“What now?” I asked.
“Dinner,” he answered, took my arm and guided me down the sidewalk to a black Toyota 4Runner that was parked on the street. His head was up, his eyes alert.
“Um… where’s Eddie? I cal ed him…”
“Eddie’s busy,” Hank replied, bleeping open the doors and walking into the street to escort me to the passenger side.
“Busy with what? The meeting with Marcus?” He looked at me.
“That’s later.”
“How much later?”
“A lot later,” he said.
He opened the door for me.
Guess that was al I was going to learn about Eddie’s plans for the evening.
I got in, he did too. He pul ed out and started driving.
“I’m sorry you have to do this,” I said to the windscreen, feeling weird. I’d been around Hank, a lot, but never alone.
And anyway, Al y said he thought I was hot. What did I do with that?
“Everyone’s gotta eat dinner, might as wel do it with a pretty girl, even if she is a friend’s woman.” Yeesh. The w-word.
*
He took me to Bonnie Brae Tavern, a no-nonsense family business on University Boulevard that hadn’t changed in seventy years. It specialized in pizza that some would come to blows about if you told them it wasn’t the best in Denver. I preferred Famous.
I wasn’t going to tel Hank that.
Luckily, they had a greasy spoon menu that hadn’t changed in seventy years either. There was a lot of choice and most of it was damn good.
We settled in a green booth, the plethora of neon beer and Colorado sports team signs providing Denver atmosphere. I ordered a Reuben. Hank ordered a cheeseburger. Then I checked my phone.
“Expecting a cal ?” Hank asked, sitting back, arm stretched out along his side of the booth, watching me.
“I left a message for Eddie,” I said.
“May be awhile before he gets back to you.” I nodded.
Hmm.
Dilemma.
See, first, I didn’t have a lot of experience conversing with hot guys. Wel , I guess I was amassing experience lately but mostly arguing with Eddie when we weren’t having sex or when I was in the middle of a life and death situation.
Not hanging out at a pizza joint. Second, I was pretty certain that a crime was going to be committed, partial y because of me, and Hank was a cop. I was thinking I should report it, though I liked Shirleen and didn’t want to be a snitch.
Stil .
I looked anywhere but him, trying to think of what to say.
When I ran out of places to look, I caught him grinning at me.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s cute,” he said.
“What?” I asked again.
“You bein’ shy. I like it. It’s better than the attitude, though that works too.”
My mouth dropped open.
I snapped it shut and focused on a Coors beer sign with the intent of memorising it.
He leaned forward and I looked at him.
“Relax, Jet, I’m not gonna bite you.”
Eek.
The dinner was hard enough, I didn’t need visions of Hank biting me in my head.
“I have a problem,” I blurted out, deciding to be a snitch rather than spending any more time thinking of Hank’s straight, white teeth sinking into my flesh.
“You got a lot of problems,” he told me.
I gave him a glare. I wasn’t ful y committed to it because I didn’t know him very wel but it was a glare al the same.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes going a funny kind of flirty-lazy while he looked at me, “that works too.” Sweet Jesus.
I focused on my goal.
“I need to talk about my problem.”
He sat back again. “Fire away.”
“You’re a cop,” I told him.
His lips twitched and he nodded.
“Wel , say someone, I’m not saying who but someone kinda knows something bad is going to happen. Something real y bad. Then, say that bad thing happens. Wil that someone be in trouble if she… or he… didn’t report it to the cops, like, right away?”
His eyes changed again, he wasn’t playing at flirting anymore, he was watching me closely.
“How bad is this something?”
“Bad,” I said.
“Steal a candy bar bad or worse?”
“Worse, a lot worse.”
Then I leaned across the table and motioned to him to do the same. He did and when he was a couple inches away I whispered, “Murder.”
Then I sat back.
There, I did it.
Whew. That was a load off my mind.
Hank stayed where he was, stony-faced and serious and he crooked a finger at me.
Uh-oh.
The load settled right back on my mind.
I didn’t want to but I leaned forward again.
“Talk to me,” he demanded.
I sighed.
Then I told him about Darius and Shirleen, keeping names out of it, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out.
When I was done, he sat back and his arm went along the seat again. He looked away and muttered, “Fucking hel .”
The waitress served our food, snatched up our drinks and shot off to get us refil s even though we’d both only taken a few sips. I knew from experience what it could do to your tips if you weren’t super careful with refil s.
“That why you want to talk to Eddie?” Hank asked.