Kiss the Girl (16 page)

“Why do you insist on using my name like a title?”  Nixie asked.  “You know it drives me nuts.”

Erik froze.  He laid both hands on the doorframe for support and squinted into the kitchen.  “Nixie?”

“That’s better.”  She was perched on one of the stools beside the counter, grinning at him.  She looked impossibly clean and fresh.  Rested.  He wanted to sniff her,
to
see if she
smelled like she looked. 

She slid off the stool and offered him a steaming
paper cup of coffee
. 
He
t
ook a cautious sip.  “How did you get in here?”

“Your mom let me in.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to kill her.”

“
Yeah, she
mentioned
that
.  It doesn’t bother her the way you’d think it might.”

Erik swallowed some more coffee, willed the caffeine into his bloodstream.  “What are you doing here, Nixie?”

“I’m going with you.”

“Going with me where?”

“To
rescue
Mary Jane.”  She gave him a sunny smile.

“What makes you think I’m going to rescue Mary Jane?”

“Oh please.”  S
he rolled her eyes.  “Your girl
friend was quasi-kidnapped last night, probably to patch up some gun-shot drug lord, and hasn’t answered her cell phone or home phone since.  And
yes,
I’ve been dialing her all night.  So forgive me for making assumptions on short acquaintance, but I
don’t believe you’re planning to do nothing but wring
your hands
un
til she turns up again.”  She folded her hands serenely in her lap.  “
You’re going after her and I’m going with you.”
  

“No.”  Erik gulped down some more coffee. 
God
, where was the caffeine?

“See? You
are
going after her
.”

“And I have no intention of
taking you with me
.”

Her lips went thin and she crossed her arms over a sweater the color of ripe
pumpkins
.  It was soft-looking and a little clingy and Erik had to force himself not to look south of her collar bones.  “Why not?”

“Because you’re Nixie
Leighton-Brace
.  That’s why.  Jesus.”  He scratched at his scruffy cheek and watched her try to wipe the hurt off her face.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I’m not trying to be a jerk.
  It’s not my fault you’re
...you
.
”

“It isn’t mine either.  Get over it.  I’m going
with you
.
”

He crossed the room and plunked himself down on the stool next to hers.  The scent of lemons mixed pleasantly with his coffee and he shook his head to clear it.  She was confusing him.  Confusing everything.  Mary Jane was in danger and all he could think about was how soft her sweater looked.  How soft
she
looked.  He was sorely tempted to touch her just to satisfy his curiosity, and that was unacceptable.

He’d
spent his childhood
swimming in and out of the fishbowl his mother called a life.  His test scores, his baseball stats, even
his first date
for
God
’s sake
--
they were all a matter of public record, thanks to the p
ress
’s insatiable
appetite for details and his mother’s insatiable appetite for publicity.  As a child, Erik had dreamed of privacy the way hungry kids dream
ed
of food, and as an adult he’d worked hard to achieve it.  So what kind of bizarre, self-destructive impulse had him
jonsing
after
a crazy-famous second-generation celebrity
?  It was that
soft sweater and her stupid lemon soap
, he thought.  They
were screwing with his judgment. 

“Come on, Nixie. 
I’m not going to wander into the worst neighborhood in the country with America’s princess on my arm.  It’s asking for trouble and we’ve got enough of that, don’t you
think?  We’re already in deep shit over last night
.  If Mary Jane did treat some
body
without reporting it, t
here’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet.  Not with you in the picture.  Best case scenario, we lose what little funding we have.”

“And worst case?”

“Mary Jane loses her license.  Is that what you want?”

“
Mary Jane is a big girl.  She knew what the risks were when she got into that car.”

“For herself.  I don’t think she counted on running that decision through the meat grinder of your celebrity.”  She flinched a
t that.  He felt like he’d
kicked a puppy.  “
God
, don’t
look
like that. 
I’m not making things up to make you feel bad, Nixie. 
But you have to understand.  A
t this point, you’re more liability than asset.
”

Her smile faded, and those giant eyes went very serious.  “
You have no idea what kind of asset I can be. 
If I’ve done something
wrong, I’ll fix it.  But
don’t freeze me out
because of who I am. 
I’m working like hell to be more than just my name, Erik.  Surely you of all people can understand what that’s like.
”

Erik bowed his head until it nearly touched the
plastic lid of his coffee cup
.  He’d spent so much of his own life fighting against a larger-than-life parent to forge his own path. 
S
crew
ing
with Nixie’s shot at forging her own just because she smelled good and distracted him
suddenly seemed incredibly petty.
 

