Page 100
“Warrant?”
If Ryker knows that Gio Morelli was killed at the Agency, then we’re in so much more trouble than we first thought. But the question is, did he give a name, or just this address? And does Sabina Morelli know he was spotted on this coast? Are her men already on the way?
“I’ll come back with a warrant, Charlie, or you can just let me the fuck in.” I dart over to the door and open it wider, beaming at the detective, whose eyes are now on me. She’s extraordinarily pretty, blonde hair pulled into a low pony, dark eyes scrutinizing. She’s in gray suit pants and a white shirt, an NYPD badge fixed to her hip, and has three officers with her, all in LAPD uniforms. “And who are you?”
“Silence Silver,” I say brightly, extending my hand. “I’m staying here. Detective Quinn Marshall, was it?”
She lifts her chin and shakes my hand. “Yes. How do you know Charlie?”
“He’s a family friend,” I rush out, before Charlie can say anything else sarcastic and piss this woman off further. “You don’t need a warrant. You can come right in and look. There’s no one here but us two and my friend Mercy.” Charlie eyes me, but I step back and gesture toward the living room. “Come in.”
Detective Marshall nods curtly and steps inside, almost elbowing Charlie as she does. They clearly have history, and I’m curious about it.
The detective eyes the room, signaling for the officers to start their search. She remains in the living room. “Nice place. What do you do for a living Mrs. Silver?”
“I’m a registered nurse, but my husband works in tech.”
She peruses the living area. “That’s not very specific.”
“The specifics would bore most people.”
“Try me.”
Charlie folds his arms. “She’s let you search the goddamn place. She doesn’t have to answer your questions, too, Quinn.”
“It’s Detective Marshall,” she snaps.
“Right.” Charlie drags out the word. “You always make sure to follow the rules, don’t you, Detective Marshall? God forbid you fall on the wrong side of the precious law.”
I blink, looking between a smug Charlie and a furious Quinn. Her cheeks have turned pink, but luckily her phone rings, interrupting whatever the fuck just happened.
“Marshall,” she snaps into the phone, and I feel sorry for whoever called her.
I lean close to Charlie. “I don’t know whether you want to kill each other or ride each other.”
He grumbles, “She wishes.”
“You wish.”
“Don’t be disgusting. She’s a cop. I’d rather hump the couch.”
Detective Marhsall hangs up, and her scowl has been replaced with a wicked, satisfied smile as her attention lands on Mercy. “What’s your name?”
She beams prettily. “Mary Poppins.”
“Cute. You’re Mercy Harrison, right?” The tension in the room ramps up, and somehow, Detective Marshall’s smile widens further. “There’s a warrant out for your arrest. Did you know that?”
“That’s absolute rubbish! I haven’t committed a crime in years!” Mercy cries, striding over to us.
“You stole chemical materials.”
“Oh.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I did do that.”
As one of the officers returns from the search, Detective Marhsall pockets her phone. “Cuff her. She’s coming with us.”
My spine stiffens, and a cold sweat breaks out across my back. No, this isn’t happening.
Charlie’s nostrils flare. “This is bullshit, Quinn.”
