CHAPTER SIX
Jes
Jes sat at the bar, sipping on a beer, watching everyone who came in the door of Second Chances. It had been a long day—made even longer by the fact that she still hadn’t been to bed, wondering when this deal with Justice had become such an obsession.
The bartender glared daggers at her, but she ignored him. Not so easy to ignore—was her partner.
She didn’t want to deal with him tonight. She wanted to deal with the young man who haunted her dreams. She’d played with him as a girl—when he’d been only a boy. Even back then, she’d been drawn to him, like a moth to the flame. She didn’t understand how the boy she’d loved—had gone so wrong.
No. She didn’t want to deal with the bartender—or her partner. She wanted to track Justice—and get some answers.
Her partner gave her dark looks, but not with the same intensity as the barkeep, his glances born from a different source, and she knew it. He was concerned. He didn’t understand her obsession with this old case. A case the department considered cold—as in dead—as in the leads had all dried up and blown away, a long time ago.
She straddled the stool, set down her beer, and gave her partner her full attention. “Okay, out with it,” she said, though she didn’t want to hear it. The only thing on her mind tonight was Justice, and the feelings he invoked in her.
“Why are we really here?” He nodded toward the bartender. “He’s had it out for you—since we first got here.”
Jes looked at the bartender, swallowed and looked away, surprised he hadn’t come over and told her to leave. She looked at her partner. He wanted answers—answers she didn’t want to give. And the time for dodging questions had long since passed.
He’d reached his limit.
Her partner stood more than six feet tall, packed with a lot of hard muscle. He had dark hair and midnight-blue eyes. Women fell all over themselves to get his attention, wherever he went, as they had been doing all night since they’d first walked in.
He generally ignored them. And he did so, now.
Though serious when it was called for, he could be funny when relaxed. He’d been anything but relaxed, tonight. He’d been her partner for more than five years. And, lately, he’d become more and more irritated with her—witnessing her work turn into an obsession with the back-alley slasher. He didn’t understand it, and she’d never enlightened him.
She knew if she didn’t do so, soon, that he’d ask for a different partner. He’d been losing faith in her.
She picked up her beer, took the last swig, looking into Jared’s midnight-blue eyes. Though he was sweet on her, they both knew neither of them would allow it to go anywhere. Yet, she cared what he thought.
Finally, she set her empty beer bottle on the table, looking at him, scowling. “Jared,” she started out, “I’ve been searching a long time for this guy….” She frowned. Even she knew she’d gotten off to a bad start.
“Why?” he said, his tone harsh.
She stared at him. So—no more half-truths—or half-baked stories, huh? She’d waited too long to give him something—to give him anything short of the truth.
And she knew he wouldn’t believe the truth.
Who would?
She glanced at the bartender. She wanted another beer, but he didn’t look inclined to help her out. She turned her head fully and glared at him. He threw down his towel and, hands on hips, met her glare for glare. She glanced back at Jared, who watched—and waited for her explanation.
She glanced around. This wasn’t the place for this.
She glanced, again, at the bartender, who didn’t bother to look away, now. Looking back at her partner, she knew he wouldn’t wait another minute to hear something—anything—about what they were doing there—or why she’d been so obsessed—even more so than usual—as if her usual wasn’t obsessed enough.
“Okay,” she held up her hands, in mock surrender.
He crossed his arms, leaning back on his stool, not letting up for a second.
She glared one more time at the bartender and stammered out, “You know the kid in the picture?” She didn’t bother to explain which kid—or even which picture. He’d caught her staring at the picture, hundreds of times, over the years.
He raised a brow. “The same kid that lived through the back-alley slasher that day. You mean that kid?”
Hmmm, it sounded as if her partner had some suspicions of his own. “Yes. That kid.” She took a deep breath. Well, she couldn’t hold back now. “He’s the slasher,” she blurted out.
His brow shot up. It took a lot to surprise him—but he clearly waited for the punch line. When she gave him a purely serious look, a look of priceless surprise crossed his eyes, and he first sputtered, then started laughing. “You’re serious.”
Her brows shot up, daring him to continue laughing at her.
He tried to school his features, to rein in his laughter—failed and laughed out loud, evidently trying to picture a fourteen-year-old boy slashing through one of Chicago’s most fearsome gangs.
She glared at him.
Finally, he sobered. He pinched in his lips, trying to contain his amusement long enough to ask, “Why on earth, Jes, would you, of all people, buy into that theory?” Then, he sobered at his own words.
He stared at her.
She stared back.
He shook his head. He knew she wouldn’t believe this—not without a damn good reason. But what on earth could that reason be?
She watched him run the gambit, his gaze finally settling on her when he came up empty for anything that could possibly tell him how she’d drawn such an outrageous conclusion.
And he knew—she’d have to have a rationale for this—and a good one. But damned if he knew what it was.
When she knew, he’d run out of arguments—and better yet—run out of explanations as to why she’d said something so crazy—and she knew she had his full attention—she began speaking carefully, in a quiet undertone, “He’s a rogue member of an ancient race—called the Jaguar People.”
Now, true surprise crossed his face—as he tried—and failed—to follow her explanation. He looked at her, obviously waiting for her to give him an explanation—any explanation. After a long moment of complete silence, he said, “I don’t know what shocks me more—finding out that the most level-headed woman I’ve ever known is really crazy—or finding out that my partner is willing to come up with such a stupid story to cover her own ass.”
With that, he got up from his stool and went out the back door of the tavern.