“Are you two assigned to this case?” Chase asked.
“Maybe. Tell me about the bracelet,” the guy insisted.
As one law enforcement person to another, he had a right to ask. Chase had an obligation to share what he’d noticed, or so some would say. Protocol had never been a strong point with him. The lady detective walked away from the two of them, once again on her phone.
Chase held up his index finger. “One minute,” he told the guy, who immediately looked put out. Chase strolled after the lady, really liking how her blue jeans hugged her narrow waist and showed off one hell of a nice ass. She wore a loose-fitting blouse that was a thin, pale pink fabric. Her blondish-red hair tapered past her collar. His gaze lingered on her bra strap, visible through the shirt, before he stepped around her.
“This is Detective Ashley Jones,” she said, her soft, sultry voice adding to the hot little package she made up. “I need to run a check on an ID,” she continued.
Chase crossed his arms over his chest, glancing over her shoulder when the ME showed up. If it were his case he’d take a few more pictures of the body before moving her. He committed her position, the expression on her face, the skimpy outfit she wore all to memory before the ME blocked his view. Detective Ashley Jones was watching him when he returned his attention to her. She had compelling dark green eyes.
“I see,” she said, running her thumb over the indentions of his badge that she’d slid free of the small leather case he usually kept it in. “Oh really?” Her cheeks flushed an attractive rose shade, making her blonde hair around the sides of her face stand out more.
She was getting the scoop on him now, and he was grateful for the fact that computers only offered the facts. Whoever the pretty detective spoke to had looked him up on the system but didn’t bother placing a phone call to hear his supervisor’s opinion of him. Chase gave thanks for small favors.
“Here’s your badge and wallet,” she said, handing it to him when she hung up the phone. “And if you wouldn’t mind stepping over the yellow tape,” she added, giving him a harsh look although she probably knew now she couldn’t force him anywhere.
Chase accepted his badge, nodded to the sexy detective, and let her do her job. Stepping over the yellow tape, he paused at a nearby table, which hadn’t been wiped off since the young girl, who’d
been sitting at the bar, slumped off the bar stool to her death thirty minutes before last call. The nightlife alcoholics were pretty pissed when the bar closed down earlier than usual in order to allow PD to do their job.
Avoiding the stickiness on the tall, round table, he slid his badge back into its leather case and then put it back in his wallet. He checked to make sure the hot little number of a detective hadn’t lifted any of his cash before he slid his wallet into his back pocket.
“May I ask you a couple questions?” Detective Ashley Jones asked, stepping over the yellow tape and then walking up to him.
Her blouse buttoned down the front and the top two buttons were undone. He could see the slight outline of what looked like a lace bra through the thin material. A hint of cleavage could be one hell of a distraction during any interrogation. Chase lifted his gaze to those compelling green eyes, more than aware she watched him while he took in her figure.
“Only if I can ask a couple questions as well,” he told her, and when her expression turned guarded, he decided he liked how she looked better when she was on edge. He wondered what else would put that pretty blush on her cheeks. “I’m Chase Reed,” he offered, extending his hand.
Her smaller hand was warm, soft, and her handshake firm. “I know who you are. We just went through that, remember?”
“So am I going to have to rely on overhearing a phone conversation to know who you are?” he asked.
“I’m Detective Jones,” she offered, sliding her hand out of his. Flipping a small notebook open, she glanced at the table next to him, but then looked farther on at the other tables. “Care if we have a seat?”
Chase liked how she was soft-spoken. He imagined more than one guy might make the mistake that she was gullible, or easily manipulated. Her blonde hair and distracting figure were more than a distraction. Chase didn’t make assumptions about people that easily, though. He pulled a stool out opposite Ashley Jones when she chose a table and sat. This one didn’t appear to be sticky.
“Would you mind telling me why you were investigating this crime scene?” she asked, scribbling something on her pad and then looking up at him with a hooded gaze. Thick long lashes fluttered over her dark green eyes.
He lifted one shoulder lazily. Last thing he needed was his name going on file as having offered a tip to local law enforcement. He was home on downtime, but not necessarily by choice. “I’m an investigator. If a crime happens in front of you, wouldn’t you check it out?”
She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, studying him. A small smile he bet meant anything but amusement appeared. “It would depend on the situation. So this girl was murdered right in front of you?”
“She was murdered in front of a few hundred people,” he pointed out. “People you sent packing.”
“That wasn’t my doing,” she muttered under her breath.
Detective or not, she must not have a lot of rank. Possibly the older gentleman he saw headed up this investigation. He glanced around, no longer seeing him. The ME was securing the body on a gurney while two uniforms spoke with the staff behind the counter.
“Look,” he offered. “Your girl over there was drugged, slipped a Mickey. She collapsed off the barstool. A few people tripped over her until a bouncer noticed she was down. When they couldn’t revive her, they called 911. You’ve got the rest.”
“And I knew all of that before I came over here,” she said tightly. “You noticed something and you’re holding out on me, why?”
Maybe she was a better cop than he originally thought she was. “Yes, I noticed something. And it’s something you should have noticed, too.” Chase sighed. He wasn’t here to judge her. And maybe if he hadn’t been FBI for most of his adult life, he could actually be a normal citizen when taking time off. “Look. It’s late. You know who I am and I’m sure you can find me if you need to.”
“Give me contact information,” she said, her pen poised. “And then tell me why you’re holding out on me,” she added, glancing up at him through her thick lashes. A long strand of hair drifted over the side of her face and she tucked it behind her ear.
Chase lowered his gaze to her cleavage, which was more visible now with her sitting and hunching over her note pad. “I don’t want to go on record as helping you with this case. And trust me, you don’t want my name involved with your investigation.”