“Hmm…”
“Surely you’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? Jim Norton believes in the old adage about revenge being a dish best served cold.”
A shiver zinged up Chad’s spine. Yeah, he’d heard the rumors. And if he believed them, like others in the department did, then he knew what Norton was capable of doing. He sensed that Mary Lee admired her ex-husband, maybe still even cared about him. And he also sensed that if she were totally honest about which man was the best—at sex or anything else—she’d choose Lieutenant James Norton over him or any other guy.
Needing to erase such thoughts from his mind and bring back the casual mood, Chad jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, keeping his hand over the sagging condom clinging to his penis. He paused in the doorway and glanced back at his partner’s ex-wife. “I’ve got to shower and shave, then get downtown and meet Jim. We’re questioning a murder suspect this morning and I don’t want to be late.”
“Go ahead.” She waved him off as she got out of bed. “Want me to put on a pot of coffee?”
Standing there in his bedroom, naked, tousled and sated, Mary Lee Norton got a rise out of him. A partial rise anyway. If he had time, he’d toss her back into bed and—Another time, he told himself. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t have Mary Lee anytime he wanted her. The lady was definitely hot-to-trot.
“I’ll grab a cup at headquarters,” he told her as he removed the used condom and dumped it in the wastebasket. “But feel free to fix yourself a pot and hang around as long as you’d like.”
She didn’t respond, so he had no idea what she’d do. By the time he had showered, shaved and dressed, he found the house empty. Mary Lee had left a note attached to the refrigerator with a magnet.
You’re as good as he is, just different.
She’d scrawled her initials beneath the succinct note.
Chad grinned. He’d be seeing the lady again. Soon. And he’d make damn sure and certain her ex-husband didn’t find out.
Quinn nibbled on the high protein bar Kendall had provided along with a cup of coffee. The coffee was good—black and strong, the way he liked it. The protein bar tasted like cardboard coated with cheap chocolate. He preferred his breakfast protein in the form of steak and eggs. At home and when out of town on a case, his routine seldom varied. He was accustomed to having his needs met by a small contingent of well-paid employees, who traveled with him. After the McBryar acquittal yesterday, he’d sent his entourage back to Houston, expecting full well to be on a plane back home no later than Monday morning. Those plans had been made when he’d thought he would be spending the weekend with Lulu.
“I’ve got some low-fat wheat bread,” Kendall said. “I could fix you some toast.”
He glanced at Kendall, who sat on the bar stool next to him at the kitchen counter. How was it possible that she looked so awake and refreshed at seven-twenty in the morning, when it had been nearly three when they’d finally gone to bed. Her tan suit fit her to perfection and matched her heels and the clutch purse lying at the end of the counter alongside her burgundy leather briefcase. Everything about her was perfect, from her stylish short hair to her subtle makeup.
“Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.” He laid the bland protein bar atop his napkin and lifted the coffee cup to his lips.
“Did you get any sleep?” Kendall asked.
“Some,” he lied. He hadn’t slept at all. Only dozed a couple of times.
“Do I need to remind you to think like a lawyer this morning when you’re questioned and not like a suspect in a murder case?”
“Be calm, in control and logical,” he replied. “Don’t get emotional. And remember when to let my lawyer talk for me.”
“Good boy.”
“Honey, I’ve never been a good boy in my entire life.” Quinn Cortez had been a lot of things, to a lot of people, but being a good boy wasn’t one of them. As far as he was concerned, goodness was overrated. He preferred being rich, being powerful and being a winner. Maybe he’d sacrificed some important things along the way on his road to success, but he had to admit that if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.
Not unless he could go all the way back to the beginning when Rico Cortez had married Sheila Quinn because he’d gotten her pregnant, then conveniently disappeared a few month’s after his son’s birth.
Kendall laughed. “I happen to like your cockiness, but how about downplaying it just a little this morning. And for God’s sake, act a little broken-up about Lulu Vanderley’s death, will you?”
“It won’t be an act,” Quinn said. “Not entirely. I’m not all broken-up, but…I want to make sure whoever killed Lulu is caught and punished.”
“Finding the real murderer will get you off the hook.”
“I want to see to it that her murderer pays for what he did. And not just for selfish reasons, but because Lulu didn’t deserve to die.” Quinn slammed his half-full cup down on the counter, splashing the black liquid onto his hand. He reacted to the heat instantly, raised his hand and rubbed it across his mouth.
“You really liked her, didn’t you?” Kendall reached over and patted Quinn’s arm.
He cut his eyes toward her. “Do you find that amazing—that I’d actually like a woman who’s my lover?”
“No.” Kendall gazed at him contemplatively. “What I find amazing is that you’d actually like a woman, any woman.”
“What the hell do you mean by that? I love women. All women. You should know that, honey. Ask anybody who knows me and they’ll tell you that Quinn Cortez is a ladies’ man.”
“You may love women—all women—but you don’t like them as a general rule. If you liked women, you wouldn’t treat them the way you do.”
“I’ve never had any complaints.” The flip response shot out of his mouth instantly.
“I’m sure no woman has ever complained about your prowess as a lover,” Kendall told him. “But what about all the hearts you’ve broken? Don’t you think there are dozens of women out there who would love to see the great Quinn Cortez brought to his knees and begging for mercy.”
“I thought you said that I didn’t hurt you, back when we—”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about your reputation. Don’t you realize that if Lulu told just one person that she wanted more from you than a passionate fling, the police could build a case around that fact—that she was clinging to you and you couldn’t shake her without killing her?”
“Lulu never once said she wanted more from our relationship.”
“She didn’t say that to you, but can you be one hundred percent sure she never implied to anyone else that she was in love with you or wanted a committed relationship?”
Quinn slid off the bar stool and stood. “I can’t be certain of what she might or might not have told someone else. But I’m telling you that Lulu wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship with me or anybody.”
“I hope her family and friends will verify that fact.” Kendall bit off a chunk of protein bar, chewed and washed it down with coffee.
“Lulu’s family…” Quinn groaned. “I’d forgotten all about them. She has an elderly father and a half brother over in Mississippi somewhere. The old man still runs the Vanderley empire, with the help of a cousin. I can’t recall the cousin’s name. Abigail or Adelaide or something like that. I can hear Lulu saying, ‘Abi…Adel—Annabelle…’ That’s it, Annabelle. She’d say, ‘Annabelle is a real saint, a true martyr. I love her like a sister, but God, she’s such a bore.’ I suppose the Memphis police notified—”