Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(5)

Brooke stepped through her front door and peeled off her jacket, scattering rain all over her wood floor. She tossed the jacket on a chair and made a beeline for the sink to wash her hands for the umpteenth time tonight. Fingerprint powder was everywhere—on her clothes, her skin, under her nails. She’d find it in her bra, too, when she undressed later. The superfine particles permeated everything, readily adhering to almost any surface.

Brooke shut off the water and stared for a moment at her reflection in the window above the sink. She looked drained. Exhausted. She was exhausted, and she should have been hungry, too, but right now the thought of food sent a shudder through her.

A soft scratching at the back door made her turn around. Midnight was hungry, even if Brooke wasn’t. She grabbed a scoop of cat food and crossed her darkened living room to open the slider, first pulling out the metal rod she kept there to deter burglars.

Midnight wasn’t even her cat, really. He belonged to her neighbor on the other side of the duplex. Leila had adopted him last Halloween after he’d shown up with singed fur and a broken tail. She kept him outside because their landlord didn’t allow pets, and she’d asked Brooke to feed him for a few days while she was out of town.

Midnight was wet and pitiful looking. Brooke crouched down to stroke his ears, but he ignored her attention as he went after his chow.

A sharp knock on the front door made Brooke jump. Who would show up this late? The most obvious answer put a knot in her stomach as she crossed the house.

It wasn’t her ex on the doorstep, but Sean, she saw through the peephole. She felt a wave of relief, quickly followed by nerves. What was he doing here so late? His hair was damp and the shoulders of his leather jacket were dark with rain.

She opened the door. “You’re done already?”

He smiled. “Already? It’s nearly one.”

She stared up at him, trying to think of what to say.

“I got your text,” he said. “You just get off work?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

She watched him a moment, debating with herself before pulling the door back. “Come in.”

He stepped inside. She suddenly realized she had a sexy, rain-drenched man standing in her living room, and she didn’t have a clue what to do with him. Sean had been by here once before to pick up a report, but he’d never come inside. Now that he was here, he seemed to fill up the space with his strong presence.

Brooke glanced around. As opposed to her office, which was immaculate, her house was a mess. Shoes littered the floor. Soda cans perched on the tables. A basket of laundry sat in the hallway, where she’d parked it to remind herself that she was almost out of underwear.

“You lit out of there quick.”

She looked up at him. “I had to get back to the lab to run something.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what was so urgent? Your text was vague.”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you when I do.”

His eyebrows arched. “Seriously? You can’t give me a hint?”

“Sorry.”

He gazed down at her, and she felt a warm flutter. His eyes got to her. They were hazel, and he had the kind of thick dark lashes that were wasted on a man.

She thought he’d twist her arm about the lab work, but instead he looked away.

“So. You eaten yet?” he asked.

“Um, no.”

“Want to get something?” He was inviting her out to dinner. At nearly one in the morning. “IHOP’s open.”

It was, but she was still processing the fact that he was asking her out.

Brooke was taking a break from men. And from badge-wearing alpha men in particular. But she didn’t want to tell him that because he’d probably take it as a challenge.

He smiled. “Whoa, why’d you get all tense? It’s just pancakes.”

“Thanks. But I should get to bed. And anyway, I’m not too hungry after everything tonight.”

His expression turned somber. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Sean ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was covered in stubble. He’d had a long day, as she had, and she felt tempted to invite him to hang out for a while and have a beer. But she didn’t know him well enough to predict how he’d interpret that. Probably like most guys would, like she was offering him sex.

Another moment ticked by, and he reached for the door. “I’ll let you get to bed.” A cold gust of air whipped through her T-shirt as he stepped outside. “I’m sure you’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“I do.”

“By the way, we found drugs in her vehicle.”

She blinked up at him. “You did?”

“About two grams of coke.”

“That’s strange.”

“Why?”

She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill. “I don’t know, it seemed like she was in recovery.”

“What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “No alcohol in the kitchen. And the Serenity Prayer needlepoint. They say it at AA meetings.”

“Where was that?”

“On the wall near the breakfast table.”

“Huh. I didn’t see the prayer, but I definitely noticed the lack of substances. It’s unusual.”