Read Online Power to the Max by Jasmine Haynes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jasmine Haynes
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probably even the last one to see him alive. I’m not abandoning her yet. She might know something.”
“The cops’ll handle questioning her once I tell them what her name is and what hotel she trolls.”
“Trolls?”
“Cruises for her customers. Where’d you see her?”
He waited, eyes flinty blue again.
“Let’s not be hasty. She’s not going to tell them anything.”
“She will eventually.”
“After they torture her?”
He laughed, a hearty sound that turned heads. “They’ll only smack her a few times, no big deal.”
“Liar. Cops don’t do that, especially not the ones you know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. What’s her name?”
“I know you’re going to think this sounds a little strange, but I was thinking—”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t even hear my plan.”
“You are not going to be a hooker.”
His pancakes chose that moment to plop down on the counter in front of him. The Pink Poodle’s face shone brighter than her uniform. Her gaze jumped from Witt to Max and back to Witt, then she skipped away like a frantic puppy that hadn’t gotten the hang of paper-training.
Max smiled at Witt, taking a forkful of syrup, whipped cream, and pancakes at the same time he did. Nothing quite like the intimacy of sharing food from the same plate. “Be a hooker?” she mused, staring at her newly-laden fork. “Why, the thought never entered my mind.”
“Right. Known you two months, Max, trailed you through three murder investigations.” Only the first had been Witt’s case, the others were different jurisdictions, just like Lance La Russa, but Max, with her visions, had pushed Witt into all the cases. “And your MO is stepping into a victim’s shoes. Literally. First the accountant.”
Wendy Gregory. A woman with too many secrets. One of them had gotten her killed. “I am an accountant. Seemed like the logical thing to do.”
“Second was the hairdresser.”
“But I took the receptionist job.”
“If you knew how to do hair, you’d have taken Tiffany’s job.”
Tiffany Lloyd. She’d given her male clients far more than a haircut. Another woman with secret motives and secret desires. And wanting something someone else owned had gotten her killed.
“Number three—”
“ Bethany Spring . Phone actress.”
“Phone sex operator,” Witt corrected with gritted teeth. “You liked that job the best, didn’t you?”
Max ignored the comment, unwilling to admit the truth. “Did you want me to ignore the fact that one of her regulars could have killed her?”
Poor Bethany Spring , who desperately wanted someone to love her, even if it was only a voice over a phone line.
“I wanted you to let the cops do their job.”
“They never would have figured it out.”
“No matter how many good reasons you think you have, Max, no matter how many times you throw the fact that you uncovered those killers all by your lonesome, you are not going to pretend to be a hooker.”
“Pretend?”
That’s when he grabbed her arm, shackled her wrist with his fingers while he dug in his pocket for some bills. Max tried to wriggle free, but his grip was impossible to budge. So was the grim set of his mouth. When he started moving, she almost had to run or he’d have ended up dragging her.
At the side of her car, in full view of the wide-eyed spectators, he shoved his finger in her face. “Do not push me, Max. I will use my handcuffs to lock you to your bed if you don’t promise not to do something stupid.”
Lots of full sentences, he was pissed. So was she. She gave him a pert but tense smile. “Sounds like fun. I didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff.”
His eyes glittered dangerously in the light streaming through the restaurant windows. “Don’t push. You won’t like it.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You have no right—”
Hauling her against his chest, he cut off her breath and her words. “I
“The cops’ll handle questioning her once I tell them what her name is and what hotel she trolls.”
“Trolls?”
“Cruises for her customers. Where’d you see her?”
He waited, eyes flinty blue again.
“Let’s not be hasty. She’s not going to tell them anything.”
“She will eventually.”
“After they torture her?”
He laughed, a hearty sound that turned heads. “They’ll only smack her a few times, no big deal.”
“Liar. Cops don’t do that, especially not the ones you know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. What’s her name?”
“I know you’re going to think this sounds a little strange, but I was thinking—”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t even hear my plan.”
“You are not going to be a hooker.”
His pancakes chose that moment to plop down on the counter in front of him. The Pink Poodle’s face shone brighter than her uniform. Her gaze jumped from Witt to Max and back to Witt, then she skipped away like a frantic puppy that hadn’t gotten the hang of paper-training.
Max smiled at Witt, taking a forkful of syrup, whipped cream, and pancakes at the same time he did. Nothing quite like the intimacy of sharing food from the same plate. “Be a hooker?” she mused, staring at her newly-laden fork. “Why, the thought never entered my mind.”
“Right. Known you two months, Max, trailed you through three murder investigations.” Only the first had been Witt’s case, the others were different jurisdictions, just like Lance La Russa, but Max, with her visions, had pushed Witt into all the cases. “And your MO is stepping into a victim’s shoes. Literally. First the accountant.”
Wendy Gregory. A woman with too many secrets. One of them had gotten her killed. “I am an accountant. Seemed like the logical thing to do.”
“Second was the hairdresser.”
“But I took the receptionist job.”
“If you knew how to do hair, you’d have taken Tiffany’s job.”
Tiffany Lloyd. She’d given her male clients far more than a haircut. Another woman with secret motives and secret desires. And wanting something someone else owned had gotten her killed.
“Number three—”
“ Bethany Spring . Phone actress.”
“Phone sex operator,” Witt corrected with gritted teeth. “You liked that job the best, didn’t you?”
Max ignored the comment, unwilling to admit the truth. “Did you want me to ignore the fact that one of her regulars could have killed her?”
Poor Bethany Spring , who desperately wanted someone to love her, even if it was only a voice over a phone line.
“I wanted you to let the cops do their job.”
“They never would have figured it out.”
“No matter how many good reasons you think you have, Max, no matter how many times you throw the fact that you uncovered those killers all by your lonesome, you are not going to pretend to be a hooker.”
“Pretend?”
That’s when he grabbed her arm, shackled her wrist with his fingers while he dug in his pocket for some bills. Max tried to wriggle free, but his grip was impossible to budge. So was the grim set of his mouth. When he started moving, she almost had to run or he’d have ended up dragging her.
At the side of her car, in full view of the wide-eyed spectators, he shoved his finger in her face. “Do not push me, Max. I will use my handcuffs to lock you to your bed if you don’t promise not to do something stupid.”
Lots of full sentences, he was pissed. So was she. She gave him a pert but tense smile. “Sounds like fun. I didn’t know you were into the kinky stuff.”
His eyes glittered dangerously in the light streaming through the restaurant windows. “Don’t push. You won’t like it.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You have no right—”
Hauling her against his chest, he cut off her breath and her words. “I
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