At her sudden halt, his mouth twisted.
"Care? Give a damn?"
"I did wonder if they were … maybe disinterested," she admitted. "But at the least I always thought of them as detached. From the … emotional aspects of that kind of crime, I mean."
"There are enough bogus claims of rape to make some cops skeptical. And that's how some deal with it. They have to remain detached, or go crazy."
"But you … you really care, don't you?" she said, looking at him intently.
"I hate it. I hate those who do it," he said, his tone utterly flat. "They should be put away for life, no mercy."
Laurey didn't seem repelled by his coldness, in fact, she looked merely thoughtful.
When the waiter returned, they agreed to share a slice of the restaurant's famous mud pie for dessert, and it was after savoring several bites of the ice cream, chocolate and whipped cream confection that Laurey mentioned being impressed with Chief Miguel de los Reyes, after just the few minutes she'd spent with him that afternoon.
"Ryan said he's the best, and I get the impression he's not a man who's easily impressed."
"No," Gage agreed, scooping up a piece of the chocolate crumb crust. "Ryan is probably harder to impress than anyone. And he's right. De los Reyes is the best. He came up the hard way, through the ranks. And he's had his share of grief, too."
"He was shot when the former chief was killed, wasn't he?"
Gage nodded. "And damn near died. Lost his wife, too, a few years back. Breast cancer. He nearly lost it afterward, he was so crazy about her."
"He never remarried?"
"No. Most of Trinity West doesn't think he ever will."
"Too busy being chief?"
"Partly. He gives a hundred and ten percent. He's a great administrator, and he can play the political game, too, but he remembers what it's like on the street. He takes care of his people, and there's not a one of them who wouldn't follow him into hell if he asked."
"Except maybe … your charming lieutenant?"
Gage grimaced. "Yeah, except for him. One of these days de los Reyes is going to take him down, and hard. We've known that from the day he told de los Reyes that he wasn't going to take orders from any greaser."
Laurey's eyes widened. "He said that? To his face?"
Gage nodded grimly. "He and the chief had a closed-door session that went on for a long time. Nobody knows what de los Reyes said, only that Robards has kept his mouth shut about him since. That alone got the respect of most of Trinity West."
"Why hasn't the chief already done it, if he's so bad?"
"Robards has been around for thirty years. You don't just fire a guy with that kind of seniority without having a hell of a lot of backup. And even though he's an arrogant, obnoxious, sexist bigot, Robards is shrewd, knows how to cover his tracks."
She lifted a brow at him. "Isn't it … against some kind of code for one cop to talk about another like that?"
"Robards," he said flatly, "is outside any code. He gave up his right to anyone's respect when he tried to get Ryan caught in the cross fire the day we took down The Pack. If it hadn't been for Lacey, Ryan could have been killed."
Laurey stared at him. "He tried to get Ryan killed? One of his own men?"
"We can't prove it, but we know he did. And so does de los Reyes." He smiled then. "But I'll tell you, if the chief decides to up and quit, and go clean up city politics the way he cleaned up Trinity West, you can bet he'll take care of the dinosaur before he goes."
"I'd vote for him," Laurey said. "There's something about him that just makes you think of … backbone and integrity."
Gage refrained from teasing her about voting for a cop; they seemed to have put that behind them—for the moment, at least—and he wanted to keep it that way.
"We'd hate to see him go, but if there's such a thing as a decent politician in the world, he'd be it."
She looked at him for a long, silent moment. "You said he takes care of his people," she said finally.
"He does. Anything happens, anybody gets hurt, he's always there, no matter when, no matter where. One of our dispatchers was in a boat accident over near Catalina, on vacation. When he found out, he flew over there to make sure she was being taken care of right. And arranged to fly her back to the mainland."
"And what would he do if he thought the life of one of his officers was in danger?"
Gage's breath caught as the quiet, unexpected and very pointed question came at him.
"Kit seemed awfully serious," she said when he didn't answer. "And I don't think she panics easily."
"No. She doesn't."
"But you think she's wrong."
"I think…"
He stopped, set down the spoon he'd been carving the side of the mud pie with, and pushed the plate toward Laurey. She shook her head and pushed it toward the edge of the table, to indicate they'd eaten as much as they wanted—or could—of the rich dessert.
"You think what?" she prompted a moment lacer as they gathered up their things to leave.
"I think I can't afford for her to be right," Gage said shortly, a little amazed that he'd admitted even that much. But then, he was constantly being amazed at what he admitted to Laurey Templeton.
He refused to let her pry any more out of him; he'd already said too much. They walked outside into the brisk fall evening, toward the parking lot where he'd left the department vehicle the chief had told him to take until he made other arrangements.
They walked down the row of parked cars. Gage took a deep breath of the crisp air; he loved this time of year and sometimes wished he lived in a place that actually had seasons, beyond the four California seasons in the old joke: fire, flood, drought and earthquake. But he knew he would probably never leave here. Too much of him was rooted here; here was the only place he could keep trying to make things right—
"Oh!" Laurey jumped sideways, bumping into him, and he automatically reached out to steady her.
