And my gut was screaming at me about this case.
I closed the door to the observation room behind me, kicked a chair to the side and crossed my arms over my chest as I looked through the two-way mirror.
Someone had offered Sunny Harper a BSPD sweatshirt—undoubtedly, a dude—but based on its location at her feet, she’d declined the offer. Sunny was apparently still considered a loose-cannon flight risk because her hands were still cuffed. Someone had been thoughtful enough to reposition her cuffs to the front, though—also, undoubtedly a dude. The blood had been wiped from her face and neck, revealing that milky-white skin that glowed against her inky curls, which were still speckled with grass and dried leaves. I was surprised at the lack of tattoos. I figured a woman with fight like she had would’ve been covered in some sort of feminist propaganda. Chalk it up to another thing that surprised me about her. My gaze drifted away from her face, noticing her body for the first time. Even sitting in a chair, I could see the curves of her waist, the round ass, and, Lord help me, a pair of erect nipples poking from under the thin fabric of her tank top.
A wave of heat ran over my skin, the temperature in the room suddenly sweltering. I yanked at the tie I didn’t have on, almost ripping the collar of my T-shirt. Damn laser beams those things were. Her breasts were perky, a handful at best—smaller than my usual preference—but in perfect proportion to her toned, fit body. And why the hell was I spending so much time on her tits? I gave myself a mental slap in the face and focused on the baseball-sized lump swelling around the stitches on her arm.
That guilt, again. Had I done that?
There was no shifting in her seat, no frantic eyes skirting around the room, no twitches, no tears, just those feline eyes staring straight ahead. My head titled to the side as I assessed the woman, trying to get a baseline on her nonverbal before the interview. I wasn’t getting shit.
She was different.
Something was different.
My body pulled like a magnet to her, my weight shifting to my toes until I was inches from the window.
Nothing.
No tells.
No emotions to read.
Nothing.
I wasn’t sure how long had passed while I stared at her, waiting for something—anything—until her head turned and met my gaze through the two-way mirror as if she could see right through it. I pulled back, a weird quiver in my stomach as our eyes locked.
Must be the coffee, I convinced myself.
We stared at each other for a minute in a way that had me questioning the quality of the secret window, and I filed away the whisper of unease that settled around me.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I was off my game. I needed food, sleep.
So, I said to myself with another inward slap to the jaw, let’s get this shit done and end this Godforsaken night.
I stepped into the hall where the chatter in the station had doubled. Colson’s voice boomed from his office. The case was already growing legs.
I pushed through the door to the conference room and was met with the same piercing gaze I’d received from behind the mirror. I had no question Sunny had known she was being watched, and by the spite in her eyes, she knew I was the one doing the watching.
I tossed a notebook and pen on the table, passed by the open chair and stopped at her side, standing over her.
Her brows lifted with her eyes, leveled, controlled, but loaded with defiance.
But why?
It made no sense at this point. I’d had my fair share of cantankerous suspects before, but none of them—not a single one—had been found standing over a dead body literally holding the weapon that killed the victim. Why wasn’t she talking?
Scared?
Arrogant?
Fearless?
Idiot.
“Miss Harper I’ve got a lot of questions for you, but first, I’d like to know how you overpowered a man double your size.”
She blinked, the only indication that I’d thrown her off with an unexpected question. My specialty. Thanks, Columbo. Not all my training came from the teams.
“Krav Maga.” she responded, simply. With that voice. Deep, sultry. Sinful.
“And where did you learn martial arts?” I forced myself to keep my eyes from sliding down to those nipples that I swear had doubled in size since I walked in the room. Cold? Turned on, perhaps? Was there any other time a woman’s nipples got hard? When was the last time I’d seen a pair of erect nipples?
“I taught myself,” she said, pulling me out of my pubescent thoughts. I was beginning to understand the lack of traffic tickets.
“Online classes?”
“A few.”
“Well, Miss Harper, I hope those classes offer a full refund because you apparently missed the most important part of Krav Maga. Rule number one is that the best way to win a fight is not to get into a fight, at all. De-escalate the situation and win through avoidance of conflict.”
“Some conflict is unavoidable.”
“That’s correct, but in your case, with me, it was avoidable. I asked you to put down the gun. What did you do? Tried to flee, causing me to tackle you, where you proceeded to fight me like a rabid raccoon, making me disable and cuff you.”
Her nostrils flared, her wrists twitching against the cuff. Yeah, I didn’t like that wrestling match either, Ronda Rousey.
“Why did you try to flee? You appear to be a smart woman. Why—”
“I had three guns pulled on me in under five minutes, Detective. When I heard the old man call me a murderer…” Her voice trailed off.
“Are you a murderer?”
“No.”
“So you ran because…”
She looked away.
“You panicked?”
Her eyes drifted closed as if embarrassed. Or annoyed, I wasn’t totally sure which.
“Okay, we’ll call it panic. Well, Miss Harper, are you going to panic and attempt to flee and kick my ass again right now?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t—”
“No.” She said, louder.
“Fantastic.” I pulled the keys from my pocket, unlocked her cuffs and tossed them across the room, sending them clamoring against the chipped tile.
She didn’t flinch.
I turned my back to her and walked to the chair on the opposite end of the conference table.
“Would you like some coffee?” I settled into the chair. “Water? Cigarette?”
A quick shake of her head told me no, so I hit the call button on the phone and asked for two waters, two coffees, and a pack of cigarettes.
Her eyelids fluttered in the closest thing to an eye roll without actually being an eye roll. I let the minute linger like lead weight while we waited for the drinks and pack of COPD. The door opened. I kept my eyes on her as Officer Darby set two coffees, a pack of Virginia Slims—Virginia Slims—followed by two waters on the table. Based on the way mine tumbled to the floor, the rookie also had his eyes only on hers.
This woman.
“Whoops. Sorry.” He grabbed the water from the floor and set it in front of me. “Uh, you know you can’t smoke in—”
“Thanks.”
“… Anything else?”
“Get some ibuprofen from Tanya.”
“Okay.”
Sunny lifted her hands onto the table. Composed, controlled. Odd. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I watched every flicker of her eye, every move of muscle as we sat silently in the room.