Collision

by Sofia Aves

  Instead, I returned to the usual, stressed me. My impatience came through with Black, though I rarely let it show with the rest of the team. We’d worked together for too long, knew each other too well.

  “What? How did we miss this? What is she, a regular visitor?” I leaned over his shoulder.

  Black shrugged, still watching me. I was missing something, which with this case, irritated me to no end. I frowned, wondering what his game was.

  “See for yourself.”

  “Who’s screwing who?”

  Danny Woods and Micah Rivera walked into the office looking as haggard as I felt, though they had a better excuse, coming off graveyard shift. My exhaustion was self-imposed, after all, but I ignored them, anyway.

  “Pull the data and make a file. Go back as far as you need.” I slapped the back of his chair. Black didn’t even jump.

  “Sure, boss.”

  Black gave me an odd look, covering it with a sigh, and returned to his screen. I wondered again what was going on with him — this wasn’t normal behaviour for the man I’d been partnered with for three years before taking point on the task force, overseeing the manhunt for Logan.

  Being my ex-partner’s boss wasn’t the easiest of jobs — Black sat slightly outside our chain of command, though we weren’t structured as a typical team. Every one of my team had their strengths — and weaknesses. We overlapped in skill to cover each other’s asses, making us one of the most elite teams on the force.

  A small, dark figure decorated the corner of Black’s computer — Operation Niffler had been named after the small, thieving creature of JK Rowling’s magical world. Ashley was a huge fan, and the irony wasn’t lost on me that it was her father we hunted.

  “You two headed home?”

  “Yeah.” Danny popped the top on his water bottle, gulping down as much as he could until air sucked noisily through the straw. Ink crept around the back of his hand, the tails of chess pieces depicted there. He’d explained the moves to me once, from a recent grandmaster, a queen dominance. But chess had never been my thing — I was more about control than patience — though I admired the younger man’s commitment to crafting his physique. Often underestimated because of his brawny appearance, Danny’s finest-honed muscle was his brain.

  Built and ripped, I knew the hours he put in at the gym were solid. Damn fine sparring partner, too. I might have to call in a few rounds if I needed to get Mila out of my system. I was still having a hard time believing she was connected to Wayde Logan. Was she a plant? It niggled that he might have surveillance on us — when we’d struggled to locate him at all.

  Running my fingers over my hair, I waved to the boys, who headed for the door.

  “You up for a few rounds tonight?”

  Danny nodded. Micah didn’t.

  “Nah, I got to look after the missus.”

  My eyes narrowed. It wasn’t up to me to pry into their family affairs, but if one of my guys wasn’t on the ball, we’d miss something.

  Just like we’d missed Mila.

  Breath hissed between my teeth as I straightened.

  “Alright. Just…look after yourself, yeah?”

  Micah nodded, pressing his cap over a swath of brown hair, and followed Danny out the door. As soon as I heard the stairwell door slam, I turned to Black.

  “They alright? Micah and his woman?”

  Black wiggled his hand in the air a few times.

  “They’ve been on and off for a while now. It’s coming. Just gotta let go. He’ll be fine, man. He’s focussed.”

  I nodded and returned to my desk.

  The next hours were filled with keys taps and curses. I tried to get into my work — small data hacks on banks that might have been Logan, but nothing huge, and refrained — just — from leaning over Black’s shoulder every five minutes. Eventually, he stood, stretching.

  “I’m going out for food. You want something?”

  I shook my head, still trying to work out how Mila was connected to Logan, ignoring the hacks. Black shoved my chair to get my attention. I glared at him.

  “What?”

  “Check the screen while I’m out.”

  I frowned as he left, scooting over to his terminal. My hand was on the mouse to jiggle the little bastard when Rogers walked into the room. I spotted him in the reflection of Black’s screen and didn’t bother to turn around.

  “What do you want?”

  “Ah, such a welcome from the Great Dane,” he scoffed.

