Hotter After Midnight (Midnight 1)

Doubtful. Emily snorted. It probably would have just given her more business. It would have been as close to advertising for Other patients as she could get. “It wouldn’t have effected me.”

“Bullshit.”

Colin rolled his shoulders, narrowed his eyes. “Watch it.”

“Darla was going to ruin your career, tell the world about the little girl who’d hallucinated, whose mom sent her to a psych ward because she didn’t want a crazy kid.”

Emily stepped forward, punched her finger in his chest. “Listen up, Brooks. I told you already, I’m not crazy. Darla’s story wouldn’t have done a damn thing to my career because the story would never have run. She didn’t have any facts to back up her wild ideas, okay?” Oh, the man was starting to royally piss her off.

She didn’t want a crazy kid.

That hit just a little too close to home.

And it made her even angrier. “I don’t have to listen to any more of this crap. I’m working this case with you, Detective. I didn’t kill Darla Mitchell.”

“Then tell me where you were between 8 and 10.”

“At. My. Mother’s. 2801 Terrace Lane. Check it out. Go ask her. Interview her neighbors. I’m sure someone saw me.”

He pulled out a small notebook. Scribbled something down. The address, no doubt. Asshole.

“Now if you’re done interrogating me, I’m going to shower.” Before she gave into the impulse rushing through her and slugged him.

Being accused of ripping out a reporter’s throat first thing in the morning had sure screwed up her mood.

Emily didn’t wait for him to answer. She spun on her heel and stormed from the room.

The bathroom door slammed.

Colin stared at his partner, shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Very carefully, Brooks folded his notebook. Tucked it in his jacket pocket. “I was thinking we have a murder to solve and that your girlfriend has a hell of a motive.”

“Two murders,” Colin corrected, trying hard to keep the anger out of his voice. “Two murders with the exact MO. What, you think Emily had a motive for offing Preston too?”

“I think she’s linked to him. I haven’t connected the pieces yet, but I will.”

“What? The doc had nothing to do—”

“Her place was trashed last night, wasn’t it? Just like Gillian Nemont’s.”

Exactly like Gillian’s.

“What are the odds of that?” Brooks asked quietly. “What are the odds that both Dr. Drake’s place and Gillian’s would get trashed?”

Colin didn’t reply. Cause he’d been wondering the same thing.

“I think she’s holding out on us. She knows something, or else—”

“Or else what?”

“She’s involved.”

Shit. “You saw the bodies. There’s no way Emily could have done that.” No, she’d been horrified when she’d seen the victims and the blood.

“The facts aren’t adding up. Not one damn bit.” Brooks began pacing around the room. “The case smells to high heaven. And I know, I know I’m being kept in the dark.” He rounded on Colin. “And I don’t like it.”

Colin glared right back at him. “And I don’t like it when my partner comes here at dawn and starts harassing my lover.”

“I don’t trust her.”

I do. “No one’s asked you to.”

“I’m checking out her alibi. You coming with me or not?”

“Right now, not.” Hell, his eyes were still sandy from sleep. And Emily was pissed, and in the shower, naked.

But he had a f**king job to do, and on this case he couldn’t afford to have anyone questioning his motives. Or his lover’s. “Give me an hour. I’ll meet you at the station.” He’d have to clear Emily so that Brooks would drop this lame-ass theory.

Brooks jerked his head in agreement, turned toward the door.

Colin caught his arm in a steely grip. He figured Emily should be proud of him; he’d held onto his cool a good fifteen minutes. “Not so fast, partner.” He applied just enough pressure to grind bones.

“What the he—”

“Don’t ever f**king come to my house and rip into my woman that way again, you understand me?” He didn’t let up on the pressure, not for one minute.

Brooks tried to jerk away. Colin just tightened his grip. “I asked if you understood.” He’d hate to break the guy’s arm, but he had a point to make.

Don’t mess with Emily.

“I’m doing my job. Our job.” Moisture appeared above Brooks’s upper lip. “I have to check her out.”

Yeah, but it was more than that. He’d seen Brooks check out hundreds of suspects before, and he’d never had the tight rage in his voice that he’d had when he confronted Emily. Understanding dawned. “You don’t like her, do you?”

“I don’t trust her.”

Colin eased his grip. He’d deliberately reached for his partner’s left arm. No sense putting his shooting hand out of commission.

“You don’t have to trust her.”

“You shouldn’t either. There’s something about her…it’s just…off.” When Colin’s hold lightened, Brooks managed to jerk his arm free. “Don’t let the fact that she’s a good piece of ass screw up your head, Gyth. She’s got secrets, and those secrets could be deadly.”

He wrenched open the door, stalked into the bright morning light.

Colin watched him leave, watched as he revved his small sports car and spun out of the drive.

Brooks was getting drawn deeper and deeper into the Butcher case, and the guy was a good detective.

There was a chance he could find out the truth.

How would he handle it?

The guy seemed certain that Emily was a threat. How would he feel if he learned the true danger came from his own partner?

You f**king freak! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!

He rolled his right shoulder. Been there, done that. He hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat performance this time around.

He shut the front door, heard the faint spray of water from the shower.

His head tilted at the sound, and an image of Emily, her pale body glistening with water, filled his mind.

Hmmm. He’d told Brooks he’d meet him in an hour.

More than enough time…

The warm water slid over her skin. Ah, God, it felt good. Emily tilted her head beneath the spray, letting the water soak her hair.