I pointed to where it hurt, an area on the side, running mid-thigh to mid-calf. He knelt down, poking and prodding at the area, causing me to yip and groan at various decibels, depending on how much it hurt. He was surprisingly gentle, but even the slightest pressure was painful.

After a few minutes, he stood up. I shook my leg out, surprised to find it actually felt a little better.

“The muscle is knotted up. Probably from previous damage … you mentioned you were in a car accident …”

“Yes, a little over a year ago.”

“You should be getting massages, maybe even acupuncture.” He looked down at my leg. “That would help it heal quicker and give you less pain.”

“Oh, thanks.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Why was he suddenly being so nice, and how did he know so much about muscle pain?

His head was tilted, still looking down at my leg. The drizzle had stopped and the late afternoon sun made an appearance from behind the clouds. I noticed how the angle of the light accentuated his chiseled features, making him look dangerously handsome. My stomach started to flip-flop uncomfortably and I took a step away.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Striker’s eyes followed me as I slowly backed toward my car. “What were you doing here, and why was Derek throwing you out?”

“He wasn’t actually throwing me out.” I pressed my lips together, puzzled as to why he did throw me out. “There was a crash in one of the rooms and I guess they needed to clean it up.”

Striker looked at me like he didn’t believe me.

I half-shrugged and spread my arms. “I know it sounds weird, but it’s true. Why are you here?”

“Police business.”

No kidding. I wondered if he was following the same trail that I was. “About the bronzes?”

Striker narrowed his eyes at me. “Maybe.”

We stood there staring at each other for a few electrically charged seconds while I decided whether to keep badgering him for information or just leave.

He must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, “I get the impression you’re not going to stop looking into this. Maybe it would be best if we compared notes. How about we meet back at the The Mystic Cafe in say … fifteen minutes?”

Compare notes? Since when did the police want to let me in on their investigation? He must have thought I had some information he could use … but maybe he had some I could use.

My pulse kicked into high gear and I heard myself say, “Sounds good. I have to go back to town before I go home anyway.”