Skin Trade(34)
“Where the hell have you been… Ted? I thought you said the plane ride from New Mexico was shorter than the one from St. Louis.”
The smile vanished, and his eyes had that cold winter look to them. One minute happy, the next the real Edward looking out. He wasn’t exactly a sociopath, but he had his moments.
“I was being entertained by the Vegas PD.”
“They interrogated you, too?”
He nodded.
“You weren’t in on the hunt for Vittorio. What could you tell them?”
“They didn’t ask me about him.” He looked at Shaw when he said the last. It was not a friendly look, and Edward did a better not-friendly look than anyone I knew.
Shaw didn’t blanch under the gaze, but he didn’t look comfortable either. “We’re doing our job, Forrester.”
“No, you’re trying to scapegoat Anita.”
“What did they ask you about me?” I asked.
“They wanted to know how long we’d been fucking.”
I gave wide eyes to that. “What!”
He kept looking at Shaw. “Yeah, according to the rumor mill, you’re sleeping with me, Otto Jeffries, and a cop in New Mexico, oh, and a few others. Apparently, you’ve been a very busy U.S. Marshal.”
“How’re Donna and the kids?” I asked. One, I did want to know; two, I didn’t want to talk about the rumors any more in front of Shaw.
“Donna sends her love, and so do Becca and Peter.”
“When does Peter take his black belt test?”
“Two weeks.”
“He’ll get it,” I said.
“I know.”
“How’d Becca’s dance recital go?”
He gave that real smile again. “She’s really good. Her teacher says she has real talent.”
“Are you trying to shame me by doing the whole domestic thing?” Shaw asked.
“No,” I said, “we’re ignoring you.”
“I guess I deserved that. But look at it from our side…”
I held up a hand. “I’m tired of being treated like one of the bad guys by you, just because I’m better at my job than the rest of the men.”
Edward cleared his throat sharply.
“Present company excepted,” I said.
He nodded.
“But that’s part of the problem. I am better than the rest of the executioners. I’ve got more kills, and I’m a girl. They can’t stand it, Shaw. They can’t believe that I’m just that good at my job. It has to be because I’m fucking my way to the top. Or that I’m some sort of freak myself.”
“You can’t be that good,” he said.
“Why, because I’m a girl?”
He had the grace to look embarrassed. “You have to have training to be that good.”
“She is that good,” Edward said, in that empty voice he could do-the one that made the hairs at the back of your neck stand up if you knew what you were listening to.
“You’re ex-special forces. She doesn’t have that kind of training.”
“I didn’t say she was a good soldier.”
“What then, a good cop?”
“No.”
Shaw frowned at him. “What then? What is she that good at? And if you say fucking, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Killing,” Edward said.
“What?” Shaw said.
“You asked what she’s good at. I answered the question.”
Shaw looked at me up and down, not in a sexual way but like he was trying to see what Edward was talking about. “You really that good at killing?”
“I try to be a good cop. I try to be a good little soldier and follow orders up to a point. But in the end I’m not really a cop, or a soldier. I am a legally sanctioned murderer. I am the Executioner.”
“I’ve never heard another marshal admit that they were a murderer.”
“Technically, it’s legal, but I hunt citizens of these United States with the intent of killing them. I have decapitated and torn the hearts out of more people than most serial killers. You want to pretty it up, give me a warrant, great, but I know what I do for a living, Sheriff. I know what I am, and I’m really, really good at it.”
“Anyone better?” he asked.
I glanced at Edward. “Only one.”
Shaw glanced at Edward and back to me. “I guess I’m lucky to have you both, then,” though his voice made sure he was thick on the sarcasm.
“You are lucky to have us,” I said, and I went for the door. Edward trailed me and held keys out. “I got us a car, so we’ll have some privacy.”
“Good,” I said.
“Oh, and I didn’t mention Olaf just for kicks.”
I stopped in the hallway and looked at him. “You don’t mean…”