"You okay? What happened?"
"I … was just startled. I didn't see the man in that white car, he must have been lying down on the seat, and all of a sudden he sat up."
Gage slowed his steps, but Laurey shook her head. "It's all right, I just didn't know anyone was in the car, and when he moved…"
She shrugged, giving an embarrassed little laugh. After a moment Gage nodded, and they walked on. He heard an engine start and guessed the car's occupant had just bent over to pick something up prior to leaving.
He had his hand on the passenger door to open it for Laurey when, for the second time in less than eight hours, the air exploded again.
Gunfire.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Laurey was amazed she could hear anything over the pounding of her heart.
She was jammed up against the side of the car. Gage's body was curled over her. Protectively, she realized. To protect and serve, she thought inanely.
She gasped at the sound of another shot. Closer. Louder. Much closer. Much louder. She thought she must have screamed. But she couldn't be sure, not over the pulse beating in her ears. Not over the roar of a racing engine, and the screech of tires on asphalt. Another shot, just as close. And finally she realized why. It was Gage. Firing back at the car that had just speeded past them.
"Damn!"
The oath burst from him as sharply as the shots he'd fired. Laurey shivered at the icy edge in his voice. She heard a rustling, then a scraping sound she didn't recognize. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly, turning her toward him, but never moving away. She could feel his heat, his strength and, given what had just happened, she felt amazingly protected.
"You're all right?"
As quickly as that the ice in his voice was gone, replaced by a husky tone Laurey, even in her shaken state, recognized as concern.
"I … I'm not hurt," she said, not certain she wanted to go so far as to say she was really all right.
"You're sure
?"
He sounded urgent, and she raised her face to try to reassure him. He was close, so close, looking down at her with fear in those vivid green eyes.
Fear for her, she realized with a little jolt of shock.
She didn't know when he'd moved, but his hands were cupping her face, tilting her head back as if to convince himself that she truly wasn't hurt. His eyes searched her face, and she saw in the green depths the fear she'd heard in his voice.
"Laurey? You're sure you're not hurt?"
"I'm … fine," she managed to reply.
For a long moment she crouched there, staring as something changed in his expression, as heat flared in his eyes, burning away the last of the fear.
"Gage—"
His mouth came down on hers, cutting her off before she could say any more. And an instant later she forgot what she'd been about to say anyway, forgot it in the sudden wave of heat and sensation that radiated through her.
His lips were warm, firm, and his kiss was urgent, compelling, and she could do nothing less than respond in the same way. The adrenaline that had begun to ebb began surging through her blood anew, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest all over again. Not from fear, but from excitement. From sweet response. From the pure joy of being alive.
And suddenly she understood, understood the need for this, understood more than she ever had before. And in understanding, she wanted more. And she wanted it now, from this man.
She slipped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. She heard a breath escape him, brushing hotly over her lips. He tasted her, probing tentatively with his tongue, and she let him in, welcoming the hot intrusion, savoring the pounding, pulsing life of it.
Crouched there in a dark parking lot, her back braced against the car, she kissed him back, eagerly, ardently. And she saw no irony in it, no oddness; it seemed utterly, perfectly right. Later, perhaps, she would wonder what had come over her, but now, now all she could do was feel. And feel she did, electric, rippling sensation and the hot, male taste of him as she threaded her fingers through pale hair that felt as silky as it looked, indulging at last in the urge she'd always felt to brush it back from his brow just so she could watch it fall forward again.
The kiss went on and on, Laurey clinging to his shoulders partly for balance, but mostly out of the need to keep him close. She needed him there, needed to feel his strength, needed to savor his heat.
With a low, deep groan he wrenched his mouth away, leaving her feeling bereft, her lips cold in the chill night. For a moment all she could hear was her own heart and his quickened breathing. He tilted his head, resting his forehead against hers, for a long silent moment.
Laurey held her breath, afraid to speak, afraid to even look at him, for fear what she would say or see would shatter the moment. And afraid that he would speak and do the same.
But he said nothing. She felt a tremor ripple through him, and then he lifted his head. As if it were a tangible effort, she sensed him steadying himself.
After a moment Gage stood, slowly, carefully. She doubted the care was for himself, and when he reached down to help her rise, she knew it; his hand was solid, steady and strong. An echo of the heat that had flooded her rippled through her again, and she tried to suppress a faint shudder of response, focusing on the hand he held out to her. His right hand, she realized as she took it and stood on legs that were none too steady. The hand he'd been shooting with, no doubt.
It hit her then, that the noises she'd heard, including the odd scraping, must have been him putting his gun away.
She looked at his face then and saw the rigid set of his jaw as he stared off in the direction the car had gone. She fought the shiver that rippled through her; this was not a man she would want to fight. This was not the boy she'd known; this was a cop who'd seen eight years of the ugliness, who'd seen people at their worst, who'd fought a battle it must sometimes have seemed impossible to win.
This was not even the man who had just kissed her with a heat and passion that had stolen what was left of her breath and sent her heart on another racing rampage.