  I winced before I’d thought to hide it. I hated that nickname.

  “What do you want.” It wasn’t a question anymore, though my hand was still on the mouse. I wanted to rush the bloody thing, get the man out of my office, but he seemed determined to stay.

  “I wanted to see how our resident protected species was faring.”

  The snide note in his voice wasn’t lost on me.

  “What do you want, Rogers.”

  Third time.

  Fourth, and we’d find out if safety glass held up under the weight of an eighty-kilo man. Rogers was slight in build, like most of the pencil pushers upstairs. More business than police work, and for a greater paycheck, but I let Liam deal with the politics. Usually.

  Rogers caught my expression reflected in the glass.

  “I know Liam is watching out for you. Always has been, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s looking for a fall guy, for later on, hmm? Looks like he’s climbing the ladder again. Wonder what it will be like when he’s not around to have your back?”

  That comment alone would have garnered the man an instant dislike. I snorted. Regardless of where Liam promoted to — it was inevitable, the man was a powerhouse — he would always have my back. The fact that I knew Rogers’ brownnosing history made it worse. I stood, towering over the smaller man.

  The smaller they are, the worse their bite.

  I didn’t usually use my height for intimidation, but I did when it was called for. Rogers definitely qualified. He took a small step back as I leaned forward, crossing my arms.

  “We work for our pay here, Rogers. Maybe you should leave before a decent work ethic latches on to you.”

  He sneered, trying to disguise his retreat, slamming the glass door on his way out. The entire office rattled as I glared at the closed door.

  Parasite.

  Irritated, I watched him make his way past Steph and take the elevator back to the snake pit on the level above us. No stairs for a soft-bellied man like him.

  Swallowing my frustration, I woke the screen at Black’s terminal and was confronted with a picture of Mila as a younger woman. A much younger woman, with white-blonde curls. Memory stirred as I stared at the picture. It was undeniably her; the same green eyes, those soft lips that always seemed to be on the edge of smiling.

  But the woman — girl — I looked at now, wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were haunted, wide, and so vulnerable. I knew when this photo had been taken because Black and I had been getting our asses roasted while she was looked after by some of the older guys at the local station.

  Mila had been there the day Logan had robbed Central five years ago.

  I’d been so wrapped up in finding Logan that I’d missed something so vital right in front of me. I’d kissed her, for fuck’s sake.

  I stared at the screen, picking out the name beside her photo. Annie Sommers. She’d changed her name — that wasn’t a surprise. A lot of our witnesses had, moving to new places, never speaking about what happened after that day. Logan hunted most of the witnesses down. As soon as we’d worked that out, a cop had been assigned to each one, a minder. I wondered who Mila’s had been.

  Or was now.

  The niggle that said something wasn’t right about all this was back. I’d put it down to paranoia before, but this — how had it slipped past me?

  I drained the cup of old coffee on the desk before I realised it wasn’t mine. Not that Black would care, he’d know I was good for a fresh one. I puffed my cheeks out, letting my eyes shut. Mila wo
uldn’t appreciate me barging in on memories she had probably worked hard to forget. If I was right, she had been a teller in the bank, had direct contact with Logan. Muscles across my back tensed at the thought of his hands on her, how terrified she must have been — especially after watching him kill one of her co-workers.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face.

  Concentrate, Dane. Thinking with your cock got you into this in the first place.

  I still couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised her when I rear-ended her car. While I sat across from her, thinking how beautiful she was. There had been a lot sloughing around my mind back then, though. Mandy’s texts had put me in a foul mood to start with.

  A paper bag slapped the desk in front of me. Since I was occupying his, Black took mine, waving a matching bag.

  “Thanks. What’d I get?”

  “Bagel with salmon. I know you’re on a fish kick. You’ve got no chance of beefing up like Danny with that shit. Yeah, I saw you looking.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, “got that bro crush going.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I pushed away from the desk, letting Black have his terminal back. “Keep it running in the background; find out what happened during those years in between. And get a hold of whoever her case manager was at the station. I want to know everything.”

