Purrfect Justice Page 3

  “You okay?”

  Cole crouched beside her, although for all she could see, it could be anything of equal mass, like a werewolf. He was so close she could smell his spearmint gum. His fingers curled around her upper arms, and he tried to lift her.

  “No!” His touch sparked such electricity she should be electrocuted, but she had to find her glasses before someone stepped on them. She couldn’t drive home without the fool things.

  Rotten accident! She clamped down on her errant daydreams. Oops! He really might think she was injured, so she backtracked. “I mean, I’m not hurt, but I have to find my glasses. I’m blind without them.” Fighting down panic and losing, she patted the floor.

  “Here they are.” Cole’s voice oozed over her, warm and reassuring, but nowhere near as warm as his callused fingertips grazing her cheeks as he put her glasses back on her face. His lips hovered a mere two inches from hers, firm and chiseled, yet soft and tempting. His dark eyes twinkled with devilish glee.

  Shivers radiated down her spine. Electricity arced from him to her, stealing her breath.

  That damned Zorro wouldn’t stop stealing things from her…

  No, no, no, no! She had to forget about Zorro or she’d go crazy.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Cole rose to his feet and offered her a hand up, which she accepted gratefully as gracefully as she could.

  Scare her? He downright terrified her!

  Her hand fit perfectly in his as it had the previous night, sending tingles up her arm. Holding her breath, she waited for him to recognize her—either by her touch, her voice, or maybe even her scent. Surely, he must feel the sizzling sparks. Something so volatile couldn’t be all one-sided, could it? Their emotions at the masquerade had certainly seemed very two-sided.

  “I was so engrossed in my work, I didn’t know you were there. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a cop like you.” Smiling shyly, she bit her lower lip to stop the quivering that sometimes beset her when she dwelt on what could have been.

  Erika Stewart, the newest transfer, sashayed by Haley’s desk, giving Cole the once-over. All the men had been drooling over her since she’d set foot in the station that morning. About Haley’s height, she was five feet, five inches of luscious curves even her uniform couldn’t hide.

  Cole snapped to attention and stared at the dark-haired beauty as if he’d spied his favorite candy. His hungry gaze followed the woman. He gulped when she winked at him. “Who is she? I’ve never see her here before, and I’d remember someone who looks like her.”

  Bile rushed into Haley’s throat. She swallowed bitter disappointment and crashed back to reality without a parachute. “Lieutenant Erika Stewart. She just transferred down from West Palm.” All trace of emotion had been stripped from her voice.

  “I wonder if she was at the masquerade?” Cole rubbed his chin, still staring at the woman.

  Haley could practically see the cogs spinning in his brain and knew without aid of Tarot cards, a crystal ball, or ESP what he must be thinking. He suspected the curvaceous beauty was Catwoman!

  Oy! As if anyone else could be a better Catwoman for Cole.

  She should set him straight here and now, come clean and take a chance he could be interested in her, with or without the femme fatale costume. After all, she was the same person inside, his temptress and savior. The packaging was merely a little different today. She looked down at her stiffly tailored, sexless suit and grimaced. Well, the wrapping was a whole lot different. A necessary evil if she wanted a shot at the office manager job, however. Slinky sex kittens usually didn’t garner high responsibility, high-stress management jobs.

  Cole hugged her and swung her around. “You’re a doll, Holly. I owe you one.” He sprinted off after the other woman, his step jaunty, excitement rippling in every muscle.

  “Haley,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes sore from the strain of watching him make a fool of himself over the wrong woman. She turned her back, removed her glasses, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, willing the pain to vanish.

  Furious with herself more than with him, she threw the file in her hand on top of her desk. Why couldn’t she have opened her mouth and spit out the truth? Why did revealing herself terrify her a hundred times more than the slimeball with the gun?

  “Something wrong, Bailey?” Brad asked as he sauntered by, a sexy grin curving his lips and his gaze also riveted to their newest officer.

  Cindy wouldn’t be any more pleased than Haley had been if she caught her boyfriend checking out the new woman. Quickly, she pushed the glasses back onto her nose, scared the detective might recognize her. “It’s Holly!” Irritated, she tripped over her own tongue. “I mean Haley!”

