For all Intents and Purposes (MidKnight Blue Book 6)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Jeanie gave him a sideways glance. “How young do you think I am?”

  “Too young,” Donovan replied with a smile, and suddenly Jeanie knew he was baiting her—and she was falling for it.

  “Shut up. How old can you be?” she said, looking at him as if sizing him up. “Twenty-two, twenty-three maybe…” She allowed her voice to trail off as if in distaste.

  Donovan laughed. “Yeah, maybe about four or five years ago.”

  Jeanie laughed too. “Okay… so they call you Pony Boy because of… your last name?”

  “Yeah, that and the fact that I’m a major Mustang fanatic—you know, the pony on the front.”

  “Ah,” Jeanie said, nodding. “And you’re an officer for the department?”

  “Actually, I made sergeant six months ago.”

  Jeanie could detect no ego in his tone. “That’s cool. I’m just praying I passed the psych.”

  “Major brain drain, huh?” Donovan said, grinning.

  “No, why do you ask?” Jeanie said, with a devilish grin of her own.

  Donovan shrugged. “Only the real nutballs think it’s easy.”

  “Well, count me in the nutball collection then,” Jeanie said, but then laughed a moment later. “Okay, so I have very few brain cells left—I’m human.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If you were honest, you should be okay.”

  “Yeah, just so long as they don’t find out that I hate my mother and wish my father was a throw rug,” Jeanie said sarcastically.

  “You too, huh?” Donovan was smiling, but Jeanie detected the merest hint of truth to his tone. She looked over at him for a long, measured moment.

  “Do I detect a little honesty there?” she asked finally, not sure where the nerve to ask the question had come from.

  Donovan looked back at her, his eyes showing surprise at her intuition. And to Jeanie’s surprise, he nodded slowly.

  “Wow… What happened?” she asked softly.

  Donovan hesitated for a moment—he hardly knew this girl—then shrugged. “They just left one day.”

  Jeanie looked stunned, her brown eyes widening. “Are you serious? How old were you?”

  “’Bout eleven,” Donovan said casually, but his eyes showed a lot more. “My brother Darrell raised me and my sister Randy the rest of the way.”

  “How old was your brother at the time?”

  “He was eighteen, Randy was fourteen.”

  “That must have been really rough,” Jeanie said, having been raised in an all-family environment. Her parents had been married for thirty-five years, and she was the youngest of six kids.

  “It was no picnic,” Donovan said. It was obvious to Jeanie that he was uncomfortable, so she changed the subject as they arrived at a local restaurant. Jeanie noted that he had obvious good taste in restaurants; the one they’d pulled up to was one of the best in town for lunch.

  “So what made you become a police officer?” she asked as they walked up to the front door. She was pleasantly surprised when he opened it for her.

  Once inside he told the woman at the maître d’s podium that it would be two for lunch. Then he turned back to Jeanie. “Probably because everyone I know seems to be a cop.”

  “At our department?”

  “Yeah, I mean, not including Midnight, my sister’s an officer, her husband’s a captain, I know Midnight’s husband, Rick, plus most of the original members of FORS. I’d say I was destined to be a cop.”

  “I guess. Who’s your brother-in-law?” There weren’t a large number of captains in the department.

  “Joe Sinclair,” Donovan said, and saw the smile on Jeanie’s face. “Either you’ve worked for him or you’re like half the women in the department and have a crush on the guy.”

  “It’s the former. However, I can’t deny that I have had my fantasies…” Jeanie replied, grinning.

  “I haven’t run into a woman at the office yet that hasn’t,” Donovan said, his tone easy. Jeanie could detect no jealousy, but there was another emotion there.

  She smiled. “Is that respect I hear?”

  “Respect, awe, hero worship,” Donovan rattled off. “Any of those words would describe my feelings toward my brother-in-law.”

  Jeanie was taken aback by his honesty. Most men she knew wouldn’t admit to admiring another man that easily. “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it,” Donovan said, grinning almost self-consciously. “At least I don’t bow to him anymore.”

