Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(97)

“Bacon,” she said out of breath.

“You’re lucky,” I growled and kissed her once more for good measure. She jumped when I gave her ass a swat.

I layered the bacon on a bed of paper towels and pulled out the stool next to her at the counter. She was like a vision of pure sunshine sitting there, warming my day. I leaned down and kissed the side of her forehead before I sat down. “So, Doc, what would you like to do today?”

My cell rang, flashing numbers I didn’t recognize on my screen. I set it aside, uninterested in being bothered.

She took a sip of her coffee. “Not sure.” She shimmied in her seat.

I went with my hunch, teasing her. “You sore or something?”

Erin tried to shrug it off. “Not really. Well, maybe, just a little; back of my thighs ache a little.”

I couldn’t hide my grin. Mission accomplished. I put another spoonful of salsa on top of my eggs. After all, I earned it. “Good.”

Her fork stopped midair. “Good?”

I finished chewing. “Well, not good because I plan on having you for lunch, but if you’re sore, that means I did something right.”

She knocked her knee into mine. “You must be so proud of yourself.”

“I am, actually.” I was also thinking that bacon is right up there with sex.

“Well, don’t be. I’m not that sore.”

I knocked my knee into hers. “Liar!”

“You’re lucky I like you,” she teased.

I stirred my coffee while disappearing into the beautiful depths of those blue eyes again. Everything about her held such promise. I was so very f*cking lucky. “I know.” My cell pinged with a new message, but her smile was more interesting.

The second ping pulled my attention. I read the new message then reached over for my laptop on the corner of the counter.

“Checking email?” she asked.

I held my fork between my teeth as I punched in my password. “Yeah. My contact from the NYPD just sent me some info on the case I’m working.” Several mug shots and a few surveillance pictures littered my screen.

“Are you supposed to be fighting crime today?”

I watched her drag her fork slowly out of her mouth. Don’t know if she was trying to make the move sensual and erotic but it was working nonetheless.

Erin’s eyebrows arched up, calling me out on my promise to make our weekend as relaxing as possible. But I only had a few more pictures to look at and then I’d be done.

“Adam?”

“Hmm?”

“Question. I caught part of your phone conversation yesterday. My car wasn’t the only one tampered with, was it?”

Fuck. I glanced over at her. “No.”

“How many cars?”

I sighed, sipping my coffee instead. “So far, twenty. That’s all that’s been reported. Could be more.”

Erin started chewing on her thumbnail instead of eating.

“Wanna see what the bad guys look like?”

That perked her up. “Are you allowed to show me that?”

I shrugged. “Don’t see why not. It’s not like medical records. Arrest records are public.”

She leaned, sliding closer. “Okay, then sure. Show me. Wait, is that a woman?”

I enlarged the photo on the rap sheet. “Yep. Yolanda Dukane. She’s been a busy girl. Felony possession firearm, carrying concealed, possession of drugs.”

“Motor vehicle theft. Burglary,” she read over my shoulder. “Holy crap. I didn’t know women steal cars. Well, I know they steal cars but I’m just surprised.”

I had to laugh a little. “More often than not car thieves are male but it’s not uncommon.” I scrolled down the screen, reading the long list of offenses. “And this one, she’s been at it a long time by the looks of it. See, there’s a difference between the street punks who boost a car because they’re too lazy to walk to this kind of criminal.” I studied the face on my screen, from the hollows under her eyes to the telltale acne scars of a meth addict.

Erin shuddered. “She’s scary looking. You can also see evidence of drug abuse. My guess is crystal meth.”

My head whipped her way. Was she reading my mind now? “You can see that?”

“Yeah,” Erin said, pointing. “Her face is covered in skin lesions and see how they extend down to her neck and throat area? She’s developed a formication disorder from prolonged use.”

“Fornication?” I teased.

Erin nudged me for being a smartass. “Formication, not fornication. She’s got the creepy crawly itches from compromising her central nervous system. Look at the big welts she’s left on her neck from scratching.”

I hunched when she started tickling my neck in retaliation. “Easy, woman. You tickle me, I get to tickle back. You’ve been warned.”

I closed the email, enjoying Erin’s attention much more. “So you are ticklish,” I surmised when she stopped immediately.

I grabbed her by her waist as soon as she tried to step away.

“Please don’t tickle me.” She giggled, struggling.

“I won’t.” I pulled her into my chest. “Promise. I’ll save this new knowledge for another time when you’re not expecting it.”