Throw Dylan from the Train Page 3

  “Yeah, I don’t really know anything about wine,” Addison lied. “I’m just getting a bottle for a friend’s housewarming party.”

  “Well this won’t make your friend’s house feel warm,” Greg replied, chuckling at his own stupid joke.

  I snorted. They both spun around to look at me. I dropped my arm to hide my phone and kept my attention on the wine bottle I was pretending to study.

  “Can you help me find something more suitable?” Addison asked. “I would be seriously in your debt. She’s a long-time friend who likes red wine, but that’s all I really know.”

  “Sure, I can help,” Greg said. “What’s your budget?”

  While the two of them discussed the wine selection I set my phone on the shelf, pointed toward them, and wandered down the aisle.

  “That’s a...great pin.” Addison said. “Very unusual. Where did you get it?”

  I paused and glanced at them. Greg wore khakis and a baby-blue button-up shirt under a jacket. The gaudiest pin I’d ever seen was attached to the front of it. I swear it looked like it was made by someone’s blind grandma for a holiday craft fair.

  He ducked, and I got the feeling the poser was trying to pretend he was embarrassed. “Oh, I forgot I had that on. My elderly neighbor gave it to me. I do her yard work for her and help her around the house with some maintenance and she’s always giving me these gifts. I put it on so her feelings wouldn’t get hurt.”

  “That’s very sweet of you,” Addison replied.

  “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.”

  I about gagged.

  “And as a nice guy, I’m gonna be honest and tell you nothing here is all that great,” Greg said, sounding disgusted. “You know, I have just the thing back at my place. I’d be willing to sell it to you at cost. I special order my vino and get discounts for buying it in bulk.”

  Apparently he sold B.S. in bulk too.

  “You would do that for me?” Addison asked. “But you don’t even know me. And I don’t know you.”

  “Sounds like we need to get acquainted first. I’m an excellent cook. Why don’t you come on over and let me make you dinner? It’ll even be low-fat so...” He glanced at her hips again. “Well, you know.”

  Wine bottle clutched in hand, I was ready to turn back around and go for home on the sleaze bucket’s head, but Addison’s giggle stopped me midturn. I had to trust that she knew what she was doing and could handle the situation. We were recording gold here, and it would help get Mary out of this messed up relationship. Addison just needed a few more minutes, then Mary could slap Greg with a divorce settlement that would hurt him way more than any bottle of wine could. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to release my grip on the wine bottle, setting it gently into my basket, and turned the corner. I perused the next aisle, listening to their conversation.

  “You make it sound like I disgust you,” Addison said, sounding pouty and hurt. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “You don’t disgust me at all. You’re sexy as hell, just a little...hippy. I’m a personal trainer, though, so I could help you with that. Show you some exercises to target that area. Your body is like an eight and a half, but trust me...I could take you to a ten.”

  “You’re a personal trainer? That is so hot. But...a low-fat dinner and a workout? What are you trying to do here? Date me or get me in shape?”

  He grinned. “Can’t I do both?”

  “You’re not attached?” She sounded shocked. “Surely a stud like you has a girlfriend...or maybe a wife?”

  He laughed, and I had to use the shelf to hold myself up. She really just called him a stud, and he was conceited enough to believe she was serious. “No attachments. I’m a free agent.”

  “Dinner tonight?” Addison asked.

  He chuckled. “Oh, no, not tonight. I’ve already got plans for tonight. Here, let me give you my address and phone number, and we can set something up for the day after tomorrow. Sound good?”

  A few seconds passed, and then Addison said, “Perfect. I’m free.”

  “Great. Give me your name and number and I’ll text you the address.”

  “Lynda,” Addison lied, once again evoking the use of her fake name. She rattled off the digits of the phone number she’d set up to deal with asshats like Greg, and then they set up the date. I waited until they were both gone before heading back to retrieve my cell phone.