  Jeanie stared back at him openmouthed for a full minute before Donovan started to laugh.

  “It was a joke,” he said, with a wide grin on his face.

  Lunch proceeded comfortably. Jeanie told him about her family; he was surprised to find out that she had four older brothers.

  “Rough gig,” Donovan said, shaking his head. “Bet you don’t date much.”

  Jeanie grinned. “Why do you say that? Just because my brothers are all over six foot tall and carry guns or bats on a constant basis…”

  Donovan laughed, nodding. “That might have something to do with it. Seriously, though, I’ll bet they’re real protective of you.”

  “They are.”

  “Yeah, Darrell hated Joe’s guts the minute he laid eyes on him the first time. He was majorly protective of Randy.”

  “He didn’t like Joe?” Jeanie was surprised; she couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Joseph Sinclair. She’d worked for him for over two years now, and she thought he was the greatest.

  “Nope, hated him with a passion. He figured Joe for a cop on the make, and Randy was so shy in those days, Darrell thought Joe saw her as an easy target.” Donovan lifted his water glass to his lips. Jeanie had been pleasantly surprised to find out that he was far from the average beer-drinking, hamburger-eating cop. He had taste in food, and knew wines pretty well as well; he’d picked a perfect light one for lunch. She had been surprised when he hadn’t had a glass, but he’d reminded her that he was on duty. The wine was excellent all the same.

  “But Joe was really in love with her, right?” Jeanie said, not knowing the story of Randy’s love affair but imagining it was very romantic, considering how in love they seemed to be now. She’d met Randy and talked to her more than a few times over the last two years, and it was very obvious to her that Randy and Joe shared a very deep love.

  “Not really. In fact, when Randy became his secretary, Joe was engaged to someone else.”

  “No way.”

  “Oh yeah, and she was pregnant with his kid,” Donovan said, realizing belatedly that he probably shouldn’t be telling her this. But then he shrugged mentally; most of the department knew the story behind Joe and Tasha Wood.

  Jeanie stared at him, stunned. “Wow, I guess I just figured it had been love at first sight with them. I mean, they seem so in love now…” She trailed off as she realized that maybe she’d been wrong.

  “Oh, they are, believe me,” Donovan said, his voice very sure. “They’ve been through so much together now I don’t think they would ever break up. And actually, I do think that Joe loved Randy long before they actually got together, but there was a lot of stuff going on in those days.”

  “I heard about all that, the Scorpions and everything, that he almost died, and about Midnight’s abduction and all that. But I guess I just figured they were together through it all. I guess you kinda think what you want about people like them.”

  “Like them?”

  “You know…” Jeanie sounded chagrined. “Joe’s so much larger than life… I guess I sound like a lovesick teenager, huh?”

  “No, you sound like a lot of women. And you’re right—my brother-in-law is something else. He’s been shot, stabbed, you name it, and he’s come through it all.”

  They talked about other things, and Jeanie got the distinct impression that this man was different from most of the guys she knew.

  When he dropped her off back at the office, she thanked him for lunch and he told her that he’d be getting together with her abo
ut “the project” later in the week. Jeanie found out later that not only was Donovan in on this project with Midnight, but he was the team leader for the case. It gave her more respect for him, knowing that he was willing to take on such a daunting challenge.

  ****

  Two years into her time as chief, Midnight had come across a number of discrepancies pertaining to property and accounting within the department. Within weeks she’d become obsessed with the idea of getting rid of the “bad apples.” Rick had been concerned at first.

  “I thought you finally were in a position where I wouldn’t have to worry about you,” he’d said, shaking his head with a frustrated look in his deep blue eyes. “And now you’re starting all this up?”

  “Rick,” Midnight had said, glancing up at him—they were in bed at the time, and the light from the hallway showed her that he was indeed concerned. “I think Dickerson was the tip of the iceberg, and if I’ve got dirty cops, I want them out of my department.” She had said it with the vehemence that Rick had come to know well over the last ten years.

