Sienna rubbed at her throat, remembering how fast he moved, and how strong his arm had been against her throat. She wasn’t under any misconception that he would be a calm, easy-to-control type of guy. No, she wouldn’t be able to run roughshod over him. Maybe that was why she was uneasy around him.
When she didn’t move, Raoul looked directly at her. “What’s the matter, Sienna, can’t handle him?”
“I can handle any man, Captain, even the devil himself.” That unbidden thought came again. How would his heavily muscled chest feel beneath her seeking hands?
Raoul laughed and slipped off the desk. “Good. Why don’t you get moving and take the handcuffs off the guy?”
She went to leave his office.
“Oh, Parker, one more thing.”
Sienna stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“You’re one of the most hardworking, sharp detectives in this department. No more overtime.”
“Is that an order?” She arched her brow and gave him a cheeky grin.
“Get out of here.”
While she walked back to her desk, she gathered her composure. She would remain professional. He was still sitting in the chair she’d placed him in. She dismissed the uniform cop she’d left guarding him.
A.J. looked up at her and her body reacted. She took a deep breath and grabbed his upper arm, trying not to drool over the hard thickness of his bicep. She turned him around and unlocked the cuffs, aware of every subtle shift of his big body.
“I guess I passed the test.” He rubbed one wrist, then the other.
“Yeah, but you don’t get a gold star yet,” she said as if talking to the village idiot. “I have to apologize to you. So, sorry.”
“I can tell that was straight from your heart,” he said.
Sienna watched his weathered hands in fascination. “Hey, I could have thrown you in a cell overnight instead of checking your story right away.”
She noticed his brow arch in reaction to the sudden anger that tinged her words.
“David’s worth a night in jail,” he said.
She heard the emotion in his voice and her world tilted, jeopardizing her safe, ordered life. Sympathy flooded her. “I only want to question him.”
“Why?”
“Yesterday evening Tyrone Knight was stopped because he failed to yield to an emergency vehicle. He was found with an automatic weapon—an M-4. When I questioned him as to where he got the gun, he told me he took it from a truck parked in the warehouse district. He said there were a lot of weapons in the truck, including grenade launchers.”
“That doesn’t sound good. Did you contact the Navy about any stolen weapons?”
“I’m working the case.”
He put his hands up in surrender. “Got it. None of my business. So, what does this story have to do with my brother?”
“I went to the spot where the perp said he boosted the gun, and I ran a check on a car I found in the area.”
“I still don’t see what this has to do with David.”
“Does your brother own a red 1967 Mustang convertible?”
“Yeah.”
“It was found in the same location as where the perp said the alleged truck was parked.” With a cop’s eyes, she watched A.J.’s reaction. If she expected to see something incriminating cross his face, she was disappointed. His face remained impassive.
“There could be any number of reasons why my brother’s car was parked there.”