Just as Gabe was about to close the door, Jo stepped in. “What are you doing?”
“Getting information. You staying or going?”
A spark lit her blue eyes and burned right into Gabe. That’s my girl.
“Oh, I’m staying.”
He shut the door behind her and flipped the open sign to closed.
An older man, with thick gray hair and saggy skin came from a room off the hallway where the woman had just disappeared. “Can I help you?”
You sure can, asshole. Gabe grabbed Jo’s elbow and dragged her to where the man stood. “You know this woman?”
The man concentrated on Jo. “No.”
“Take a better look,” Gabe said. “I think you do.”
The man looked again. “No.”
Gabe got close enough to the old guy to crowd him. “You sure? Because I think you sent her investigator to a building this morning to buy a fake watch. I think you sent them into that building, had them locked in and the place set on fire. That’s what I think.” He turned to Jo. “How about you?”
She nodded. “Yep. I’d bet he set the whole thing up.”
“Yeah, and lucky for him you two didn’t burn up in that place. Then he’d be looking at a double murder charge. Not to mention arson.”
“Don’t forget the conspiracy charges.”
Gabe snapped his fingers. “Right. I forgot about those.” He turned back to the old man whose veins bulged in his forehead. “At the very least, you’re looking at attempted murder. All roads point to you, pal. You’re the one who sent them into that building.”
The old man’s eyes bounced all over the place. Then he shook his head. At first slowly, then as the panic started to build, with more force.
“You wanna tell me anything?” Gabe said. “Or do we lock you up for attempted murder? Ever been in prison? How do you feel about being gang raped in the shower?”
“No,” the old man said.
Gabe cocked his head. “No, what?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“But you knew?”
Silence.
The woman rushed into the front of the store waving her arms. She was younger than the old man, but her eyes were frantic and her face was tight. She might have aged thirty years in the last five minutes. “They told us to send her there.”
Now they were getting somewhere. Jo touched his arm and came up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Mirandize them.”
Her words penetrated and he ran some options. What he was doing could get him into a shitload of trouble. Sure, he could say they were simply having a conversation and no, he was not harassing them, but the one thing he always wanted to be was a good cop. And he wasn’t sure this made him a good cop.
He didn’t regret it because Jo almost got killed, but wanting to protect those he cared about couldn’t be intermingled with his job. That was where the lines blurred, and he’d spent years trying to stay clear of blurry lines.
He had to remove himself from this equation. “Here’s what we’ll do, folks. I’ll get a detective down here to talk to you. You’re gonna tell those detectives everything you know about counterfeit merchandise, a guy named Kiki and that building my friend here almost lost her life in. In exchange, I’ll do what I can to keep you out of prison.”
—:—
Jo watched Tom walk into the conference room at police headquarters and drop a manila file folder on the table. He took the seat at the end, rubbed the heels of both his hands into his eyes and let out a breath that must have weighed thirty pounds.
She glanced across the table at Gabe. His shoulders were back and rigid in a way she didn’t see all that often. The look of a man waiting to get his butt handed to him by his superior.
Well, she wouldn’t let that happen. Even if it cost her a spot on the task force, she wouldn’t let him take the plunge alone.
Eventually, Tom dropped his hands and focused on Gabe. “I don’t know what you were thinking going into that store.”
She slid a sideways glance at Gabe. Please stay silent.
“You could have blown this whole thing to hell.”
Gabe jerked his head. “I know, sir. Sorry.”
“Fortunately, you took your head out of your ass and got a detective down there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tom shifted to Jo. “You okay?”
“Yes. Fine. Thank you. And I’m sorry. I should have told Sherry to wait. I got ahead of myself.”
“Yeah, you did. And the mayor isn’t happy.” He turned back to Gabe. “With either of you. We’ll do damage control on that later.”
“Later?” Gabe asked.
“Yes. Later. Now, we’re about to execute a warrant on a building and separate private residence in Queens.”
Gabe sat a little straighter and Jo inched forward. This could be it.
The whale.
“What did the man from the store say?”
Tom flipped open the file and passed Gabe a photo. “He gave us a name. Donald Martinson. Apparently Mr. Martinson owns half the storefronts on Tower Street. His name isn’t on the deeds though. He’s the money guy. Kiki runs the day to day. The vendors pay little rent, but they are forced to sell the counterfeit items Martinson smuggles into the States. According to our witness, the smuggled items are kept in the location where the warrant will be executed.”
Gabe handed Jo the photo. Looked like a driver’s license photo showing Donald Martinson to be in his mid-thirties. His face held the fullness of someone carrying an extra thirty pounds. Jo studied his half-crooked smile, dark eyes and hair. The tilt of his left eyebrow. All of it, she committed to memory.
This was the person running counterfeit goods through Tower Street.
And they were about to nail his ass.
“So,” Tom said to Gabe. “You need to get briefed. We’ll do the hits simultaneously. One on Martinson’s house and one on the building where the stuff is stored. Jo, I’ll let you on-scene at Martinson’s house, but you stay across the street. Got it?”
She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
“And, look, don’t screw with me on this. The only reason I’m even letting you on-scene is because the mayor wants a photo op.”
