Nerves of Steel Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sweat gathered between her breasts, but she took her time, refusing to let him see how nervous he made her.
    She turned back, glad to have even a lukewarm cup of coffee in her hand as a potential weapon.  He watched her with surprisingly blue eyes, inclining his head slightly as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. 
    He yawned again and raked his fingers through his hair.  "I don't suppose it would make a difference if I said pretty please?  I'll bet my night was worst than yours."
    She doubted it.  But his voice was raspy with fatigue and haggard circles shadowed his eyes.  She sighed.  "Here, take it. You look like you need it more than I do."
    She handed him the paper cup.  His knuckles were scraped and grease stained.  Maybe a car thief?  
    "You're a life saver."  He took a sip of the hot coffee and closed his eyes in rapture.  Then he patted the seat beside him on the couch.  "Sit."
    She might have been tempted if he hadn't flashed her a lecherous grin.  Con artist was probably more like it.  "No thanks, I'm fine." 
    "Suit yourself."  He finished the coffee in one large gulp and crumpled the cup, aiming it at the trashcan beside the door.  He missed, and it joined the pile of take-out cartons on the floor.
    Stifling her own yawn, she ran her fingers over the coins left in her pocket, shifting her jacket to her other arm as she pulled them out to count.  The bag of FX fell from her coat pocket, tumbling to the floor before she could catch it.
    Her derelict companion had faster reflexes than she would have guessed.  He snatched the bag from the mud-colored linoleum and scrutinized the small pills inside. 
    "Give me that."  She reached for the bag but he closed his fist around it.  Damn, how would she explain this to the police?   Gee, I brought you all this evidence, but some homeless wino took it?  She planted herself in front of him and held out a hand, backing up her confrontational stance with a glare guaranteed to make med students jump.  Too bad the pirate before her was no med student.  "Give it to me, now."
    His eyes narrowed in an expression resembling a scheming Wiley Coyote.  "Looks like you brought enough to share."
    "It's not mine."
    "Whose is it?  Where'd you get your hands on this much FX?  It looks to be the real deal--worth a couple thou on the street."
    "How would you know?  Have you seen this much FX before?"
    He gave a low chuckle.  "Only in my dreams.  Darlin', you've hit the motherlode.  If you know where to get your hands on more, you and me, we could really shake things up.  Know what I mean?  So where'd you get it?"
    "I told you, it's not mine.  Now, give it back."  She reached her hand out to him once more.  He gazed upon the FX with covetous eyes, then sighed and dropped it into her palm.  Cassie crammed the bag into her jeans pocket.
    "Sweetheart, if you only knew what you just passed up," he said, stretching his arms above his head, his T-shirt shifting to give Cassie a glimpse of well defined abdominal muscles and a thin v of dark hair that vanished beneath the snap of his jeans.
    She turned away.  His image was a shadowy reflection in the filthy glass wall, but she could see enough to keep an eye on him.
    He rubbed the stubble on his face.  "Guess I'd better go," he said to her back, rising to his feet.   "Thanks for the coffee.  I'll be seeing you."  He sent another smile her way, this one more predatory than grateful, and left.
    Watching him saunter through the squad room, no one paying him any attention at all, she wondered who he was.  Mr. Invisible Man.  Should she tell someone he was leaving?  Let one of the detectives know?
    Cassie took the seat he had vacated, the vinyl still warm.  She had more important problems than a vagrant wandering loose among armed cops.
    Drake edged into the shadows of the narrow hallway that led to the washrooms and janitor's closet.  He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, his gaze never