“Excuse me, Declan,” Tess interrupts, but not before I catch her smiling my way. “Detective Santana is ready for you.”
He takes the phone, and within an hour, he has someone watching the gumad. Problem is, all the excitement gives him and Tess a second wind. “Deck, come on. It’s Friday night.” I motion to Tess. “Don’t you think your girl here deserves the night off?”
He surprises me by giving it some thought. “Maybe you’re right.” He looks at her then. “How about dinner?”
Da fuck?
Tess beams at him. “That would be wonderful—I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Do you like sushi?”
Her smile brightens. “Oh, yes, I love sushi.”
I rise slowly, telling myself there’s no reason to beat his ass. No reason to call him out for being a two-faced prick. Never mind. There is. This is the same idiot warning me to keep my distance, and to stop “looking at her that way” every time I did.
He lowers his rolled-up sleeves, smirking when he latches on to my WTF expression. “How about it, Curran. Dinner at Itsu’s grab ya?” he asks with a wink.
My shoulders relax when I realize what he’s after. Ah, Itsu’s. Declan may have been hungry. But the excitement of nabbing Montenegro’s third burned a hole straight to his pants. Itsu’s is known for two things: sushi, and a smokin’ hot hostess Deck bangs like cymbals at a high school band concert. “Sure. Yeah. I like Japanese.”
—
Another badge tails Declan while I drive Tess to Itsu’s. She stays quiet and keeps her attention ahead, just like she’s been doing around me for the last two weeks. “What’s up?” I ask her.
“We’re going for sushi,” she answers barely above a whisper.
“You know what I mean. You haven’t said shit to me lately.” I give her a one-shoulder shrug. “You and me, I thought we were pals.”
She adjusts her gloves nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”
“You weren’t rude.” I steal a glance in the rearview mirror, checking for tails.
“Yes, I was,” she admits, her voice lowering. “You’ve been very sweet—”
“Even when I asked you for that lap dance yesterday?”
She purses her lips. I think she’s blushing, but it’s hard to tell with the blaring commercial lights shining against her face. “Perhaps ‘sweet’ isn’t the best word.” Her expression softens. “Crazy and inappropriate antics aside, you’re very kind.”
“Kind?”
She nods, but keeps her attention ahead. “Yes. You’ve made every attempt to talk to me, and make me smile, although I’ve said very little in return. I…have a lot of stress in my life. But you’re not the cause. And I’m sorry if it seems I’ve been taking it out on you. Believe it or not, I don’t mean to.”
She seems sad, all over again. Just like she always was in college. “Got a lot on your mind?” I repeat, letting her know I’m listening and hoping maybe she’ll tell me what’s up.
“At times I think too much,” she agrees. Her voice is almost inaudible as we pass along the busy streets. “School, this internship, and…well, let’s just say I’m overwhelmed at the moment.”
I have the feeling there’s more here than what’s being said. “Are you sure that’s all of it?” I ask.
For all she tries to smile then, I catch that misery that always seems to plague her. “Isn’t that enough?”
“I s’pose.”
“What about you?” she asks.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “What about me?”
“You seem stressed as well.” She shifts her weight. “And when we go courtside, that stress becomes more pronounced, especially around the sheriff’s officers.”
“Nah. It’s just your imagination.”
“Curran…I’m not stupid.”