Red by Kate Serine Page B

glanced at Nate just long enough to gauge his reaction to Caliban’s question, but he didn’t seem nearly as perturbed as I was. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I replied. “This is Detective Nate Grimm.”
    At this, Todd paused, glancing between Nate and me, his expression sobering. “Homicide. This is about a murder?”
    “Murders,” Nate informed him. “Plural.”
    Caliban looked a little panicked at this revelation and bent toward me, lowering his voice. “I’m on parole.”
    “For what?” I asked, lowering my volume to match his. “What happened this time?”
    He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “Incident in New York City a couple of months ago involving a mouthy hotel clerk and a telephone. It was nothing. But if I get arrested, Red, I’m back in the FMA prison for at least a year. I swear to you I wasn’t involved with any murders.”
    I knew Caliban, had known him for quite a while, and I believed him. But I didn’t get paid to make that call. “Just come in quietly with us, Todd, and answer the Chief’s questions. If everything checks out, you’ll be good to go.”
    He nodded absently, his thoughts obviously distracted. “I should probably let Sebille know where I’m going. Let her know that I won’t be filming today.”
    “We can bring her with us,” I suggested.
    “No, no,” Todd replied, running his hand through his hair again. “Never mind. She doesn’t need to get wrapped up in any of this. She’s a good girl.”
    I made a scoffing noise and urged him forward. “Careful,” I warned. “Seems like it’s the good girls that get you into trouble, Todd.”
    Todd gave me a mischievous grin. “Perhaps that’s why we didn’t work out, Red—you were just too damned good for me.”
    I gave him a shove, refusing to rise to the bait. “Just get going,” I grumbled. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get back to bombarding your staff with f-bombs and condescending tirades.”
    Caliban laughed and leaned toward Nate conspiratorially. “Don’t be fooled,” he whispered loud enough that I could hear. “She might pretend to be irritated by my particular brand of charm, but she’s never really gotten over me.”
    I rolled my eyes to the ceiling as we entered the elevator, resigning myself to the fact that Todd was going to play it this way. I didn’t know what I’d been hoping for. Although talented and truly kindhearted once you got past the quick temper and latent rage, his success had made him an egomaniacal dick—a much maligned, often wrongly accused, and seriously misunderstood egomaniacal dick, but a dick nonetheless.
    As the elevator doors slid closed, I received a sharp smack on my left butt cheek that stung from the impact. I spun around, glaring angrily, but Caliban only winked. Which made me want to deck him. Instead, for the sake of my paycheck, I hissed to Nate, “Cuff him. For his own safety.”
    Caliban held out his wrists to Nate. “Yes, Detective, please do. I wouldn’t want to do myself harm.”
    Nate glanced at me as he clicked the cuffs into place. He said nothing, but I could see the puzzled look in his eyes as he no doubt tried to figure out why I’d ever hooked up with Caliban in the first place.
    I turned my back on them both and squared my shoulders. “Smack my ass again, Caliban, and I’ll arrest you for assault.”
    He sniggered. “Once upon a time you wouldn’t have minded a good smack on the ass. . . .”
    I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Twice.
    This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 8
     
    I stood on the other side of the one-way glass, listening in on Nate’s conversation with Caliban. I had to hand it to Nate, he was good at his job. Caliban had started out with his usual cocky self-assuredness, but after half an hour under the penetrating gaze of Death, Caliban quit jerking Nate around and finally started answering his questions. And he answered them well.
    “So, what do you think?”
    I glanced over my