by Dana Mentink
She could not allow him to be drawn in, could not risk losing her uncle Hal. “I don’t know him,” she said.
Farro raised an eyebrow. “Just some random attack?”
She didn’t answer at first, until the silence became too much. “Maybe he meant to mug me.”
“Muggings aren’t his bag.” The lieutenant fingered his radio. “Got to make some calls. Take care of your friend, Maxwell, see her home, whatever you need to do. We’ll debrief later.”
April struggled to her feet. Storm whined to be released from his sit to greet her, but Declan did not give the command. Instead he helped her up. She wobbled only a little, and he pressed her close. Her pulse skittered at the feel of his arms around her, tighter than was strictly necessary, his palms skimming over her shoulder blades.
Why had she walked away from him? Because you can’t mess up his career. You just can’t, and he didn’t want you, remember? Not love, just friendship. It had become too much to bear.
“I’ll take you home,” he said roughly in her ear.
What she would have given at that moment to acquiesce. Her uncle’s desperate plea would not let her.
“Thank you, but I... I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.” He let Storm up, and the dog pranced at her side while Declan guided her by the elbow to the subway exit. “I’m taking you home, and you’re going to tell me what’s really going on.”
That stubborn set to his jaw, the super-calm cop tone—he was treating her like a suspect he would interrogate. Blinking against the bitter cold outside, she detached herself. “No. I’m not headed home. Thanks for your help. I have to go.”
“April...”
She knew he was watching her as she hurried down the street. Would he let her go? Though part of her heart ached for him to follow, she knew it would be disastrous.
Leave him. You don’t have a choice.
As she hustled away, elbowing through the steady throng of passersby, she wondered if Burner was waiting in the crowd with his knife and his orders.
Kill April Reed.
Shivering, she pulled the ripped sides of her coat together and forced herself away from Declan and Storm.
* * *
Cold bit at his cheeks as he watched her hesitate, perhaps considering returning to the subway station. Her body language screamed that she was uncertain and scared, and it made his stomach knot. Instead of reentering the station, she punched something into her phone and waited on the curb outside a deli. Had she ordered a ride? And what should his next move be?
Storm wandered in restless circles around his legs, his irrepressible nose taking in the data around him. People detected smells, like the scent of chili on the stove. Dogs broke down the odors into their components, like the individual ingredients in that chili. Storm was almost ready to be a vapor detection dog, tasked with identifying explosives worn on the body by moving targets, and Declan yearned for the day he and Storm would be named to the elite squad with the other Vapor Wake cops and dogs. It would be Declan’s greatest accomplishment, validation for years of hard work, proof to the world that he was not cut from the same cloth as his father.
“I made a mistake,” his father had said. A colossal understatement. He’d been stripped of his badge and arrested for stealing heroin from the evidence locker to feed a habit neither Declan nor his mother had ever suspected. They’d been blindsided, shamed, humiliated, in spite of the support offered by Kyle, April and the Jameson family.
His father was now living in a shared apartment in Brooklyn, having served a shortened sentence, clean as far as Declan knew. His parents’ forty-year marriage had dissolved, and his mother moved to Florida to live with her sister. He spoke to her twice a week like clockwork. His father had called him once, and he hadn’t returned the call.
As an Uber driver pulled up at the curb and April made a move to get inside, he weighed his choices. Follow? It was clear his lieutenant knew April was involved in something she shouldn’t be. Being near her would also put him in a situation that might taint his reputation.
Everything he’d worked for.
Everything he wanted.
But he knew without the slightest hesitation that April was a woman of character. She’d worked tirelessly to reconnect him with his military service dog, listened to his broken efforts to explain how much Otto meant to him, held his hand, cried with him when Otto died. If she was involved in something bad, she had a very good reason.
But what if he was fooling himself about her? He’d done it with his father, his hero, and his girlfriend Paige, who’d been unable to withstand the awful shame Declan’s dad had heaped upon the family. April hadn’t shied away, though, quietly listening, reaching out, caring as much as he’d let her.
He remembered a day long ago when Kyle laughed after hearing that his sister April had been awake all night tending to a young pup she’d found underneath a dumpster. “Oh, sis looks like a tough cookie, but underneath she’s gooey caramel.” Then he’d sobered. “Uncle Hal always says grief either hardens or softens. She’s a softy, so don’t you go getting any ideas about her, huh, Romeo? She needs a normal guy, not a hotshot cop with no plans to marry anytime soon. She’s gonna get herself a regular hubby with a proper nine-to-five job, you got me?”
A regular nine-to-five job, like the insurance broker dude with the Mercedes who had swiftly replaced Declan in Paige’s life.
He’d vociferously denied any intentions toward Kyle’s sister, and he’d done well at being true to the sentiment until the last six months. Kyle had deployed again, and he’d found himself in close contact with April, just to check on her well-being, he’d told himself. But that had morphed into runs along the East river, the midnight call when the dog she’d been tending had gotten herself wedged underneath her radiator. Now he found himself thinking about her all the time.