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  Black stared hard at me. I shrugged, not willing to explain the confusion in my head. There was no way I wanted him to see I’d already attached myself to a woman who could be exactly what we needed to find Logan. I turned back to my laptop, ripping the paper bag open.

  “No.”

  Danny was already in the ring when I made it down to the gym, only a few minutes after six. Sweat plastered his shirt to his chest, defining muscles I’d never build up. He might have the extra pounds on me, but I was faster — I had to be, to keep out of the way of those heavy fists. Tense from a day that had yielded fuck all results, I was glad I didn’t have to wait for him.

  Punctuality was something I drilled into the team. Even though I led it, we worked along the same model as Seals did — everyone had an area of expertise — their obsession, we joked regularly — and took point when needed. I was just there to keep our caseload on track, maintain morale. That was a huge thing when we’d been chasing a fugitive for five long years.

  Danny stood in the ring, watching me with lazy eyes. Though he looked relaxed, I knew this was his kill look – the man had something on his mind tonight, and I was likely to wear it in the form of bruises and aching muscles tomorrow.

  I changed quickly into running shorts and a muscle tee, bouncing on my toes to get my circulation going.

  “You warm?”

  Danny smirked at me.

  “Yeah.”

  I nodded, stretching out muscles that had bunched into knots after a day hunched over the computer, running through file after file Black had pulled up for me. Muscles popped in my shoulders as I rolled them. Nodding to Danny, I stepped up into the ring, flicking my towel over the rope he held up. He let it go, and it twanged behind me. I frowned, looking around.

  “Where’s Micah? I thought I saw him earlier.”

  “Yeah, he had a call to make.”

  A quick shuffle was the only warning I got as Danny swung first. The air moved beside me, and I ducked on instinct to avoid the blow. Spinning, I dropped while he was still off-balance from the mishit; I read the surprise in his eyes and realised the bastard had meant to clock me with my back turned.

  I swung out a leg, sweeping it around in a long arc. Danny grunted as he thudded to the mat. I rose, adrenaline coursing through me at the cold start.

  “What the hell, man?” I glared at him. “You got something you need to say?”

  Danny shook his head, rolling to his feet and prowled towards me, arms loose. His hands flexed at his sides. We danced in a circle, feet crossing to avoid getting inside each other’s reach. I didn’t want those meaty fists to smash into the side of my head today. Exhaustion pinged the edges of my energy, and I was already frustrated.

  “Mandy.”

  I stopped, staring at him, nonplussed. My ex’s name wasn’t what I’d expected to hear from him.

  “What about her?” The words came out cautiously; Mandy was wild and unpredictable, and still a thorn in my side, even after the breakup. What the hell had she done now? I wanted to say as much, but the look on Danny’s face gave me pause. “What’s she done?”

  “She came to me last night. Said you’d been around, picking a fight with her. That you hit her.”

  If I hadn’t been paying attention before, I bloody well was now.

  “What the fuck–” I ducked the fist that swung wide, over my head. “Man, she’s a stirrer. This is the sort of shit she always pulls. And no, I didn’t fucking hit her. What sort of an asshole do you take me for?”

  The circling resumed. I was kind of glad he hadn’t answered — tired as I was if he’d started on the verbal sparring, I might hit him harder than I intended. We traded a few punches, my arm quickly sore from blocking. I shook it out, switching feet, and tried a few kicks, ending up with a numb thigh in return.

  Focus.

  “When was this, that I was supposed to have attacked her? I know you don’t believe that shit.”

  The shadow of a grin lifted the scowl from his face.

  “Well, I didn’t want to. But it was a messy breakup, these things happen.” He shrugged. “She said the night before last.”

  I blinked, then roared with laughter. Danny cocked his head, watching me.

  “Something funny?”

