Running On Empty

ERIN AND MAX PART II (Write to Rank 2023 Round 7)

Author's Note: I wasn't expecting Erin's backstory when I wrote the previous chapter, but here it is!

"I know who sabotaged your plane."

Erin set her drink down and gazed at her sometime partner. They hadn't worked together since the incident at the embassy. They hadn't been the other kind of partner since shortly after that.

That had been last year, before the crash of her Cessna in the wilderness and the forest fire that had nearly killed her.

And Max, of course. The Labrador was at home in her apartment, snoozing off a dinner of kibble and leftover Thanksgiving turkey.

"I didn't know it was sabotage." The wreckage of her small plane hadn't even been located yet, at first due to the ongoing forest fires, and now due to heavy snow.

Daniel nodded, dark eyes unblinking. God, he was a handsome son of a bitch. "Come on, Erin, you took care of that plane almost as well as your dog."

"Could've been weather. Lots of lightning strikes that day."

"You're a better pilot than that."

She grinned at him, and he smiled back. "Why, thank you, Danny. I'm assuming whoever did it wasn't just some random psycho or an old flame. Who are they working for?"

"Don't know yet. I thought you'd like to be in on the questioning."

Her heart leapt, fueled by sudden angry vengeance. "You...have him?"

"Not yet. I figured you'd like to help with that as well."

Now her smile turned sharklike. "So where is this...admirer...of mine?"

He tossed back his drink. "Right here, in this hotel. Did you see the wedding reception on the way in?"

Erin didn't let her gaze stray from his face. She felt something in the air shift, and she became more aware of the gun in the shoulder holster under her leather jacket. Daniel's posture didn't change either, but she sensed him more intensely, somehow.

"You going to help me catch him, Daniel, or just point me in his direction?"

Daniel counted out a few bills and lay them on the bar. "You sure you're up for this?"

Erin was already on her motorcycle-booted feet. "Up for it, yes. Dressed for it, no."

"Neither am I. Let's go."

* * *

Daniel led her to one of the ballrooms and down a hallway nearby. They loitered outside an open exit door, behind empty tables with purple tablecloths, violet confetti, and half-melted lavender candles. The bride likes purple. I'd have gone more for a holiday theme, myself. The deejay was playing "Love Shack," and a lot of crimes against dance were being committed.

"Which one?"

"Gray suit, bald head. Over by the bartender."

Erin's gaze latched onto the man. Bald as an egg, average height, probably thick under the cheaply cut suit, difficult to determine an age at this distance. He chatted amiably with a young woman, a tall brunette in a lilac satin bridesmaid's gown, which would have been elegant as hell except for the hideous bow on the ass. Erin judged from her posture that she wasn't digging Gray Suit's conversation.

You deserve better, honey. A better dress and a better guy.

"Does he know what I look like?"

"Possible, but he probably just had your plane's registration."

"Dammit, Danny. I loved that plane."