  Sheesh! Now she couldn’t keep her own name straight. Thank God it was five, so she could split. Usually she stayed until five-thirty or even six to avoid downtown traffic, which aided her in being seen as diligent and dedicated, all part of her plan to get old Hazelrod’s job when the current office manager retired next year. Tonight, however, she couldn’t wait to leave. If one more person got her name wrong, she’d lose it. She’d only worked here three years. They should know her name by now. How hard was Haley to remember? They were cops, after all! Cops were supposed to remember details.

  An hour later, she paced her neighbor’s living room, her hands behind her back, her temper boiling. “I’m such an idiot! How could I have been so meek?” She unpinned her hair from its topknot and shook it out. “I was going to tell him I was the woman at the party, and I lost my nerve. The next thing I knew, he was on the other side of the room hanging all over Erika Stewart because he thinks she’s me.”

  Her friend and neighbor, Sher, looked at her cross-eyed. Although Sher was only five-feet tall at most, she made up for it with spunk. She wore her red curls short but liked to daily change her look with a different wig. Today, she wore a sandy-colored pageboy. “Well, if you’d lose the nerdy wardrobe, those horrible glasses, and let down your hair, the men would ogle you, too.”

  Sher snatched away her glasses and peered at her. “You’d be a gorgeous chick if you loosened up. Us mere mortals would kill for your figure, so I don’t know why you always hide it.”

  Haley sighed, squinting. Everything was a blur. “I told you why. I’m dressing for success. I can’t be a cop, so I’m going to be a manager. Managers wear suits, not slinky dresses. They wear high heels, not open-toed and beaded sandals. And they wear their hair professionally styled, not long and loose.” No, she couldn’t break through the glass ceiling acting—or dressing—pink.

  Sher pretended to yawn and patted her mouth. “Boring! You need a new image if you want to wow that man. Maybe you should wear your Catwoman costume to work.”

  “Get real.” Haley snorted, wondering how many coronaries she’d cause if she wore her Halloween costume in the station. “I barely got up the nerve to wear it the first time for the Halloween ball. I can’t wear that out in public on a normal day.”

  “Sure you can. Lose the tail, the mask, and the ears…”

  “I sort of liked the ears,” Haley teased. Sher was right—she should loosen up and have some fun—at least after work.

  Sher circled Haley, looking her up and down. She returned the glasses. A wicked glint gleamed in Sher’s eyes, a sure sign of trouble. “Go put on the costume, sans tail, ears and mask, and hurry back. Don’t forget to wear the sexy boots.”

  Fear coiled in Haley’s gut as she settled her glasses on her nose. “Why?”

  “No questions. Just do it.” As Haley started to leave, her friend added, “Lose the specs and put in your contacts.”

  “Aye, captain.”

  “Stop whining and get your tush back here, pronto.”

  Haley changed almost as fast as Superman, feeling akin to him in her costume, then she rushed back to Sher’s place. “I’m back, Dr. Frankenstein.”

  Sher pulled her into her boudoir and sat her at the vanity. “Much better. If I had your figure, nothing would make me
hide it.” She stood behind Haley and peered at her in the mirror, sifting her fingers through the blonde silky locks. “Redhead or brunette?”

  “What?” She frowned at her friend’s reflection in the mirror. Did she think Haley bleached her hair? “I’m a natural blonde.”

  “I know, silly. Dare to be different. Would you rather be a redhead or a brunette?” Sher grabbed two wigs, one red and one dark brown, and held them up, one on each side of Haley’s face.

  “I never thought about it. Why?” Haley shrugged, studying them. Didn’t everyone want to go blonde? Blondes didn’t usually change color, did they?

  Sher fit the brown wig on her, arranging it and then standing back to view her handiwork. She held up both thumbs. “Fantastic. It was made for you.”

  Haley’s jaw dropped open, and she stared at the exquisite stranger in the mirror. Could that really be her? Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself looking so sultry, so…so sexy. She was transformed. Stunning. “You’re a magician.”

  A smug smile played about Sher’s lips. “I am pretty good, aren’t I? We’ve gotta take a test run.”

