Kira Sinclair – Rescue Me (страница 8)
Dade grunted. “Do you have security cameras?”
Crap. Something dark started squirming through her belly. There was no telling what they’d find on her security footage. She normally scanned through the tapes with Wyatt every couple weeks, but they hadn’t had a chance lately. It was entirely possible they’d discover the drugs falling from her pocket in that fight.
There was no good way to explain that, at least not at this point. Anything she said would look like a lie to cover her own ass.
The only way she was turning over the security footage was if she viewed it first.
“Yes, I have cameras, but they don’t cover the entire place,” she hedged. “I record the parking lots, front and back, all entrances, including the one employees use. I have a couple strategically placed on high traffic areas and the back stock room, just in case of theft. But the bar is too big to have cameras covering every square inch, and there’s also a little issue called privacy.”
“Still, we might get lucky and find something useful.”
Tucker tried to keep her posture and voice level. “I’ll ask my head of security to pull the footage together for you. Might take a couple days. Weekends are our busiest time.”
She tried not to squirm, but it was difficult beneath Finn’s strong, steady gaze. She didn’t like the way he was watching her.
Or maybe that was just her own guilty conscience projecting.
Finn shifted. “Listen, Tucker. This isn’t just about a drug dealer. There’s been a trend of deaths from people ODing on crystal meth over the past eight months. A joint task force has been formed to try and find the source of the drugs and shut it down.”
Her eyes flitted to Duchess. “And you’re involved.”
“Duchess and I have some unique skills and we’ve been temporarily assigned to the team. We want to find these guys just as much as the police.”
Tucker let her gaze swing between the three men leaning against her bar. The expressions on their faces made her belly dip. Dade stared hard at her, as if he could force her to do whatever he wanted by sheer force of will. Simmons’s face was half cajoling and half apology.
Finn’s expression was shuttered and unreadable.
Turning to face him, she asked, “What do you want?”
“An airman who was revived after ODing told me he purchased the drugs here. From a woman.”
“Well that narrows it down.” Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. “That’s why you and Duchess were here last night.”
That pissed her off. Why the hell hadn’t he come to her? Let her know what was going on and why he was there? She wouldn’t have made a fuss about the dog then.
“Yes. This is the first break we’ve had in the case, Tucker. Months of frustrating searches that’ve led nowhere while more men and women die.”
What was she supposed to say to that? No, she didn’t like the idea of people dying. Yes, she wanted to help if she could.
“Again, what do you want?”
Finn leaned across her bar, putting himself closer and making her want to move in the opposite direction. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected her.
“To put someone here undercover.”
A buzz of energy crackled across Tucker’s skin. “And I don’t suppose Dade or Simmons have been tapped for that assignment.”
“Nope,” Finn shook his head. “Duchess and I have.”
Of course. “I don’t like dogs.”
“You don’t say...” His dry tone scraped down her spine.
“And just how do you expect to integrate with my team? Want me to hire you as a new bouncer? Everyone on staff knows I’m not looking.”
“No. We were thinking a little more intimate...more access.” Finn’s eyes flashed, ripping down her body quickly before zeroing back in on her gaze. “You dating anyone, Tucker?”
That rollercoaster ride her tummy was on took a major free fall.
“No.”
“You are now.”
“I DON’T WANT you here.”
“Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear.”
Dade and Simmons had left. For the last thirty minutes Finn had been trying to calm Tucker down. It wasn’t working very well. She was pissed, and he supposed he didn’t really blame her.
Not that it would make much of a difference.
They couldn’t force her to cooperate, but he’d already figured out she was going to go along with their plan. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be so upset. She’d have simply told him to leave. Or waited until some of her muscle showed up and had them throw him out. Or at least try.
Instead, she’d been raining down words over his head, calling into question his parentage and the size of his package, and insulting just about anything else she could think of. The woman had an inventive vocabulary. He’d give her that.
In fact, watching her go off on her tirade was rather entertaining, not that he’d admit that to her.
What he found most intriguing was that her ass-chewing didn’t seem to slow her down one iota, her words punctuated by slamming cabinets and drawers, clanging glasses. He was impressed that she could continue a steady monologue while hauling what had to be a hundred pounds of bottles.
And God forbid he offer to carry them for her.
He’d realized very quickly that attempting to share the load just led to more tongue-lashing—and not the kind he actually wanted.
So he and Duchess had decided to take a seat at the bar and just watch.
Damn, she was gorgeous. What he wouldn’t do to be able to capture the tiny whirlwind of activity on film, though he doubted his amateur skills could do her justice. She didn’t let anything derail her—not the bum ankle she was trying to hide, his unexpected visit or the proposition he’d delivered.
Her skin flushed with exertion and anger. Her blonde curls were wild and begging to be tamed—like the rest of her.
Her prickly attitude made him want to grab her, swing her into his arms and give her something else to occupy her mouth besides the barrage of words. Something inside him wanted to soothe her, distract her, channel that energy.
For the first time since she’d started, Tucker stopped. Or rather, her body stopped while her mouth kept moving.
“Stop staring at me.”
“I’m not.”
Her hands landed on her hips, one cocking out to the side as she tossed that long mane of hair over her shoulder. Her bangs curled into her flashing blue eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
“You are. Stop it.”
He’d let her spill her anger because he was hoping the well would eventually run dry. Unfortunately, he was starting to think that wasn’t going to happen.
Time to change tactics.
Standing up, he scooted around the end of the bar. Tucker shifted on her feet, but didn’t retreat. Maybe she should have.
Her head tipped as he moved close, heat and awareness hitting her glare. Her expression sliced right through him, the combination of anger and passion stirring something deep inside him.
Was she this fiery and explosive in bed? Finn had no doubt. Like trying to grab hold of lightning. Dangerous and exhilarating.
“Sweetheart, you can’t strut around in skin-tight jeans, a T-shirt that clings to every curve you own, and that wild mane of hair, and not expect some attention. Surely, you’re used to it by now.”
Tucker’s soft pink mouth thinned. It was naturally that color and he much preferred it to the shiny pink gloss it had been painted with last night. Not that the image of her taking him into her slick mouth hadn’t flashed through his thoughts more than once since then.
“No, actually, I’m not. I’ve worked in bars for most of my adult life. I know what men usually go for, and it isn’t my boyish frame.”
What the hell was she talking about? “The only thing about you that screams boy is your name. Trust me, the rest of you is all woman and I am not the only man who’s noticed.”
Closing the space between them, Finn gave in and cupped the back of her neck with his palm. Her body vibrated with her irritation, energy arcing across his skin where he touched. Soft curls cascaded over his fingers and he used his hold to tip her head back. God, a man could get lost inside her dark blue eyes. He’d never seen anything like them. Just like the rest of her, they were gorgeous. Unusual.
“I’m going to hazard a guess that the men give you a wide berth not because they’re not interested, but because you have a Do Not Touch sign blazing above your forehead in bright letters.”
Tucker scoffed, the sound scraping through her throat. “Yeah, right. Hasn’t stopped you.”
“I don’t follow directions very well.”