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reserve when personally insulted by Naomi and doused by the waitress’s tray.
    It wasn’t until the meds began to wear off and Rio announced she needed to drop by her place to change that he decided he should go back and drop the waitress a big fat tip. Thanks to her, he was getting a look inside his new partner’s apartment.
    “It’ll only take a minute,” she said, entering the parking garage of the Rio Grande Towers. An upscale high-rise located just off the Strip.
    “This is where you live?” He was impressed, confused and curious all at the same time and he tried to hide the shortcomings.
    “Yep.”
    Eddie’s new partner was sporting around town in a smokin’ Corvette, and she was probably the only cop in an apartment building clearly outside a cop’s budget—a clean one anyway.
    She parked the car in a reserved spot next to the elevators. “Five minutes.” She acknowledged the stains on her blouse and slacks, which had begun to dry. “You want to come up?”
    “Well, I kind of like the wet T-shirt look you’ve got going on,” he said, opening the car door.
    He wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to get inside her apartment, for various reasons. He was starting to wonder how she afforded her pricey lifestyle. There could be a plausible explanation. It could go fifty-fifty, either way. Until it dipped in one direction or the other, he’d put his judgment on hold pending more corroborating evidence.
    “If I were a criminal,” she said, and he followed her into a long, winding corridor inside the building, “I would never agree to sell you hot guns after knowing you only a few weeks.”
    “Neither would I. But how often does the criminal mind think logically?”
    Not as often as they should. Otherwise they wouldn’t get caught.
    She led him around a corner and through double doors to a security doorman sitting behind a desk.
    “Afternoon, Miss Rio.” The guard, a thin, well-dressed man in his forties with graying hair at the temples, greeted her with a toothy smile.
    “How’s it going, Larry?” She paused, pointing a thumb at Eddie. “This is my partner, Eddie LaCall. Anytime he shows up here, let him through.”
    “You got it.” Larry gave Eddie a quick nod.
    Trailing behind Rio, Eddie returned Larry’s nod with a swift once-over. Inside the elevator, she punched the twentieth button. The top floor. The penthouse? A definite piece of corroborating evidence.
    The sodas, teas and waters from the spill back at the restaurant had settled into her clothing like a giant sore, but it didn’t seem to bother her. He contemplated getting her into something more comfortable. Or at least revealing.
    Bad. That’s bad, LaCall . He may be there to draw her in, but he wasn’t supposed to be the one ending up smitten.
    The elevator doors opened at the twentieth floor and he pursued her into the short hallway.
    “So why don’t you put on that little outfit you were wearing when we busted Bellmore?” His suggestion masked his survey of the twentieth floor. Just two doors. Two penthouses.
    “In your dreams.” Sarcasm shrouded her laughter and she opened the door.
    “You’ve been there. Many times,” he said, taking a quick scan of the interior. A splendid penthouse feathered with fine furnishings.
    She threw her keys onto a small antique-looking table by the door, moved across a sunken and spacious living room and disappeared behind a door on the other side of the kitchen.
    Eddie scrutinized his surroundings. The room cast an impression of opulence. Extra padding cushioned the plush gray carpet beneath his booted feet.
    A couch and a loveseat looked inviting and he had no doubt they’d feel like sitting on a cloud. The peach and lavender pattern was different, one he’d never choose, but it was somehow bearable to his senses.
    The right side of the room included a striking window, it must have been ten-feet high and spanned the width of the wall. He’d bet it overlooked the Strip. What a