Mr. and Mrs. Rossi

.

The pills worked once for her. They knocked her ass out and she slept for two days straight. After the sleeping beauty incident, she never took another pill. Her job depended on her being alert.

“Did he give any indication of what happened?” Harley asked, her mind flashing to the unidentified body this morning. Harley liked to trust her gut and right now her gut told her to listen.

“No. And he’s been trying to call him but there was no answer.”

Despite their engagement, Harley never met Javier’s family. She only just learned they attended the same school. “Where did you guys go last night?”

Hannah blurted out quickly everything she did since leaving the family yesterday afternoon. They’d gone out to dinner, went to a club, hung out in the parking lot, and then Javier brought her home. “Didn’t you look at the picture I sent you?”

“No,” she tugged the purse from Hannah’s hands and reached inside. She still had three unopened text messages. The attempt to download this morning failed, probably due to the incoming phone call. She clicked on the envelope icon and waited for it to download, again.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, you know me.”

“I know you,” Harley clarified, “not him or his family. Where does he live?”

“Out by Three Points in Little Mexico.”

Harley’s special agent spidey senses went on full alert. The tingling sensation in her gut kept her alive in many situations, not to mention solved a lot of mysteries. A kid dead and disfigured in Little Mexico plus Javier not being able to reach his brother mixed in with teenager trouble in the middle of the night equaled a scenario for anxiety. A sinking teetering at the top of a roller coaster feeling washed over her. “I need to meet Javier.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” The deep masculine voice echoed through the kitchen.

Hannah jumped.

Harley extended her right hand with the 9mm attached at the end toward the arched doorway. Dante Rossi came around the corner, arms raised in surrender. “What the hell are you doing here?” Harley growled out loud.

“Friend of yours, Harley?” asked Hannah, backing up to the kitchen sink.

“I’m working a case,” answered Dante.

Out of the corner of her eye Hannah’s head bobbed back and forth at the two of them. Harley raised an eyebrow. “Your case brought you here? To my house?”

Dante nodded his dark hair. Whatever gel he used in his hair now vanished. His dark locks fell forward emphasizing his bad boy look. He still wore his dark slacks, but the jacket and tie were gone, and shirt loosened at his throat. Whiplash panged her neck and she resisted smiling at last night’s memory. The suit. It had to be the suit. Maybe since she spent most of her undercover days with men in uniform, suits attracted her. No, she shook her head, at fifteen years of age she had a fixation for a sharp dresser.

A well-tailored suit did the same thing to her as lingerie on women did to men. She should know better after crashing and burning for a hot guy. Maybe her mouth watering was a knee jerk response because she knew exactly what Dante worked with underneath. To complete his professional attire, he carried a small black briefcase, probably containing a laptop.

“I need to see what is on your phone, Harley, but first I’m going to need you to lower your weapon.”

“You couldn’t knock?” Harley steadied her hand. “How the hell did you find out where I live?”

“I could have knocked but I don’t want my suspect to flee.”

Her heart raced with anger. “Suspect? What in the hell is going on?”

Clearing his throat, Dante raised his hands to show he was not armed or dangerous. “Harley, what I have to tell you, I don’t want you to take the wrong way.”

Harley put her free hand on her hip. “You break into my house and call me a suspect?”

“No.”

“You didn’t just break in my house?” She turned and glanced at Hannah, white as a sheet. “Hannah, go upstairs.”

“I’m not leaving you with this creep.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Dante said taking another step inside the kitchen, his dark eyes darted back and forth between them, “either one of you. I just need to see what’s on your phone.”

For the fourth time now, he wanted her phone starting from when they first met. This morning at his place he wanted to hold her phone, at the crime scene and now here he was again. Shame washed over her. He’d been playing her all along. “You sonofabitch.”