When he walked in, it was four o’clock in the morning. He moved as quietly as possible, getting undressed. But once he lay in bed, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about Midnight. He thought about the scene with Teddy, and it made his blood start to pump again, realizing how close he had come. His body even now protested the denial of what it had wanted so badly for a few intense minutes. Thinking about sex, his mind moved directly to thoughts of Midnight. The way she looked when she wore one of his shirts and nothing else, the way she looked during their lovemaking. Her voice, her hands on his skin and entwined in his hair. Without stopping to think, he reached over and picked up the phone. He dialed their number. There was no answer, and he hung up. After a few minutes he picked up the phone again and dialed the number for Midnight’s house. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Yes?” She sounded a little out of it, but not sleepy. Rick closed his eyes at the sound of her voice—it made him ache all over again.
“Midnight,” he said, his voice husky from the barely contained lust he felt. He knew it was a combination of frustration and alcohol, but he didn’t care.
“What do you want?” she said, her voice taking on an edge.
“You,” he said simply, and heard her sharp intake of breath.
Midnight had heard the desire in his voice, and her body had responded automatically. She had to fight to hold on to her anger. “Don’t, Rick. Not now.”
“I can’t exactly do anything from here, can I?” he said wryly, but the ache in his voice hadn’t receded.
“Please,” Midnight breathed, closing her eyes against the tears that sprang to them. She knew she should hang up, but didn’t.
“Please what?” he said, his voice full of innuendo.
“Don’t, okay. Just don’t.” It was obvious to him that she was trying desperately to hold on to her control.
“Don’t what?” he asked softly. “Don’t talk to you, don’t think about you… don’t think about us, together?” He sounded more intense with each word, and Midnight found herself shaking.
She was silent for a long moment, fighting to get control of her emotions. “Rick, I—”
“That’s it,” Rick said, his voice deep.
“That’s what?”
“The way you say my name when you want me—that’s what has me hooked. No one else does that to me, just you.” His voice held all the pent-up passion and need that his body had been awoken to earlier that evening.
“Does what to you?” Midnight asked, turning things around on him.
“Jesus,” Rick said, closing his eyes. “I miss you so much, your body, your lips—everythin’.”
“But my body particularly at this moment,” she said knowingly.
“God, yes. I want you, like no one else I’ve ever wanted.”
“Do you?” she said, close to regaining her composure. Rick could sense it, and he didn’t want it to happen, but he had no idea how to stop it. If he’d been there in front of her, he’d have been able to make her lose her self-control. He cursed the miles between them, and cursed himself for putting them there.
“Midnight…”
“Richard,” she said, purposely using his full name. He felt the jab from five thousand miles away.
“Damn it, don’t do that,” he said, anger starting to creep in.
“Use your name? Why not?” She sounded perfectly normal now.
“You know what I mean. By the way, I got your package today.”
“Oh, good,” Midnight said lightly. “I had it insured, in case you were worried.”
“I wasn’t.” Midnight was silent. “Why?” he asked, hurt now.
“It doesn’t mean anything anymore, Rick. It’s just a ring now. I didn’t want it on my finger, and I didn’t want it in my house.” He could almost see her shrug. “I figured your family’d want it back.”
“I want it back,” Rick said, his voice strong and sure. “On your finger.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Midnight said, then hung up.
Rick lay back, looking up at the ceiling as he listened to the hum of the dial tone. He knew his phone call had accomplished nothing. He had hoped to sweet-talk her into coming to England so they could have some time together, or something. But now they were even farther away from each other than before.
The next morning, Rick talked to his father about the divorce papers Midnight had filed. Robert told him that even if Rick contested the divorce, if Midnight acquiesced to his demands, in less than five months their marriage would be over. It made Rick almost sick to think about it. Over the next few days, his heart hardened into stone. He spent time with Mikeyla during the days and went out at night. He drank and ran around. He wasn’t the same gregarious person he had always been, but women were attracted to him just the same. He always stopped just short of sleeping with them, as if crossing that final line would be the real end to his marriage.
Chapter 4
Four days after her encounter with the assistant chief, Midnight found herself in yet another meeting with him. Greg Dearborn had taken to calling himself the acting chief. He was a slick politician, and she hated his guts. Even now, he was looking at her like she was some kind of prize.
