Serving Up Trouble Read online

  “If you think you see him again—”

  “Not think. Know.”

  “If you think you see him again,” he repeated firmly, “stay safe. Stay far away. Really far away. Then call me.”

  “Call you.”

  “Yeah. Me.” He didn’t look thrilled. “But if you’re in any sort of danger at all, I mean it, Angie, if he so much as blinks at you, call 911. Immediately.”

  “Like I did this time.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me he saw you?”

  “And listened to me call for help.”

  He swore, winced, then again shoved his fingers through his hair. “Terrific. Look—” His radio crackled, and someone called to him, requesting him as backup. “Damn. We’ll finish this later.”

  She wondered if that was a threat or a promise, and decided by the look on his face it was a chore. “No need. I’ll contact you when I see him again.”

  When the door had shut behind him, Angie turned to see Josephine brimming with curiosity.

  “Was that your cop?”

  “Not my cop. The cop.”

  “Uh-huh.” Josephine looked bowled over. “He was…wow.”

  “Oh, close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies.”

  “I guess we’re not going to talk about how wow he was.”

  “Did I mention I registered for college?”

  “Nice subject change.”

  “Yep.”

  Josephine put her hands on her ample hips. “Honey, listen. I don’t mean to interfere—”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Hush. I’m talking, and what I’m talking about is you getting over what’s-his-name and finding another man. Like Mr. Wow Cop for example.”

  “I’m over what’s-his-name.” Definitely over Tony. So over Tony—ex-fiancé, ex-friend, ex-everything. Maybe still recovering, still getting her balance, but not mourning.

  Life was too darn short.

  “Lordie, that man was hot.” Josephine fanned herself. “And I bet he wouldn’t let you out of bed so early.”

  Angie laughed, but a small part of her tingled at the thought of finding a man who wouldn’t let her out of bed because he couldn’t stand to be without her.

  She hadn’t a clue what that would be like.

  “Angie, honey, you know I love you.”

  Angie smiled. “Does this mean I’m getting a raise?”

  “Uh…no. But I worry. You shouldn’t be here today just because I don’t have anyone to cover the shift. You should take some time off.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fine is good, and good is crap. But never mind that now. The point is you deserve more.”

  “Like I said, I’m going to college. Oh, and I bought myself a book just the other day.”

  “A romance?”

  “Well, no.”

  Josephine snorted in disgust.

  “But it was good,” Angie insisted. “And I’ve got lots of changes in the works. Big ones.”

  “Really? You’re going to read a romance?”

  “Much bigger.”

  “Uh-huh. How about we just pretend to see that suspect so your cop will come back. Just once, pretty please?”

  Luke stood in an interrogation room in front of their witness, Lou, who was seated in a chair.

  Sam stood behind him.

  Lou fidgeted nervously. He had a stack of petty crimes against him, all of which Sam could make go away.

  For an exchange, that is. A good one. Such as one damn lead on their case.

  Luke slowly paced the room. “So.” He stopped in front of Lou and smiled, his eyes warm and encouraging. “You have an uncle who has a neighbor, who has a girl friend, who’s friends with the guy who offered you a new identity for three hundred. Right?”

  “Yeah.” Lou licked his lips, warming up to Luke. “That’s all. I didn’t ask for it or nothing, you know? They just thought…” He bit his fingernail.

  “That you’d like to skip out on your crimes.” This from Sam, whose voice was hard as steel. He stayed behind Lou, wishing he could wring his scrawny, stupid little neck. “No. No,” Lou said, forced to twist around in his chair to eyeball Sam, who did not smile warmly and encouragingly. “I don’t need a new identity.” Sweat broke out on his brow. “I’m innocent. Totally innocent.”

  “Yeah. As a shark.”

  “Now, Sam.” Luke shot him a “be patient” look. “Let’s give Lou a break.”

