Last Breath by Michael Prescott Read Free Book Online Page A

crashing our turf?”
    He held up his hands in mock surrender. As always, he was wearing shades. The thought crossed her mind that she had never seen him without sunglasses. He probably wore them at night.
    “Hey,” he said in a quieter voice, “chill, okay? We’re all on the same team, Killer.”
    “I don’t want you on my team, and stop calling me that.”
    “It’s what everybody calls you.”
    “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. You never answered my question.”
    “Why am I here? Well, it’s real simple. First call on my watch, we get involved in a hot pursuit in Vernon. Suspect crosses Central.” Central Avenue divided the Newton Area division from Vernon, which was patrolled by the Sheriff’s Department. “One of your squads joins up with us, and we corral the jerk a few blocks from here. I came in to expedite the booking, fill in a few details on the report. See, Sheriff’s does all the work, and LAPD gets all the glory.”
    “And all the paperwork. What’d you book him on?”
    “Grand theft auto.”
    “Nice car?”
    Tanner shrugged disdainfully. “Minivan. Why the hell would somebody steal a set of wheels like that?”
    “Maybe he’s a family man.” She started to move off. He stopped her with a question.
    “How about you, C.J.? What’ve you been up to?”
    “Nothing special,” she said, not meeting the gaze behind the dark glasses.
    “You look a little frazzled.”
    “Long day.”
    “Nights are longer in this part of town. Me, I’m working the late shift these days—and loving every minute of it.”
    “You were made for the nightlife, Tanner.”
    “You got that right. So you’re really okay?”
    He asked the question in a tone of genuine concern that startled her. “I’m fine,” she answered.
    “I don’t think you’re leveling with me.”
    “How would you know?”
    “I can read minds. Well, a woman’s mind anyway.”
    “Oh, jeez.” Just when she began to think he was not a total creep, he proved her wrong.
    “Seriously,” Tanner persisted with a smile. “The female of the species holds no mysteries for me.”
    “What species would that be, exactly? Goats?”
    “Now you’re hitting below the belt.”
    “Not me. I need a bigger target.”
    “Ouch. You think I’m messing with you, but I’m not. I know all about you. I know things about you that you don’t know yourself.”
    “Okay, impress me. Tell me something you know and I don’t.”
    “Well, for one thing, your ex-hubby is waiting for you in the lobby.” He seemed to enjoy her expression of surprise. “Oh, yeah. He’s out there.”
    “You’re playing me.”
    “Scout’s honor. I’ll even describe him for you. He’s about my height, I’d guess five-ten, five-eleven. But scrawnier than me. Early thirties. Blond hair, blue eyes. Currently wearing a lawyer suit. Smiles a lot. Has a certain rakish charm.”
    “Since when do you use words like rakish ?”
    “I read books.”
    “Larry Flynt’s publications do not qualify as books.”
    “You underestimate me. You really do. So is it your ex or not?”
    “It’s him,” she conceded. “How’d you know?”
    “Heard somebody mention he was here. I sneaked a peek.”
    “What for?”
    “Curiosity. I wanted to see what he’s got that I don’t.”
    “That’s easy. A working brain.”
    Tanner took no offense. “My brain is functional. I just don’t show it off. You have to get to know me. Which would be easy enough. Just let me take you out to dinner some night.”
    “Seventeen,” C.J. said.
    “What?”
    “That’s the number of times you’ve asked me out since I transferred here.”
    “At least you’re keeping count. I take that as a positive sign. Besides, you know what they say. Seventeenth time’s the charm.”
    “It’s not going to happen, Tanner.”
    “Just tell me why not.”
    “We’re not compatible. We’re oil and water. We don’t mix.”
    “See, that’s where you’re wrong. We’re Scotch and soda. We mix great. Give me