  “Okay, but you don’t have to be the one to do it,” he said, his voice still holding the protective tone that had irritated her years before; she’d gotten used to it at this point in their lives. “You got a whole fucking staff of people workin’ for you, Night. Use ’em.” It sounded more like an order than a request, but Midnight knew where he was coming from. They had been through a lot in their years together, and things were finally calm in terms of threats to their safety. Even Rick was in a lot less danger now, since he was a lieutenant in charge of FORS.

  “I can’t, Rick. I don’t know who to trust…” Midnight said, trailing off as she realized what she was saying. “I can’t even trust my IA guys at this point.”

  “You trust me, don’t you?” Rick asked, his question rhetorical. “You trust Joe, Tiny, Spider, Dibbs, Jess… Use us.”

  “I need you at FORS, I need Joe running vice—I need everyone where they are, Rick. I gotta keep hold where I have it. Why do you think everyone is where they are? Because I trust you, because I need you guys to hold it together for me.”

  “Fine,” Rick said, thinking quickly. “Then use Donovan. You trust him, don’t you?”

  Midnight looked back at him, her eyes narrowed in thought. She had chewed on the idea for a week before talking to Joe. Finally she had requested Donovan’s assistance on the case, and Joe had supplied Jeanie for the project. Midnight had decided to keep it all on a small scale, figuring the fewer people that knew, the better. She eventually added her secretary and put Donovan in charge of the whole thing, although she frequently worked directly with them, acquiring files and looking up information.

  Chapter 2

  Christian Collins drove down the wet streets of London in a black Jaguar KX8. His handsome face was set in a constant scowl, his light blue eyes narrowed behind his Ray-Ban Predator sunglasses. At first glance he could pass for a rich playboy, but he was far from rich—the playboy part was true enough, though. He could feel the cold steel of the gun pressed against the small of his back, and drew strength from it.

  Christian was the illegitimate son of the Lord of Glenenshire. He had been conceived the night the lord of the manor finally seduced the beautiful maid of Spanish descent on his staff. Christian had, as far as he was concerned, been conceived in sin and was, therefore, the culmination of that sin. He liked to say he was the devil himself. Many of the women he’d been with had been sure of it as well.

  Christian, or Blue, as most people knew him, was as cold as his ice-blue eyes seemed to imply. He didn’t get involved, he didn’t get emotional. He was cool and clearheaded, his judgement never clouded by feelings. The only person he loved was his mother, who had literally given up everything to have him. Christian had her coloring. His hair was jet black, worn all the same length, just an inch above his collar, and his eyelashes and eyebrows were the same color, which set off his light blue eyes very dramatically. The contrast of his dark coloring and pale eyes combined with sharp good looks always caught people’s attention. Ever since childhood, people had always stopped and stared at him, a reaction Christian used to his advantage whenever necessary.

  On this particular day, he was running for a local high-level drug dealer. He’d been told to pick up a woman in front of Harrod’s. The dealer, Willie Charmè, liked to use Christian for this type of assignment because he knew his customers would be impressed with his “employee.”

  Geneva Glasstone was duly impressed. When the black Jag pulled up in front of Harrod’s, the vehicle caught her attention. She was taken aback when the young man wearing all black got out and, pulling off his sunglasses, looked directly at her. “You Glasstone?” he said, his accent crisp.

  Geneva had to take a moment to find her wits; she had never seen such an incredible-looking man before. He was stunning. “I—Yes, I am,” she said, her own accent very cultured.

  Christian curled his lips just slightly, knowing the impact he’d just made on her and as usual taking remote satisfaction from it. “Get in,” he said curtly, his blue eyes staring directly into hers.

  Geneva was taken aback by his direct manner, but she was the type to appreciate a candid individual. Geneva had come a long way by being direct, so she understood the power of saying what you meant.