  I scrolled through the video on my way to Addison’s car.

  “Please tell me you got that!” she demanded as soon as I opened the passenger’s side door.

  I grinned. “I got it. All of it.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she said, and started the car. “I’d need a shower...or three if I had to spend one more second with that sleaze.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe he gets laid. I don’t even care how good he is in bed, there is no excuse for any woman to stoop to that level.”

  “Right? What the hell was with the insults?”

  Addison laughed and backed out of the parking spot. “Oh, buddy, he fancies himself a pick-up artist.”

  “A what now?”

  She sighed. “You need to get out more.”

  “Um, nope. You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Remember that night I went out with my sorority girls...the night you played sick?”

  “I was sick.”

  “You weren’t sick,” she countered.

  “The thought of going out with your bitchy sorority sisters made me sick.”

  Addison snorted. “My friends are nice.”

  “They are not nice.”

  “You don’t know, Dylan, because you won’t go out with them.”

  Well, she had me there. “Okay, but they’re scary. You have to admit that.”

  “Chicken,” she said, and pulled onto Lovejoy. “Anyway, Alana and I were getting our groove on at the Brass Frog, and one guy after another came up to us and half-heartedly insulted us, while their wingmen, who were super nerdy—”

  “Nerdy, as in Silicon Valley nerdy? Or nerdy, as in between dice rolls of Dungeons and Dragons nerdy?”

  “The second one. And can I tell you how disturbing it is that thanks to you I now understand the distinction? As I was saying...after an idiot insulted us, his wingman would gallantly sally forth to defend our honor. It was bizarre. Half of them weren’t even able to look me in the eye, while the other half seemed to look me in the eye way too long. You know what I mean?”

  I laughed. “I totally know what you mean. Mostly because it happens everywhere.”

  “Whatever. I can’t believe I haven’t told you this story! Alana and I thought maybe they were doing some sort of nerdy role-playing thing, so we researched it and found out that some journalist had written a book on ‘how losers can pick up chicks,’ and it became a best-seller.”

  “Hey, losers need love too,” I felt inclined to point out.

  Addison rolled her eyes. “By getting women to feel insecure enough about themselves to date them? No. This book is like a cross between the Farmers’ Almanac and the Kama Sutra for these so-called pick-up artists.”

  “Well, that’s...um...well, something I could have gone my entire life without knowing.”

  “Sorry, but if I gotta suffer through knowledge like that, you have to, too.”

  “You’re such a giver.”

  Addison giggled. “I totally am.”

  I stared out the passenger window as my mind tried to process everything that had just gone down. We’d done it. We’d nailed our first cheater.

  “What’s up?” Addison asked. “You just went quiet. Is everything okay?”

  As much as I would never admit it, a little tiny bit of me had expected us to fail. And it felt so good that we hadn’t. I forced back the smile tugging at my lips and tried to look as somber as possible. “Oh, you know, just thinking about how we totally made that first PI gig our bitch.”

  We broke into giggles.

  “I know, and it felt so good!” Addison replied. “One sleaz
e-ball down with many more to go.”

  “Indeed. Okay, when we get home, I’ll cook while you send the video file to Ethan. If he approves it, then we can send him our bill and move on to the next case. Oh, and PS, that was less than three hours. We killed it.”

  “Yeah we did. Date night with Jake tomorrow. I think he’s going to pick me up from the office.” She smiled. “We’re going to his place, so I want to be ready.”

  “Are you staying overnight?”

  “That’s the plan,” she said. “I’m also going to find out once and for all if he’s blackballing us.”

  “We have a job, Addie. You don’t need to pick a fight with him.”

  “I do if he’s stopping us from getting more,” she countered. “You should invite Asher to stay with you...you know, so you don’t get scared.”

  I groaned. “I’d be more afraid of him coming over for an entire night.”

  Addison smiled. “We’ll get you over that, buddy.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  She giggled and we headed home.

