Chapter 1
“Finally!” Crystal Long slaps her hand on the down as I pull up to the table at Maki’s Sushi and Grill. “What took you so long? We nearly died of hunger.”
Gingerly, I pull out one of the skinny black lacquered chairs. I hate these things. They’re too small for my big frame and every time we eat here, I’m afraid the entire thing’s going to collapse and take me with it.
“You should’ve ordered without me,” I say, settling carefully onto the red padded seat.
“We did.” Daphne Davidson pours me a beer from the pitcher and sets it in front of me. A saucy smile dances around the corners of her plump, pink lips. “Sashimi platter.”
Quickly, I raise the glass to my mouth to hide a grimace, but I don’t do so well because both women laugh at me. I set the glass down with more force than is necessary, which makes them both laugh even harder. The guys down at the station tell me I’m nuts to be friends with two hot babes and not be screwing either of them, but if the guys spent as much time with them as I do, they’d realize how easy it is for my dick to stay in my pants. Well, at least for one of the two sitting at the table that is.
The other one—the one who is my best friend. The one who has the long, pin-straight hair that she usually ties up in a messy bun. The one with the rocking body who hides it underneath boxy suits because she says it looks more professional. The one that haunts my nights and troubles my days. That one? Well, that one gets me hard on the daily and I have to fight my attraction. But I do it because I, Jack Reese, would rather have Daphne Davidson as my friend than not in my life at all. She’s also the reason I meet these two for sushi every Thursday night even though I can’t stand raw fish. At their infectious giggles, a reluctant grin stretches across my face, but I wipe it off quickly and replace it with a glare mean enough to make suspects cower in fear. It does nothing for these two women who only throw back their respective heads and howl even harder.
“You know I hate that shit,” I tell them. “One of these days one or both of you are going to get sick eating raw fish and then you’ll be calling me to haul your asses to the hospital.”
Crystal stops guffawing long enough to chide, “Oh, you big baby. You chase criminals for a living. A few pieces of fish aren’t going to kill you.”
“Next time we eat out, it’s going to be my choice.”
“It was your choice the last two times but you stood us up,” Daphne reminds me. She smiles, but there’s a bite in her tone.
“I had to work,” I protest. I gnaw on the inside of my mouth. Is Daphne really mad about this? We’ve been friends for a long time, but lately, she’s been impossible to read. Her texts in the group chat have been short, almost terse, and we haven’t talked on the phone for a while. We used to talk or see each other once a week, but for the past few months, she’s been increasingly distant.
Something’s bothering her, I guess, but I haven’t pressed because I hate it when people ask me about my feelings. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I figured when she was ready she would tell me. But…if she’s pissed off because I did her wrong, maybe I should bring it up. I pick up the glass again and study her covertly beneath my lashes.
Her eyes look a little tired, but she works a lot of hours, so that’s normal. She’s pink in the cheeks, but it’s warm in here. Plus, Daphne gets red-faced if she drinks more than one glass of booze, and from the state of the table, it appears she’s gone over her usual solo cocktail. Her lips are plump and kissable—no, not kissable. Daphne’s a friend. My best friend and she’ll stay that way as long as I have anything to say about it.
Still, because she’s my friend, if there’s something wrong I want to fix it. Or, at least lend a shoulder. But I can’t get a bead on her. The smile on her face is genuine. The laughter sounded real, but her eyes are blank. Hopefully, I never have to investigate something that Daphne is involved with because despite the fact I’m considered one of the best detectives in Central City, I’ve never been able to read my best friend when she shuts down.
“Are you okay?” she asks, breaking the silence that had settled into the table while I’d studied her. “Anything bad happening at work? That you can talk about,” she adds. “Because I know there’s stuff you can’t discuss.”