a scene last night at the Miami Blues? Fill me in.”
“Of course, sir,” Linc said.
He launched into a thorough explanation of the night’s events, sanitized ever so slightly for professional reasons. Seth added and confirmed details, and Lieutenant Pearce nodded slowly through it all.
“Right. Thank you for the report,” Pearce said. “Well, it sounds like it may very well have been a one-off event. Just a couple of kids who couldn’t hold their drink. But there have been some whispers, you know. Rumors, anonymous tips now and again.”
Linc frowned. “About Gentry Hays?”
“About Miami Blues,” the lieutenant corrected. “Nothing concrete, and it could lead nowhere. But just in case, I want you two to keep an eye on things. Check in. Keep it low-key, but make your observations. Go with your gut.”
“We’ll keep you updated,” Seth promised.
“Good. Well, that’s it. You’re dismissed,” the lieutenant said warmly.
“Thank you, sir,” they said together.
The pair of them walked out and Seth immediately turned to look at Linc with that familiar gleam in his green eyes. He was fighting back a grin.
“What?” Linc asked, amused.
“Now we have an official reason to go back to Miami Blues tonight,” he replied in an undertone. “That is, if you’re still interested.”
“I am,” Linc answered quickly—a little faster than he meant to.
But Seth just looked pleased. “Great. We can go there, make our ‘observations’ as the lieutenant requested, and maybe catch a song or two. Hell, I’ll stay all night. I have Sundays off, so I don’t mind being out late.”
He clapped Linc on the shoulder and walked away, a spring in his step. Throughout the rest of the day, Linc felt conflicted. On the one hand, he was secretly ecstatic at the thought of seeing Gentry again. On the other hand, he was a rule-follower. He played things by the book, and one lesson he learned early on in his career was to maintain a hard boundary between business and pleasure. But if the lieutenant wanted him there… well, he would just have to toe the line carefully. He had lots of observations to make, and some hard questions to answer.
There was no other option; he was going to see Gentry sing tonight.
7
Gentry
Gentry sat in front of the mirror in her dressing room, quietly doing vocal warm-ups while she put on makeup and fixed her hair. Her voice, so bright and powerful when she belted out a note onstage, sounded delicate as gossamer as it danced up and down the scales. Although the dressing room was located in the small warehouse area behind the stage in the blues lounge, it was close enough to the stage that Gentry tried to keep her voice low. She didn’t want any chance of the audience hearing her warm up, or to interrupt whatever act was playing on the stage. So she trilled and warbled in a soft voice, opening up her chest and getting the sensual flow of the blues in her veins. Her cinnamon-brown eyes flicked up to the mirror as her rosebud lips formed anO. Dark lashes fluttered slightly as she tilted her pretty face in the ring of warm light around the mirror.
Still singing in a breathy undertone, she picked up a blush brush and a peachy-pink blush with a bit of golden shimmer to it. She popped the blush open and blotted some of the fragile powder on the soft bristles, gave it a gentle tap on the edge of the counter, and raised the brush to her face. She patted it on the rounded apples of her cheeks, then traded it out for a tube of mascara. She hummed to herself as she meticulously combed over her lashes, making her lovely eyes even more striking. She gave herself a little shine of rosy-red lipstick and moved on to her hair. She had braided her long brown hair in the morning, and now it was time to unbraid it. She found this process weirdly soothing, separating each entwined loop until her locks fell in loose, glossy, perfect waves. It cascaded around her shoulders and rested on the pink polka-dot fabric of her dress. She smiled at her reflection. She looked pretty good, in her own opinion.
But her appearance wasn’t the main attraction. At least, not if she had any say in the matter. As nice as it was for people to think she was beautiful, Gentry was far more interested in showing them she was talented. Anyone could put on a pretty dress, do their hair, put on some makeup, and look good in the lights. Gentry wanted to woo the audience with the power of music. She wanted to take them all by the hand and lead them off into the clouds, on a journey through space and time. She wanted to tell them stories of love and adventure and heartbreak and longing, so they could hear the raw emotion in her voice and feel it too. That was the true beauty of performing. There was nothing more inspiring to Gentry than a good song.
Well, except for maybe a killer kiss. The kind that made her toes curl.
But she hadn’t received one of those in a long time. In fact, when she looked back on the tepid romances she’d experienced in the past, she wondered if any of the men had ever kissed her like that. Maybe it was just in her mind.
Maybe she was too much of a hopeless romantic. Too much of the blues.