Wow. She’d been relegated to photo-op duty. She supposed, after her flagrant lack of following orders, she should be grateful.
Tom stood. “Let’s go bust this guy.”
—:—
Being a good little girl, Jo stood on the sidewalk one house down and across the street from Donald Martinson’s two-story home while ESU entered the residence. The afternoon sun shifted and she moved with it to absorb the miniscule heat it offered.
A couple of hours ago she’d been trapped in a burning building, yet, she still craved heat. Considering Gabe’s attitude toward her, the temperature outside wasn’t the only thing dropping. Her own fault. Still, faced with the same set of circumstances, she wouldn’t let Sherry, or any of her investigators go on an assignment like that alone.
She understood this about herself and Gabe needed to adjust. Simple as that.
A gust of wind whipped at her hair and she tucked a few loose strands back while she studied Martinson’s home. For a smuggler, she expected something more lavish and less, well, homey. What she hadn’t expected was beige aluminum siding and small windows. This home needed children playing in the patch of yard or someone sitting on the stoop at night chatting with a neighbor. Considering the neighbor’s house was barely fifteen feet away, that would be easy.
A man in track pants and a gray wool jacket sidled up next to her. “What’s going on?”
This happened a lot. Since she generally stood on the street waiting for the all clear, someone inevitably asked her what the deal was. In a quiet, residential neighborhood like this, the number of rubberneckers increased, simply because people wanted to know why ESU was on their street. The P.D. had barricaded the area and onlookers were forced outside the restricted area.
She glanced at the guy. H
e wore sunglasses and a black skull cap. His face was lean, but sort of round and his dark hair stuck out of the hat at the neckline.
Something about him was familiar, but with all the people she’d met, he could be anyone.
“I don’t know,” she said, responding to his question. Only a partial lie because, at this very second, she had no idea what was taking so long inside that house.
She caught a flash of white from the corner of her eye and shifted. A news van had just pulled around the corner. Within minutes there would be more. If she knew the mayor like she thought she did, he’d had someone leak this bust. Thus, why she was allowed on-scene for a photo opportunity.
Politics.
“Wow. Newspeople,” the guy said.
Jo rocked forward on her toes. The house wasn’t that big, what was the holdup? Or maybe she was antsy and wanted to see Donald Martinson in handcuffs. Who knew if he was even home? “There will probably be more newspeople. They’re like ants. See one and there’s usually more to follow. Do you live on the block?”
“Yeah.” He pointed to the opposite end of the street. “Down there.”
“Do you know the people who live in this house?”
“Nah.”
Jo nodded, but her attention was on the front door where Gabe had just exited the home. Every ounce of her yearned to step forward, but she remained in her spot, exactly where he’d told her to be.
It completely sucked.
He marched over and removed his helmet. “He’s not home.”
Jo closed her eyes. Could have guessed. Anytime she wanted something this bad, she had to work hard, then a little harder for it. They’d get him. It would just take longer. She opened her eyes. “Okay. What now?”
In Gabe’s hand was a silver picture frame. “This is our guy. According to his wife, he’s lost weight since his DMV picture was taken.”
Jo looked at the photo and a spark of recognition singed her. Son of a gun. She spun sideways. The man who’d been chatting her up had disappeared.
Gone.
She slapped her hands on top of her head, bashing herself with the hard cast. “Ouch.”
Gabe rubbed the spot for her. “Honey, be careful.”
“That S.O.B.”
“What?”
“He was just here.”
Gabe followed her gaze. “Who?”
“Martinson. He must have recognized me and started a conversation. The weasel is taunting me.”
Gabe turned and surveyed the area, his eyes sweeping left and right. “You see him anywhere? What’s he wearing?”
She rattled off a description while scanning her surroundings. “I can’t believe it.”
A uniformed cop walked by and Gabe stopped him. “Start looking for a guy with a gray wool zip-up jacket. Black skull cap and sunglasses.”
The cop nodded and stalked off. Gabe got on his radio to alert his team and Jo propped her hands on her hips, cursing her rotten luck. He’d been right in front of her. Leave it to her to be chasing a guy on a diet.
She pulled her phone from her pocket just as Gabe finished on his radio. “Who’re you calling?”
“Sherry. I want to give her an updated description.”
“I’ve got cops canvassing. He’s probably in the wind now.” He shrugged. “Never know. Gotta give him credit for having a set of stones.”
“I give him credit for nothing. He’s a thief. And a weasel.”
“Yeah, well, that thief and weasel just played us.”
Chapter Eleven
Jo stood in her kitchen with the palm of her unbroken hand pressed into the countertop. If only the cold granite would soothe the boiling under her skin. At this rate, her veins would disintegrate.
So. Incredibly. Pissed.
Donald Martinson, weasel extraordinaire, was now on her list. She had to find him. Had to. This went beyond counterfeit goods.
This was a matter of pride.
And she had plenty of it. Not only had Martinson played her, she’d missed Kiki getting arrested at the other building ESU had raided. At least they’d gotten one of them. That fact was only a small bit of salve on her singed ego.
