She called a cab from her cell phone and hustled down to the opulent lobby of the high-end apartment building. Having only entered through the garage, she hadn’t imagined the stunning marble fixtures or over-the-top crystal chandelier in the center.
The doorman, a guy built like a linebacker, opened the door for her and asked if she’d like for him to call a cab.
She admitted she’d called one all by her itty-bitty self and then ignored his shocked look. Apparently rich people were too busy or important to call for a cab. The guy still held an umbrella over her head while she walked down the wet steps toward her crappy cab, and she wondered if she was supposed to tip him. If so, he was outta luck, considering she didn’t have her purse. Or any money in it, anyway.
Even so, she gave him her best smile and a genuine thank-you as she slid into the back of the cab.
The doorman waited patiently.
Damn it, she didn’t have a tip. She shrugged. “I left my purse in the car at a homicide scene.”
His dark eyebrows rose. “I was waiting for the address, ma’am.”
Holy crap. Rich people couldn’t even talk to a cabbie to give directions? She reached for the door to shut it. “I’ve got it, pal.”
He stepped back and still gave a slight bow.
Her gaze met the amused one of the cabbie as she gave the address for Bernie’s car at the scene. “I have my purse in the car and will catch you then.” She flashed her badge. “I promise.” Of course, she’d have to swipe her credit card and say a quick prayer that she had enough credit left for the ride.
“Cop or hooker,” the cab driver snorted.
Lex frowned and scooted closer to the divider. “Excuse me?”
Unapologetic and almost wise eyes met her gaze. “Chicks who don’t belong leaving ritzy places like that are usually hookers. But since you got a badge, I guess cops hang there, too.”
Heat climbed into her face.
She fought the urge to yank on the cabbie’s long gray ponytail. “You’re opinionated.”
He nodded. “The guy you stay with do that to your face?”
“No. The guy who shot my partner last night did this to my face.” Lex rubbed the still pounding bruise at her temple. “You know anything about the firefight at Slam last night?”
“Not personally.” The cabbie took a sharp left turn and flipped off a Mercedes that tried to cut him off. “I heard on the news, though. Sorry your partner got shot.”
Lex nodded. “Thanks. You heard anything about a new drug on the streets called Apollo?”
“Nope. I stay away from drugs.” He pounded his chest. “Work out regular and don’t even drink diet colas. That shit will kill you faster than most of the illegal street drugs out there today. Bad stuff.”
“Hmm.” Lex sat back and thought through the night before until they arrived at Bernie’s car. In the daytime, with the rain still pattering down, the scene appeared like any bad street in any bad town. Police tape covered the door of the bar, but other than that, there was no sign that all hell had descended the night before.
She shoved out of the cab, opened Bernie’s car door and squared up with the driver. She was on her way south before she could think of a reason not to visit the penitentiary.
Ten years. It had been ten years since she’d seen her father, and she’d gone then only because her mother had begged her to see him on his fortieth birthday. He’d been apologetic, she’d been pissy, and the visit had not gone well.
He wanted to see her and claimed to have information about her case. Why he reached out after so much time was beyond her. She settled into the drive that would take two hours.
About halfway there, her phone buzzed.
“Monzelle,” she answered, not looking to see the caller.
“Where the hell are you, mate?” a somewhat pissed off Kell asked.
She flipped on her blinker and switched lanes, spraying water. “Working. Why?”
“I believe I asked you to stay here until we could chat.”
She snorted. “You ordered me to stay there. You’re crazy if you think I’d obey and just sit on my ass when my partner was shot last night.”
Silence reigned for several beats. “Not for a second did I think you’d sit on your very sweet ass, but I do expect you to be safe and to work with me. Now get back here.”
Interesting. The possessive and bossy tone was new. Great sex seemed to make Kellach turn into a throwback.
“No.”
He exhaled in a sound of pure male frustration. “Alexandra.”
“Listen, Kell.” She didn’t have time to deal with a witch apparently caught in the last century, yet she owed him for last night, so she tried to hold on to her temper. “You took good care of me last night. I was down, so I appreciate it.”
“Get back here, and I’ll take even better care of you.”
The sexy tone zinged through ears, down her chest, and ricocheted to her core. “I have work to do.”
“Take me with you.”
She chuckled and switched lanes behind a slow moving television satellite truck. “Right. You may be undercover, but right now, you’re a suspect of my department. We can’t be seen together until you make yourself known to my superiors.”
“I can’t do that,” he snapped.