Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks Read Free Book Online Page A

lupus.”
    T.J. poked his head out of his office. “Hey, has anyone seen my—oh, hi, Lily.” He grinned and exchanged a glance with Brady.
    T.J. had been a cop since God was young, and a detective almost as long. He had Santa Claus hair, gold-rimmed glasses, a face with more droops and folds than a basset hound’s, and an appalling sense of humor. Lily wondered if she should check her desk for booby traps.
    “Anyone seen Mech?” she asked. The pot was nearly empty. It was always nearly empty. The rule was that whoever emptied it had to make the next pot, so everyone tried to leave a little liquid in the bottom. Lily poured a few swallows of black sludge into a mug that read, UFOs Are Real. The Air Force Doesn’t Exist.
    “You talking to us peons?” Brady asked. “Should we tug our forelocks when we answer?”
    Lily rolled her eyes. “Heaven help us. Brady’s been reading his vocabulary list again.”
    “I just wondered. You’re consorting with royalty now. The prince.” He made another howling sound.
    “Someone put a muzzle on him, will you?” Lily headed for what she liked to call her office. It was really just a small ell off one end of the main room, lacking the dignity of a door or windows. But it was a private nook and had room for her desk, some filing cabinets, an extra chair, a struggling philodendron, and a pot of ivy out to conquer the world.
    “You know, Brady,” Lauren said, “I bet you have no idea what a forelock is.”
    “I’m sure I could find one. Hey, maybe this—”
    “You go tugging on that in here, I’m arresting you for indecent exposure.”
    “Mech’s guarding your domain,” T.J. said as she passed him.
    She paused. “Your eyes are twinkling, T.J. I don’t like it when your eyes twinkle.”
    He shook his head. “So young and so cynical.” Then he smiled. “Hope you enjoy our little present.”
    Oh, crap. Lily was on guard as she approached her office, though she couldn’t imagine what they’d cooked up. If Mech was there, she ought to be safe from practical jokes. Mech was the polar opposite of Brady and T.J., serious to a fault. He’d tell her if they’d rigged her chair to collapse.
    So what kind of “present” had they left for her?
    She rounded the corner and found out.
    “Detective Yu,” Rule Turner said, rising politely from the battered wooden chair to the left of her desk. “Your colleagues assured me it was all right to wait for you here.” His smile was crooked and charming. “I think I’ve been used.”
    “Um,” she said cleverly. He was wearing black again—an open-necked black shirt with a black jacket and slacks. Very Hollywood. The jacket looked as if it had cost as much as her car was worth. “I’m afraid so. The joke is strictly on me, however.” It was a backhanded jibe at her lack of a social life. She sighed. “Cop humor has a lot in common with kindergarten humor, only more R-rated.”
    “The chief sent him to see you,” Mech said. He was sitting on Lily’s desk, trying to look relaxed.
    Mech was ten years older than Lily, five inches taller, and eighty pounds heavier, with every ounce muscle. He was a quiet, methodical man with Job’s patience, skin the color of her favorite caramel latte, and a strong streak of the puritan.
    Mech didn’t do relaxed well. “He—uh, His Highness wants to assist in the investigation.”
    Turner shook his head. “I’m not a highness. The press likes to call me prince, but the press likes to sell magazines and newspapers.”
    “I’ve noticed that about them.” Lily slung her backpack onto her desk. “Thanks, Mech. You can tell T.J. he’s on my list. Brady, too.”
    Mech hesitated, as if he weren’t sure he should leave her alone with Turner. She flicked him a glance as she unzipped her backpack. He nodded reluctantly and left.
    She pulled out her laptop. “While we always appreciate civic-minded citizens, there’s something of a problem with one of the suspects in an investigation