  They were playing good-cop bad-cop. Not a stretch for Sam to be the tough one. “I’ll give him a break when he gives me one. I want the—”

  “The bigger fish?” Lou broke in hope fully.

  “That’s right,” Luke soothed. “The bigger fish. The other guys. You can help us, Lou. It’d be good for you to help us.”

  “You want to take down the entire identity-theft ring.”

  “With your help,” Luke said.

  Lou started to sweat more. “But I told you already, man. I know nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “You know enough, I think,” Luke said pleasantly.

  “No, Luke, maybe Lou here is right.” Sam came around front and stared at Lou coldly. “Maybe he can’t help us. Never you mind, Lou. We’ll just take you down the hall, book you, and—”

  “What?” Lou cried, shrinking back, shoving his hands into his pockets as if to avoid the cuffs. “But you just said you don’t care what I’ve done.”

  “Not if you help us.” Luke smiled again. Sweet as an innocent babe. “Why don’t you help us, Lou?”

  “Don’t bother, he doesn’t want to.” Sam pulled out a pair of hand cuffs, yelled for a guard and walked toward Lou.

  “Okay, okay!” Lou shot them a shaky smile as sweat poured down his face. “Sheesh. Maybe I can get you…some thing.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Luke said very kindly. “Keep going.”

  “Uh…”

  Sam held up the cuffs and raised an eyebrow. Waiting.

  Lou sighed. “Okay, listen. The kid making the new IDs…he’s some computer whiz kid at P.C.C.”

  “If he’s a whiz kid, why is he going to Pasadena City College instead of a four-year school?” Luke asked.

  “No money.”

  Sam thought about this then shook his head. “Don’t buy it. This guy, if he’s the right one, is making a fortune off this gig. Two hundred thousand last month alone.”

  “He’s not the boss, he’s just a paid joker.”

  “Who is the boss?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Give us a name,” Luke coaxed. “That’ll be a good start.”

  “John.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s convenient. How about a last name, ace?”

  “That’s all I know,” Lou insisted. “That’s all I know.”

  When they were back in Sam’s office, Luke looked at Sam very seriously. “I’ve got to ask.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, expecting a question on the case.

  “Get any more flowers today, lover boy?”

  Luke was grinning at him, the bastard. “You know I didn’t.”

  “Then you didn’t play your cards right.”

  “Luke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  Luke merely laughed. “You’re still in the papers this morning, did you see that? Such a hero, our Sam. Can I have your au to graph?”

  Each of them had been through some pretty rough times, and each of them had come through with different attitudes. Luke tended to put his emotions out there, despite his tough ness.

  Sam did not.

  Sam didn’t like to acknowledge his emotions in any way, shape or form. They had disappointed and hurt him once too often.

  Anyway, for all those reasons, or maybe none of them, Luke’s dark eyes rarely did that sparkle dance thing as they were doing now, no matter how amused he might be.

  Nice as that was to see, Sam didn’t care for it being at his own expense, even if he was aware Luke was just trying to
get a rise out of him.

  If only Luke knew, just thinking about Angie got a rise out of him. “Can we talk the case, do you think, or do you want to joke around all day?”

  “Sorry.”

  “You don’t look sorry. You look disgustingly…I don’t know. Happy.”

  Luke lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I got lucky last night.”

  “With Sara?”

  “Maybe.”

  “About time. You’ve been dating her a month.”

  “Some things are worth waiting for.”

  Sam eye balled the known womanizer Luke Sorrintino. “That sounds serious.”

  Luke shrugged again and turned away.

  “Oh, now that we’re talking about you, we’re done?”

  “That’s right. Besides, our little problem awaits us— Well, hello.” Luke smiled broadly at someone in the doorway, and even before Sam glanced over and saw his partner’s flirtatious expression, he knew.

  Angie.

  She stood there with her sweet face smiling right at him, in her second hand glasses that emphasized her huge eyes and a floral, gauzy dress covered in sunflowers that made him wish he had a pair of sun glasses just to look at her.

