Chapter Twelve

A sharp knock at the door made Emmet look at his watch.

“Hang on,” he told Owen over the phone. “I think my food’s here.”

“I’ll let you go. I just wanted to hear how it went. Sorry it was another dead end.”

“We’ll hit it again tomorrow.”

Emmet left his phone on the coffee table and went to the door. He was surprised to find Nicole standing there.

“Hi.” She looked him up and down and bit her lip. He’d changed into sweats and a T-shirt as soon as he walked in, but she was dressed the same as earlier in her LBPD windbreaker, and clearly she hadn’t been home yet. “Is it too late?”

“Not at all.”

“I wanted to update you.”

He pulled the door back. “Sure. I’m watching the game.”

She stepped inside. “So, I tracked down the superintendent at the building and—”

“Hang on,” he said as a dinged white car pulled up to the curb. Emmet waited for the delivery guy to come up the sidewalk, then tipped him and brought the pizza into the kitchen. He set the warm box down and opened the lid, and the smell of Italian sausage filled the room.

“Want some?” he asked.

She eyed the pizza and gave a little sigh. “No, thanks.”

He pulled the slices apart as she stepped over to look at the framed picture on the wall.

“This is new.” She studied the poster-size photograph of the Grand Canyon at sunset. “Where’d you get it?”

“It’s from my trip last summer. Remember, I went rafting with Calvin and Kyle?”

She turned around, eyes wide. “You took this?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you were a photographer.”

“I’m not. I took it with my phone.” He handed her a plate with a slice of pizza on it. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“You look hungry.”

He walked over to the couch and sat down in front of the basketball game. The Rockets were up two on the Lakers in Los Angeles.

Nicole shrugged off her windbreaker and draped it over the sofa. Then she set her plate on the coffee table and took the seat right beside him. It was either that or drag a bar stool over from the kitchen.

“So, what’s the update?” He folded his pizza in half and took a bite.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you—” She touched his arm. “I talked to Chris Wakefield tonight, and I was right about him.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she told him this.

“The runner in black.”

“Yeah.” She plucked a bite of sausage from her slice and popped it into her mouth. “He came by the station.”

“When?”

“Tonight around nine? Turns out, he wasn’t running on the beach at Lighthouse Point Saturday evening at six. That was his cover story for his wife. He was busy getting his Valentine from some other woman.”

Emmet shook his head. “Sounds like you called it.”

“I know.” She sighed, and the light in her eyes dimmed. “But that wasn’t what I came by to tell you.”

He waited, watching as she made a pile of black olives on the side of her plate.

“So, I tracked down the superintendent of the building,” she said. “This guy put me in touch with the property manager who told me that unit 149 is a sublet. An unauthorized sublet.”

“The landlord wasn’t aware of it?”

“Yeah, he’s never heard of Samuel Pacheco.” She took a bite of pizza, then licked sauce off the corner of her mouth. “But he gave me the name that’s on the lease, so in the morning I can reach out to her and see if she knows where her tenant went after he vacated. I’m hoping she got a security deposit from him, so maybe he gave her a forwarding address to send a check.”

“Nice work,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Emmet finished off his slice in two more bites, then offered her his glass of water.

“I’m good,” she said, focusing on the pizza she’d said she didn’t want. She had worked even later than he had today, and he felt a twinge of guilt—along with something else he didn’t want to put a label on.

“You know, I was thinking about what you said.” He set his empty plate on the table and looked her in the eye. “Sorry I got pissed earlier. You’re right—if it had been Owen I wouldn’t have reacted the same.”

She nodded. “I know that.”

“The thing is, you weigh—what?—a buck ten?”

“Um, no.”

“Well, whatever. I didn’t want you confronting some potentially violent asshole who’s probably been sitting around all night drinking.”

She set her plate on the table and slid a look at him. “You know, I did, in fact, attend the same police academy as you. And I did, in fact, learn how to handle potentially violent assholes like everyone else did.”

“Hey, I’m apologizing.”

“I accept.” She thrust her chin out, though, and he knew she was still ticked off.

He got up to get another slice of pizza. “Want more?”

“No, thanks.”

He stepped into the kitchen. Nicole had never been good at accepting apologies. She was so competitive all the time, especially with him.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He couldn’t see the screen, but she leaned over to look at it.

“A pineapple is calling you.”

He walked over and sent the call to voicemail, then sat down next to her again.

“You don’t want to get that?”

“No.”

“Sorry but have to ask.” She smirked. “Why the pineapple avatar?”

“I don’t know. She put that in there.” He flipped his phone over.

Nicole lifted an eyebrow and looked at the game.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She set her plate on the table and checked her watch. “You know, I should probably go.”

She started to get up, and he put his hand on her knee. “Eat. What’s the rush?”