  * * *

  Addison

  Later that night, I was sitting by the fire reading when Dylan walked into the living room. She looked gorgeous. She’d fluffed out her hair and put a little makeup on. “Wow, lady, Asher’s going to marry you on the spot.”

  “Put the book away, Addie. It’s warping your mind. Asher’s just popping by for a little bit. No big deal.”

  “I know.” I grinned. “He texted to warn me. I promised I’d make myself scarce.”

  “You don’t have to, Addie.”

  “Um, yes I do. I’m not typically entertained by my brother making out with my best friend, but thanks.”

  Dylan smiled and flopped onto the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t made any snarky comments in”—she glanced at her watch—“about forty-seven minutes. It’s unlike you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jake can’t get it up.”

  Dylan choked on a laugh. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s been, like, a week since Jake and I did the nasty.”

  “So?”

  “So? My vagina needs some attention.”

  “Isn’t he working on a big case? Not to mention, finishing the remodel on his house?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “You don’t believe him?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “He’s never gone an entire week without taking care of my—”

  “Nope!” Dylan raised a hand and shook her head. “Don’t want to know, especially if it has anything to do with one of your body parts.”

  “Vagina,” I finished.

  “Oh my god, Addie. You’re insane.”

  “Well, what else could it be?” I threw my hands up in the air. “He’s either lost interest or can’t get it up...which, I guess, if he’s lost interest would probably make him impotent, so...”

  “Or, it could be that he’s busy and maybe working on something really intense and he doesn’t want to burden you with it.”

  “Stop being logical!”

  Dylan grinned and rose to her feet. “How about you don’t borrow trouble and wait until you two can talk.” I scowled at her, but she only laughed. “Vanilla or Pecan Praline?”

  “Vodka,” I quipped.

  “Well, duh, but with which ice cream?”

  “Pecan,” I grumbled.

  “As I suspected.”

  Dylan waltzed into the kitchen and prepared us our evening dessert and, when Asher arrived, I headed to my bedroom to get lost in my motorcycle romance.

  Addison

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I pulled up an e-mail from Ethan Sinclair and let out a series of words. I can’t tell you if they made sense, but they were angry, and made all sorts of promises of bodily harm.

  “What the hell?” Dylan asked, stepping out from the kitchenette, a bottled water in her hand. “Did they bring another tone-deaf singer on The Voice?”

  “Yes, plus their drummer needs to be smacked into time, but that’s not what I’m currently fuming about. Ethan said the video won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s not enough proof.”

  “What do you mean there’s not enough proof?” Dylan demanded. “He said right on the video he didn’t have a wife.”

  “Yep, but that could be argued away with a simple, ‘I was flustered by the pretty girl.’” I sighed. “I’m going to have to go on this damn date.”

  Dylan’s jaw dropped. “A date. With Greg? Addie, there has to be another way. We can follow him and get pictures. You know he’s boinkin’ every woman dumb enough to eat that backhanded compliment crap he feeds them. I’m sure we’ll catch him.”

  “When? We got the job yesterday. I’m going out with Jake tonight. Tomorrow night Greg’s expecting me to come over. We’re trying to build a reputation here, and we don’t want to take a freakin’ week to close our first case.” I held up my phone. “This’ll be fast and easy. Look, he texted me his address and everything.”

  I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d rather do less than go to Greg’s house, but it made sense.

  “How is that not enough for Ethan?”

  I glared at the message from Greg, willing more information to pop up. “It’s just the address and his name. Doesn’t prove anything.”

  She whistled low. “This is...are you sure this is a good idea? Jake Parker’s going to shit a brick.”

  “Jake Parker isn’t going to know.”

  “Addie—”

  The front door opened, cutting Dylan off, and I bit my lip. “Speak of the devil.”

  Dylan gave me a warning glare as she took her seat. “Hey, Jake.”

