Criminal Instinct by Kelly Lynn Parra Page B

bright beacons against the tiny red lines cutting through the white in his eyes. His cheeks flushed from the bout of tears. Nose nice and stuffy.
    She shook her head. “Why are you here, Skates?”
    “What?”
    “What did you do to get yourself in SIDE?”
    His eyes widened before he jerked his gaze to the floor. “Can’t. Can’t talk about it.”
    His business. Ana could respect that. But if Sarge saw him, he’d know Skates was on something. He’d demand a piss sample without taking the time to listen to an explanation. Sarge only listened to himself and the government high rollers who backed the program.
    Skates’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked so helpless. Alone. She’d felt those things more than once. During low times, she’d wished with everything inside of her for someone to help. The reality that no one would had nearly swamped her with despair. She didn’t wish that feeling on anyone, let alone Skates.
    She shook her head, already regretting what was about to come out of her mouth. “Look. This one time, I’ll help you out. But I mean it—this is it. You have to get your act together. Learn to take care of yourself.” She couldn’t let him become a liability to her. A liability brought you nowhere but down. And priority one was to keep her ass out of a cell.
    His eyes widened, his head bobbed. “Okay.”
    “Did you find out information today?”
    His head bobbed again. “Yeah, dealer connected to Tyler. Meyer. Derek. Hangs at the Ink Dome. Tatts all over. Weird skull tatt on his bald head. A same-sex bar. I didn’t go.” He looked away.
    “It’s all right. Now listen.” She pulled his face to hers. “Listen. I’m going to give you a key to my studio. Go straight there. I’ll think of something to cover for you. Lay down and rest, okay?”
    His glazed eyes locked on her like she was a guardian angel.
    Right. Angel, her butt.
    After slipping him the key, she edged open the door and peeked out. So far so good. She led him down the stairs and out the door. The wind chilled her.
    Raising a hand just above his baby face, she paused, then lowered it to pat his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
    He nodded and took off down the street on his skateboard.
    Great, Ana, now you’re saying things that might not be true . Brilliant. Next, she’d be swearing to grant miracles.
    Shutting the door, she turned and collided into the tank-hard chest of Jax. She jerked back.
    Covering her surprise, she grinned. “What are you doing creeping up on people?”
    His pale blue eyes were suspicious. “Where’d Paul go?”
    “Skates. You know we’re not supposed to use real names in the firehouse.” She tsked. “Not good. You know Sarge is touchy about that.” Her eyes shifted to his bandaged shoulder. “Tick somebody off?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “Looks like you pissed off somebody, too. Nothing new.” He motioned with a finger to her scratch on her cheek then, frowning, sniffed the air. “You been diving in garbage or something?”
    She rolled a shoulder. “Something like that.”
    “Where did Skates take off to?”
    “Stomach bug.” She scratched her neck. “Sent him to my pad. Didn’t think he would make it to his own.”
    “How come he didn’t talk to Sarge or Jay-man?”
    She lifted her eyebrows, but she’d never been good at the innocent look. “How do you know he didn’t?”
    “He didn’t.” His eyes performed a slow scan of her face. “Sarge is waiting for him.”
    Ana focused on his bandage and the few dots of dried blood seeping through the tiny squares of the dressing. Her gaze veered to his other shoulder. A tattoo of a skull-faced character riding a chopper. Not much of an improvement over a bloody bandage. “I’m telling you, he must have ate something bad. I told him to take it easy.”
    “That, right?” His bruised hand went up and rubbed at his stubbled jaw. The action caused tiny scraping sounds. “Maybe I should check on him.”
    She kept her face bland.