If only his friends would give up their campaign. And then there were the female friends who wanted to set him up with their sister, cousin, or old school friend.
Old school friend…
Had things been different, he could be saying that about Laurey Templeton. Had things been different, she could have been looking at him as she had then, shyly yet avidly, her attraction to him glowing in those silver-gray eyes, instead of glaring at him in near-loathing.
He sighed as he yanked open the door to his car. He loved his job. It was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do. And he was rarely bothered by those who were uncomfortable with that choice, and less so by those who flat out disliked anyone who carried a badge. He was a cop, and he did his job as well as he could. Resentment and enemies came with the territory, and they didn't bother him. Usually.
But Laurey Templeton bothered him. For the first time in a very long time, he wanted to say, "It's not fair." He thought he'd long given up on fairness in this life, and he wasn't happy with the fact that this woman he'd never quite forgotten was making him feel this way.
And he resented the fact that anything was detracting from the satisfaction he should be feeling right now, when for once things were going as they should.
* * *
"It's been quite a year at Trinity West," Kit said. "Caitlin and Quisto married, Lacey and Ryan back together, Kelsey and Cruz married—"
"Guess that makes it your turn," Caitlin quipped, making Kit roll her eyes.
"Not likely," the blonde said. "My social life makes Death Valley look like the Garden of Eden. The only person I know who goes out less than I do is Gage."
"Now there's a man who needs a life," Kelsey said. "I thought Cruz was bad, but he's a slacker compared to Gage. I've never seen anybody work so hard, even on poofs."
"Poofs?" Laurey asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Runaways. The ones you never find," Kelsey explained, her green eyes troubled. Laurey knew from Caitlin that Kelsey was dedicated to helping runaways in whatever way she had to, even if she ran afoul of legalities. That was, in fact, how she'd met her husband. "Cruz says they call them that because they walk out the door and poof, they vanish. Never seen again. But that doesn't stop Gage from looking for them. Nothing does."
"Ryan says he's driven," Lacey said softly. "He doesn't know by what, but it's not the job."
"And Ryan would know, wouldn't he?" Kit said, reaching over to squeeze one of the very pregnant Lacey's hands as Lacey pushed back her long, sandy brown hair with the other.
Laurey watched the other women silently, her thoughts rather chaotic. They were all so nice and had made certain she felt welcome, although she knew only Caitlin among them. She watched as Lacey smiled at Kit's gesture. Caitlin had recounted Ryan and Lacey Buckhart's story, of how they had lost each other after the death of their first unborn child, but had found themselves and their love again after Ryan had risked his life to break up The Pack, and gone to Lacey when he'd been shot.
Laurey glanced at Caitlin now. She hadn't realized all the aspects of Caitlin marrying Quisto Romero, but she did now. It was amazing how quickly these women had become close. It was as if the one common bond they had, being married to cops, was as strong as any blood relationship. She supposed it was true, that no one who hadn't been there could truly understand what it was like. And more than once tonight, one of them had made comments she couldn't help but think were aimed at her, about how each of them had had many misconceptions about cops to work through.
Laurey eyed Kit then, wondering what made an attractive and very feminine woman want such a job. And what it would have taken for her to become a sergeant in such a world. A sergeant who had men like Butler working for her.
When Lacey spoke again, Laurey yanked her mind out of what was rapidly becoming a well-worn groove: thoughts of Gage Butler.
"Yes, Ryan knows what it is to be driven. But he faced it. We faced it. He doesn't think Gage ever has."
"I wish I knew what it was, whatever is prodding him," Kit said. "But he's been that way since I've known him, and every time I bring it up, he just … avoids the question." She sighed. "Sometimes I think he'd be better off in another line of work."
"Sam says he's like her animals," Kelsey said, toying with a lock of her dark auburn hair thoughtfully. "That he can't tell you that he's hurt, but it shows in his eyes."
Laurey felt her breath catch. What a perceptive thing for a child to say, she thought. Cruz's little girl must be quite something.
"I just hope it doesn't push him over the edge someday," Kelsey went on, her tone concerned.
"I gather you're part of the Gage Butler fan club, too?" Laurey asked, not liking the jolt of feeling that had gone through her at Samantha Gregerson's too-wise assessment. She thought she'd managed to keep any sarcasm out of her voice, but Kelsey looked at her almost sharply. Laurey's gaze flicked to Caitlin, wondering if she'd told the others of her distaste for the man they all seemed so enamored of. Caitlin lifted her brows and shrugged in negation; she hadn't said anything. Apparently even the slightest hint of a lack of appreciation wasn't welcome. The man was clearly a favorite among these women in a way Laurey had to reluctantly admire, since there was nothing but friendship involved; it was clear Kit considered him off-limits, and the others were all deliriously in love with their husbands.
"If it hadn't been for Gage, Cruz and I might not be together," Kelsey said. "He helped us, risked his job, just because Cruz asked. He knew I … wasn't telling him the whole truth, just like Cruz did, but he did it anyway. No questions asked."
"Gage is his own man," Kit said with a nod. "And he has strong ideas about loyalty to his friends."
