LITMIR.BIZ

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is it? You’re off duty.”

      “I’m never off duty,” he replied, extremely focused on the road. “But I’m officially on the clock in exactly two minutes, if it makes you feel better.”

      “Look. I don’t know what Liz told you, but I don’t need to waste the department’s time—and yours, since you’re not even on the clock at the moment, and I know they just cut the overtime budget because Liz has been ranting about that for weeks.”

      Another glance in his mirrors. He slipped a pair of expensive aviators out of his shirt pocket and put them on, hiding his eyes. “You’re not wasting my time, Adriana.”

      The rolling R again. She was a native Spanish speaker, and his accent still sounded sexy to her. “I am. I’m not rich or important enough to pull police off the streets—or out of their homes—for my personal protection. We’re not sure that The Surgeon is still alive. Frankly, I don’t see how he could be.” Liar. “Take me back to work, Detective, and then go do whatever it is you need to do for the day.” She just wanted to get out of the car, away from the hot guy with communication problems. Away from the memories he’d brought with him.

      “Adriana Maria Imaculata Torres, age thirty-six,” he said, calmly staring at the road. “Parents are Ana Maria and Juan Roberto Torres of Carmel, net worth approximately $1.6 billion, mostly from the sale of the Asilomar Tire Company they inherited in 1972, which had been in the family for approximately three generations. Today the family owns a small vineyard that boasts several award-winning chardonnays and a tragically underrated merlot.”

      Adriana could only stare at him.

      “You are that rich, according to the Monterey County Herald, ” he supplied, making a puzzling series of right turns that had them going pretty much in a circle through downtown. “And everyone’s important enough to make their safety paramount.”

      Safety paramount? Who talked like that?

      “Detective?”

      “Hmm?” They’d hit Asilomar, one of the busier roads. Cardenas glanced in his mirrors and accelerated past two cars that had been meandering along.

      “How about we not mention my middle name ever again, please? No one should ever saddle their child with something as horrible as Imaculata, even though it was my great-grandmother’s name, God rest her soul.”

      The almost smile appeared again. “Catholic family?”

      “You know it.” She didn’t know why, but it had suddenly become her challenge in life to make him smile outright, or maybe even laugh. Maybe because it kept her from thinking too hard about why Liz was so afraid for her safety, she’d pulled a hardworking detective off of his undoubtedly heavy caseload to babysit her. “Do you really think The Surgeon might be back?”

      “I know you’re not asking for my advice, but call him Carter. It’ll remind you that he was just a man.”

      A man who liked to carve people up for fun.

      “Let me ask you a question,” Daniel said gently when she didn’t respond. “Is there anyone else it could be?”

      Her hands flew briefly into the air, palms upward. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure at least some of the notes I’ve gotten over the years have been from some teenagers who live near me. I even got a glimpse of one once, and he was definitely just shy of puberty. But this…it seemed different.”

      “Let’s assume it is different,” he replied. Darn those glasses. She couldn’t see his eyes, and without that, she didn’t have a prayer of reading his expression. “Who else might want to upset you?”

      She had to think about that one. Truthfully, she tried to avoid conflict and didn’t have any enemies she could think of. “Well, there’s…” She let the sentence trail off.

      “There’s who?” he prompted gently.

      “It’s nothing.” She shrugged. “Just a stupid thought.”

      “Coworker? Customer? Some guy who passes you on the street every day and acts a little strange?”

      “I was going to say there’s this guy in one of my yoga classes—a student. But he’s harmless, really. Just because someone is a little socially awkward—”

      He took the glasses off and tossed them on the dash. “Adriana, I’d really like it if you’d give me permission to come into your house when I drop you off. There are a couple of things I haven’t told you yet.” He flicked a glance at her, and though she’d known his eyes were hazel, she hadn’t noticed the almost hypnotic combination of green and gold, until that split second. And then she remembered—when Daniel Cardenas looked at you, even for just a moment, he really looked at you. And he must have known the effect he had when he did, or he wouldn’t have removed those damned sunglasses just then.

      She didn’t want to deal with his pity. She didn’t want to show him her drab house and the refrigerator that lacked all the things you offered a guest. She didn’t want him to have to keep up that unfailing politeness while he witnessed how sad and pathetic her life had become.

      But someone was out there. Taking pictures of the dead.

      And so she had to know what his last sentence had meant. “What things?”

      “I can’t tell you how many times a victim I’ve interviewed has said, ‘I was going to mention this guy as a possible suspect, but he’s harmless,’ and the guy turned out to be not so harmless.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. He’d been doing that a lot, so she looked over her shoulder, too, but all she saw were a couple of innocuous cars cruising along behind them.

      She waited for his second point, but instead he just asked, “See that handle up there?”

      She blinked at the odd non sequitur. “What?”

      “The grab handle.” He motioned slightly with his chin toward the interior handle near the roof. She’d always thought those were put there to hold dry cleaning.

      “Yes.”

      “Hang on to it.”

      As soon as her fingers curled around it, Daniel calmly put the gear shift in Neutral. Then, he cranked the steering wheel to the left, yanking up hard on the emergency brake. With an ear-splitting squeal of its tires, the Charger spun in a tight half circle, fast and hard. Her right side slammed into the passenger door. “What are you—”

      But Daniel wasn’t in the mood for questions. His mouth set in a grim line, he let down the brake handle and punched the accelerator, probably leaving most of his tire treads on the asphalt as the car shot forward. The force of it slammed Addy back in her seat. They zoomed past the cars that had been behind them. So fast, Addy couldn’t get even a glimpse of the drivers. As soon as they hit an intersection, Daniel took another hairpin turn to the right. He followed that with a tire-squealing left through a traffic light that had just changed from yellow to red.

      After one more careening left turn, Daniel finally slowed down to an acceptable speed, leaving Addy reeling in her seat, dizzy and more than a little car sick.

      “Do you always drive like this?” she asked, tentatively loosening her death grip on the grab handle. “Because if you do, I’m so going to throw up on you.”

      The half smile actually turned into a full-fledged grin, a flash of straight, white teeth that contrasted against his brown skin.

      “You’re laughing at me.” She fussed with the hoodie sweatshirt she’d tied around her waist to make her black, flared-leg spandex pants a little more modest as streetwear.

      “I don’t laugh at crime victims.” His expression turned serious once more. He had a nice smile, and despite her confusion over what had just happened and the fear that had been lingering on the edge of her conscience all day, she kind of wished it had stayed a little longer.

      “What just happened there? Because I think it

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