  Haley stared in the mirror and took inventory. She might’ve gotten away with wearing a skintight black outfit on Halloween, but on a normal night? “In public? I’d get arrested for sure.”

  Sher wiggled her eyebrows. “Just make sure the right cop does the arresting.”

  Haley grew warm and tingly down to her pussy at the thought of her dream cop taking her into his private custody. Ahh, the stuff of erotic fantasies. She groaned, hoping he had fur-lined handcuffs… She brought up her dangerously spinning thoughts short. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “You know where he lives? Where he hangs out? What beat he’s on?” Sher clucked her tongue. “You really are naïve, aren’t you?”

  Yikes! “I can’t chase him.” Haley pushed away the titillating remembrance of herself and the sexy cop. She’d been brought up that women didn’t chase men.

  “Oh, he’ll think he’s hunting you, but first, you have to let him get your scent and get you in his sights, else he won’t know where to find you.”

  How deliciously devious! She longed to reel in Cole, yet she hated deceit. Shouldn’t he love her body, soul and mind, not just her body? She already knew he lusted for her body, but that wasn’t enough. She quirked her brow at her friend. “How do I get him to love me, not just my hot bod?”

  Sher just laughed. “First you get his attention, and then you can dazzle him with your brains.”

  Feeling like a different woman, a highly desirable, irresistible siren, Haley sauntered back to her apartment. At Sher’s prompting, she kept on the wig and contact lenses, but exchanged the leotard for a pair of black denim slacks. Not one to watch much television, she turned on her police scanner as she read her e-mail. She opened a note from her father, a captain on the force back home. He raved over the accolades of her older sisters and brother, all of whom proudly served in blue—all except her. Although he didn’t put her down, she could read between the lines. Again, she cursed the accident that had ruined her vision so that she wasn’t physically fit to be a member of Ft. Lauderdale’s finest.

  Next, she opened an e-mail from her mother, asking if she was ready to leave the big city yet and come home. Then she asked if Haley had a man friend yet or any prospects. Then she drooled about her eldest daughter’s new baby, and then about Selena’s wedding preparations. Even her brother Joel had a steady girlfriend who made her mother hear wedding bells. Again, although it wasn’t spelled out, Haley could read her mother’s disappointment.

  Sighing, Haley clicked forward to the next e-mail, one from Lizette, telling her all about Brandon, Haley’s four-month-old nephew and the joy of Lizette’s life. She went into detail about every new accomplishment—smiling, gurgling, lifting his head, and even told her about his doctor’s checkup. She’d made a website with the baby’s pictures so Haley surfed over and checked it out. The baby was adorable and she ached to hold him in her arms. She’d have to make a trip home to see him before he grew much larger, before he didn’t remember his auntie. How wonderful it would be to have one of those for her very own. But at the rate she was going with no love life, the prospects didn’t look likely. She’d die an old maid.

  Alas, Haley lived vicariously by listening to the police scanner. While her teenage friends listened to rock-and-roll, she’d been listening in on her dad’s force. Now she listened in on her coworkers. Things had been quiet all evening, so maybe Cole and Brad hadn’t been called out to the stakeout after all.

  Then she caught sight of herself in the computer monitor’s reflection. Wearing this wig, in this entirely black outfit, and with the skillfully applied makeup, she sizzled. If only she could get up the nerve to go out like this.

  “Officers in trouble at Commercial and 44th!” Cole’s voice barked from the scanner. Gunshots resounded in the background. “Need immediate assistance! Send backup! Sniper on roof!”

  Oh, God. Haley almost fell off her chair. Her stomach flip-flopped as she stared at the little black box crackling with static. Cole had to have the worst luck. According to her monitoring, he fell into more danger than all the other cops in the precinct combined.

  She could help him again. She had to help him again.

  Thrills shot through her. That night had been the most exhilarating night of her life. The taste of Cole’s luscious cock still lingered in her mouth and she trembled just thinking about his silky hardness. What she wouldn’t give for a repeat. Thwarting the bad guy and saving the hero in distress had numbered way up there, also.