But she’d dumped him, hadn’t she? Like Paige?
He stood rooted to the sidewalk, staring.
April got into the back seat of the car.
Follow or let her go?
The driver talked over his shoulder as the seconds ticked by.
Step into her life or watch her disappear?
She wanted to go. She’d told him so by not returning his texts or calls. Radio silence. Anger quickened his breath.
Step in, or let her walk away for good?
One more second ticked by, and he was moving. He strode up to the car and yanked open the rear passenger side door. Storm leaped onto the seat and made good time slurping April’s chin. Declan got in and slammed the door.
“So,” he said, ignoring her look of dismay, “where exactly are we going?”
THREE
April’s mouth went dry. The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror, waiting.
“Don’t let me slow things down,” Declan said cheerfully, slapping his thigh. “Let’s go, driver.”
“Right,” he said, eyeing the dog and badge. “Queensbridge Park.” He eased the car into traffic, and Declan sat back, still staring at her.
“Why are we going to Queensbridge Park? And don’t bother lying, because you’re terrible at it. I could read it all over your face the time Kyle convinced you to stay quiet when he filled my squad car with balloons.” Declan’s words were light, but there was steel in his tone.
She turned on him, keeping her voice low under the pop music the driver had turned on. “Declan, I can’t tell you. I don’t want you to come. Please.”
He smiled and held up a finger. “Being as how I’m a cop and all, let me share my mental calculations. You were assaulted by Burner, who is currently working for Malcolm Spade.”
His name made breath freeze in her lungs. She kept quiet.
He ticked off the next item with another finger. “Spade is fairly new to Queens, but there are rumblings that he’s making a name for himself in the
drug-running business. He’s been hard for the cops to nail. There’s been some progress so far in that Judge Wyatt Flannery sentenced Malcolm’s dear little brother, Dominic, to twenty years for murdering a security guard who interrupted one of their deals, but good old Dom refused to rat out his big bro. Family loyalty and all that.”
Still she didn’t answer.
“And Malcolm’s taken a nice house over in Hollis Hills.” Declan patted Storm, who was still busily sniffing April’s tattered jacket. “Heard he likes to give parties, and the food is said to be sensational.”
“Declan...”
“So using my special cop powers, I’m putting this all together.” He laced his palms behind his head. “Your uncle Hal is a chef, isn’t he?” Declan didn’t wait for the answer before he went on. “You told me Hal worked on the docks when he was young, and what do you know, so did Spade.” His smile disappeared. “There’s only one reason I can think of why you’d be acting shifty, drawing the attention of Spade’s guy Burner.” He trapped her with the intense gaze. “Your uncle is working for Malcolm Spade, and he’s gotten you into some kind of a mess.”
She looked at her lap. “I don’t want you in this.”
“I’m already in this.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You, me and Kyle have been friends since middle school.”
“Friendship doesn’t require you to step in.”
“Yes, it does.”
“No.”
Declan stopped, looked out the window and let out a breath before he continued. “We... I mean, I know you felt that...uh, there was more than friendship and I...” He took her hand in his, and the warmth of his long fingers nearly set her to crying.
“I was mistaken, and I regret it,” she forced out. The memory was cloaked in the red-hot embarrassment of a kiss that startled both of them.
“April, it wasn’t kind of me to say that. I was shaken up, from Paige and everything. I...didn’t handle it right.”
“No need to talk about it anymore,” she said, willing him to end the conversation.
“Could be I was the one who made a mistake,” he said quietly.
The ache carved a path through her chest as he said the words she so desperately craved to hear. What terrible irony that he would say them now, when she was up to her ears in trouble, trouble that would suck him in and ruin his dreams.
“No,” she said firmly, forcing herself to meet his eyes and pulling her hand away. “You weren’t. That’s why I left, so there would be no more confusion.” And because my uncle’s life exploded, and I didn’t want you hit by the fallout.
After a long moment, he sat back on the seat. The silence stretched awkwardly between them until they pulled up at Queensbridge Park.
She got out quickly. Declan would leave; he had to. If her uncle or Spade’s people saw a cop nearby, it would end in disaster. She prayed he would stay in the car and head back to the subway station, finish his training, forget about her.
Her spirits tumbled as she heard Storm scramble from the car and Declan walked up behind her.
“You know, April,” he said, “I suddenly have a strong desire to take a stroll in the park.”
* * *
Declan almost felt bad for the agony written on April’s face, but he wasn’t about to let her sacrifice herself to Spade. Storm was thrilled to be able to prowl around the pockets of snow along the frozen expanse of grass that bordered the paved path. The park sat in the shadow of the Queensboro Bridge, which arched over the East River, but there were few folks braving the cold March morning to admire the view.
He noticed the demolition had commenced on an old stone storage house, a crumbling building that had managed to stay standing since the 1940s. Its time had come, and next week the aged structure would be gone altogether. For now, it was shrouded in caution tape and marked off-limits.
