Fearless in High Heels

I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but it felt like a million years. By the time I finally awoke the next morning I was stiff, but my headache had faded to a dull roar, which I took as a good sign. I slipped on a pink robe and padded into the kitchen where I put on a pot of coffee. Decaf. On the weak side. But that first sip tasted like heaven.

I took my cup into the spare room where I found Ramirez huddled over a mountain of paperwork. I felt just the tiniest twinge of guilt that I’d probably caused most of it.

“Knock, knock,” I said from the doorway.

Ramirez spun around, a slow smile spreading across his face at the sight of me. “Hey, sleeping beauty. How you feeling?”

I shrugged. “Not bad.” I held up my cup. “Getting better with every sip.”

His grin widened. “I hope you made more.”

I nodded, coming into the room. “I did, but it’s decaf, so don’t get too excited.” I looked over his shoulder at the pile of papers. “This the paperwork on Blaise?” I asked.

Ramirez let out a long sigh. “Yeah. This guy was a real piece of work. We found the vial of Flunitrazepam in his place in Corona Del Mar. Looks like he bought it online from some place in Mexico. And turns out he’d already emptied his and his wife’s bank accounts and had the money transferred to a place in the Caymans. Another week, and he would have been untraceable.”

I resisted the urge to gloat over catching him. Mostly because until Blaise had pointed his gun at me, I’d had no idea he was involved.

“How’s his wife taking it?” I asked, honestly feeling sorry for the woman.

Ramirez shrugged. “Not well. But I think she’ll be okay.”

“You know,” I said, sipping at my coffee again. “There’s one thing that’s been bothering me. Why did Becca go to North Hollywood after the party that night? Why not just go home?”

Ramirez grinned at me. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“See this is why you should leave the real investigating to the pros,” he teased. “We’re better at it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me!”

“Okay, okay. Becca was sleeping with Darwin, Alexa’s boyfriend. He lives in that building.”

I scrunched my nose up. “Damn. Okay, you win, you got one on me.” I paused, sipping. “So I guess Sebastian really didn’t have anything to do with the murders after all?”

Ramirez shook his head. “No. In fact, he claims he had no idea the girls were going home with this guests, either.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe him?”

Ramirez shrugged. “It’s not a matter of what I believe, but what I can prove. And, frankly, I’ve already got my hands full here,” he said, gesturing to the paperwork.

I nodded. “I guess so. But, if Sebastian was innocent, what was Becca’s dress from the club doing in his bedroom?” Though even as I asked the question out loud, I felt the answer coming to me. Becca had been sleeping with Blaise, Goldstein, and Darwin. What did you want to bet she was playing hide the fangs with Sebastian as well?

“What dress?” Ramirez asked.

I shook my head. “Never mind. Not important.”

“Hmm,” he said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at me. Though, thankfully, he let it go.

I looked down at my cup and realized it was empty. “I’m gonna get a refill. You want one?” I asked.

“Please,” Ramirez said, his eyes still watching me as I left the room.

I made my way into the kitchen and was just filling another cup when I felt Ramirez come up behind me, putting both arms around my middle. His lips went to my neck.

“You sure you’re feeling okay,” he whispered.

I grinned, trying not to giggle at the way his breath tickled. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hmmm, good.” His lips moved lower, kissing along my shoulder. “Okay enough, say, to ditch the paperwork and go back to bed?”

I froze. “You mean… bed, bed?” I asked.

I felt Ramirez nod. “Uh huh.”

I was two seconds away from ditching the robe, and my panties with it, but something made me pause. Instead of rushing for the bedroom, I spun around to face him.

“So, now you’re in the mood?”

Ramirez grinned, his eyes a dark chocolate brown that told me he definitely was.

“Where exactly has this mood been the last four months?” I asked.

Ramirez paused, his eyes going just a shade lighter. “What do you mean?”

I wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you play dumb with me, Jackson Wyoming Ramirez. You know what I mean. Tired, headaches, paperwork. You’ve been using every excuse in the book. What gives?”

He paused. Then looked down at the floor. “I just… well… I was kind of afraid of hurting the baby,” he mumbled.

I did a forehead smack. A real one this time.

“Seriously?” I asked, blinking at him. “Honey, exactly how big do you think you are?”

Ramirez blinked at me. “What?”

I shook my head. “Forget it. Look, the fact is that it is a physical impossibility for you to get anywhere near the baby. In fact, my doctor said that sex is actually good for the baby. Not to mention me,” I added.

Ramirez did some more blinking. “Oh.” Then that grin slowly began to crease his cheeks again. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Yeah, it is,” I said. “It would also be good to know what suddenly has you ready to throw caution to the wind this morning. Was it the idea of almost losing me?” I asked, my voice going soft as I took a step toward him.

He grinned, his arms snaking around my middle again. But he shook his head. “As scary as that idea is, it’s not exactly a turn on,” he admitted.

“Okay, so then was it the sexy vampire outfit I wore last night?”

His eyes went a dark chocolate again, but he still shook his head.

“The coffee breath?” I fished.

“Nope.”

“I give up, then. What did I do differently?” I asked.

He grinned wider. And maybe even blushed a little, if it was possible for Bad Cop to blush. “I don’t know, Maddie. Something about seeing you hold that gun over Blaise. Being all kick ass like that. It was… kinda hot.” he admitted.

I felt myself grin in response. “So ‘Cagney’ turns you on, huh?”

He frowned. “What?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. Just kiss me, you crazy cop.”

And he did. Then Ramirez scooped me up (yes, all two tons of me) in his arms and made for the bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I crossed my legs, trying to ignore how badly I had to pee (for a change) as I waited patiently for the nurse to call me into the ultrasound technician’s back room. I was pretty sure it was a form of torture that they’d told me to come with a full bladder, then made me wait twenty minutes until the tech could see me.

Ramirez shifted in his seat beside me, flipping the page on his copy of Popular Mechanics. I did the same, trying to focus on the People article in front of me and not my soon-to-be-exploding bladder.

Actually, it was a pretty interesting article, detailing the fall of Ava Martinez from super-stardom. Apparently her Playboy shoot had enraged more than just Dana. Posing nude was against her