  “You look tense again,” she said to Sam. “Am I interrupting?”

  Yes.

  “Of course not,” Luke said before Sam could speak. “We were just questioning a witness. I was the good cop. Sam here…” They both turned to stare at him.

  “I bet he makes a scary bad cop,” Angie said with a secret little smile.

  As if she knew him.

  Well, if she did, and she could read his mind right now, she’d know this terrible urge he had to go to her, touch her. She’d probably run screaming from the room.

  “You catch far more flies with honey instead of vinegar,” she said, wrinkling her nose delicately as she looked around his office with a sort of morbid curiosity.

  “A mess, isn’t it?” Luke tsked, and Sam glared at him.

  “I suggested opening the shades and fumigating,” Angie said. “But he wasn’t interested.”

  “No, he’s very tense, our Sam.”

  Oh, very funny.

  “At the very least, he should try aromatherapy,” Angie said told Luke.

  “I agree. I mean, just look at him.” Now Luke sidled over toward Angie, so that both of them were looking back at him; his partner with laughter in his eyes, and Angie, with…uh-oh. An un mistakable spurt of…some thing, all right. Some thing that made his insides do a juvenile sort of quiver. Damn it, he thought he’d taken care of that the last time they’d stood in this office together.

  No attraction between them. Not now, not ever.

  He faced them both. “I don’t need sunshine, fumigating or aromatherapy, thank you.” He took Luke’s arm, showed him the door and closed it behind him.

  “Before you say a word,” Angie said. “I just wanted to say, I didn’t come here to discuss the horrid color of your walls or the way you keep your office.”

  “But you had to mention it.”

  “Well, yes. Since I was here.” She smiled, a totally disarming smile. “That was just a bonus suggestion, you understand, and I’ll try to restrain myself in the future. I’m not here to make a pest of myself.”

  Oddly enough, she wasn’t. Because somehow, simply by standing there, his day seemed…brighter.

  Not good. “I’m pretty busy.”

  Her smile dimmed slightly, and he wondered what exactly it was about her that made him such a jerk. “I wanted to see that picture again,” she said.

  “Picture?” All he could think of was the photo of them in the paper, when she’d been snuggled against his chest, when he’d been staring down into her face—

  “The suspect drawing.”

  “Oh.” Idiot. “It’s here…some where.” He went to his desk and started rifling, nearly growling when she came close and leaned over his desk, too, her sweet-smelling hair brushing his arm.

  “Sorry,” she said, tossing it over her shoulder. “I tend to get in people’s spaces. I know you don’t like to be touched.”

  Oh, he liked to be touched. Sexually, that is. Which, unfortunately, was suddenly all he could think about at the moment. “Here.” He found the picture before he made a fool of himself and pulled it from the disaster masquerading as his desk. “What did you need it for?”

  “I just wanted to add…” She took the paper, set it on the desk, reached for a pencil and—

  “Hey, that’s—”

  “Yes,” she breathed, straightening, holding up the sheet to inspect her handiwork. “That’s it. Now it’s perfect.”

  Sam grabbed the composite drawing and stared at it. She’d added a little goatee.

  “Some thing about the rendering has been bothering me.” She peeked over his shoulder, which she had to stand on tiptoe to do. He could imagine her a little closer, just enough that her breasts would press into his back and—

  “I couldn’t place it right away,” she said softly, clearly having no idea his thoughts had taken him to the gutter. “Not until I saw him again.”

  Sam stepped clear and faced her, not allowing himself to look anywhere but into her dark eyes. “You…saw him again?”

  “Not since I called you, no. I’ll let you know if anything else comes to me. Well, I know you’re too busy to stand around talking, so…”

  Sam stared at her, but all he saw was her pretty little behind as it sashayed toward his door. “Where are you going?”

  “To work,” she said. “I skipped the bank this morning. Still don’t feel comfortable going inside. I’m finally replacing my lost ATM card.”