  But she didn’t have the authority to interfere. She didn’t have a badge, and she never would. Neither Superman nor Batman had ever had a badge, nor any of a host of other superheroes. Not that she was a superhero—just a concerned citizen. When she got right down to it, Superman and Batman were just glorified concerned citizens, right? No one had ever denied their help. Why should they deny hers? Cole had seemed grateful the night before. Surely, he’d be grateful again.

  “Car 85 is on the way. Estimated arrival is ten minutes.” Sheila’s voice vibrated over the radio. Haley would recognize her nasal voice anywhere.

  Cole swore. She knew that he knew he couldn’t swear over the police airwaves, but his voice was distant as if he’d covered the radio. “We’ll be mincemeat in ten minutes! Get someone here sooner!”

  “Will try.” Edginess sliced through Sheila’s professional tones.

  Haley lived right around the corner. She could make it sooner if she went as she was. She’d pray he wouldn’t recognize her wearing the wig in the dark. She’d stick to the shadows. Stopping only to grab her keys, not even her purse or identification, she ran to her car. But the stupid thing coughed and spluttered. “Don’t you dare throw a hissy-fit now, Missy,” she ordered, slamming the flat of her hand on the steering wheel. She cranked the engine again, encouraging it to work. “Cole’s depending on us! You can do it.”

  But Missy didn’t care. Or maybe she was afraid of doing a little police work. Missy backfired and died. An oily plume of smoke curled up from the grille, gagging Haley.

  “What now?” Cole needed her. She spied Sher’s motorcycle. Did she dare borrow it? Would her friend let her use it? She ran back to Sher’s apartment and banged on the door.

  Haley cut Sher off when she opened her mouth. “Keys now! I need your wheels. It’s life and death.” She held her hand out, palm up under her friend’s nose. “I learned how to ride a cycle in my academy days. I promise I won’t put a scratch on her.” She crossed her toes, hoping neither she nor the bike got caught in crossfire. “I’ll owe you big time.”

  Sher cleared her throat. “You already owe me big time. So who’s dying?”

  “No time. I’ll fill you in later. Thanks!” She snatched the keys and raced away, praying her impulsive friend wouldn’t follow her. That’s all she needed was for her to get in the way. She jumped on the cycle, and it purred to life as soon as she tur
ned the key in the ignition, thank God.

  A few revs of the engine later, and she closed in on Cole and Brad. A moonless night, she could barely make out their shapes huddled behind their unmarked brown sedan. At least, she presumed it was the cops and not the robbers. She stopped and hid the cycle in a grove of palm trees, and then slunk along the sides of the buildings, sticking to the shadows.

  Someone had barbecued in one of the nearby apartments and the scent lingered on the muggy air. It mingled with the odor of several fast-food restaurants dotting Commercial Boulevard, almost nauseating her. The oil from the burger joints almost clogged her pores it was so thick. She covered her nose and breathed through her mouth.

  Gunfire rang out, and she stopped dead, not daring to inhale. The flash of flame had burst forth from the roof of the mall. The structure was only one story, and she had a good view of the man from the side. His focus was on the cops, and he hadn’t glanced her way as yet. She could sneak up on his rear and startle him long enough for Cole and his partner to get the drop on him. Then she could sneak away, and Cole wouldn’t even know she’d been there.

  Crouching low, she wound her way through the maze of buildings until she came up on the sniper’s rear in the alley sandwiched between the strip mall and a dark, eerie canal. Light from a nearby window glinted off a hubcap, beckoning to her. Even though it lay in a circle of light, she chanced retrieving it. It could serve many useful purposes—a shield, a weapon, or a noisemaker to distract the gunman.

  “Throw down your guns and come out with your hands up,” a voice commanded, followed by an evil laugh that cut straight through Haley. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, so it had to belong to the shooter. “Do it now, or I’ll shoot! I have you in my sights.”

  A pregnant pause rent the air. Then the hostile voice repeated, “I said drop them, pigs! Now, or you’ll be holier than a tennis racket.”

  Heavy metal clanged on the asphalt. Then the sound repeated.

  Oh, no. Both Cole and Brad must have followed orders and were now at the criminal’s mercy. She didn’t trust the man not to shoot. Time was up. She had to do something.