  My heart raced the second Jake walked into the office. Damn, the man looked good. His face had a couple days’ stubble over his jawline and I wanted to run my tongue over it. Delicious.

  I rose to my feet and met him halfway, accepting a quick kiss. I hadn’t seen or talked to him in a couple of days, so we had some catching up to do.

  “Nice digs,” he said, looking over the place. “How’s business?”

  I leaned against my desk with a snarky grin. “Phones have been ringing off the hook,” I said, conveniently omitting that only a few of the calls had been business related. We were still getting collection calls for that damn John Watts.

  He frowned. “Seriously?”

  “Out,” I snapped.

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you’re just waiting for us to fail, then you can turn your cute little ass around and waltz right out that door.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “I’ll...ah...be in the kitchen,” Dylan stammered, and rose to her feet, escaping the tension as quickly as she could.

  I took a deep breath and studied my man. I say that loosely because some days I wanted to smack him...like today.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

  He closed the distance between us, stopping in front of me...really close. “I wanted to see if you can leave early so we can get date night started.” Lord, he smelled good.

  “I’m a little busy.”

  “Go, Addison,” Dylan called from our kitchenette.

  “Not the boss of me, Dylan,” I retorted, and heard her giggle. I focused back on Jake. “Before we commence with the romance, I need to know if you’re blackballing us.”

  He frowned. “Blackballing you how?”

  “Trying to keep us from getting business.”

  “I know what blackballing is, sweetheart, I’m just not clear on how I’d do it. Besides, I thought you said the phones have been busy?”

  I crossed my arms. “They have been.”

  “Well, that’s great, right?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “It’s for some guy...he ran out on his debts, so they’ve all been debt collection calls.”

  He sighed, sliding his hand to my neck. “As much as I
hate the idea of you two putting yourselves in unnecessary danger, I’m proud of you, Addison. You have a goal and you’re going for it. Takes guts to do that.”

  Well, that was seriously sweet.

  He glanced at my feet. “Don’t know how you’re gonna chase down leads in designer heels though, honey.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Just keep the lingerie in your closet, yeah? Or mine.”

  I let out a quiet snort. “No promises.”

  He leaned down and kissed me gently, then kissed my nose. “Missed you this week.”

  “Same.”

  “Good, let’s commence with the romance.”

  I giggled and grabbed my bag. Jake was as tough as tough could be, but sometimes he’d throw out a one-liner that was so squishy, it made me laugh.

  Tonight was a big night for us. We were staying at his place for the first time. The remodel was finally done. He’d been working on it the entire time we’d been together, so this was my first visit to Jake’s lair. Jake and I had been messing around for months now. Exclusively, yes, but sometimes, I wasn’t sure exactly where we stood because he kept his emotions extremely close to the vest. I still didn’t know a whole lot about him, his childhood, or his past in general. “I better tell the boss where I’m going...she can be a hardass,” I said.

  “I heard that,” Dylan said as she walked out of the kitchenette. “And it’s Ms. Hardass Boss to you, missy.”

  I snorted. “I was just trying to give your ego a little boost. Didn’t mean to shoot it through the roof.” I gave her a wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Have fun,” she said as I led Jake out of the office.

  We stepped into the elevator and he slid his hand to my neck and pushed me against the wall, leaning down to kiss me properly. He broke off the kiss just as the elevator opened and smiled as he wrapped an arm around my waist and walked me to his truck. I’d left my keys for Dylan so she didn’t have to drive her piece of shit on wheels.

  Jake held the door for me and I climbed up into the cab. We didn’t say much as we headed to his place. I had no idea what to expect. The median salary for a Portland detective was a little over eighty-two thousand a year—I’d looked it up out of curiosity—which meant he wouldn’t be living in squalor, but I couldn’t expect a mansion either. Especially not considering where his house was located. I shifted in my seat and silently berated my attitude. I would not judge him. He worked hard, and I had no right to turn my nose up at his ghetto address.