by BJ Harvey
Sam and I have to stop by a nightclub on Division Street to do a bail check. Seems the owner of the club got into a bit of strife recently and was released on bail under his brother's watch. Sam tells me on the way over there that the brother is some attorney claiming to have no knowledge of whatever dodgy dealings his brother is into. Detectives have looked into his brother, but he's squeaky clean.
We arrive outside the club-the name seems familiar to me for some reason, but I can't pick it. I look at the rap sheet of the guy we're checking in on, Ryan Miller. Nope, don't know the guy from Adam. He's thirty years old and owns half of this nightclub along with his brother, Sean Miller. Fuck, that name is familiar. Why do I…
Holy shit.
No way is this the attorney that Mac used to sleep with. She told me one night about Sean and his 'club' that had, in her words, 'hot as hell' VIP rooms upstairs catering for varied sexual proclivities. Fuck.
Conflict of interest, no. Comfort factor, zero.
“Um, Sam, I know of the brother, the attorney.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Friend of a friend. I think he's on the up and up, but this isn't just a nightclub. It's also a fetish club. I haven't seen it myself, but by all accounts there are VIP rooms upstairs that get rather busy at night if you know what I mean.”
Sam seems a little ruffled by my revelation. “Well, it doesn't matter. We're here to check on Mr. Miller, the younger Mr. Miller, and then go on our way. There's no need to linger. Just make our presence known, check that everything is in order, then leave. You okay with that, Roberts?”
I notice that she's blinking a lot more than usual. She seems to take a minute, close her eyes and take a deep breath before opening them again. “Stop staring and get out of the car. We're not here to fuck spiders.”
I burst out laughing. Sam is very dry at the best of times, but occasionally she says something that cracks me up. “Yes, Ma'am,” I say, adding a mock salute to my senior partner.
We get out of the car, and I check my belt, making sure everything is where it should be. Sam squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath before knocking on the door. When there is no answer, she turns the handle and pushes it open. “Hello? Chicago PD. We're just here to see Mr. Ryan Miller.”
“Through here,” a voice bellows from behind the dark bar. The whole place is dark, the only light coming from behind the bar and from a few low lights scattered around the edge of the large dance floor. I take a few moments to take stock of my surroundings. This place is freaking insane. I look up and see the dancefloor is surrounded by a second floor of mirrored glass. If you were up there, you'd have the false impression that everyone could see you. Suddenly, there are images flashing through my head of Kate and I fucking against the glass, and the fantasy of everyone watching me with my girl makes me instantly hard.
Fuck. Not the time, dude. Calm it the fuck down.
I look over at Sam who is standing in front of me with her eyebrow raised. “You quite alright there, Roberts? You were a million miles away.”
“Sure. Just checking out the place.”
“Right...okay then, let's find the guy and get out of here. Too dark for my liking,” she mutters, her voice losing her normal air of authority. Samantha Richards is a tough nut, a ball buster at the best of times. Her sandy blonde hair is always up in a tight bun, never a wayward hair or a crease in her uniform. She's strictly by the book. It's taken a month for her to relax a little around me. She's told me that she asked the Captain to assign me to her because she thought we'd work well together, and we do, but god I wish she'd just let loose sometimes. I'd also love to know who stuck a stick up her ass to cause her to be so unmoved and rigid. That woman screams out a need to get laid, sooner rather than later.
“I'm over at the bar. Come in,” the same male voice calls out to us.
When we reach the bar, a brown haired, well-built man stands up, startling us. “I guess you'd be looking for me. I'm just stocking up the bar. That's allowed, isn't it?” This guy is all attitude. These kind of perps are always a challenge, something I've learned since working general patrol after I graduated.
“Mr. Miller, I'd recommend you lose the chip on your shoulder. We're just here to check in,” Sam states in her matter-of-fact cop voice.
“Right. It's not as if I can run off anywhere is it? I have a club to keep open so that I don't piss my brother off even more. So if I'm not here, I'll be at my brother's house. You know, the address I was bailed to.”
“There's no need for the attitude, Mr. Miller. Is your brother around?” Sam's body is tense as she looks around for the other Miller brother.
“Nope, but he'll be in later no doubt. He has a day job too, you know. Should I tell him you called by asking for him?” His telling smirk is aimed straight at Sam, and her body goes stiff as a board.
What's THAT about? Now I'm intrigued. I know Sean Miller is a dominant and likes to practice light BDSM...well, he did with Mac. She told me that she'd meet up with him when she had the urge to submit, but I've never considered the fact that Sam might be into that stuff. If she is, she'd definitely be a dominatrix. She's wound so tight that she probably needs to whip men in order to feel control. I shudder at the thought as I'm brought back into reality.
Sam clears her throat, and I see her shoulders square up. “Right. Well, Mr. Miller, as long as you abide by your bail conditions, I don't think we'll have a problem. We'll pop in later in the week to see you again.”
“I'll be here ready and waiting, officer. Oh, and I'll make sure I tell my brother you were here, Sammy.”
“I…” Sam's face goes blank as she swallows hard and gives Ryan the exact reaction he was looking for. Whatever the reason, I'm not going to let it slide.
