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I was fucking hangry.
We had little time between visiting the first four crime scenes. Jameson took his sweet-ass time scrutinizing and walking around, so for lunch, all we had time to grab were protein smoothies from a place Slade liked. Which wasn’t enough for me then, even less so now.
That sorry excuse for sustainable nutrients was over five hours ago. Clearly these two men hadn’t worked closely with a female in a while—if ever. If they did, they would know we needed to be fed and watered regularly.
Damn, I made us women sound like high-maintenance houseplants.
Oh, maybe that was what I was missing with my plants. I needed to stroke them, love them, maybe even talk to them like I did my dead bodies. Maybe then I could inch my vegetation survival rating above zero percent.
While I was eyeing the precinct as it grew larger in the windshield, my stomach growled, the sound like two boulders colliding in a violent fight to the death.
“I’m hungry,” I complained with a hint of whine while pressing both hands to my empty stomach. My education told me it would take several days before the lack of actual food would lead to starvation, yet my body was telling me death was imminent if I didn’t ingest proper food as soon as possible. “How about we grab dinner first, then come back here to finish work?”
“I could eat,” Slade said, heel of his hand pressed to the steering wheel, turning it with a practiced ease as he parallel-parked across the street from the station. “What about you, Bend?”
“Huh?” he asked, barely pulling his rapt attention from the iPad in his lap, where he’d written all his notes and questions from the day. “Oh, we’re here. Great.” Jameson wrapped his fingers around the door handle, but Slade’s massive hand gripped his shoulder, keeping him from exiting the car.
“Earth to Jameson. Rain just mentioned she’s hungry, and I agreed. Let’s go grab an early dinner, then come back here to finish up.”
I loved how he claimed this dinner as “early.” Only workaholics like us would consider six o’clock an early dinner.
“Um,” Jameson murmured as he lifted his wrist to check his watch, “I’d love to go, but I really wanted to focus on piecing together the profile while the crime scenes are fresh on my mind. Plus, I plan to reach out to our technical profiler to see if he’s come up with any connections between the victims.”
If it weren’t for my stomach lining eating itself, I would’ve said I could wait for dinner.
But this was now a life-and-death situation.
Which was super dramatic since that wasn’t possible after going five hours without food. Meaning the quick escalation of me dying right there in the back seat wouldn’t even be a thought. No anxious thoughts when I knew for a fact that I would live.
Maybe.
Highly likely.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be,” Jameson continued. “How about I meet you back at your place, Rain? I can call a rideshare once I’m done if you have a spare key to your townhome.”
Without hesitation, I dug through the bottomless pit also known as my purse for my car keys. Grabbing the ring, I dangled the little fob over his shoulder. “Here, take my car. Park in the garage around back and you’ll be able to get in through that door since I don’t keep it locked.”
“Thanks, Rain. See you two later. I’ll text you both if I uncover anything groundbreaking in the case.” Once he’d stepped out onto the sidewalk, he dipped his head back inside with a grin and winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Which would be what?” Slade shot back.
“Not much, Detective. Not much.”
Lips parted from a silent gasp, I watched Jameson as he marched up the concrete steps to the glass front doors, disappearing through them without a single glance back. Of course, I couldn’t help but memorize the way his perky ass flexed beneath the tailored black slacks he wore today or notice the female officer almost trip down the stairs when she did a double take as he passed.
“So, where are we going to eat?” Slade pulled the sedan away from the curb, slowing to a stop at a red light. “Want to move up here to the passenger seat so I don’t feel like your chauffeur?”
Great idea.
Hand tightly gripped around the leather straps of my handbag, I unbuckled my seat belt and tossed a long leg over the center console.
“What the—”
“Light is green,” I commented as I contorted my body to squeeze between the two front seats. Damnit, this was way easier in my head.
“I’m not fucking moving this shit on wheels until you’re buckled up, Rain.”
“You’re the one who asked me to move to the front seat,” I retorted, wincing when a sharp pain shot through my shoulder, which was stretched and twisted at an odd angle. “Ouch, I might need another massage. That hurt.”