Maybe she did. He still knew next to nothing about her. But then, he wasn’t exactly sharing himself, either.
It bothered him, too, that they were stuck in this partnership, because despite all her thorns and prickliness, she attracted him sexually, almost mercilessly. He kept finding himself wondering if she reciprocated. Then he’d yank his thoughts back into line and remind himself: job first. Besides, if they ever broke those barriers, he was certain it would be a flaming mess.
“You know,” she said as they neared their house, “this kind of work is ever so much easier when we can just step in and help the team. We’re at a fits and starts position because we can’t cozy up to the local law too much. That’s slowing everything down.”
“I know.” He couldn’t argue with that. “But like I said, I think Gage is greasing skids as much as he can. Probably putting it around that we check out okay so folks won’t be worried about us, but it remains...”
“I know,” she agreed. “We don’t want to scare the guy off.”
He pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and cocked an eye at her. “Are you of the rush-in-and-bash-heads school?”
“Only when necessary.”
Which probably said a whole lot about her, he decided. She could operate in multiple modes. Now that was useful.
She looked at him. “You?”
“Only when necessary.”
She gave a brisk nod and climbed out. Damn, he thought, this woman didn’t give an inch. A spine of steel and a ramrod with it. Of course, just that little bit she’d said about her CO ruining her career was enough, and he somehow figured that was just the tip of the iceberg. Something had made this woman tough, and even a bit difficult to deal with.
He hoped he’d find out eventually what her story was. He also hoped that wouldn’t involve sharing his own.
* * *
They’d barely had time to start another pot of coffee—Cade was in favor of bottomless coffee, and DeeJay seemed to share his liking—when someone knocked at the door.
This time, aware of her apparent sensitivities to dominating men, he let DeeJay get it.
She came back inside with a woman in civvies. Long inky hair dashed by a few streaks of silver and pulled back in a ponytail. Sarah Ironheart, the deputy Gage had promised. Native American was stamped even more clearly on her face than DeeJay’s. A striking woman.
“Brought the photos and autopsy reports,” she said, tossing a thick envelope on the table. “All the gruesome glory.” She took a seat at the table as easily as if she’d been there before and nodded affirmatively in answer to Cade’s question about coffee. “It fuels the world, and any excuse I can get not to drink Velma’s, I’ll take.”
“Who is Velma?” DeeJay asked.
“One of our dispatchers. Her coffee is enough to put a hole in your stomach but she’s so much of a fixture no one dares tell her. It’s rumored she’s going to die right at the dispatch desk.”
“Sounds like a character,” Cade remarked.
“She’s been around as long as the mountains.” Sarah sipped coffee, then regarded the two of them over the rim. “What else are you hoping for, after you review the autopsies?”