"You're only doing your job." He understood all about that. He wouldn't get anything more out of the detective, but it wouldn't hurt to be amiable and form a connection that might lead the guy to give him a heads-up about info in the future. Carson nodded to the empty gum wrapper in Reis's hand. "Just quit smoking?"
Reis grin-grimaced. "Yeah, I still reach for the cigarettes. Doublemint sticks aren't helping much."
"Try drinking everything with a straw for a while."
"Like a drag from a smoke." His working jaw slowed. "Good call. Addictions suck."
"That they do." And since the opening was there, he continued, "Speaking of addictions, you need to know that Owens had a gambling problem. He seemed to have it under control, but..."
"Sometimes old contacts can still be hard to shake."
Nodding, Carson reached to stroke his mustache—damn it—only to find it gone. "I just thought you should know."
More than that he couldn't say without betraying confidences, and he really didn't know more that would be helpful. Still, he'd stuck to the standard squadron knowledge. Reis would have found out eventually. Carson had only sped up the process for safety's sake.
Reis studied him through half-open eyes. "Not that you have any reason to send me in a direction other than Nikki Price."
"I just thought you should know," he repeated.
"Duly noted." Reis tucked his gum pack back in his pocket and pivoted away.
Carson chewed on a curse harder than the investigator chomped gum. So much for keeping his damned drooling over Nikki a secret.
He could deal with the rest of the world knowing. But it was far tougher—and more essential—to keep the rogue attraction hidden from Nikki.
* * *
Rohypnol, a date-rape drug, had somehow been slipped into her drink last night.
Nikki settled into the bucket seat of Carson's sparkling Ford F-250, still rocked to her toes by the lab results that had arrived while Special Agent Reis questioned her. She hadn't been able to determine from the detective's expression if the news worked in her favor or not. Worst of all, there was less chance of her remembering now since the memory loss wasn't simply a by-product of trauma-induced stress.
A long sigh swelled low in her chest, rolling up without any real release in the tension kinking her muscles. The drizzly day outside Carson's windshield and pattering on the cab roof mirrored her mood. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to hold it together much longer. Another twenty minutes and she would be in her apartment.
Riding home with Carson was preferable to her trip over in the ambulance with Special Agent Reis. Barely.
Except she owed Carson big for the hours he'd spent looking out for her today so she wouldn't have to upset her mother. Sure he'd done it for her father, but he had seemed concerned for her, too...
God, she was already weakening around him again, the warmth and scent of his leather jacket more enticing than it should be. And while she'd always found his mustache sexy, his fully-revealed sensual upper lip was all the more enticing.
A dangerous thought.
Still, she should answer the unspoken questions lurking in the clammy air between them. "The doctor said I wasn't raped."
His knuckles went white on the steering wheel, even as his face stayed blank, aviator sunglasses hooked on the collar of his flight suit. "You didn't have to tell me, but thank you."
"Of course I would tell you." She scavenged a smile. "And you would have found out all the details anyway since you're Gary's commander."
He kept his eyes forward on the traffic-packed road, watching the streetlight. "I would have found out because I'm worried about you."
She let herself soak in the concern in his voice until the light turned green.
"Thank you." She blinked against the glare streaking through the window as the sun peeked from behind the clouds.
Her head thunked back to rest and she watched the telephone poles whiz past as they drove toward the winding bridge. Everything blurred from exhaustion and more. Definitely more than she wanted to acknowledge because then she would have to admit that spending time with Carson was important. "The hospital put a rush on my lab work. Someone slipped Rohypnol in my drink last night."
His curse hissed long and low. "And somebody's going to pay for that, no damn question."
"At least I understand the memory loss." Although that piece of knowledge came with another sense of having been violated. Who'd done it? She'd finished one drink before Gary arrived, and been almost through the second when he slid up beside her, elbow on the bar smiling as if totally unaware that their relationship was going nowhere. How could he have not realized?