“You"re trying to make me think I did it, dude.” Fresh from Hoyt Street downtown and the implications there, I confronted Samir together in our little bedroom.
“I"m not,” he protested. His teeth dazzled me.
“You"re trying to make me think I"m crazy.”
A slender pink palm caressed my cheek. “You are, doll. You are mighty crazy.” His body, pressed against mine, smelled like vanilla.
“You know the Justice Department in Victoria tried to take me off the case.” My breath caught in my throat. “They think I need a stress leave.”
“You do, little baby-face, you do need a stress leave.” His voice was gentle. His hand slid under my blouse at the front. I was stronger than Samir. I pushed him until one crooked leg buckled and he fell back, just catching his balance on the edge of the dresser.
He