“Fi
ne,” he said.  “You can come
.
  But can you dial down the Nixie Leighton-Brace factor
a little
?
  It’s bad enough that you’re coming.  I don’t want anybody to recognize you.
”

“Thank you, Erik.” 
She
didn’t hug him exactly
.
  It was more sort of squeezing herself up against his shoulder, but
t
he feel of her body
burned itself into his brain.  T
he subtle curve of her waist
against his elbow
, the cool swish of her hair against his chin.  It was her shampoo, he knew now, that smelled like lemons.  Christ.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” she asked, her eyes shining like he’d just served her up a hunk of birth
day cake instead of a grudging invitation
.  She wriggled like a frisky puppy and Erik smiled in spite of himself.  “Let’s go get Mary Jane back from the Dog crew.”

CHAPTER NINE

The sky was a cold and unforgiving blue as Nixie and Erik crossed the bridge into Anacostia.  They turned onto Kingston
, passed the clinic and
parked on the street outside a row of lopsided, grayish houses.  The yards were stingy patches of reluctant weeds, separated by bow-legged chain link fences.  The occasional window had been replaced with plywood, giving the whole street the vaguely menacing a
ir of someone who’d lost an eye
under questionable circumstances
.

Nixie
tried Mary Jane’s cell phone one last
time
. 
She watched t
he wind swe
ep
a fistful of dirty snow into a mini-cyclone in the gutter
while
Mary Jane’s voicemail picked up
yet again.
  She shook her head at Erik and flipped shut the phone.
  “Well?” she
said
.  “Where do we start?”

He switched off the
Jeep’s
ignition.  “What would you say if I asked you to stay here and guard the car against marauding bands of teenagers?”

“I’d say teenagers don’t maraud at eight a.m. on Sunday mornings.  Now quit trying to get rid of me.”

“Right.”  He sighed.  “Let’s start with the south side of the street and work our way down to the Wash.”

“The Wash?”

“Washburn Towers.  It’s one of the newer projects.  The Dog Crew is supposed to have a serious presence there. 
If Mary Jane’s disappearance has anything to do with the Dog Crew, s
omebody on this street saw something.”

“And we’re just going to knock at their doors bright and early on a Sunday morning and ask them to tell us what it was?”

“Yep.”

Nixie looked at him doubtfully.  “That’s going to piss some people off.”

“I think you’re discounting my immense personal charm.”  He smiled at her, and Nixie rolled her eyes.

“
I don’t know if anybody’s mentioned this before, but charm isn’t exactly
your strong suit.”

His smile widened.  “I haven’t been trying to charm you.  You’d feel differently if I had.”

She didn’t doubt it.  Still, he didn’t know that.

“Right,” she said.  “Maybe you
should let me do the talking.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”  He stepped out and rounded the hood. 
She pushed open her own door and joined him on the curb.

“Where to?”
she asked.

“We’ll start with Otto
Lyndale’s
place.”  He waved his arm toward the nearest tip-tilted house.  The fence looked a little firmer than the others. 

“You know Otto?” she asked.

“Know of him is more like it,” Erik said.  He strode to the center of th
e fence where a crooked gate
hung.  He rattled the gate on its hinges and waited.  Nixie frowned.  The yard was small but they were still a good twenty feet from the house.

“You don’t think the doorbell would be
--”

She was going to say
more effective
but the words died in her throat when what looked like a small pony with fangs rounded the corner of the house.  It streaked across the yard toward them, picking up speed as if the fence between them
didn’t exist
.  Nixie stumbled back until her butt hit the
Jeep
and
she
sighed in deep gratitude when the fence n
ot only
withstood impact but boomeranged the thing
back
into the yard
a good
couple feet
.