Ties That Bind

Chapter 36

ONE THIRTY IN THE AFTERNOON.

Madison walked into the bullpen and addressed Terry, who sat in front of his computer. "Why didn't you call or wake me up?"

"Hey, Knight, nice of you to come in today." Her head turned in the direction of the voice. It wasn't Terry who responded. It was Toby Sovereign.

She growled to herself. Sovereign stood straighter than usual, not a wrinkle in his white shirt or pressed pants. And the way his smile rose higher on the left—he thought he was charming. God, he could be such a cocky bastard.

She had crawled into bed when she got home last night and passed out. When she did come to—less than an hour ago—she jumped straight in the shower and threw on some clothes.

She ignored Sovereign, but he failed to take the hint. He walked over.

"Looking especially lovely today. Must be late because you put extra effort in. It's like you knew you'd see me."

She heard the smile and flirtatious overture in his voice but refused to look at him. It would take all of her willpower to completely disregard him. "So what are you working on, Terry?"

"Now you're ignoring me? Come on, Knight, why do you treat me so cruel?"

It felt like everyone's eyes were on them and she could have bitch-slapped Sovereign without any regret. Damn her social etiquette. She was rapidly developing hot earlobes.

Terry looked from her to Toby but remained silent.

Good thinking buddy, good thinking, Madison thought.

She gazed straight ahead, looking at Terry's monitor, doing her best to squeeze Sovereign's voice from her head.

"Oh well Vixen, guess we'll talk another time." The words came off Toby's lips, dripping with an attempt at seduction. "Tell me when you want to meet up at the range."

She kept her eyes on the monitor, her words pointed. "You're willing to be the target?" He must have finally gathered a clue. She heard him walk away.

Her heart sank. She was such a conflicted mess. She couldn't stand him, couldn't stomach what he did to her, and yet now guilt threatened to set in for being rude to him. She was hopeless. She dismissed any possibility of still having feelings for him.

"Why don't you give the guy another chance?"

At first she wondered where the voice came from and once she realized it was Terry, she hit him on the back of the head.

"What?" He rubbed where she had hit him. "And what's with hitting me on the back of the head? Are we starting something new now that my shoulder's been well tenderized?"

"You're such a crybaby." She didn't want to get into the fact that Terry must have known about her past relationship with Sovereign. Thankfully that topic of conversation died as quickly as Terry tried to initiate it.

"Keep it up, Miss, and I'll start hitting back."

"Idle threats, Terry. We both know that." She smiled at him and her gaze settled on his monitor. She had looked at it only moments before, but was so focused on ignoring Sovereign, she hadn't noticed. Terry was working through her DMV results. "What are you doing?"

"Hey, I thought you'd be happy."

She should be—maybe. But her initial reaction was one of anger. She loved Terry, but at moments like this wondered if she'd work better solo. "I was here until after one."

"That's why I thought I'd help out. It is our investigation."

Her eyes slit. "Then where were you last night?"

"Where were you this morning?"

She let out a moan of frustration. "Fine. We are partners. Working at this together."

"Right. Really, what's the big deal?" He kept pecking at the keyboard and clicking with the mouse.

Had this man learned absolutely nothing in married life? Fine for a woman didn't mean everything was glossed over and hunky dory, it meant simply that—fine. Translation: put it to rest as I don't have the energy to fight about it as much as I'd love to. She had to let go and that was easy when she noticed the photograph that came up on the screen.

"Oh my God. Terry, that's our guy." She leaned in closer, read the screen: Ethan Younge, 9238 Elmwood Boulevard, Stiles.

The history of the plate showed it had expired ten years ago. Originally it was connected to a '87 Ford Mustang. She touched her fingers to the monitor as if it would somehow add more validity to it. "Go in closer on the photo. Print it." She bounced impatiently in front of the printer. "Warm up, you stupid thing. Why does this thing always need to warm up?"

"Maybe because it's female." A wide grin encompassed his face. She would have decked him if the printer hadn't chosen that moment to eject a printed sheet. She had scooped it up before the paper hit the tray.

"That's him. That's definitely him." She handed the sheet to Terry.

"Ow." He pulled his hand back and sucked on the tip of his finger. "Paper cut."

"This is our guy. Look at his vehicle history. Any Hondas, by chance?"

Terry read from the screen. "A '98 Honda Accord." He periodically sucked on his finger and pulled it out to assess the damage.

"Color?"

"Silver."

"Leaving now." She turned to leave. Terry would follow. He always did. Her lips parted in a smile.

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