A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,68
hands on her daughter’s shoulders and sobered. “You know how sometimes what I do is life or death?”
She nodded.
“This is one of those times, bug bite.”
A knowing smile spread across her lovely face. She looked from Sun to Hailey then back. “Got it.”
“Good girl. Now why aren’t you in school?”
14
Arrested for holding hands in public
because they didn’t know you and made a scene?
We can help!
—SIGN AT DALE SAUL, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW
Of all the crap she put on her daughter, now she had to entrust the girl with a secret certain members of society would kill for. She would talk to Auri about it later. Right now, Quincy was screaming at her. Metaphorically, as he’d used three exclamation points in his text.
“Are you okay?” he asked when she walked into the station a little worse for wear.
“Why? Don’t I look okay? I did have a Thin Mint I found in my car that tasted sketchy.”
He shook his head.
“What’s so urgent?”
“That.” He pointed to her office.
She stepped closer. Levi was inside, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He stopped and turned toward her, his expression angrier than normal. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t care if he was angry. Or why. Her heart skipped a beat with the knowledge that he was still alive.
“He seems agitated,” she said to Quince.
“He is,” Levi responded, waiting for her to come to him. Apparently, he wanted some alone time in her office.
A frail voice drifted toward her. “Howdy, Sunshine.”
Mrs. Fairborn. Sun waved at the elderly woman who’d set up shop at Quincy’s desk. “Hey, Mrs. Fairborn. How’s the confession coming?”
“Fantastic. How do you spell bloodcurdling?”
“I’ll help you with that, Mrs. F.,” Anita said, scooting up a chair beside her.
Sun gave her another wave, then entered her office where she got a better view of Levi’s battered face than she had that morning. It looked worse than she’d hoped it would. Not that he wasn’t still ragingly handsome, but the deep blacks and blues around his left eye, not to mention his mouth, were troubling. Thankfully—and astoundingly—there wasn’t much swelling, but the subconjunctival hemorrhage had completely discolored the white of his left eye, leaving it a bright blood red.
“Please tell me you had that checked out.”
“Please tell me you found them.”
“Can you answer my question?”
“As soon as you answer mine.”
“You know, you’re still under arrest.”
“I’ve been under arrest for months. What makes today any different?”
He was right. She’d arrested him, unofficially, four months ago when he’d first confessed to killing his uncle Kubrick. At the time, she suspected he only confessed because Hailey had beat him to the punch. She was the first of many to confess. But he knew things about the killing that Hailey hadn’t.
“Did you find them or not?” he asked.
“The assailants? No.” She almost didn’t want to ask the next question, but she needed to know. “Did you?”
He turned his back to her, clearly angry. “Are you even looking?”
“Hey,” she said, offended. “You know we are. We’ve had some developments.”
“Great. Because developments will help.”
“I don’t think I like your attitude, mister.” She shoved her free hand onto her hip. “Which could only mean one thing. You’re in a massive amount of pain.” Even when she’d seen Levi at his angriest, he was rarely a straight-up asshole to her.
He turned to face her again. Her statement seemed to steal some of his thunder. “Massive is a strong word.”
She stepped closer. “Quincy, can you close the door?”
“Sure, boss. Which side would you like me on?”
“This one. I need a witness.”
He did as ordered and waited.
“A witness for what?” Levi asked.
She set her coffee on her desk. “Take off your shirt.”
The intrigued brow that formed a questioning arch did nothing to slow her pulse. “You don’t need a witness for that.”
“I don’t. You do.” When he crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to cooperate—shocker—she said, “Look, either you let me do this or I’m arresting you and watching while Quincy strip searches you.”
“For the love of God, Ravinder,” Quincy said, “let her check you out.”
Most likely, any internal bleeding from the hit-and-run would’ve manifested by now. He would hardly be standing. She hoped the danger had passed since he seemed strong as ever. But better safe than sorry.
Favoring one side of his body, he lifted his shirt over his head with a grunt. He could barely lift his left arm high enough, but he managed to get the shirt off and hold it firmly in a clenched fist. He was