'Jealous, Kyla?'
Kyla was almost certain that Layla's golden eyes twinkled as she said that. Her wolf had been having a lot of fun at her expense since Albert walked in thirty minutes ago, and attracted half the female population in the yard to himself. The other half were either with partners--although the blush that accompanied every glance they stole at him was a clear indication of where they'll rather be--or too old to disrespect themselves by jumping at him. Today makes it the fourth day since he barged into her home to rile her up, and this wasn't exactly the next encounter she'd visualized.
Kyla tore her gaze away from where he sat, deep in conversation with Arabella Simmons, Police Chief McCarthy's cousin, and an ex-beauty model. She stiffened up, bottom lip slightly poking out as she focused on the ribs sizzling on the grill in the Police Chief's yard.
His wife's 56th birthday celebration was the reason half the town's police officers and a multitude of well-wishers gathered at his home amid the growing crises in Glasgow.
Mrs. Anna McCarthy, a beautiful African American woman, directed waiters with food platters from the kitchen to the picnic tables and the circle where the much older folks, Mr. McCarthy and Henson inclusive, had gathered lawn chairs together to play games and have lazy conversations.
At the center of the yard, a scattering of people were huddled under a canopy that had a stage, on which they danced to the soul music in the background. She wanted to dance to that music too, wanted to assist in the kitchen, wanted to overhear whatever Arabella was telling Albert and laugh about it. She wanted to do everything that didn't involve continuing the one-sided conversation that had been going on between her and Brad Statler since they arrived. He was the son of one of her grandfather's friends and her date for this event.
Her grandfather had set everything up. Pairing her with every eligible bachelor from a good family in town has been his favorite pass time since she moved in with him two years ago. Today, he'd paired her with Brad--an economist--who went on and on about stimulus bills and sticky wages. She let him drone on, chipping in occasional smiles or mutterings of agreement while wishing she was elsewhere.
"You're a stunning woman, Kyla." He said, placing a palm over her leg to draw her attention back to him.
"Thank you." She smiled, politely handing his hand back to him. "Excuse me. I need to have a word with Agent Torino."
"Oh," He rose to his feet the moment she did, casting a fleeting glance at Albert, who was steered to the dance floor by Arabella. "Is there a problem? I'll come with you."
"No. That would be unnecessary. I'll be back." She sauntered away before he could object.
Arabella moved to the rhythm of the music, keeping Albert glued to herself as they danced. He wasn't as invested as she was, though. His attention was on Kyla, who held his gaze as she moved through the multitude of people on the dance floor, headed towards them.
Her eyes flared, and for a split second, he wondered if he'd done anything to upset her over the last ninety-six hours. It could also be that she hadn't forgiven him for his last visit to her home. Whatever the case may be, he braced himself for a confrontation.
"Excuse me," Kyla leaned forward and tapped Arabella's shoulder.
She turned, keeping one arm around Albert's neck. "Yes?"
"I'll need to have a word with the Agent."
Arabella frowned. "I'm sure you can do that some other time." She turned to wrap the other arm around him.
"Whatever Miss Odin needs to discuss is important." Albert removed her arms from his neck with a patronizing smile. "I'll join you back at the table shortly."
If fuming was a person, it would be Arabella now. "Well, fuck you too, Albert." She pushed Kyla aside and stormed off the dance floor.
Kyla sucked her teeth and shook her head in disapproval. "Is that your type?"
"Why do you ask?" He took her hands and pulled her closer, placing her hands on his shoulder and his hands on her waist. The gesture was foreign to both of them yet felt comfortable as they moved to the tempo of the slow song still playing in the background.
She shrugged, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. "If she is, I'll be forced to conclude that you have deplorable taste in women, Agent Torino."
"Albert." He corrected.
"Right," She rolled her eyes. "Albert."
He smirked. "I can say the same about your taste in men."
She rose a curious brow. "How do you mean?"
"Brad Statler?"
"You're barely a week old in Glasgow, how do you even know his name?"
"It came up during my conversation with Arabella. I wanted to know who he was, so she told me."
She repressed a satisfied smile as she conversed with her wolf. 'In your face, Layla. I guess I wasn't the only one observing.'
'Nuh-uh.' Layla disapproved. 'What you were doing can't be chunked off as observing. You were green-eyed with jealousy, while he was probably wondering who the weirdo was.'
'Brad isn't a weirdo.' She protested.
'How would you know that? You weren't even paying attention to the man.'
"You're doing that thing with your face again," Albert mumbled in her ear. Unknown to her, he'd moved his lips there while she bantered with Layla.
The motion caused her to quiver, but she recovered quickly, putting a tiny distance between them. "Are you certain I didn't hit my head when I fell?"
"You're still hearing voices?" He asked with a chuckle. "You should have that checked."
"Thanks, mom." She jested. "What's wrong with Brad?"
He shrugged. "His haircut."
"His haircut?"
"Yes. A mop of sandy hair which flops in his eyes as he speaks? That's a cute look for a nine-year-old, and a ridiculous one for a thirty-six-year-old."
Kayla tilted her head sideways, frowning. "She told his age?"
He nods.
"Arabella is a gossip." She concluded.
"Maybe. What was it you wanted to discuss?" He asked through a teeth-closed smile.
"Err," She faltered. "I wanted to know how the investigation was going."
He smirked. "Why? So, you can cover your tracks?"
"I figured you'd say this. Hence, why I came here to offer my services to you, during the investigation. Let me work with you, or for you, whichever you prefer." She rambled on. "The only way I'll be able to prove my innocence to you is by getting you to know me better. In no time, you'll find that I'm far from being a serial killer."
"Well, I appreciate your twisted, bizarre, backward-logic to the truth, but this is official business. I don't see how you'll be of any help." He said.
"Oh, that's because you've greatly underestimated my ability to do things in the good guy's department." She shrugged. "You think I'm a killer."
"I don't think you're the killer I'm looking for. What I do believe, is that you know more than you're letting on."
"Maybe I do." She shrugged again.
He rose a cautious brow. "So you're admitting to something?"
"No, I'm not. What I did say, was that If I worked for you, you'll get to know me better. I'll help you catch the criminal."
"I have all the help I'll need from the GCPD."
"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes and whispered. "The same set of officers who have been practically useless till you arrived? The crime rate in Glasgow is low, not because our officers are good at their jobs, but because we took care of our own problems. Your shining officers spend most of the time at Lino's bar. It's right beside the police precinct. Undoubtedly, the unexpected turn of events has caused quite a number of them to straighten out their act, but trust me, you'll need all the help you can get in this case."
"I can't involve you in the investigations." He insisted. "You're not a cop, neither are you experienced in anything like this."
"I'm not asking you to put me on your flank at crime scenes. I can help with anything else you can think of. I might even be your muse, eventually."
"Hmm." The music changed again and so did the tempo. He put his arms around her waist and drew her closer. His lips brushed her hair as they moved to the song by The Drifters. He was sure that there was more to the request than she was letting on. It bothered him and strengthened his convictions about her. He couldn't trust her at all, and that irked him. What irked more was that, knowing this didn't caution the part of him that danced at the prospect of working with her. This was crazy.
"I can't give you an answer right away." He whispered. "I'll let you know."
"Okay."
'He doesn't trust you.' Layla said.
'I know.' She rested her head on his shoulder. 'Nonetheless, we keep him safe.'
***