She felt a little dazed, more even than in the instant after the shots. She'd known her feelings had changed, and in those moments when he'd betrayed that passionate hatred for the animals who sexually abused women, she'd known she'd been wrong about him, no matter what her reasons.
She didn't even wonder at her surprising empathy now; her negative feelings had always been more personal than anything else. And she hoped she'd let go of them, that she'd put away those childish feelings.
She'd better have, she thought, fighting another shiver as she instinctively dusted herself off. She'd better have, because not only had he kissed her with a fierceness that both astonished her and set her imagination soaring, but twice now this man had put himself between her and flying bullets.
She was amazed that he'd been able to move so quickly, after the accident last night.
Her breath caught. Her head came up, her gaze shooting back to his face. He turned to look at her. His forehead creased.
"My God," she whispered. "Someone really is trying to kill you."
* * *
"The decision is mine, Gage. And it's final. You go to the safe house."
Laurey looked from Gage's troubled face to the tall, lean man in the lightweight overcoat whose own expression was both grim and solemn as he paced the conference room outside his office, where they were all gathered. She barely knew the man, this was only the second time she'd seen him, but she had no doubts that Miguel de los Reyes's decision was just that, final. And that Gage, no matter how he obviously hated it, would abide by it. He had that much respect for the man.
She could see why. As she'd told Gage earlier—God, an eternity ago, it seemed now—there was something about the man that spoke of backbone and integrity. Tall, lean, with patrician features, dark hair silvered at the temples, he was an impressive man in his forties, with gray eyes much lighter than her own, oddly light eyes that seemed to peer into you, probing far past the surface.
This was a man to be reckoned with, and judging from the way everyone acted around him, a man who commanded—and had earned—total respect.
De los Reyes is the best, Gage had said.
It was clear he was not alone in that opinion. Everyone seated around this room obviously shared it. She thought of what Gage had told her about him, about his own near-fatal injury in a similar incident, and wondered what memories were stirring behind those cool, light eyes.
And wondered what it must have been like for his wife to be married to such a man. She must have been quite a woman, to have had this quietly strong man so in love with her that he'd almost given up when she died.
"We're already running one safe house for the family—"
"Also necessary," de los Reyes said firmly, interrupting Gage. "The girl has to be kept safe, and we don't want her family feeling any more threatened than they already do."
"But we don't have the money for a second one."
"You let me worry about the funding," the chief said.
"But the case," Gage began, stopping when de los Reyes shook his head.
"We'll work around it. You can take copies of whatever you need to prepare with you. You'll have," the chief added in a wry tone, "more than enough time."
"Right," Gage muttered.
Kit, who was on the telephone that sat on the credenza along one wall, glanced over at him, then went back to her quiet conversation. The others exchanged glances, then apparently decided to ignore Gage's disgruntlement.
"When will the house be ready?" de los Reyes asked with a glance at Ryan Buckhart, who was lolling back in one of the chairs, his long legs stretched out straight before him, a red bandanna tied around his forehead, holding his long, raven hair neatly. Even on this late Saturday night he had reappeared within an hour of their return to Trinity West, along with Cruz and Kit, and what Laurey thought had to be most of the entire detective division—minus the unwelcome Ro
bards. Even Quisto had come by, although since he was working patrol on the streets and was quite recognizable to many people in the area, he wasn't going to be much use to them undercover, so he'd merely made sure Gage was all right, done the same with Laurey, and left to reassure Caitlin, who was worrying despite their efforts.
She was a little stunned at how quickly things had happened and at how tightly the brotherhood of the cops of Trinity West had drawn in to protect one of their own. One of their own, who had finally had to admit that he wasn't just having bad luck, a run of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd been forced to agree that the string of events was beyond coincidence.
"A couple more hours," Ryan said, answering the question about the house. "The electronics guys are there now, setting up the security and scrambler radios."
Laurey glanced from Ryan back to de los Reyes in time to see the chief nod. She had noticed, after a while, that the question of who was behind the attempts on Gage's life never came up. Even when she had given her statement and done what the officer had called an Identikit, which produced a good likeness of the man she'd seen in the white car, it had seemed almost incidental, as if they knew that man wasn't the real culprit. When she'd heard the shell casings were the same size as in the first shooting, she'd asked about a direct connection, but they'd avoided a direct answer. She supposed it could be that they were reluctant to talk about it in front of her, a civilian, but the impression she got was that it didn't come up because they all knew who was behind it. They all knew who wanted him dead, and probably why.
That it was so apparent to them without discussion made her realize that they must live with this kind of thing every day, that they went through every hour of their lives knowing that there was probably somebody out there who would just as soon see them dead.
And sometimes, it seemed, discovering that there was somebody out there unwilling to wait, somebody ready to hasten things along.
She stifled a shiver, glad that Chief de los Reyes was a strong-willed man.
"That'll work out," Kit put in as she hung up the phone and walked back to her chair, dropping a yellow legal pad on the table in front of her. "The newspaper will have a truck parked and ready by then."
GAGE BUTLER'S RECKONING Page 12