Someone knocked lightly on her door. Gabe. And what was that? Suddenly he had a recognizable knock? Next he’d be moving in.
Right.
Making matters worse, she didn’t exactly take her time getting to the door. Getting attached to him was a bad idea. One she should have considered before it actually happened. She checked the peephole and there he was, Mr. August, in all his glory. She swung the door open. The smell of his soap, clean and pure, reached her and she assumed he’d recently showered after this miserably long day. She herself had spent a good twenty minutes scrubbing her skin, yet the smell of a burning building still lingered.
Whether it was her imagination working her over, she couldn’t be sure, but she knew she’d never forget the terror involved in being trapped in an inferno.
Donald Martinson, weasel extraordinaire.
“Hey,” Gabe said, stepping across the threshold in his spiffy clean jeans and a green sweater.
How the man never wore a jacket and didn’t freeze, she couldn’t fathom. Freak of nature. That’s what he was. Mr. August. The hottest month.
“Hi. Everything okay?”
He dropped onto the couch and stretched his massive body into it. A sight she was getting used to seeing and hardly minded.
“Aside from the extra holes the mayor drilled into me, I’m good.”
Jo winced. “Sorry.”
“The good news is, I took the bullet—make that bullets—for both of us, so you’re off the hook.”
She perched across from him on the coffee table. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I was there and he was pissed. Now we’re done. Our task force hauling in close to a million dollars in counterfeit goods this week is saving us. He might have a bug up his ass, but it’s a happy bug.”
Jo snorted. Shark Gabe grinned at her. She fanned herself. “Now what?”
He sat up and their knees bumped. “We hunt down Martinson. We’re chatting with Kiki, but he’s not talking yet. Otherwise, the task force has been successful. We continue to do what we’ve been doing. With the exception of you going on hits. After the fire today, the mayor doesn’t want to hear jack about that.”
“I figured. It’s reasonable.”
He backed away. “Pardon?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll admit it’s dangerous. That’s all you’re getting from me, Sergeant, so lay off.”
He grabbed her good hand and pulled her onto his lap. “That’s all I’m getting? Really? I saved you from a burning building and came all the way to Jersey.”
When he started nibbling on her shoulder, she reconsidered. “Jersey isn’t that far. And you are a civil servant.” More nibbling. Definitely hot in here. “Well, maybe that’s not all you’re getting. If you’re nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you.”
“Liar.”
The nibbling turned into kisses trailing up her neck. Maybe she’d crack the window. Get some fresh air.
“Hot flash?” he cracked.
“Big one.” She shoved him away. “Stop. For one second. Maybe two. I can’t think.”
“So don’t think. It’s been a rough day. Let’s burn off steam by creating new and exciting sexual positions.”
Typical man, but oh, how easy that would be. Aside from the fact that she was bone tired, they needed to figure out just what they were doing with each other.
She scooted from his lap and went back to the coffee table.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “I feel like a we-have-to-talk talk is coming. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate talking?”
“Have I ever mentioned that I don’t care how much you hate talking?”
He blew air through his lips and slouched back. “Go ahead. Let’s get it over with.”
“We need to decide where we’re going. As much as we can, anyway. Both of our ca
reers are on the line. Are you willing to risk that?”
He folded his arms. Sergeant Townsend body language for I can kill you. “And if I said I might be?”
Wow. In her mind, she happy danced. He’d blow his career for her? For good sex?
“Before you say anything,” he said. “It’s not about the sex. Wait. That’s a lie. It is about the sex, but it’s also about what happens with the sex. I blew it in a big way today. If I weren’t emotionally involved, I never would have left the scene of the fire to talk to that vendor. Never. The fact that I’m invested, tells me we shouldn’t throw whatever this is away.”
“But the mayor—”
“To hell with him. He exacted his pound of flesh today. Outside of the tantrum, he’s a happy guy. He’s busy telling the media how exceptional his task force is. Which, of course, he’s taking full credit for.”
Nothing surprising. The mayor was a politician and a master of spin. Mr. August, however, was full of surprises. Like his emotional investment. An investment that made the girlie-girl inside Jo a little giddy.
The grown woman, though? She had major problems with this risk. She glanced up at him, the dark hair and eyes, the strength and protectiveness and—sigh—the girl was about to flip the grown woman off.
“You’re not helping,” Jo said. “I’m trying to be rational.”
He laughed. “And I’m trying to get laid.”
She threw her hands up. “This is serious and you’re screwing around.”
“Actually, I’m not screwing around, which is the whole point because I’d like to be screwing around. See how that works?”
Hopeless.
“Look, Jo, I’m sorry for screaming at you today. That was wrong. And I know this is freaking you out. It’s freaking me out too. For the first time, I’m on my boss’s radar for all the wrong reasons. Whether I understand it or not, I’m in this. We’re in this. We might as well see what happens. If we go down in flames, then we’ve got problems and one of us will have to make a career decision.”
“Or the decision will be made for us.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “When have you ever been afraid to break a rule? For now, we’re okay and for once, I don’t mind being emotionally invested. Why not have some fun?”
The Chase Page 10