“That's enough, Mr. Miller. We'll see you soon.” I grab Sam's hand and pull her toward the door. She snatches her hand back as we get outside.
“What did you do that for? I had it under control!” She glares at me as we stand in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I did what I had to do to snap you out of it. What he said about his brother rattled you, so I got you the hell out of there. It's what partners do.”
“Right. Well thanks, but no thanks. I don't need your help in the future.”
I chuckle as we get back in the car and drive back to the station.
Even if my personal life is in tatters, at least I can count on work to keep life interesting.
KATE
I'm a coward. I know I am. Mac told me I am.
Daniel is a bit more reserved when it comes to my love life. After his talk to me the morning, after everything went down with Zander, he's remained tight lipped on the whole situation.
Last Sunday night, I sat on the floor crying behind the front door as Zander knocked and called out to me. He even begged me to let him explain. He said he missed me and that he never meant to hurt me. That made me feel even worse. How can I come back from this?
Mac sat down with me Sunday afternoon and explained everything. How he'd asked if I was on Chicago Singles. How the night we had pancakes for dinner he had texted her asking if she knew why I was so upset. And finally, how he never told her about the night he saved me from that asshole in the bar.
Now I feel like a complete idiot. I had him, and I sent him away. I told him that he should be gone when I got back. I ignored his texts and calls. And this week, a single pink rose has been delivered to me at the salon with a different message attached to them.
Monday - “The first night we met, you were wearing the most gorgeous purple dress. Your hair was pulled back and pinned, with waves of curls floating down your back. I knew that night that I wanted to deserve a woman like you.”
Tuesday - “When I brought you home from the bar, and you kissed me, it was the best first kiss I've ever had in my life. Our second best first kiss was in the kitchen after pancakes. Kate and maple syrup are my favorite topping. I love you.”
Wednesday - “Stopping to kiss you in the mi
ddle of the sidewalk made it the best first date ever. Every date since-the restaurant, the park, the shopping trips, the salon, our bedroom-everything is better when it's done with you. I love you.”
Thursday - “Nightdancer23 was always me. I should have been upfront from the beginning, but I knew that you thought I'd rejected you and that you might not have given me the time of day. I wanted to know you, wanted to get close to you. I wanted my chance with you, and that was the only way how. I love you.
Friday - “If you're getting this card it means I need to up my game. I love you enough to stay away. I love you enough to fight for you until you tell me there is no hope, then I'll fight harder. You are the only woman I want to be with, to laugh with, to live with, to make love to. I'm living a life of darkness without you. I need you in my life. I need my firebird.”
Now it's Friday night. Two weeks since I've seen Zander. Two weeks of surviving on no sleep, takeaways, chocolate bars, and chick flicks that make me cry. I miss him even more.
Nathan and I are working late, and are out the back cleaning up when I hear the front door chime. I swear under my breath because I've been so preoccupied today that I forgot to lock the front door when we closed up.
“Sorry, we're closed. If you call tomorrow, we can book you an appointment.” I don't get a reply, but I hear footsteps on the cold vinyl floor. I walk out to the front of the salon and see a figure all in black wearing a ski mask and pointing a gun at me.
“Open the register.”
“Ah…I…um...please don't hurt me.” I freeze, my body unwilling to move.
“Bitch, you better move. I'm not afraid to use this.” He shakes the gun back and forth in front of me. I immediately notice that the guy is agitated and is making very jerky movements. I should just do whatever he says, give him whatever he wants, and let him go on his way. You can replace money, but you can't replace your life, right?
“O…Okay. I just need my keys from the back to get the money.”
“Fuck that, you're just gonna call the cops. Open it now, bitch! I want the fucking money, and I'll leave your pretty face untouched. Give me my fucking money!”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I…I'm sorry, I just need my keys to get the money.” I talk very slowly, trying hard to hide the paralyzing fear seeping through my entire body. I'm terrified. I don't want to die. Especially on a dirty salon floor.
“Well, let's go then.” He grabs my arm and starts walking toward the back.
I freak out, knowing that Nathan is still back there. “Ah, it's a really small room. I'll just go by myself and come straight back, okay?”
“Hurry the fuck up then! Go get your keys and get your ass back out here. Grab your handbag too. Never know what shit you might have in there.”
I still can't move. My chin trembles as I try to hold back my tears. I bite my lip and swallow hard, trying to find the courage to do what he says without breaking down. Then I remember Nathan and how I couldn't stand it if he got hurt.
“C'mon. I don't have all night.” He starts pacing back and forth, like he can't stand still.
“Okay,” I reply shakily. My legs finally tighten, and I shuffle backwards, not willing to turn my back on the gun. I get into the backroom and see a pale-faced Nathan.
“What do I do?” he asks, his face telling me he's terrified.
“Call 911,” I mouth to him, grabbing my keys and my handbag. “I love you. If anything happens, you run. And tell Zander I love him.”
I walk back out the front, and the gunman immediately grabs my arm. He pulls my handbag away from me and drags me toward the reception desk.
“Hurry the fuck up or I'll hurt you! Bet your pretty ass doesn't want that, now does it?” He runs his hand through my hair and my whole body shudders in disgust. My hands are shaking as I try to put the key into the register to override it.