Except when he's about to arrest them, Laurey thought, but wisely held her peace; this was obviously not the place to voice anything negative about Gage Butler. Apparently nowhere was.
Now if she could just control her thoughts as easily, she told herself ruefully as the conversation shifted to the inevitable talk of the soon-to-arrive babies. But everything she'd heard since she'd arrived seemed to be tumbling around in her head.
Half of these kids wouldn't be here today if not for Gage … they'd be dead … and two dozen more who would be behind bars.
I was way down the road to nowhere, but Gage, he helped me.
He helped us, risked his job … no questions asked.
I've never seen anyone work so hard.
He's driven…
She knew too much about that kind of man. Far too much. She'd grown up with one. Her father had been a living stereotype of the classic workaholic. Was that what Butler was, too? It certainly sounded that way. She knew why her father was the way he was, but what drove Butler? What was it that Lacey's husband said he'd never faced?
Even eight years ago, he'd seemed utterly confident, so sure of himself that she couldn't imagine him ever being out of control about anything. Or perhaps it had been simply that he stood out among the less certain boys around him. Of course, she reminded herself, stirring up her anger anew, he'd been years older, too. He'd been young, but he'd been a man among those boys and, she supposed, toughened by the police academy he'd only just left.
She wondered if that had been what kept drawing her back to him, that difference between him and the boys her own age, boys she found ridiculous most of the time. That and the fact that he never laughed at her, never teased her about her height or about the brains that got her good grades with remarkably little effort. And she would have thought he would have; students who flunked more tests than they passed usually showed great disdain for those who got A's and B's. Of course, that had probably been part of the act, too, his troublemaking and bad grades.
And as quickly as that she was back wrestling with things she'd never resolved, back wondering how much of it, if any, had been real.
Stop it!
She nearly snapped it aloud, and probably would have if she hadn't been among so many people.
"So, Laurey, Caitli
n says you work for a magazine in Seattle. Do you enjoy it?"
Grateful for the distraction Lacey was providing, she nodded. "I miss the sunshine down here, but it's lovely up there. And I love my job." She meant it, she did love her job as an advertising coordinator for the slick publication that focused on the beauty and style of the Pacific Northwest. "I get to talk people from all over the world."
"And wonder of wonders," Caitlin put in teasingly, "actually use that college degree."
They all laughed, and Laurey nodded. "I was lucky to get a job in my field so quickly. But it was thanks to you, you know," she said to Caitlin.
"Me?" The redhead looked startled.
"Sure. If you hadn't talked me into taking that internship, I never would have gotten the job. The experience I got on that magazine down here was what made them decide on me. And I don't think I ever thanked you for that."
"You're welcome," Caitlin said.
"I'm very glad they rebuilt Marina Heights High School when they did," Laurey said softly. If the old school hadn't been torn down when it had been, its students temporarily displaced to the newer—and admittedly much wealthier—halls of Marina del Mar High, Lisa—and Laurey—never would have met Caitlin Murphy.
"Me, too," Caitlin agreed, understanding perfectly.
They left it at that in silent, mutual agreement; neither of them wanted to intrude sad memories on what should be a happy occasion.
She talked about her job a little more, then listened with interest as Kelsey enthusiastically detailed the plans for her new runaway shelter and Lacey regaled them with absurdly funny anecdotes about life at a fancy resort hotel. She even dropped a notable name or two, after swearing them all to secrecy about the antics of the rich and famous.
Kit contributed, as well, relating a few of what she called "war stories," tales that amazed Laurey; she hadn't realized what silly fixes people got into and then expected the police to get them out of. She was sure Kit was carefully telling only funny stories—and some of them were uproarious, especially the one about the burglar who tried to get into a restaurant via a vent, and ended up dangling upside down over the stove until a startled cook found him in the morning—but she couldn't help thinking of what Caitlin had told her about cops' "gallows humor," that crucial knack of finding something to laugh at in the most dire situations.
"If they didn't," she'd said, "the suicide rate would be even higher than it is, and it's already one of the highest in the world."
Laurey had known that. She supposed she'd read it somewhere, but she'd never thought much about it. Perhaps because until Caitlin had married a cop, there hadn't been anyone to make her think of such things. Or care about them. Her thoughts of cops had been limited to what she'd seen on the news, which usually brought on resentful memories about the one cop she'd had personal contact with.
And there she was, back to Gage Butler again. Why did everything seem to lead back to him? Was it just that she was here among people who knew—and admired and respected—him? Or was it the shock of seeing him again that had started all these thoughts stirring?
It didn't matter, she told herself firmly. After tonight, she would take the week's vacation she'd planned here in the California sunshine before she headed back to face a Pacific Northwest winter. Hopefully she wouldn't run into him again. And she would put Gage Butler out of her mind. She would.
Even unspoken, it sounded too vehement for comfort.
She sighed. Okay, she told herself as she helped gather up the plates that had held a luscious chocolate cake Kelsey had laughingly assured her was low fat, so she was impressed. Whatever he'd once been, Butler was apparently a heck of a guy now, the kind of cop they should all be.
