Killer Smile. Marilyn Pappano
Читать онлайн книгу.
in a mix of industrial and residential structures, the only business open now, its blacktop parking lot full. Natasha was lucky to find a space near the front as another car backed out. She swooped in, sat there gripping the steering wheel for a while and then forced herself to let go. Open the door. Take off her seat belt. Get out. Close the door. Walk to the main entrance and...and...
She actually decided to leave but got caught in the shuffle when two customers left and four more came in at the same time. Before she got untangled, she was on the other side of the doors, with escape behind her and loud music and loud voices ahead.
She wasn’t intending to talk to Daniel tonight. She would just walk inside, keep her distance from his group. How hard could it be to avoid a bunch of cops, deputies and firefighters? She would get a snack and find an out-of-the-way place to watch him for a bit. See how he interacted with the others. See if he was still angry.
See if he’d brought that girl, Taryn.
The lanes were busy. The food counters weren’t. She got a beer and a corn dog, a glob of mustard and napkins and scoped out the best place to go unnoticed. The arcade was mostly empty, and only a couple of kids played in the enclosed toddler playground next to it. A narrow counter and chairs lined one side of it so parents could keep watch.
Only one woman sat there, dark-haired, pretty, the messy remains of hot dogs and pop to one side, along with a mountain-sized pile of dirty napkins. She caught Natasha’s look and smiled drily. “Silly me. I thought it would be hard to create disaster with a bun, a wiener and a spurt of ketchup. Who knew?”
Natasha left two seats between them and sat to the woman’s left, where she would have an excuse for looking toward the first responders at their side-by-side lanes at the far end. “Your kids?”
“Oh, no. Samwell is my husband’s cousin’s child. He’s spoiled rotten, throws temper tantrums at least once an hour and thinks he will absolutely ‘diiiieeee’ if he doesn’t get his way every single time. The girl who ignores him and plays so politely is the daughter of one of the firefighters over there.”
“You don’t bowl?”
“I only come for the popcorn. Who are you with?”
Natasha’s face flushed. “I only came for the corn dog and the beer. I’ll have to try the popcorn next.”
Briefly taking her gaze from Samwell, the woman smiled. “I’m Mila.”
“Natasha.” She dipped the entire end of her corn dog in mustard and was taking a big bite when Mila made an interested sound.
“Are you the Natasha?”
Mustard went down her throat the wrong way, and bits of breading tried to work their way up and out her nose. She covered her face with a handful of napkins, spitting and wheezing at the vinegary burn, so lost in her little fit that she barely heard Mila say, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Followed by, “Ooh, I’ll take that as an even bigger yes.”
Natasha swiped the tears from her eyes and wiped her face clean before looking toward the lanes where all the good-looking guys were. Had been. One was weaving his way around benches and bowlers toward them.
And he didn’t look happy.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Daniel saw Mila arch one eyebrow, then heard his choice of word too late. Too bad. Heck just didn’t get the emotion over.
Natasha coughed to clear her throat. “I heard the popcorn here is the best around.”
His gaze flickered at the corn dog on its paper sleeve. The popcorn was good. The corn dogs were like every other corn dog found in the freezer case at the market. “Why are you following me?”
“Judging by all the writing on your screen over there, you’ve been here a while. I just came...” A tiny hesitation, an offer of a smile. A sure indication she was about to lie. “For the food.”
“You need to leave.” His voice wobbled before he got it under control. “You need to leave the bowling alley, the hotel, the town and the entire damn state, and you need to go now.”
Mila was keeping an eye on the kids while discreetly following the conversation, and Daniel knew without turning that they had an audience back on the lanes. He didn’t often give them anything to talk about, other than how often he got hit on by the females he came across on the job. He didn’t want them talking about this, either, not even if he had to bodily eject Natasha from the bowling alley.
Which he had zero grounds for doing, especially with more than half of the county’s law enforcement officers looking on.
Natasha’s discomfort was palpable as she pushed back her chair. “Talk to me—listen to me—and then I’ll go.”
He clenched his jaw, though he managed to keep his hands flat and loose at his sides. He hated being outmanipulated, outwitted or outgunned. It wasn’t anything his fathers had drummed into him, though they both had competitive streaks a mile wide. It was just something he expected of himself. And he especially hated being undone by Natasha. Mila, Morwenna, Taryn—they were okay. Cheryl and Lois, the first-ever and still-serving female officer in Cedar Creek—it was a given they could undo him without even trying.
But Natasha? The idea made his stomach turn sour.
He glanced at Mila, whose attention was still on the kids, but a faint smile touched her face. She was his boss Sam’s wife, survivor of several assaults and murder attempts a year ago. In the beginning, he hadn’t cared a thing about her other than her ties to the case, but since then, they’d become...distant friends, maybe, or close acquaintances. He liked her, respected her, and when she gave him a tiny nod, he struggled not to grouse.
If listening to Natasha was the only way to get rid of her, he would listen.
“Fine.” He directed the response to Mila—he didn’t want to see the triumph on Natasha’s face—then pivoted and returned to the lane to change into his boots and get his slicker.
“Jeez, he even gets hit on twelve lanes away by the prettiest woman in the place,” Cullen Simpson muttered, then shot a look at Sam. “No offense, Chief.”
“None taken,” Sam said before pointing his beer at Simpson. “If I thought you were spending your time thinking about how pretty my wife is, I’d have to pound you into the ground.” Before Simpson could stumble over a denial that could only get him in hot water, Sam turned to Daniel. “I’m guessing you won’t be back.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re awful damn close to a perfect game.”
“I’ve had plenty of perfect games.”
Ben clapped him on the shoulder, practically knocking him off balance. “You gotta love the boy’s modesty, don’t you?”
“Just stating a fact. I’ll see you in the morning.” As he stalked back toward the play area, Daniel pulled on his slicker, making sure to cover his pistol and badge, then waited in the broad corridor for Natasha to dump her corn dog and beer in the trash.
She walked toward him with the long, fluid strides that had always seemed more than just a form of locomotion to him. Her jeans clung snugly to her thighs, and her shirt did the same with her upper body. She had gained a few pounds since he’d last seen her. They gave her body a softer, more womanly look.
Not that he cared. He was just appreciating a fine form. Jeffrey had always encouraged him to appreciate beauty.
Archer had taught him that sometimes it could be deadly.
When they reached the vestibule, they both stopped. He supposed it was best to decide their destination before stepping out into the deluge. There were plenty of places open,