Nothing. Not even another whimper to draw Connor in.
“It’s all right, love. Come out. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help,” Con reassured and spun about on his heel when a stack of boxes near the wall exploded with motion.
A woman, skinnier than Jules, darted from her hiding place, arms and legs flailing as she tried to make it to the Amp’s back door. Connor lowered his gun and sprinted after her, snagging her shoulder before she could get a grip on the heavy industrial pull built into the safety door leading out to the parking lot. Whoever the woman was, she fought hard, and her nails dug into Connor’s face and arms, scooping out small divots of flesh wherever she could get a hold.
It was like fighting a rabid dog. Her straggly hair was everywhere, a brittle blonde kraken snapping across his face as Con bent over to get a good grip on her. He tucked his gun away, then reached into the fury of fists, nails, and suddenly teeth—a shock he should have planned for but didn’t.
He hated hitting women. Years of being told he was bigger and stronger than many of his playmates hammered in the need for delicacy, especially where someone much smaller was concerned. Her clawed hands came at his face, and Connor almost gave in to his instinct to slap her away. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and hauled her up, lifting the woman clear off the ground and away from his body.
Enraged, she screamed, and he heard the sounds of spit being gathered in her throat. She hawked out her saliva into his face, as quick as a cobra, and he nearly didn’t duck in time. It caught his cheek, trailing down his neck, but he’d avoided getting her fluids in his eyes or mouth.
Snarling, Connor shook her and said, “Cut it the fuck out. I’m a cop.”
She fought on for a moment, then surrendered, her feet kicking for purchase even though the floor was nearly a foot and half beneath her. He nearly let her down when he heard the telltale scratch of another spit bomb coming his way, and Connor hoisted her even higher, slamming the captured woman up against the kitchen’s brick wall.
“Cut. It. Out,” he growled, then nearly dropped his assailant. Staring into her time-leathered face, his stomach careened down into the abyss and his heart skipped, because she glared right back, looking at him with his lover’s eyes.
Chapter 15
Wrap me in leather
Buckle me down in hard lace
Drape me in white
Slap a mask on my face
Tie me down to your cross
Thorn ribbons in my hair
Blood down on my face
Kill me if you dare
—Skywood
“WELL, SHIT,” Duarte drawled as he walked past Connor. “You find any more dead bodies, someone would think you owned a mystery bookstore in Pasadena.”
Kiki came up behind her brother, sniffling into a wad of tissue. She waved at Connor with her free hand, then gestured toward her partner. “Fucking asshole gave me his cold.”
Connor frowned, thinking back to how healthy Duarte seemed over the past week. “He didn’t have a cold.”
“Yeah, I know,” she snuffled. “He sidestepped the damned thing. It was his. I know it.”
“And if there was any wonder if Mum’s crazy got to one of us, it’s you, Keeks,” Con replied.
“Morgan! Get your asses over here,” Duarte shouted from the Amp’s open front door. “Both of you!”
Connor kept his stride shallow so his sister could keep up. Kiki shot him an evil look and hastened her step, forcing him to fall in beside her.
“Save me your chivalry, Lieutenant,” she muttered under her breath.
“If you save me from your macho bullshit, Inspector,” Connor shot back and stalled at the door, sweeping into a mocking bow. “After you, sis.”
“I don’t know why I look up to you,” Kiki grumbled but went in first.
“Because you’re really fucking short, Keeks.” He was stopped by Duarte clearing his throat.
“Children,” the man greeted them.
“You need me to walk through what happened, Henry?”
“In a bit,” Duarte said. “Come over here and tell me what you think about the asshole who did this. I want your thoughts. You’ve been knee-deep in this since the beginning.”
“So what, now he’s homicide?” Kiki teased lightly, jabbing at her brother’s ribs. “I thought we just paid his kind to bust heads for us. Now you want him to think? Might catch the building on fire if he sparks that thick skull of his.”
“At some point he’s going to be too old to be rolling through doors,” her partner replied. “Actually, I’m hoping we brainstorm this. Captain’s getting kind of pissed off about this case dragging.”
“Well, it’s connected to Marshall’s murder.” Kiki paced around the edges of the coffee shop. “I think we can safely assume that. The guy’s after Ackerman, but there’s no demands for anything. Does he just have bad luck and keeps missing, or is he just toying with the kid?”