  “Yeah. I was on a date. That’s why she’s pissed.”

  Danny eyed me speculatively.

  “So, you’re finished, right? Over her?”

  “Oh, man, don’t go there. It’ll end in heartbreak. Believe me.” I shook my head, turning my back to him.

  Whatever game Mandy was playing, I wasn’t buying into it. Not anymore. I grabbed the towel off the ropes, wiping my face down. I was surprised by how much I’d sweated during our short fight. I turned back to Danny just in time to see him send me a shit-eating grin before his fist came flying at my face.

  The ice pack had melted. I kicked the coffee table back and swapped it for a new one in the freezer. Fuck. That still hurt. Danny and I needed to have a solid conversation. Social lives and professional ones should never mix — I wanted to warn him away from Mandy, but he’d likely discover her charms in his own time.

  I hoped he hadn’t been taking his frustrations out on anyone else. Having a go at me; I could take — once. Cracking into the rest of the team, not so much. Maybe I needed to look into his caseload. See if there was something there that could be a distraction, or that might be overloading him. He was a cracker in undercover work, but too memorable to do it as often as he liked. Plus, he was an excellent hacker.

  I pressed the fresh pack to my jaw, wincing. I probed the area. A decent bump was forming, even with the ice — definitely going to have a bruise there tomorrow. I wanted to message Mila but held the urge in — taking work frustrations out by sexting her wasn’t a smart move.

  Working on her trust would take time, especially now I suspected — knew — the root of her anxiety. I grabbed a beer — no chance I’d be able to focus on Logan tonight — and returned to haunt my lounge, mulling over the puzzle that was Mila.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MILA

  Dolly turned out to be a guinea pig who slept a lot. Either that or terror had paralyzed her. Sympathetic to the tiny creature’s plight, I took out a small canvas, setting up my oils.

  “Oh, no.” Mrs. Schmidt fussed over Dolly, then rearranged my supplies for me. My OCD nearly sent me into a fit, but I restrained myself. Just.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Had the poor critter died? God, I hoped not, though it would make painting it all the easier.

  “Oh, no, dear.” Mrs. Schmidt fussed some more, finally diving into my bag of supplies. That was my
limit.

  “There are delicate...um, items in there.” I closed the bag firmly, shooing her back. She retreated but hopped from one foot to the other. “What do I need to do?”

  I’d found asking clients what they wanted the fastest way to get what I wanted — to be painting.

  “Dolly deserves a much larger space, don’t you agree? She is a champion, after all.” Mrs. Schmidt fondled the creature’s ears, apparently hitting the spot as Dolly stretched in her sleep, tiny paws flexing. She rolled onto her back. Mrs. Schmidt gestured to a line of fancy framed documents with coloured seals that decorated one wall. “Quite the pedigree, my Dolly has.”

  I didn’t but withdrew an assortment of canvases for Mrs. Schmidt to choose from. As expected, she chose the largest possible. I explained the price difference which she flicked away with a sweep of her arm, nearly dislodging everything I’d rearranged while she’d been speaking.

  Somehow, I knew the price would be an issue at the end, and determined to ask her to send me half now, when her phone — an actual-to-goodness wall phone — rang. She answered it, cooing over the person on the other end.

  I shook my head and got stuck into painting Dolly, who hadn’t so much as moved. I fervently hoped she hadn’t died.

  I was nearly finished the first pass on her coat when I realised there was someone standing behind me. I jumped, my nerves giving me a delayed reaction, managing to pull my brush away before I added a new feature to Dolly’s championship hide.

  “Ohhh, she does look beautiful but…isn’t she a little…pale?”

  “This is just the first round, Mrs. Schmidt. I’ll take more time to do a portrait this large,” I replied, surveying Dolly in her five-times-larger-than-life likeness. She looked good, in proportion, and the morning light was perfect for her plethora of reddish-brown hues.

  “Oh! Of course. I’ll see you the same time tomorrow morning, then?”