Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [134]
She closed the file with a snap and hit it sharply on the desk as if to settle the papers inside it, but it looked like an automatic gesture, or an angry one. “Don’t try batting those big brown eyes at me, Ms. Blake, I’m not buying.”
Batting my big brown eyes? Me? “Are you accusing me of trying to use feminine wiles on you, Detective?”
That made her almost smile, but she fought off the urge. “Not exactly, but I’ve seen women like you before, so cute, so petite, you give that innocent face and the men just fall all over themselves to believe you.”
I looked at her for a second, to see if she was kidding, but she seemed serious. “Whatever axe you’re grinding, find someone else’s forehead to sink it into. I have come in here and told nothing but the truth. I helped get two men off the streets that were carrying firepower with armor-piercing, cop-killing ammo. You don’t seem very damned grateful.”
She gave me very cold eyes. “You’re free to leave anytime, Ms. Blake.”
I stood, then smiled down at her, and knew my eyes were as cold and unfriendly as hers. “Thanks so much, Ms. O’Brien.” I emphasized the Ms.
“That’s Detective O’Brien,” she said, as I’d almost been sure she would.
“Then it’s Marshal Blake to you, Detective O’Brien.”
“I earned the right to be called detective, Blake; I didn’t get grandfathered in on some technicality. You may have a badge, but it doesn’t make you a cop.”
Jesus, she was jealous. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I would get nowhere rising to the bait and fighting with her. So I didn’t. Bully for me.
“I may not be your kind of cop, but I am a duly appointed federal marshal.”
“You can interfere on any case involving the preternatural. Well, this one doesn’t involve the preternatural.” She gazed up at me, face calm, but still showing signs of anger. “So have a nice day.”
I blinked at her, and counted, slowly, to ten.
Another detective came striding up. He had short curly blond hair, freckles, and a big grin. If he’d been any newer to plainclothes, he’d have squeaked when he walked. “James said we caught some sort of international super spy, is that true?”
A look passed over O’Brien’s face, a look of near pain. You could almost hear her thinking, shit.
I grinned at the other detective. “Interpol came back with a hit, huh?”
He nodded eagerly. “The German guy is wanted all over the place, industrial espionage, suspected terrorism . . .”
O’Brien cut him off, “Go away Detective Webster, go the fuck away from me.”
His smile faltered. “Did I say something wrong? I mean the marshal here brought them in, I thought she . . .”
“Get away from me, now,” O’Brien said, and the growl of warning in her voice would have done a werewolf proud.
Detective Webster walked away, without saying another word. He looked worried, and he should have. I was betting O’Brien carried grudges to the grave, and made sure everyone paid up.
She looked at me, and the anger in her eyes wasn’t just for me. Maybe it was for the years of being the only woman on a detail, maybe the job had made her bitter, or maybe she’d always been a grumpy-grumpy girl. I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care.
“Catching an international terrorist in these days and times could make a person’s career,” I said, sort of conversationally, not really looking at her.
The look of hatred in her eyes made me want to flinch. “You know it will.”
I shook my head. “O’Brien, I don’t have a career in the police department. I don’t even have a career with the Feds. I am a vampire executioner, and I help out on cases where the monsters are involved. Me having a badge is so new and so unprecedented that they’re still arguing on whether we’ll have rank as federal marshals, or be able to move up in rank at all. I’m not a threat to your promotion. Me taking credit won’t help my career a damn bit. So help yourself.”
Her eyes toned down from hatred to distrust. “What’s in it for you?”
I shook my head.