Read Online At Their Own Game by Frank Zafiro - Free Book Online Page A

on to the next big thing. The department only investigated a third of the reported felony property crimes with solvability factors. A detective couldn’t linger on a pet project without eventually showing results.  
    I could afford to wait.  
    After I handle the Ozzy situation, that is.  
    I slid the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. A nice breeze cooled me off as I strolled up the walkway to my front door. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and almost dropped my keys in surprise.  
    In my living room, perched on my couch, sat Helen Falkner.  
     

NINE  
     
     
    For an instant, I just stared. All the air left the room. All the sound, gone. A frozen moment of disbelief.  
    Then she smiled, and rose from the couch.  
    “It’s been a long time.” She stepped toward me.  
    I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out of my dry throat.  
    I swallowed, and tried again.  
    “Helen—”  
    Then her arms wrapped around me in a soft, fierce hug. My own arms came up involuntarily, and I drew her close. Her scent washed over me. Clean. Dirty. Perfect.  
    “I’ve missed you,” she whispered in my ear.  
    I swallowed again.  
    “I’ve missed you, too,” I finally managed, the words spilling out automatically.  
    We stood there for a long minute, cleaving to each other like we’d drown if either one of us let go. Then slowly, a little bit of the spell faded.  
    I took her by the upper arms and moved her slightly away from me. This put our faces only a few inches apart.  
    She wet her lip with her tongue and stared at me intently. “Yes?”  
    Her lipstick was the same shade of coral that I remembered. I knew it would taste the same, too. I pushed past the ache to kiss her, past that husky whisper. I looked for reason. For anger, and hurt.  
    It was harder to find than I would have thought.  
    “How did you get in?” I finally managed.  
    “Your spare key was under the third potted plant on the left,” she said.  
    “What are you doing here?”  
    “I wanted to see you.”  
    “Why?”  
    She smiled slightly. “Jake, I’ve missed you.”  
    “Yeah, you said that.”  
    Her smile faltered. “You’re still mad at me.”  
    I let go of her arms and turned away. At the counter, I emptied out my pockets slowly and methodically. Then I walked around the counter, slid open the kitchen drawer and put my gun inside. I could sense her standing behind me, waiting. I drew in a deep breath and let out a measured exhale.  
    When I looked up, she was still gazing at me like she always had, with that crazy, half-innocent, half-smoldering expression, full of promise.  
    Jesus, she was intoxicating.  
    “You want something to drink?”  
    She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I just want to talk, Jake.”  
    “Talk, huh?” I went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of beer, and twisted off the cap. “Little late for that, don’t you think?”  
    Helen smiled again. “I’d like to think it’s never too late for something worthwhile.”  
    I took a pull from the bottle, and tossed the cap on the counter. The daze she threw me into when I walked through the door was clearing.  
    A little.  
    I took another drink. Swallowed. Then I said, “I’d like to think a career in major league baseball is still in the cards for me.”  
    This time, Helen’s smile held strong. “Some things never change. You still joke to hide your feelings.”  
    “And what feelings are those?”  
    “Oh, come on, Jake. It’s obvious. You still love me.”  
    I laughed, but it was a dry, stale sound. “After what you pulled? I don’t think so.”  
    “But that’s the proof,” she said. “That’s how I know.”  
    “You don’t know shit.”  
    She stepped slowly toward me. “I do know.”  
    Another step.  
    I didn’t say anything, just took another drink of beer, and shook my head.  
    She nodded in reply. “It’s true.”  
    Another step.  
    “I know I treated you