Ride the Wreck (Stonewall Investigations Blue Creek 2)

“It’s fine,” I said and discreetly adjusted myself with a hand in my pocket. “I deal with all kinds of people in this job. I’ve learned you just got to roll with the punches until you spot an opening to punch back. Usually by then, they’re so tired of being problematic that they end up giving you the answers you were looking for.”

Elijah pursed his lips, nodded. “That’s why you’re the professional. I was about to smack the ho.”

Another laugh escaped me, and this one couldn’t be stifled under my breath. Elijah’s smile crept up his cheeks, and he playfully slapped a hand on my chest. I couldn’t hold myself back from leaning in and giving him a kiss. I wanted my lips on his at all times; I just couldn’t get enough of him. Was it that I was permanently traumatized from all the ghosting that guys had done to me over the years that I just didn’t want to give him a chance to dematerialize in the middle of the night? Yeah, maybe.

But also I just really fucking loved kissing Elijah.

The door opened as we separated, Lars walking out first with a tall woman stomping out behind him, keys and cards jingling together on the lanyard hanging off her neck. He didn’t even bother introducing Cindy to us, going straight to his computer and staring intently at whatever social media posts he had pulled up, not saying a single word to either of us.

I kind of understood where Elijah was coming from now.

“Hey, one of yous needed me?” Cindy asked, walking around the counter and speaking in a heavy Boston accent. She wore a fitted black blouse with a plunging neckline going below a pretty recent tan line. There was a perfectly symmetrical tan line on her ring finger, as well.

I stepped up. “Cindy, I’m Ryan Diaz, a detective with Stonewall Investigations. I’m working on a case that’s led me to your store. Someone bought a lipstick here between these dates. I’m going to need the receipts of all the lipstick purchases along with any security footage you’ve got.”

Cindy looked at the paper with the dates, bobbing her head to the sides. “I don’t know if we’ve got any of this.”

“I would imagine not keeping records of your sales would leave plenty of questions for the IRS.”

Cindy caught on to my suggestion real quick. She tutted her tongue and turned to walk back around the counter. “Let me see what I can find.”

I heard a muffled “mhmm” from my side. Lars shot a sharp glare at Elijah before stepping aside for his boss, making it a point to check his nails even though there was a customer who looked like she needed desperate help over in the foundation aisle, judging by the two towers of products she juggled in her hands.

“So from these dates…” Cindy typed one key at a time with shockingly slow speed. I could sense Elijah’s frustration next to me. Over the time we’d been spending together, I found myself getting better and better at reading him. Anyone else would see a particularly nonplussed guy waiting to be checked out at the register, but there were so many micro-movements and expressions Elijah did that gave him away, likely without him even realizing it. Mainly, I focused on his lower lip. Whenever he stressed out or became frustrated, he tended to chew on the left corner while occasionally moving his tongue in the opposite direction, toward the upper right part of his cheek.

He did exactly that as Cindy worked through an invisible layer of quicksand to pull up the information we needed.

There was a lot more that I noticed about Elijah. Things that I never really noticed on anyone else. He had a purpose to every step he took, and he liked to rub the tips of his ears whenever he fell deep in thought. He woke up with a smile and—usually—fell asleep with one, too. Of course, life had been a wild ride for him, especially lately, so I understood when his mood took a nosedive, and I was there to support him through it. I gave him space when I felt like he needed it, and I gave him affection when I knew he needed it.

Cindy finished her typing and hit the Enter key in a dramatic flair reserved for drag queens and Elton John.

“Okay,” she said, letting out the longest sigh I’d ever heard in my entire adult existence. “Looks like we’ve got five receipts in that time frame with the lipstick on there.” She turned the computer around to face us. “Recognize any of the names?”

Elijah and I both leaned in, scanning over the short list. One name immediately jumped out at me, and it seemed to do the same to Elijah.

“Kimmy,” we both said, looking at each other.