Chapter ten

CHAPTER 10

HAD TO STOP twice to flash my credentials at the officers handling the roadblocks. It tasted vile announcing I was

working with MPU. Summerfield knew the taint it would carry and the razzing I'd get from my fellow officers when they found out, but she didn't care. The upper echelon had grown sick and tired of the interdepartmental hostility, but every attempt to smooth out the rough edges had failed.

The house on Maple Avenue stood out like an unwanted pimple, surrounded by officers and nosy neighbors alike. Shockingly, the media presence was low. That would change when word spread about the missing baby. My guess was the two local news vans that were already present had ins with the department and were privy to early leaks. A couple of officers had them contained for the time being, but they

were vermin. The infestation would spread. It always did. Then it would be much harder to control.

Parked at the side of the road, I let the bike rumble beneath me as I cased the street. It was a ritzy area, a little too posh for my tastes. Not a high-crime district.

I pulled off my helmet and found my shades as the legendary Quaid Valor sauntered from inside the house. His expression was cast from stone, a solid level-ten wall of contempt aimed in my direction. Fuck, he looked good, even snarly and scowling. Based on the slightly rumpled appearance of his usually meticulously styled sandy blond hair and the rough stubble on his chin and jaw, I bet he'd been called in unexpectedly as well.

I cut the engine, silencing the purring vibrations between my thighs. I gave her tank a stroke, shooting my temporary partner a devious smirk. "Mmm… Feels good having a lady between my legs. What do you think, Valor? Oh, wait. Never mind. You don't know the pleasures of a woman. You're missing out."

"Did your well of whores dry up? They all discovered what a purebred asshole you are, didn't they? Gotta take pleasure from a gasoline-powered hunk of steel now, don't you? A word of advice. Batteries are cheaper. That's what happens after forty. You lose your appeal—or so I'm told. I have a few years to go yet."

"Wow. That was a whole string of smartass comebacks. I'm impressed. Excuse me while I mark this day on my

calendar." I took out my cell and feigned typing. "Quaid Valor tries to be funny." I said each word slowly as I fake tapped on the screen. "Unknown entity up his ass must have perished." I gave him a once-over, cocking a brow. "I didn't think you came with a sense of humor. It's kinda hot."

"You can put your dick away now. I'm not impressed." "Hey, you took yours out first."

"Can we get serious? We have a time-sensitive case, and I'll be honest, you're the last person I want help from, but I wasn't given a choice."

Chuckling, I lifted a leg over the bike and locked my helmet on a bar before approaching Quaid on the sidewalk. "Ah, good times. I missed this prickly attitude of yours. Why is it we don't hang out more?"

Quaid didn't take the bait. He scanned me, noting my tattered jeans and fitted black band T-shirt. "Is there no dress code in homicide? Do you just wear whatever you want? I was sure we had the same rules."

"Would you like me to go home and change? I was out and about. Summerfield told me to get my ass here immediately, but I can head home if we have time to kill. Shower. Shave. Maybe jerk off. I didn't know we'd be working together today. I'm unprepared." I grabbed myself for emphasis.

Quaid huffed through his nose, dismissing the argument with a muttered, "You're such a pig."

"How about you put your cranky attitude away and get me caught up?"

Quaid's attention caught on something over my shoulder, and he cursed under his breath.

I followed his gaze. Two reporters from one of the news vans were fast approaching, aiming in our direction. The constable who'd been keeping them back was dealing with an elderly gentleman who'd come to see what was going on and had gotten the wheel of his walker caught on the uneven asphalt.

Leave it to the press to take advantage of misfortune.

"Inside," Quaid snapped, snagging my arm and dragging me after him.

We landed in the front foyer of the house. Quaid slammed the door, then turned and blocked me in against it. He stood close. I caught a mild hint of fabric softener wafting off his clothes and the rich scent of his sun-heated skin. Even on a sweaty August day, he managed to smell good.

In a hushed voice, Quaid ran through everything he'd learned since arriving at the house, and I did my best to pay attention and not admire how a little scruff on his chin made the man ten times sexier than the clean-shaven way he usually presented himself. I almost made a comment but managed to stop myself in time.

When Quaid got to the part about the pram and the gift, he pulled up images on his phone and handed it over.

"A pendant?"

"Yes."

I frowned at the swirling, spiral symbol, turning the phone one way then the other as I puzzled it out. "What does it mean?"

"No idea. I don't recognize it. Our CSIs are on their way. They should be here momentarily. Honestly, everything else makes me want to believe the father nabbed his son, but this doesn't fit." He stabbed a finger at his phone.

"With homicides, a calling card is usually used to taunt authorities. It can be used as a signature if dealing with a serial murderer. Is it common in kidnappings?"

"Not typical, no. I've never seen it in a parental nabbing, which is the most common. The motive is usually different. This tells me we're dealing with an unknown perp with a specific agenda, and I don't like it."

I flipped through the various pictures Quaid had taken. I went too far and landed on a picture of Quaid sharing beers out on a deck with a tall, slender, auburn-haired man. The pose was intimate. It wasn't often I saw Quaid smile, but the grin he wore in the photograph lit up his face and cut deep laugh lines beside his mouth.

"Hey," Quaid snapped when he saw I'd swiped too far. "Relax. It was an accident." I went back to the backyard

and pendant pictures. "Got a new boyfriend?"

At our team day back in May, he'd been dealing with an annoying ex who'd cheated and somehow thought Quaid

should get over it and take him back. I was glad he'd finally shed the guy.

"None of your business."

"He's hot. Is he good in the sack?"

"Can we focus?" Quaid pressed a knuckle against his eye. "Send the pendant picture to Ruiz," I said, referring to our

computer guy back at headquarters. "He can run an image search and maybe figure out what the symbol means." Quaid wore his trademark sneer. "Unless you've already thought of that… boss."

After an extended glare, Quaid took his

phone back and sent a message to our IT guy.