Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Suspense,
Thrillers,
Mystery & Detective,
Women Sleuths,
Mystery,
Mystery Fiction,
Eve (Fictitious character),
Missing Children,
Duncan,
Women sculptors,
Facial reconstruction (Anthropology)
And then later on the stairs, I couldn’t keep from looking at you.”
And she hadn’t been able to stop looking at him. She still couldn’t. He was staring straight ahead, but her gaze was drawn to him like a magnet. Her gaze fell to his hand, lying on the wood arm of the chair.
His nails were short and clean, and the thumbs, which had dug into her muscles, looked long and strong.
They had been strong. She felt as if she could still feel the imprint on her flesh. Her chest was tightening, and her heartbeat was suddenly faster.
His gaze shifted to her face. “Oh, shit.” His cheeks were flushed, and his dark eyes were narrowing on her throat, then wandering to her breasts.
She had to stop this. She hunted wildly for something to break the web of sensuality that was tightening around her.
Rosa. The reason she was here. Talk about Rosa.
She jerked her eyes away from his. “Rosa’s afraid they’re going to try to take her baby away.”
“I don’t want to talk about Rosa right now.” His voice was soft and with a note in it that sent a shiver through her. She hadn’t realized that a shiver could be hot as well as cold. Then he paused. “But you need to back away from me, don’t you? Okay, I’ll try not to think about—but it won’t be easy.” He combed his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “What did you say? Oh, yeah. Why do they want to take the kid away from her?”
“They think she might be the one who hurt Manuel. It’s nuts. She loves that baby.”
He nodded. “I could tell.”
“None of the neighbors will talk to the police about what Rick Larazo and the rest of the gang did. And the guys were gone by the time the ambulance came. They’re not going to believe me, either. I’m too young.” She added in disgust, “They never believe anyone under thirty.”
“And you’re just a little over halfway there.” He grimaced. “Dammit.”
“I’ll get around it.” She finished her coffee. “I promised Rosa I’d go talk to some of the neighbors and try to persuade them to tell the truth about what they saw.”
“You really want to help her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Any way I can.”
“Then, if you can’t find someone to tell the truth because Larazo’s got them scared, get one of the potheads in the place to lie and say they saw it. It shouldn’t be hard. Just slip them a joint. There are addicts in half the apartments in the building.”
“I don’t deal drugs,” she said sharply.
“Whew.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Did I hit a nerve?”
She ignored the question. “Do you deal?”
He shook his head. “But if it came to a choice of paying someone a few joints to help your friend keep her kid, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It’s a shitty world, and you have to pick both the weapons and the battles.”
“Not drugs.”
He nodded. “Whatever you say.” He was silent a moment. “But you have to know that I’m not like you. I won’t lie. I’m not what you’d call a good guy. I do whatever I have to do to survive and get what I want.” He paused. “It’s not always safe to trust me.”
She couldn’t look away from him. He was telling her the truth. She could see it in the intensity of his eyes, the tautness of his lips. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to trust you.” With an effort she managed to pull her gaze away. “You’re nothing to me.”
He chuckled. “Liar. Telling the truth should go both ways, Eve.” His smiled faded. “But maybe I’m asking too much. This is hard for you, isn’t it? Sometimes I think you’re tough as nails, then you surprise me.” He reached out and touched the soft hair at her temple. “How many guys have you made out with, Eve?”
His fingers were warm against the sensitive skin of her temple and were causing her pulse to leap as if to reach out to that touch.
He muttered a curse. “Dammit to hell.”
She could feel the heat rise to her face. “I don’t want to talk about this. It makes
Roland Green, Harry Turtledove, Martin H. Greenberg