“I don’t want to keep you from your booty call.”

“You’re not,” he said, getting annoyed. He started on the second slice of pizza. “Anyway, how’s David doing?”

She tensed. “Why?”

“Just asking.”

“I guess he’s good.” She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a week and a half. Well, outside of work, that is.”

Emmet watched her, trying to read her expression. “Why haven’t you seen him?”

“Because. He cancels about fifty percent of our plans.” She lifted a shoulder like it was no big deal, but it clearly bothered her. “Anyway, we’re supposed to have dinner tomorrow at Angelo’s, so...”

He waited for her to complete the thought. She didn’t.

“Sounds fancy,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “So, what’s the problem?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. We’ll see if it happens. I’m slammed, too, right now. This job isn’t exactly great for my social life.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “But that’s what I signed up for, right? I knew this job was a liability. No big surprise there.”

“It’s not that bad.”

She scoffed. “Not if you’re you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.”

He leaned closer, forcing her to make eye contact. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just different for the rest of you.”

“Rest of you...?”

“Don’t be dense, Emmet.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just... this is why my mom didn’t want me to be a cop. She said I’d never meet anyone and never get married. Oh, and she’d said I’d get shot, too. That was her other lovely prediction. She always worries I’m going to get hurt in the line of duty.”

He smiled slightly. “My mom says that, too. She acts like it’s a curse that I’m a cop and Calvin’s a firefighter.”

He watched Nicole’s eyes. She wouldn’t look at him, and he could tell she was uncomfortable with this topic, which only made him want to press her on it.

“So... explain it to me. How is your job a liability? I mean, besides the hours.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Men either think I’m gay or that I’m into some weird sex kink.”

“Men do not think you’re gay.”

She gave him a look as though he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Trust me, Nicole. They do not think that.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine, believe what you want.”

“Well, they definitely think the sex thing. I get all these weirdos. They either want—” She glanced at him and stopped. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about this.”

He guzzled some water to cool his throat.

“What about Travis Bowman,” he said. “You guys dated for a while, and he seems pretty normal.”

“No, you’re right—he’s normal. And also a cheater.”

He frowned. “Bowman?”

“He went to his brother’s bachelor party in New Orleans and met some girl. And then he told me it didn’t count because it was a bachelor party, and I was overreacting.”

Emmet looked at her. “He ‘met’ some girl? You’re saying he slept with her?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not overreacting.”

“I know that. God. Can we talk about something else?”

He set his plate on the table and studied her expression. Her cheeks were pink, and he could tell she was embarrassed to talk about this with him.

“Sorry.”

She laughed. “Why? You didn’t fuck some random woman in New Orleans.”

“Yeah, I mean just, you know, sorry in general. That guys can be dicks.”

A knock sounded at the door, and they both glanced over the back of the couch.

“One sec.” He got up to answer it, pretty sure it was Calvin coming to catch the end of the game.

It was.

“Hey, you watching the game?” Calvin asked.

“Yeah, it’s about to go into overtime.”

His brother looked past him. “Who is that?”

“Nicole.”

Calvin’s eyebrows arched with surprise.

“Hey, Calvin,” she called from the couch.

“Hey, Nicole. Sorry to interrupt. I knew Emmet would have the game on.”

“No worries. I was just leaving.”

Nicole walked over with her jacket folded over her arm.

“So, what’s up?” Calvin asked her.

“Nothing. We were just talking shop.” She looked at Emmet, and he had no trouble reading her expression. Don’t share any of that with your brother.

But Calvin was already making a beeline for the pizza.

“See you later,” she said as Calvin helped himself to two slices.

“Later.”

Emmet followed Nicole out, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Thanks for the update,” he said.

“Thanks for the food.”

He stared down at her in the yellow glow of the porch light. A wind gusted up, and she rubbed her arms.

He nodded at her jacket. “You should put that on.”

“I will.”

But she didn’t move. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and for a moment he was back inside her warm truck, trying to remember all the reasons kissing her would be a terrible idea. It was a long list, and one of the reasons was sitting on his couch right now.

Emmet stepped closer, tucking his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her.

“We didn’t finish our conversation,” he said.

“That’s all right. Not my favorite topic.”

He eased closer, wishing he could read the look in her eyes right now. A minute ago, she’d seemed embarrassed. But now he felt like she was thinking about something else. She gazed up at him with those bottomless brown eyes, and he wanted to just say to hell with everything and kiss her finally. What was the worst that could happen? Besides him making things eternally awkward with one of his best friends?

She could laugh at him—that would suck. Or she could remind him that she had a boyfriend. Or she could give him a hard shove. Nicole was very physical. They’d been sparring partners in a training exercise once, and he’d been turned on by the memory for weeks afterward.

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Get some sleep, Emmet.” She turned away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”