  She made his head spin. “Angie—”

  But she was gone.

  Two days later, Sam and Luke were still checking on every “John” registered at P.C.C. when Sam’s cell phone rang.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Angie said in his ear. “But Mr. Suspect just walked down the alley between the café and the book store. And you know, I keep for get ting to ask you. What’s his name? What’s he wanted for?”

  “We don’t know his name and he’s part of an identity-theft ring—wait.” He shook his head to clear the strange pleasure that had come over him at hearing her musical voice. No matter how much he ignored her, she’d been in the back of his mind. Hell, okay, the front of his mind. “You saw him?”

  “That’s why I’m calling, Sam.”

  Lord, she was going to give him gray hair before he hit thirty-five. “Angie.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay right where you are.” He pulled a U-turn to head back across town. “Don’t even think about going after him yourself.”

  She didn’t say anything, and a bad, bad feeling overcame the good one he’d had at the sound of her. “I mean it, Angie. If you—”

  “I hear you perfectly well, Sam,” she said in a rather subdued voice. “And believe it or not, I even understand the English language, so there’s no need to repeat yourself. I won’t go after him myself, that would be stupid.”

  When the dial tone sounded in his ear, he swore and tossed the phone aside.

  “Angie?” Luke asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Yeah.” Sam sped them toward the café and tried not to panic over all the possible scenarios Angie was creating at that very moment. “Big trouble.”

  “Isn’t that just like a woman.”

  Chapter 4

  Twenty minutes later, Sam had searched the alley, the closed book store, the café, the parking lot in back…every where. He’d showed pictures of their suspect to the few people he found on the street, but no one, not a single soul, had seen him.

  Other than Angie.

  Luke came back from the alley, which he’d walked yet again, shaking his head. “No sign of life back there anywhere.”

  Sam sighed, rubbed his aching temples and turned toward Angie. She stood in the opened doorway of the café, apron on, hair haphazardly piled on top of he
r head. Half in shadow, half in sunlight, her body was clearly outlined. Legs, nice and toned. Softly curved hips. Perfectly rounded breasts straining the front of her blouse. And for a moment, his brain assimilated her not as a victim, not a responsibility, but as a woman. All woman.

  A woman who was looking at him hope fully.

  Slowly he shook his head.

  She turned away, as if she was disappointed in him, of all things. As if it was his fault she was crazy.

  “Angie.”

  “I have customers,” she said over her shoulder. “Sorry to have bothered you again.” And then she shut the door.

  “Like I said,” Luke offered. “Just like a woman.”

  Luke waited until they were nearly back at the station to speculate. “She’s awfully sweet. Sort of whimsical, I think. And strong as hell, given what she went through at the bank.”

  Sam would have said tenacious. Stubborn. “How about pain in the ass.”

  Luke arched a brow.

  “And annoying,” Sam added, getting into it. Damn, why had she given him that look of disappointment? Was he doomed to get that look from every single female in his life? Not that she was in his life. Nope. No way. “And really irritating.”

  “Annoying and irritating are the same thing,” Luke pointed out. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. She drives me crazy.”

  “You’re being kind of tough on her, aren’t you?”

  She’d only barged into his life unannounced, unexpected and unwanted. And had stayed there. “I’m tough on everyone.”

  “Yes.” Luke nodded thought fully. “And most can’t hack it.”

  Which was why Sam had never remarried after his one short, disastrous union with Kim. It was why his own mother was so disappointed in him. “So?”

  “So,” Luke said in a patient voice that made Sam want to slug him. “I don’t think Angie fits into the ‘most’ category.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That you’re not going to scare her off with the bad-cop thing. That despite the fact she’s young, and maybe even a touch naive, she looks pretty tough to me. Not only that, she’s…”

  “What?”

  Luke smiled. “Hot. Very hot.”

  “Luke?”

  Luke turned toward him. “Let me guess. Shut up?”