“And a possible serial killer,” Stryker added.
“It’s time to bring Lyle Barnham in for questioning.”
* * *
Emerson woke at five in the morning.So much for sleep-in Sunday.Stryker was sleeping on his stomach, facing her. The knot between his brows was gone, and she paused to appreciate his peaceful expression. His hair had fallen across his cheek and she wanted to sweep it away, then kiss his beautiful face.Is this it? Are you the one?Her gut told her yes.
She slinked out of bed, threw on her bathrobe, and headed downstairs. She made coffee and sat in her bay window while it brewed. The quiet neighborhood was cloaked in early-morning serenity. She wanted to tell her parents the truth about how Doug had died, but it was too soon. The blood on her hands hadn’t even dried.
When the coffee finished brewing, she padded into her office, mug in hand. She wrote the word “Spinetti” on a piece of paper, moved several photos on her corkboard, then, tacked that paper in the center. Stepping back, she stared at the web, trying to make sense of everything.
“This has gotta be a family business.”
She rubbed her pounding forehead.None of this makes sense.
Just after seven, Stryker padded into her office. “Morning, baby, what’s going on?”
“I’ve got a drug lord who murdered my brother and is trying to take you down, and his grandson might be a serial killer. Are these somehow connected or am I dealing with two completely different cases?”
“You’ll figure it out.” He placed his hands on her head, kissed her forehead, then kissed her lips. “Come with me to Heather and Gordon’s. They’re having a Memorial Day party this afternoon. Take a break and clear your head.”
She smiled. “Okay. I’ll bake brownies to bring with us.”
“Babe, seriously, you don’t have to do that.”
She moseyed out of her office. “I’ll probably stress-eat half the batch before we even get there.”
That afternoon, Emerson texted Lyle. “It’s Detective Easton. I’ve got new information regarding my case you’ll want to include in your story. Meet me at the station tomorrow, 11am and I’ll update you.” She hit send.
Dots appeared. “Sounds good,” Lyle replied. “See you then.”
Stryker strolled into the kitchen wearing leathers. “I’m riding my bike to Heather and Gordon’s. You wanna ride with me?”
“Sure.”
He eyed her slowly, up and down. “Better go upstairs and change.”
She stared at her shorts and T-shirt. “What should I wear?”
He held out his hand. “Let’s find something that protects you.”
As soon as they walked into her bedroom, she threw her arms around him and kissed him. “You bought me more presents.”
Laid out on the bed were leather pants, a leather jacket, leather gloves, and a helmet.
“You gotta ride safe,” he said, and kissed her. “I checked your sizes before I bought all this.”
“You are spoiling me so good.”
“Busted.” As she changed, he asked about Lyle.
“He’s meeting me at the station tomorrow morning.”
She finished dressing, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and took her helmet. She packaged up the brownies and they left. Once in the driveway, he stored the dessert, pulled on his helmet and his gloves, then mounted his Harley. “Hold on to me and lean into the turns. I’m taking the back roads so you can get used to riding.”
“How do you know I didn’t have a biker boyfriend and rode all the time?” With a smirk, she tightened her chinstrap and climbed on behind him.
She loved holding on to her man, loved the feeling of freedom as he rode out of her neighborhood. With everything raining down on them, she needed this moment to let her thoughts trail out behind her and vanish in the wind. As they made their way to his aunt and uncle’s, she was looking forward to a relaxing evening.