“Give it here. Stupid woman. Maybe I should shoot you to teach you a fucking lesson.” He snatches the keys out of my hand and jams them into the register, wrenching the cash drawer open and pulling out the day's takings. He stuffs the bills into his pockets until he can't fit anymore.
Turning around, he stalks me, backing me up against the wall. My breaths burst in and out, my body shaking with fear. My only hope is that Nathan's call to the cops went through.
He leans in and sniffs me. I see his eyes are wide and glassy. He reaches up and runs the steel end of the gun down my cheek. I start sobbing as I realize that I'm helpless. I can't do anything but close my eyes tight and hope that help comes soon.
I hear sirens in the distance, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, I open my eyes just in time to see his fist come flying through the air, clocking the side of my head and knocking me sideways. I hit something else on the way down, so when I reach the floor, I'm knocked out immediately, the darkness swallowing me whole.
My last thought is Zander.
Zander
It's halfway through my shift. We've parked up near the lakefront to wait for the next call out. Around 9 p.m. the radio operator calls code 3 - lights and sirens for any units near the Glamazon Hair Salon to attend an armed robbery in progress.
Time stands still when I realize that Kate will still be at work.
“Sam, that's Kate. If you're not going, I'm running. Take your fucking pick.”
“We're going. Stay calm, Roberts.”
“Stay fucking calm? It's an armed fucking robbery still in progress.”
“If you don't get your shit sorted, I'll stand you down. I'm your senior, remember? You do what I say.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Take a few deep breaths. You're no help to her if you're distracted. You need to be on your game, Zander.” I look over at her. It's the first time she's referred to me as Zander, and in doing that, she has successfully snapped me out of my haze.
We stop across the street from the salon. As I go to jump out, Sam puts her hand on my forearm to stop me. “Cool and calm, Roberts.”
We get out, both drawing our guns from our hips as we try to clear the area of pedestrians. The guns pointed at the door of the salon seem to be a big deterrent, but there are still rubberneckers who can't wait to see what happens, whether they get shot at or not. Fucking idiots!
“POLICE! Come out with your hands up!” Sam calls out in her biggest, loudest cop voice.
When we get no response, we know we can't wait for backup. I push past Sam and bust through the salon door, finding a pale, emaciated man leaning over Kate's lifeless body, and a silver 9mm handgun lying on the floor beside them. My training kicks in, and I rush over and grab the assailant-kicking the gun away and holding his hands behind his back. Sam comes up and takes over, slapping cuffs on his wrists as I pat him down. Sam reads out his Miranda rights and nods to me. I bite my tongue, trying to quell the rage coursing through me.
I fall to my knees next to Kate, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her into my lap.
“Roberts, don't move her. You don't know what kind of injuries she has,” Sam yells from behind me, but I barely hear her. My sole focus is Kate lying unconscious in my arms.
“I didn't mean to hurt her,” the robber says, repeating himself over and over as he starts wigging out.
“Sam, get him out of here before I shut him up myself.”
I grab a towel from the trolley behind us and hold it against her head, turning to catch my partner as she walks the guy out the salon door. “We need an ambulance, possible head injury. She's bleeding from a huge gash on the side of her head,” I say, squeezing Kate's hand to try and get reaction or a sign, or anything to let me know she's okay.
“C'mon, baby girl, I'm here now. You can't get away from me this easily. Come back to me, baby,” I murmur into her ear as I scoop her into my arms, standing up and carrying her over to the couch in the waiting area.
I see another man standing near the back room with his hands in the air as he just stares at Kate. His whole body is shaking, and he looks
as if he's been crying.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice low and amazingly steady.
“I'm Nathan. I work here.”
“Nathan, I'm Zander. You can put your arms down, my partner has the perp handcuffed outside. I need your help, though. Is there a blanket, or a jacket, or something warm around here? She's getting cold.”
Nathan comes running toward us from out the back, putting a woolen blanket over Kate's body. He's still shaking as he rubs her arm, muttering prayers under his breath.
“She was so brave. She was out here by herself. That dirty bastard threatened her, but she just took it. I heard the whole thing. When she came back to get her keys, she made me stay out of sight and call 911.” He's speaking a million times an hour; not what I need right now.
“Nathan, I need you to take a breath and calm down. We'll take your statement once we get Kate looked after, but I need to know how long she's been out for. Do you know?”
“I heard a thud, and then I couldn't hear Kate's voice anymore. The 911 operator told me to stay where I was, and then you guys arrived five minutes later.” He starts sobbing uncontrollably and takes a seat beside us as he tries to compose himself.
The dirty bastard threatened her. I ball my fists, trying to quell the anger building inside of me. What's the use of being a cop if I can't even stop the woman I love from being attacked and hurt by some lunatic? If that fucker touched her, I'll fucking kill him.
Career be damned.
Sam walks back in. “Ambulance is two minutes away according to dispatch.” She looks at my face and her brows furrow. “Roberts, you've gotta push it back. We've got him, and he'll be going inside for a long time after this. Kate needs you right now. Not the cop, but the man.”
