“Call it living vicariously.”
“I’ll call it illegal gambling,” she told him and rounded the hood of her car.
“Aw, chica.” Opening the passenger side door, he pouted at her over the roof. “Can’t an old man have a little fun?”
“Not at my expense, okay?”
His brow furrowed. “Never. But I thought—” He looked back up at the stationhouse. “Shit, is there something wrong between you and Wilde?”
More than something. Everything. And she did not want to talk about it. She shook her head and slid in behind the wheel. “Where’s this murder?”
Chapter Nine
Karma was a complete bitch.
Eva pulled her Taurus into her driveway and killed the engine, then took a moment to lay her head against the seat and breathe out. The scent of death and garbage still clung to her clothes and hair, and exhaustion weighed down her limbs. She’d worked for twenty-two of the past twenty-four hours, was running on gallons of coffee and a twenty minute nap. She wanted a shower, a good meal, and her bed. But karma was a mean bitch and because she’d used the murder call to escape Cam, she now had to go to his house and talk to him about that very same murder.
Dammit.
The stop at her house hadn’t exactly been out of her way, nor had it been the most direct route to Cam’s, but after leaving the death scene, she hadn’t been able to work up enough courage to point her car in his direction.
Okay, so she was procrastinating, but she did have to check on her house’s wellbeing. She’d bought the three bedroom, two bathroom, semi-detached Colonial for a ridiculously cheap price after the previous owners fell victim to the recession. It had needed major work to make it livable, so what she’d saved in the initial purchase cost, she put toward renovations. Now it was exactly as she wanted it—the brick siding clean, no more ugly metal awnings over the windows, her little patch of fenced-in yard neatly landscaped with some hardy bushes. Not Home & Gardens worthy, but it was quaint and cozy—a perfect refuge from all the craziness she saw at work.
Except when her sister Shelby or her mother used it as a crash pad between boyfriends.
Shelby had a history of “inviting a few friends over” whenever Eva worked the night shift. But to Shelby, “a few” equaled anything from two to fifty people. For all she knew, her house had been the site of a rave last night. Wouldn’t have been the first time.
All appeared quiet from the front, and all of the windows on the closed-in porch were still intact. Promising sign. Maybe Shelby had turned over a new leaf like she claimed.
Okay, Eva really had to get out of the car now. If she stopped moving, she’d crash out for a solid eight hours and she still had to visit Cam.
God, she wished that could wait until morning. With her reserves tapped dry, she’d be more apt to open her mouth and say shit to him she shouldn’t. Like, “Hey, that night in Key West? A-ma-zing. What I can remember of it, at least. Wanna try again now that I’m sober?”
Not cool.
Why not? A naughty little voice whispered through her thoughts. Her damn libido speaking up like the devil on her shoulder. Her angel was conspicuously missing from the other shoulder.
“Because I don’t do one night stands,” she told it and shoved open the car door. The cold blast of night air did little to perk her up. She climbed out of the vehicle, stretched, but still felt tight all over, her muscles protesting the movement. She needed a good gym session. Or a long night of sex.
It wouldn’t be a one night stand anymore if you did it again, the libido devil pointed out.
“I don’t do flings, either. Besides, he’s my best friend. The alcohol gave me plausible deniability the first time, but if I jumped him again… It’s just too weird. Annnd so is arguing with the voice in my head. Oh, Christ, I’m tired. Or crazy. Probably both.” She gave herself a full body shake to wake up and hit the car’s lock button on the key fob as she trudged through the iron gate in the fence surrounding her yard, up the short walk, and the six concrete steps to her front door.
No music blasting from inside. Also a good sign.
Poe, Shelby’s African Grey Parrot, sat in the window and gave a squawk of greeting when she shuffled inside. Smiling, Eva paused to rub his head. She enjoyed Poe and often teased her sister that he was the best boyfriend Shelby’s ever had. Poe gently caught her finger in his beak and pulled himself onto her hand, then climbed her arm to her shoulder. She reached up and ruffled the grey feathers on his chest until he chortled and flapped his wings. The sound lifted her spirits, all of her fatigue and worries taking a backseat for the space of a bird’s call, and she laughed.