Somebody to Love (Tyler Jamison #1) - April Wilson Page 0,3
of perfectly polished black loafers. I look up, and… damn! My heart slams into my chest. It’s him. It’s the guy from the bar earlier this evening. He’s looking a little worse for wear at the moment, his black hair tousled, as if they got him out of bed for this. He must have finger-combed it on his way over here.
He’s wearing the same black suit he had on earlier tonight, with a wrinkled white shirt and a black tie. There are faint shadows beneath his startling blue-green eyes. Even as rough as he looks, he still takes my breath away.
I see a momentary flash of awareness when we finally make eye contact. He looks away for a second, scrubbing his hand roughly across his trim, black beard. But just as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and he’s all business as he pulls a black leather wallet out of his jacket pocket and shows me a very shiny, very official looking badge.
This is surreal. I can’t believe it’s the same guy. “You’re a homicide detective,” I say. It’s not a question.
He nods. “Homicide Detective Tyler Jamison, Chicago PD.”
I laugh. “So, you drew the short straw.”
He ignores me as he pockets his badge. “Don’t go anywhere, Mr. Alexander,” he says. “After I see the body, I’ll need to ask you some questions.”
My pulse flutters as I nod. Hell, he can ask me all the questions he wants.
And then he walks away, his stride purposeful and strong, and all I can do is stare after him.
Once the detective disappears inside Eric’s boat, where the forensics team is already at work, I turn to the officers keeping me company. Honestly, I’m not sure if they’re guarding me or containing me. “Can I go sit on my boat?” I point to mine just a few yards away. “I’m about to fall over.”
Taking pity on me, one officer nods. “I’ll have to go with you, but sure.”
“Thanks.”
Officer Swanson, according to his name tag, follows me onto my boat. He steps onto the swim platform, right behind me, and we climb the few steps to the main deck.
“Have a seat,” I tell him, motioning to the cushioned benches along the stern.
The seats are arranged like a squared-off horseshoe. I sit on one side, leaning forward with my arms resting on my thighs. The cop sits opposite me.
My upbringing kicks in. “Can I get you something to drink, officer? Water? A soft drink?” I figure beer is out of the question under the circumstances, even though I could sure as hell use one. Now’s not the time to be playing host, but my mother has drilled proper etiquette into my head if nothing else.
Officer Swanson grins at my obvious discomfort. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Lying back on the long, padded bench, I prop my feet up on the chrome railing and close my eyes. I breathe deeply, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and let the rocking motion of the boat lull me. I find it comforting.
Once my stomach has settled somewhat, I sit up. I puked not half an hour ago, and my mouth tastes like shit. “I need some water.”
When I stand, the officer stands, too, as if he’s going to follow me. But the wet bar is right here on the main deck, beneath the overhang of the cockpit, so I don’t have far to go. When I grab a bottle of sparkling water from the mini fridge, he relaxes and sits back down.
Too restless to sit, I stand leaning against the bar and sip my fizzy water.
Not long after, there he is, Detective Jamison, standing at my railing. When our gazes meet, my belly tightens. Tall, dark, and handsome. I know it’s a cliché, but Detective Jamison meets all the requirements.
He grips the railing. “Permission to come aboard?” he says with a straight face.
Did he just crack a fucking joke? “Permission granted,” I say, grinning.
The detective steps onto the swim deck and climbs up to join us on the main deck. “My condolences. I understand from my colleagues on the forensics team that the victim was your friend.”
A knot forms in my throat as I nod toward Eric’s boat. “We’ve been neighbors for several years.”
“I’m really sorry.” He sounds genuine.
“Eric was a sweetheart. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt him, let alone kill him.” Still feeling a bit dizzy, I return to my seat, leaning forward with my arms propped on my legs.