The park itself was shadowed by an apartment complex, which housed thousands of people. The area used to be his father’s beat.
The irony burned deep, but he pushed it aside as April turned on him.
“You have to leave,” she said through gritted teeth. “Please.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
He folded his arms, Storm’s leash tight in his right hand. “Then I’m not leaving.”
She took his forearm then, and the blue of her eyes nearly undid his resolve. “Declan, I’m asking you, friend to friend. Please do this for me.”
He would do anything for her, but the bubbling emotions in his gut at that moment felt far too intense to be mere friendship. Sort it out later, Deck. He cleared his throat.
“Talking to me is the only way you’re gonna convince me to leave, so you might as well get to it.”
Her eyes rounded. “I could just sock you.”
He grinned. “That would be great. Then I’ll arrest you for assault. I know you’ll be completely safe in jail. Just don’t punch me as hard as you did the time I used your Barbies for my BB gun target practice.”
She rolled her eyes in that way she’d done since he’d known her. Same way her brother Kyle did. “If I tell you, you promise to go?”
“No promises, but without an explanation I can guarantee the dog and I are staying.” He waited while she considered.
Drawing herself up to her full height, which put the top of her head level with his badge, she blew out a breath. “You are right. My uncle Hal went to work as Spade’s chef.”
“That was a bonehead move. Didn’t he know Spade’s a...?”
She glared at him. “Listen, don’t talk.”
He closed his mouth and wiggled his fingers at her to continue.
“Uncle Hal didn’t know what Spade was into.” She glared at him when he snorted. “He overheard Spade giving orders to his people to murder someone.”
He gaped. “Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“He didn’t say, but he recorded it on the little handheld tape machine he always carries to dictate reminders for himself. He wants to meet here to give it to me.”
“No way. This is a matter for the cops...”
“Uncle Hal says some of them are on Spade’s payroll. They look the other way in exchange for bribes, and he knows his recording isn’t admissible in court.”
“So how is getting this to you going to help?”
“He asked me to take the recorder straight to Judge Flannery. He’s the only one Uncle Hal can trust since he put away Spade’s brother.”
“That’s ridiculous. NYPD cops are trustworthy. I...” He broke off suddenly. Like his own father? His hero? He felt his cheeks go hot. “April, you’re gonna get yourself killed crossing Spade. I’ll call in some people, get your uncle protected.”
“Uncle Hal begged me not to bring in the police.”
He gentled his tone. “Think about it. You know I’m right. It’s too dangerous.”
She wavered, one lush lip caught between her teeth. “I... I’m not sure...”
He couldn’t help it. He stroked a finger along the fine blond hair that framed her cheek. “April, let me help you.”
“Not you,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because...” She looked away. “It...just can’t be you.”
“You’re worried it might hurt my career?”
Her mouth set in a firm line. “You’ve worked too hard. I saw the look in your lieutenant’s eyes at the subway station. Not you, Declan,” she repeated.
“My career isn’t in danger. You are. I’m calling.”
“No.”
Storm broke off from his perusal of the grass and barked. Declan looked over April’s shoulder and zeroed in on the dark-eyed man who had nearly murdered her in the subway station... Spade’s man, Burner. He was heading to
ward the abandoned storage house.
Storm didn’t need any urging to follow when Declan sprinted toward the guy who had tried to hurt April.
* * *
April’s pulse surged as Declan took off. He galloped over the frozen ground with Storm bounding next to him. Had he seen someone? Her uncle? She’d just made up her mind to follow them when someone called out.
A short man with a thick mustache sat on a bench overlooking the East River. He wore an expensive wool coat over slacks and leather ankle boots. A scarf wound neatly around his neck, and a gray cap covered his head.
She hesitated.
“You are looking for your uncle,” the man said.
His tone was pleasant, hands empty, one arm draped casually over the back of the bench. “April Reed, yes?” he said.
She stood her ground. “Where’s my uncle?”
The man smiled. “I’m sorry. I have a slight hearing loss in one ear from a perforated eardrum. You’ll have to come closer.” He laughed. “You can keep your finger on the 911 button. I’m not the Big Bad Wolf or anything.”
Her face warmed. That was exactly the situation, as she gripped the phone in her hand, finger poised to dial 911. Still she did not approach him.
“Or you could shout to your cop.” The man shrugged a shoulder. “He’ll come with guns blazing if he hears you scream.”
He knew about Declan. Swallowing hard, she edged three steps closer, still well out of range.
He was younger than she’d thought, maybe midforties, skin unwrinkled, brown eyes regarding her closely.
“My name is Malcolm Spade,” he said.
She froze.
“Your uncle Hal is a friend of mine. An excellent chef. Gifted, I’d go so far as saying. His ceviche is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“You leave him alone,” she snapped.
Spade lifted a shoulder. “There was a misunderstanding. He got hold of something he believes is evidence of a crime.”
“And you want it back.”