What is it you expect, Laurey? That the cops go out on the street armed with nothing but Boy Scout honor? That they always play fair and honest when nobody else does?
Caitlin's gentle but chiding words rang in her head, and she felt the sting of them again, realizing more than ever, after having spent the evening with these women, that perhaps she'd been a bit … naive. Maybe Butler hadn't really had any choice, maybe they'd made it a part of the job he couldn't say no to.
As she left the kitchen and went back for more dirty dishes, she passed a framed photo of Caitlin's husband and paused for a moment; Quisto was charming, suave, and in love with his wife as only a former ladies' man could be. Sort of like an ex-smoker becoming the strictest of nonsmokers, she thought, trying to joke herself out of this silly mood she seemed to have fallen into. But she had to admit, he was nothing like she'd expected a cop to be. Then again, her expectations were based on what she'd sadly learned at eighteen.
Had her view been so skewed back then?
Possibly, she acknowledged grudgingly. To be fair, she had to admit that a big part of the reason she'd been so furious all those years ago was that she'd had quite a crush on the new boy in school. She'd been a late bloomer, only growing into her tall body in her early twenties, and had never dated in high school. But Gage Butler had awakened every suppressed urge she'd never let herself feel before. She'd flirted with him, in some of her first, tentative efforts at the task, and his seeming ignorance of her had hurt her fledgling pride. Then she'd learned in the worst way that he was a cop, that his very presence had been a deception from the beginning. Her humiliation had stemmed as much from her embarrassment as from anything else.
Did her hostility stem from the same source, as well?
If so, it was a childish reaction she wasn't very proud of. For the first time she looked at her outburst yesterday from a step back, saw and heard it as Caitlin must have. And she blushed at the realization that she had indeed sounded like a petulant child still clinging to a wrong done them long ago.
Time to grow up, kiddo.
Or maybe past time.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Mitchell Martin's shouts of outrage had one result the arrogant man could never have expected—the louder he got, the wider Gage's smile got. That infuriated the man even more, and the circle continued. And it enabled Gage to easily refrain from the urge to tell Martin his alibi had vanished; no sense in tipping off the defense before they had to.
This was it, he thought, the payoff for the long days and longer nights, for the hours spent walking the streets, talking to people, calling in favors, searching endlessly for something, anything, that would break what appeared to be a rock-solid alibi. A something he had finally found, proof that Martin hadn't been where he said he had.
This was the payoff for the hours spent getting Diane Santos to trust him enough to tell him every grim detail of that harrowing night and ugly morning after, and the memory of the traumatized girl's weeping story was enough to make Gage relish every bit of Martin's rage and bluster. His high-powered attorney was finally able to shut him up, telling him that he'd be free in no time, and already speaking ominously of lawsuits against the department, and Gage in particular. Gage wondered about the coincidental presence of the lawyer, curious whether the mouthpiece was always with Martin or was along for a reason. Such as knowing this was coming. He would have to check into the possibility of a leak.
Both Gage and Kit wore expressions of grim satisfaction as they stuffed the haughty man into the back of a police car with perhaps less care than they could have used. They hadn't bent to the lawyer's insistence that he not be handcuffed, either.
"Rape is a felony, counselor," Kit said coldly. "He goes cuffed."
"And in back," Gage added, before the man had the chance to make his next move, which Gage was sure would have been a request to have his client at least have his hands in front of him, where it would be easier to hide the cuffs from the press who, in the nature of sharks scenting blood, would no doubt be waiting when they arrived at Trinity West.
At the lawyer's vociferous protest, Gage glared at him and said softly, "Maybe you should talk to his victim about restraints."
"Gage," Kit said warningly, and he tur
ned his back on the protesting attorney and ignored Martin's ever increasing threats.
Yes, this was what it was all about, Gage thought as, back at Trinity West, they went through the booking procedure. He knew it was going to be a battle to get this man convicted. A war, really. But just because there was a good chance you were beaten before you started didn't mean you didn't try. He hadn't reached that point. Yet. It was still a war worth fighting. Even if he had to work a little harder to convince himself of that lately.
It was about putting slime like this away, about getting justice for victims like the innocent Diane; it was the idea that a poor man could get the same fair judgment as a king in a courtroom. Not, he thought sourly, that he believed what had once been an ideal was still true. But that it had been corrupted in practice didn't diminish the ideal itself, and giving up was not the way to get it back to where it should be. He was sure of that, even if he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going.
But he'd finally gotten Mitchell Martin where he should be. And God would just have to forgive him if he took a certain pleasure in divesting the man of his Gucci belt, his Rolex watch and the three heavy gold-and-diamond rings he wore. And if he took longer than was necessary to do the booking of the property, well, he was, after all, not a jailer, and it took him a while to figure out the forms. Besides, with such a lot of valuable items, he had needed a witness for the booking, to waylay any later claims of theft. Two would be better, considering who they were dealing with. And everybody else was busy, so it was going to take a while. A long while. Just long enough to be sure that Martin's partner was long gone on his trip out of the country.
GAGE BUTLER'S RECKONING Page 4
