Kandi Cain inherited her Dr. Doolittle abilities from her grandmother and became a psychic pet detective. To her dismay, she just acquired the power to communicate with the spirit world, but dead people give her the willies.
Just when Kandi thought her life couldn’t get more complicated, the neighbor from hell moved in next door. The nasty guy’s name is Dutch Callaghan. How can someone so gorgeous be such a dick? Kandi could chalk some of it up to his job. Dutch is a Phoenix PD homicide cop.
Kandi’s current case is rescuing a Yorkie from a brutal dog fighting ring. Little does she know her dog napping suspect is involved in a series of brutal murders. Disguised as an elderly nun, Kandi rescues the Yorkie and, in the process, blows the hell out of Dutch’s undercover operation.
Kandi now finds herself a person of interest in her client’s murder and her sexy-as-hell, pain-in-the-butt neighbor is in hot pursuit of the Ninja Nun. Is Dutch about to slap the cuffs on? Only time will tell.
“I know you’re the Ninja Nun,” Dutch rumbled in my ear.
Doing my best clueless impression, I stared up at him. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes.” The word was a snarl.
I tapped a finger against my face. “Do I know you?”
“You’re a real riot.”
“Oh, now I remember. You’re the cranky bastard that lives next door to me. Forget your tuxedo?”
“Cut the act, Sister. You know why I’m here.”
“No, I don’t, and my name is Kandi, not sister. Go away before I call security.”
Dutch leaned down until his nose touched mine. “I don’t know how you did it, but you sic’d those damn pigeons on me.”
“Are you off your meds?”
“You also assaulted me, and that, sweetheart, is a class 1 felony.”
I gave Dutch a disbelieving look. “When and where did this horrible assault occur?
“Today at the warehouse.”
“I’m in no mood to play games,” Dutch snapped.
“Me either. I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’ve never laid a hand on you.”
“True,” Dutch nodded. “You kicked me in the stomach. Repeatedly.”
“Teensy-weensy me, beat you up? Please. You outweigh me by sixty pounds.”
Dutch pulled out a set of cuffs. “You’re under arrest.”
Tinkerbell growled viciously.
Dutch twitched and pulled his gun. “Bite me, you little rug rat, and I’ll shoot your ass.”
My temper flared to life. No one threatened my Tinkerbell. I stepped in front of the Yorkie and poked Dutch in the chest. “Back the hell off. Only a dickless pussy threatens an itty-bitty dog.”
Jana suddenly yelled, “Oh! My! God! He’s got a gun!”
Chaos erupted as people ran screaming in every direction.
Dutch held up his badge. “I’m a cop!”
Two security guards tackled Dutch, knocking him to the ground.
I watched as they wrestled. Damn, someone was having a really bad day.
Dutch’s office was a chaotic mess. My gaze roved over the piles of paper covering his desk to the fast food containers spilling from the trash can to the wanted posters and bloody crime scene photos plastered all over the walls. Did he have hoarder tendencies or was he just a slob? I eyed the ketchup splattered computer screen. Slob. “Charming décor.”
Dutch rumbled from behind me. “It’s the maid’s day off.”
I glanced over my shoulder and my jaw dropped. Whoa! Dutch was wearing a sharp, black business suit and his beard was gone.
“I have court today.” He explained as he ushered me into his office.
“Oh.” I studied Dutch’s colorfully bruised face. “Did the security guards give you that shiner?”
Dutch removed a gym bag and ballistic vest from the chair beside his desk. “Cut the innocent act. You know damn well how I got these bruises.”
“Right. The mysterious Ninja Nun kicked your butt,” I responded.
“You’re a real riot.” Dutch pointed at the chair and ordered, “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog. I don’t fetch, heel or roll over on command.”
“Do you do everything the hard way?”
I countered, “Are you always an ass?”
“Please, sit,” Dutch said, his teeth bared in the semblance of a smile.
I sat. “See? Being polite works so much better.”
“Uh huh.” Dutch’s hand closed around an empty soda can, crushing it into an itty-bitty ball.
For a moment the feral glint in his eyes had me worried. A sigh of relief escaped me when Dutch dropped the crumpled can in the overflowing trash.
A trace of satisfaction flashed across Dutch’s face. “Where are the ownership documents for Tinkerbell?”
I handed them to him. “Her name is Tink.”
“Did you know the North Phoenix Animal Rescue has ties to radical animal rights activists?”
“Really? I find that surprising. The Maricopa County Sheriff’s office referred me to them.”
Dutch gave me a narrowed-eyed glare. “These animal activists are responsible for several deaths.”
If he was trying to get a reaction out of me, it wouldn’t work. Other than bee stings, no one had died or been hurt in our rescues. “How awful! I hope you lock them up and throw away the key.”
“Someone with your abilities would be an asset.” There was a note of censure in Dutch’s voice.
I gasped in outrage. “Do you really think I would work with someone who killed people?”
He stared at me for a long moment. “No, you’re not a killer.”
Hallefrickinlujah! He believed me. Now all I needed to do was get Dutch to focus on the murder not the activists or the Ninja Nun. “How did Maria die?”
“Gunshot wounds to the chest.”
“God, I hope she didn’t shoot herself.”
Dutch frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“Maria bought a .380 Ruger from a pawnshop. That idiot should never have sold a novice a gun with a hair trigger.”
“You saw the gun?”
I shuddered dramatically. “I sure did, right before she blew a hole in my floor. Missed my foot by an inch.”
“The bullet is still there?”
“No. I dug it out.”
Dutch let out a long-suffering sigh. “Please tell me you didn’t throw it away.”
“Of course not, I am a detective,” I huffed.
“Who finds lost animals and has no actual training in police work.”
“I’m working on my BA in criminal justice.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a clear plastic envelope with a smashed piece of lead inside. “Here. Happy now?”