Page 46 of Hurt in Her Eyes
And kicking Miguel’s desk. Deliberately. Insolently.
The storms on his face just kept building more and more with every kick of her sister’s size seven foot.
Heather almost groaned. This? This was going to be complicated. She really didn’t have time for this.
But she would really love to hear the explanation.
It was bound to be good. So, so good.
Hope versus Miguel was bound to be good.
It just was.
Horrible Hope had apparently struck again. It happened. Frequently. No denying that. And just like always, Heather was there to handle the aftermath.
“Miguel? Care to explain why you have my baby sister in handcuffs right now?” She’d just start with the most rational of the two first. Then? Then she’d deal with her sister.
“You have a teenaged sister?” There was confusion on his handsome face. Something she wasn’t used to seeing. She’d known him for a decade now, when she’d worked in Houston before. Hope had still been in college then, finishing up her doctorate. Their paths hadn’t crossed, that Heather knew. “I don’t remember meeting one this young.”
“Well, no. This is my youngest sister, Hope. But Hope is not a teenager. Even though at times… She was in college when we worked together last. Except for Nick’s…funeral. You both were there, but…” They had worked together in Houston out of special hush-hush unit under the previous governor. It had been disbanded when the current governor cut the funding. Her, Miguel, her brother-in-law Nick—they had had each other’s backs, no matter what. But they hadn’t often mingled with one another’s families. Except Heather and Nick anyway. Nick had taken one look at Joy when Heather had taken him home with her after a case and fallen fast. They’d had four children before Nick had been murdered.
“He didn’t ask how old I was before he arrested me for underage loitering, Heath. He just ass-umed.”
Hope was kicking his desk leg again. On purpose. Miguel’s glare just kept deepening. Any minute now and he’d toss Hope—and probably that chair—right out the window. Heather was certain of it. And, well, it was a thought she’d had a time or billion herself.
Hope could be a bit much. Heather adored her sister. Hope had been there every time Heather ever needed her. Every single time. No questions. No hesitation. Always.
And had almost died because of it.
“He just got angry when I wasn’t answering his questions the way he wanted—after he did not identify himself properly, I might add. For all I knew, the guy was a mob boss or a pimp. Or a very inept john trying to score or something. I’ve heard they run rampant in the Finley Creek TSP, you know. Pervs in cheap suits everywhere.” She looked at the rest of the Major Crimes guys and nodded. “Trust me: I’ve met my fair share of those in this building already, boys. The things I have heard. The things…if I didn’t live with Heather, I’d probably already be shocked forever. So here I am. Waiting for the sister responsible for me to come get me.”
She turned back to Heather and grinned. The same grin Heather’s baby girl had inherited. “You are the lucky winner, by the way. Figured you would be the most expedient. Congratulations, Heather Holly Coleson, you are responsible for me tonight!”
“Lucky, lucky me.” Heather turned to the idiots watching behind her. Laughing. Murdoch was recording on his phone. Baboons, all of them.
Hope could be problematic sometimes. Especially when she was angry. Heather was just extremely glad Cara and Cashlyn weren’t there to egg Hope on. The three of them together were monsters. Complete and utter monsters. That Heather adored.
Anyone who knew her would see with one look that Hope was extremely angry right now. “Wouldn’t it be Bonnie who is ultimately responsible for the monster you have become, though? Since she’s the one who raised you and everything?”
“Well, I didn’t want to call her at the hospital with you already here. Plus, you did get stuck practically raising me and Summer and Cara and Cashie and Crispie while Bonnie was working.” True. Heather had watched the younger girls while Bonnie worked. Someone had to do it—and Joy had to study. “So I really think I am more your doing than hers, honestly. And since I’m here, I’m going to help Hal out and fill in on shift tonight. So, can someone pick me up when my shift ends? My car is still parked on Forty-Fourth. I really don’t want to take a taxi. Those things to Hughes Heights are seriously like not cheap.”
Hope bent down to where she could look into Miguel’s face, sprawled on the desk in front of him. Her cuffed arm was bent at an awkward angle. Her sister always had been weirdly flexible.
Hope’s V-neck shirt gaped, right in his face. Hope was extremely small there, but the way it was practically shoved in his face, kind of hard to miss, really. Even with the overalls that sort of masked the curves Hope did have. His expression darkened as he jerked back into more appropriate space.
Miguel had gotten pretty close to the McNuggets there. Hope didn’t even seem aware of that. No surprise. She could be a bit clueless sometimes, too.
“So, dude, how about uncuffing me so I can clock in downstairs? I have work clothes in my locker. They make me look like a grown-up, even. Well, almost.”
“Just who the hell are you?” Miguel rumbled at her. He looked like he was ready to clobber her or something. No surprise. Most people who met Hope had that urge sooner or later.
Hope was a Coleson, through and through. Exceptionally intelligent and quirky—and beautiful—in her own unique way. Like they all were—except Heather. Heather considered herself normal in every way. Thankfully. “I swear I’m the only normal one in our family.”
“Yeah, somehow, I don’t think so. You are so not normal, Heath. Normal women just do not look like you.” Hope glared at Miguel. Who glared right back. “So, uncuff me, super big dude. Hal needs me in the lab. Or did you miss the memo?”
“You work here.”
“Yes, I work here. For Hal, dude. Not a kid, so no kid jail, in case you missed it, man.” Hope just kept glaring up at him. Miguel was glaring down at her.