He turned to face her again. Her statement seemed to steal some of his thunder. “Massive is a strong word.”
She stepped closer. “Quincy, can you close the door?”
“Sure, boss. Which side would you like me on?”
“This one. I need a witness.”
He did as ordered and waited.
“A witness for what?” Levi asked.
She set her coffee on her desk. “Take off your shirt.”
The intrigued brow that formed a questioning arch did nothing to slow her pulse. “You don’t need a witness for that.”
“I don’t. You do.” When he crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to cooperate—shocker—she said, “Look, either you let me do this or I’m arresting you and watching while Quincy strip searches you.”
“For the love of God, Ravinder,” Quincy said, “let her check you out.”
Most likely, any internal bleeding from the hit-and-run would’ve manifested by now. He would hardly be standing. She hoped the danger had passed since he seemed strong as ever. But better safe than sorry.
Favoring one side of his body, he lifted his shirt over his head with a grunt. He could barely lift his left arm high enough, but he managed to get the shirt off and hold it firmly in a clenched fist. He was freshly showered and the woodsy scent of patchouli filled the room.
Along with the scrapes and bruises she’d expected to see was a massive, platter-sized bruise along his left ribcage with petechial hemorrhaging down that side of his torso.
Sporting her best poker face, she walked around him. His wide shoulders tapered down to a lean, muscular back that had not fared any better. It had deep gashes, probably from being dragged across the gravel, that needed to be looked after.
She walked around to face him again and lifted a hand to his bruised jaw, fighting the urge to send it all the way around his neck. To pull him closer. To lock him to her.
His shimmering gaze trailed from her eyes to her mouth where it lingered a long moment. “So, in your far-from-expert opinion, what’s the prognosis?”
She dropped her hand. “First, you should be in a hospital.”
“And second?”
“I don’t believe for a minute you found nothing out there. I can’t force you to tell me, Levi, but we should be working with each other, not against.”
“That’s convenient.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Meaning?”
“Suddenly we’re colleagues? You sure you don’t want to arrest me again?”
“I’m still considering it,” she said, stepping closer. “Don’t push me.”
He clenched his jaw and admitted, “I found the truck.”
Why she would be surprised, Sun had no idea, but she was. She schooled her features. He was sharing. According to Auri, sharing was caring, but she only said that when Sun had ice cream.
“And the man you injured?”
“The man I killed?” he corrected. “Not in it, if that’s what you mean. They burned it to the ground at an abandoned warehouse near Las Vegas.”
“They didn’t get far,” she said, surprised no one called it in. Las Vegas, New Mexico, was only about forty-five minutes from Del Sol and fires were not taken lightly in the arid state.
“That means they had to dump the body somewhere between Del Sol and Las Vegas, but damned if I can find it.”
“Do you think they buried it?”
“They wouldn’t have taken the time. I got the VIN, but I doubt it belonged to any of the assailants.”
“And you’re sure there was no body?”
“I told you. He would have bled to death in a matter of seconds. They dumped the body, I just can’t find where. And with all that blood, they had no choice but to burn the evidence.”
She nodded. “I’m going to need that baseball cap.”
“It’s in my truck.”
“Covered in your DNA.”
He shrugged, completely remorseless.
“Quincy, do you mind?”
Without breaking eye contact, Levi fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her chief deputy.
After he left, she held out her hand. “And the knife.”
He dove into his other front pocket and brought out a foldable hunting knife. She reached over him, grabbed an evidence bag and opened it up. “Is there a reason you took this?”
He held it up to her. “Besides the initials and the intricate engraving? No.”
“You were trying to trace it back to the engraver.”
After he dropped it inside, he nodded. “Yes.”
“And?”
“Denver artist. Sold it at a convention, but the initials were added later.”
“Did he have a record of the transaction?”
“The guy paid cash.”
“Damn it.”
He dropped his gaze, and asked, “How’s Red?”
She sealed the bag and reached around him again to put it on her desk, unwilling to give up her prime location just yet. “Worried about you.”
He bit down, the muscles in his jaw working. “I’m sorry.”
“She adores you.”
His gaze bounced back to hers. “The feeling is mutual.”
His admission caused a warmth to blossom in her chest. “Thank you.”
He let appreciation soften his features.
“You know, even with the badge, I’m not a real threat to you, Levi. I never was.”
He scoffed. “Shine, you are the only person on the planet I do feel threatened by.” He spread his knees apart as though encouraging her to inch closer. “Nothing you do or say is going to change that. Extra points for effort, though.”
Under the guise of concern, she reached up and ran her fingertips along the bruises on his cheek, down to his lean jaw, over to his full mouth.
“Just so you know,” he said softly, “we have an audience.”
Startled, Sun turned to see Zee, Salazar, Anita, and Mrs. Fairborn gaping at them through the wide-open door. “Oh, shit,” she said, lunging away from him. She brushed herself off and straightened. “Thank you, Levi. I can’t believe I tripped.”
“They’ve been watching for, like, five minutes.”
“Hey, Mrs. Fairborn. How’s the confession coming?” she asked again, discomfort prickling along her nerve endings.
“Not as good as your interrogation,” the spitfire said. She wiggled her brows.
Zee fought a grin as Salazar and Anita busied themselves with paperwork. Mrs. Fairborn gave her a thumbs-up.
Sun cleared her throat. “Way to sheriff, Sunshine. I need to call Las Vegas PD. Where was that truck exactly?”
“North of Airport Road off 25,” Levi said. “I think it used to be a mobile-home construction facility or something.”
“You can tell me later how you found it. For now, call your sister.”
Levi acquiesced with a nod, carefully donned his shirt, and walked out.
She followed. “How do you spell massacre?” Mrs. Fairborn asked Levi.
He chuckled as Quincy brought the cap into the bullpen, signed, sealed in an evidence bag, and delivered. Metaphorically speaking.
Sun nodded a thank you. “Let’s get this to forensics.”