Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(50)

Wazzup girl?

She hadn’t heard from him in months, but she knew exactly what he wanted, and a teeny, tiny part of her wanted it, too.

Working, she replied.

When do u get off?

Her body tingled at the words. Gabe wasn’t exactly subtle, so she was probably imagining the innuendo, but still.

Later, she typed, lying right through her fingertips.

Can i c u?

Callie muttered a curse. What should she tell him? He was persistent, and with good reason. She’d caved in to him before.

Gabe was a personal trainer and he was beyond gorgeous. Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, as her grandfather would say. But in the looks department? Wow. Not to mention he was very skilled in certain areas.

But, Callie had decided to move on. She’d decided she was tired of shallow and short-term.

???

Not 2nite.

Ur killing me.

“Crap.” She should call him and get it over with, or he’d be pinging her all night.

He answered on the first ring. “Heeeey, Callie girl.”

“Hey.”

“I was just thinking about you.”

“Listen, I’m working tonight.”

“When do you get done?”

“Late.”

“Late’s good.”

“Tonight’s not, though.”

“For real?”

“I’ve been working all weekend and I’m whipped.”

He made a low groan, and she ignored it.

“I’m really tired, you know? My job’s been crazy lately.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. Call me if you change your mind.”

He hung up, and she stared down at the phone, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t. This was good. This was mature. What she had with Gabe definitely qualified as shallow, and she needed to move on.

She shoved her Jeep in gear, more depressed than ever about the prospect of going home to an empty house and a stack of paperwork. When her cell chimed, she snatched it up.

“Gabe, seriously, come on.”

Silence. She glanced down at the phone, and her stomach lurched.

“Detective McLean?”

The voice was low and masculine, but it definitely wasn’t Gabe’s.

“This is her. She.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Detective McLean.”

“This is Travis Cullen at the Delphi Center crime lab. I’m calling to notify you that we’ve completed our work and your evidence is ready for pickup.”

“Um . . . okay. You know it’s eleven o’clock, right?”

“I was told this was urgent. Someone in your department put a rush on it?”

“That would be me.”

“Well, I rushed it.” He sounded annoyed with her.

She felt a twinge of guilt that he’d clearly spent his Sunday working. But, hey, she’d been working, too, so what did she have to feel guilty about?

“I need to go over my findings. I can meet you here at the lab tomorrow at 0800.”

“Sounds fine.”

“See you then.” He clicked off.

Callie stared down at the phone, replaying the conversation and the deep, authoritative tone of his voice.

Tomorrow at 0800.

Something told her she shouldn’t be late.

? ? ?

Brooke lay on her side with Sean’s arm draped over her waist. The living room was drafty, but his body was keeping her warm.

She looked at him over her shoulder. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Sean?”

“Hmm.”

“Do you think they’re safe?” She didn’t have to explain whom she meant.

“Yes.” He opened his eyes. “Why?”

She turned away and stared into the dimness of his living room. “I still feel like it’s my fault that whoever it was found them there.”

His arm tightened around her. “Don’t.” He heaved a sigh. “You’re not responsible for all the shit people do. That’s on them.”

He wasn’t only talking about the shooting today. Something in his tone told her he meant Matt, too. She couldn’t believe she’d told Sean everything, even the things she’d never told her girlfriends. Why had she done it? She’d always wanted Sean’s respect, but now he knew that she’d allowed her long-term boyfriend to walk all over her.

She closed her eyes. They were so different, Sean and Matt. How had she ever lumped them together merely because they shared the same profession? Matt was rigid and controlling and had to be right all the time. At the heart of it, that was what most of their fights had been about—his being too insecure to admit when he was wrong, even when he made a simple mistake. Everything was always Brooke’s fault.

She felt a wave of guilt. Here she was cuddled up naked with Sean, and she was thinking about Matt. It wasn’t right, and the fact that her brain was jumbled with all these thoughts reinforced what she’d known all along, which was that it was too soon for her to get involved with someone new. Her life was spinning. Everything felt out of control, and she hated feeling that way. Tears burned her eyes and she squeezed them shut.

Sean kissed her shoulder. “What’s wrong? You got all tense.”

“Nothing.”