A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(32)

“For what?” he asked.

She lifted a shoulder. She wanted to say, “For taking up for me. For being nice to me. For leaving heat trails when you walk so I can always know where you are.” Which wouldn’t have sounded stalkery at all. Instead, she said simply, “For catching me.”

Mr. Jacobs opened his office door and summoned Cruz with a brusque, “De los Santos.”

Cruz’s gaze traveled over her face before getting up, his expression part curiosity and part appreciation, and Auri suddenly understood that whole boy-girl attraction thing on a much deeper level.

Before she made a complete fool of herself by asking him to show her the ways of love, she nodded toward the office where Mr. Jacobs stood waiting.

One corner of his mouth slid up, but he obeyed. Auri watched in fascination as said heat trails streaked in his wake, then slowly dissipated. Metaphorically speaking.


Sun walked out of the restroom a new woman. Or, well, a cleaner woman after washing her face and brushing her teeth. Vomit tended to leave an aftertaste.

She set her deputies on various duties, including a thorough background check on the St. Aubins and a preliminary search of the public areas in town.

Her phone rang just as she took the copy of the letter from Quincy. She checked the ID and slid the button to the right, her anxiety spiking again.

“Sheriff Vicram.”

Through the miracle of technology, a male voice floated into her ear. “Hello, Sheriff. I thought perhaps you’d like to come talk to your daughter. Explain things to her like how the law works. How breaking and entering is wrong. And how stealing is frowned upon in most cultures.”

“Auri?” Adrenaline shot through her, spiraling down her spine and contracting her stomach again. “My Auri? What happened?”

“Look, I know you’re having one hell of a day, but maybe you could swing by the school?”

She bit back a curse. “I’ll be there in five.”

She turned to her deputies to make one final statement before heading out. “He drugged her. And he’s keeping her drugged.”

Price gaped at her. “You’re taking that note seriously?”

Now was not the time. “About as seriously as I take you.”

He showed his palms, and she groaned inwardly. What the hell did that even mean?

“Salazar,” she said, turning to the young deputy with chipmunk cheeks and doe-like eyes.

“Yes, sir. Ma’am. Sheriff.”

She lowered her chin and raised a brow. “Call in the dogs.”

The room went silent as Sun turned and headed out the door. Then, in barely contained enthusiasm, Salazar whispered, “I get to call in the dogs.”

Quincy chuckled as he followed her. “Want to explain that comment to Price?”

“Want to explain your face?”

“No explanation would do it justice. Let’s just say the world needed a hero. I rose to the occasion. Clear-cut case of supply and demand.” He herded Sun to the passenger’s side of the cruiser. “I’ll take this one, yeah? In case you get sick again?”

Mortification swallowed her. “You heard that?”

“The entire block heard that.” After he started the SUV, he paused and sobered. Sober was not Quincy’s best look. “You sure you’re okay? You’re taking this note thing pretty seriously.”

“I am, aren’t I? And do you know why? Because we’re in the crazy capital of the world. I’ve been trying to tell you since we were kids. Things happen here that don’t happen in other towns. Strange things. Unexplainable things.”

“Like a regular joe’s addiction to chocolate-covered pretzel sticks dipped in red chile powder?”

“Yes,” she said, vindicated. “Finally, someone gets it.”

He headed toward the high school without her having to tell him. “Any idea what that kid of yours did?”

“Not a clue. But I did come on strong with the Lisbeth Salander talk this morning.”

“You have got to cut that shit out, Sunburn. She’s going to end up in prison for setting someone on fire.”

He had a point. One she decided to ignore.

Instead, she looked out the window as they drove down Main. Much of the town was made up of the old housing the miners had lived in. Rows of small A-frames lined one side of the street while the other side was made up of stucco and wood Pueblo buildings.

Most of the businesses that occupied the buildings were artists of various metal and talent, but there was also a smattering of small restaurants, a grocery store, and a firehouse.

At the end of Main, before the road headed up into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, sat a biker bar owned and operated by the Ravinders. It was a place Sun imagined she’d be visiting often, considering her new position and nickel-slick badge.

She looked for his truck as they passed. As far as she knew, Levi rarely stepped foot inside his family’s pub, but she couldn’t keep herself from checking.

“He’s not there,” Quincy said, reading her mind as usual. “He’s probably at the distillery.”

“I wasn’t looking.”

“Never mind,” Quince said, craning his neck. “Oh, he is there.”

Sun whirled around and saw . . . nothing.

The stucco building was one of the oldest in the town and sported thick wood accents and a plethora of neon signs, but it did not have a truck sitting in the parking lot with a Dark River Shine wrap.