Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [164]
He grabbed my arm, and the grip wasn’t gentle this time. It didn’t hurt, but I could feel the press of his fingers in my flesh. For the first time since I’d met him, he let me see the hardness underneath. That core of harshness that you either have or acquire if you stay with the cops. Without that core to protect yourself, you may stay on the job, but you won’t thrive.
I smiled. “What next, rubber hoses and bright lights?” It was meant to be a joke, but my voice wasn’t light when I said it. We were both angry now. Underneath all those smiles and mild manners was a temper. We’d see whose was worse, his or mine.
He spoke low and carefully, the way I do sometimes when to do anything else will start me yelling. “I could just tell Marks about the meeting. Tell him you’re holding out on us.”
“Fine,” I said, “do it. Marks will probably have him arrested, search his bar. He might even find enough magical paraphernalia to get him jailed on suspicion of magical malfeasance. And what will that get us, Detective? Baco in jail, and a few days from now more people dead. More bodies gutted.” I leaned into his angry face and whispered, “How will your dreams be then, Hernando?”
He let me go so abruptly that I stumbled. “You really are a bitch, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “If the situation warrants it, you bet.”
He shook his head, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “If I hold out on this and it goes wrong, it could be my career.”
“Just say you didn’t know.”
He shook his head. “Too many people know I was your police escort.” He managed to make the last two words heavy with irony. “You’ve got another meeting planned with him, haven’t you?”
I tried to keep the surprise off my face, but a blank face was just as bad. It was like when you were asked if you were sleeping with someone, and you refused to answer. Not answering was as good as a yes.
He stalked from one side of the hallway to the other. “Dammit, Anita, I can’t sit on this.”
I realized he meant it. I stood in his path, so he had to stop pacing and look at me. “You can’t tell Marks. He’ll screw it up. If he thinks I’m dancing with the devil, he’ll have hysterics when he meets Nicky Baco.”
The anger was beginning to leak from his eyes. “When’s the meeting?”
I shook my head. “Promise first that you won’t tell Marks.”
“He’s in charge of the investigation. If I don’t tell him and he finds out, I might as well hand in my badge.”
“He doesn’t seem very popular around here,” I said.
“He’s still my superior.”
“He’s your boss,” I said. “He is in no way your superior.”
That earned me a smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
“It’s not flattery, Hernando. It’s the truth.”
He was finally quiet, standing there looking at me. His expression was almost his normal one, or what I thought was normal for him. For all I knew he dissected puppies in his spare time. All right, I didn’t believe that, but I didn’t really know him. We were strangers, and I was having to remind myself of that. I kept wanting to treat him like a friend or better. What was the matter with me?
“When is the meeting, Anita?”
“If I won’t tell you, then what?”
A shadow of that hardness seeped into his eyes. “Then I tell Marks you’re withholding evidence.”
“And if I tell you?”
“Then I’ll go with you.”
I shook my head. “No way.”
“I promise not to show up looking like a cop.”
I looked at him from shined shoes to short, clean hair. “In what alternate reality would you NOT look like a cop?”
I heard the door open behind us, but neither of us turned. We were too busy making major eye contact.
Jarman yelled, “Ramirez!”
There was a tone in that one word that whirled us both around. Doctor Evans was leaning against the wall, holding his wrist upright. Blood gleamed like a scarlet bracelet around his arm.
Ramirez and I started running at the same time down that short space of hallway