  She looked over at the young man as he drove and couldn’t find a single flaw on him. His face was perfect, even in profile. From what she could detect of his physique, he had a nice body as well. And she realized suddenly that she really wanted to find out.

  “So,” she said, her tone purposely bored, “what is your name?”

  Christian waited a full minute to look at her, and when he did, his expression was veiled. “Blue,” he said finally.

  “That’s unique,” she said, surprised. “Is it your given name?” she asked, feeling compelled to talk to him.

  Christian pulled up at a light and turned his head, his look telling her he knew what she was doing and that it was amusing to him. She was once again taken aback.

  At forty-five, Geneva Glasstone was still considered beautiful. She was well kept, her hair, nails, and makeup all flawless. Her body was in perfect physical condition from hours with a personal trainer. Her skin was as tight and youthful as it had always been. She had blond hair and blue eyes and was well known for her propensity for young men. This young man with the dark looks and light eyes made her want to do anything to get to him.

  “I have to tell you,” she said finally, her tone matter-of-fact, “you have got to be the most amazing-looking man I have ever seen.” Christian didn’t react the way she’d expected; he simply curled his lip sardonically and nodded. Geneva looked back at him, surprised. “And you obviously already know that?”

  Again Christian nodded, his eyes still on the road ahead of him, but the look on his face indicated his confidence.

  “How about this.” Geneva put her hand suggestively on his leg, watching him for a response. “What does it take to get a man like you into bed?”

  Again, he didn’t react the way she’d expected, only giving her a long, measured look. “Is that what you’re looking for?” he asked mildly, as if he believed anything but that. “Or are you just looking for a show piece?” His tone was cold, his eyes narrowed.

  “Does it matter?” Geneva asked evenly.

  She was shocked when he turned his eyes on her; she could almost feel shards of ice hitting her. “Nobody owns me,” Christian said, his voice low.

  Geneva didn’t speak for a long moment. A thrill had gone up her spine at the timbre in his voice. “I don’t want to own you,” she said. “I just want you.”

  Christian actually grinned at her statement, shaking his head with bemusement. A few minutes later, they arrived at Charmè’s opulent townhouse in the heart of London.

  Christian left after escorting her inside, but Geneva couldn’t think straight the rest of the day. She made her connection with Charmè and asked endless questions of the flamboya
nt drug dealer. Questions Charmè couldn’t answer.

  No one really knew much about Christian Collins. They knew exactly what he wanted them to and nothing more. He basically had no friends, no one he confided in, and that was the way he liked it. Over the years he had discovered that people wanted to use him for whatever reason. He’d gotten used to that, and had come to accept that it was the way people were. He knew they latched on to his looks and couldn’t get past them. He allowed himself to be the dark iceman everyone thought he was; it had become his personality.

  The only person that saw a softer side of Christian was his mother. The Lord of Glenenshire had fired her right after she told him she was pregnant with his child, and now, at forty-five, she had many health problems. Christian cursed his sire for his lack of backbone or common decency. His mother had been a pawn in the Lord of Glenenshire’s sexual games.

  Josephine Collins had, at twenty, foolishly believed that the lord had actually been in love with her. After all, he had told her he was. The other servants had tried to tell her he was a randy old lush, but she never listened. She had chosen to see him the way she wanted to. He was a lord, a powerful man in her eyes. He had turned his beautiful light blue eyes on her and she had fallen under his spell. When after two encounters she discovered she was pregnant, she fantasized about telling the Lord of Glenenshire, imagining he’d be overjoyed. Since his wife, Lady Sarah, hadn’t been able to bear him a son as yet, Josephine felt sure that her son would one day be the Lord of Glenenshire.

  That dream had been dashed the moment she told the lord. Lord Glenenshire had slapped her, telling her she was a halfwit for not using some sort of protection to keep it from happening. The following day he had had her removed from the house, and refused to give her either a penny or a recommendation so she could obtain work in another home. She had ended up a maid for a lower-priced hotel, making a pittance.