“Look, Dearborn,” she said tiredly.
“Chief.”
“You aren’t the chief.”
“For what you need, I am,” he said, leering at her.
Midnight narrowed her eyes at him. “I’d watch your step if I were you, sir. The press just loves sexual harassment cases these days.”
“Am I harassing you, Lieutenant?” Dearborn said, feigning a look of surprise.
“Just give me the approval I need and let me get out of here.” Midnight wished idly that she had her baton. She’d love to accidentally cave his skull in for him.
“In a hurry, are we?”
“Look.” Midnight stood. He watched her every movement. “Just call one of my people when you have my answer, okay?” She turned and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
Greg Dearborn sat staring at the space where she’d been. She was one hot-looking woman, and he’d be very happy to make her a captain—if she’d make him happy. As his secretary tapped on his door, he schooled his features, feigning pleasant, business-like manners.
Greg Dearborn had come up through the ranks stepping on anyone that got in his way. He was what would be considered an old-time cop. He thought women didn’t belong in the business; he basically thought women belonged in one place, and that was under a man. Literally. But he was very good at hiding his opinions and playing the game. That’s how he’d made it all the way to assistant chief. And now he had his eye on the chief’s position—if the old coot would just die, it would make things easier. Dearborn had high aspirations; he expected to make governor within the next fifteen years, and being the chief of the San Diego Police Department was going to get him there.
He’d disliked Midnight Chevalier’s unit for a long time, since they seemed to receive much more notoriety than his own unit—vice. For many years, after the advent of television shows like Miami Vice, his team had received a lot of critical acclaim. But then this broad from a gang had made a lot of noise and turned a lot of heads—with her ass, Greg figured. For years now, his unit had been losing money while Midnight’s had gotten more and more. When he’d made assistant chief two years before, he had tried to tell the chief that Lieutenant Chevalier had outlived her usefulness, that she wasn’t producing as many results as she had before. The chief had been adamant about upgrading Midnight’s budget each year, saying that even if her results had slowed ever so slightly, the notoriety that her unit was bringing to the department was invaluable.
Greg Dearborn had set his sights on Midnight Chevalier. He had two goals where she was concerned—he wanted to nail her, and then he wanted to fire her.
Back in her office, Midnight threw herself down in her chair and put her booted feet up on the desk.
“Good news?” Joe asked
, standing in her doorway.
“That asshole! Now he’s fucking with requests that used to get rubber-stamped.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, Joe. I may kill him if he keeps it up.”
“Do it,” Joe said, his voice serious. “I’ll testify on your behalf.”
Midnight grinned at him, closing her eyes for a moment. She glanced past him out the door and saw Tiny talking to Jessica about a case he was working on. They seemed very comfortable together now. As she watched, Tiny put his hand on her leg and looked into her eyes, and Jessica smiled up at him.
“What’s the deal with Jess?” she said. “When’s she supposed to go home?”
Joe shrugged. “Tomorrow, I think, but I’m beginning to wonder if she’s thinkin’ about stayin’.”
Midnight looked at him, then out at Jessica again. “She’d be a great addition to the department.” She rolled her eyes. “Any other time, I’d be the first to make a recommendation, but I think my recommendation would fall on deaf ears right now. Hell, it might even keep her from getting hired.”
“She can apply,” Joe said, shrugging.
“Randy back at the academy today?” Midnight asked, seeing the slight look of loss in Joe’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, knowing what she was thinking.
“You liked having her around, didn’t you?” Joe nodded. “Yeah, but do you like the idea of her being a cop now?” Midnight continued, keeping her eyes on him.
“Ya know,” Joe said, looking surprised at his own thoughts, “I’m gettin’ used to it, and in a way we’re closer now, because she understands me better. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird, Joe. We cops are a different breed, and it takes other cops sometimes to understand us.”
“I guess.”
“Trust me,” Midnight said, looking weary.
“You gettin’ enough sleep?” he said, taking in her appearance.
“Probably not.”
“You talk to Rick again?” She had told him about Rick’s phone call four nights ago. Most of it, anyway.
“Hell no,” Midnight said, looking at him sharply. “I did talk to Anabelle though, and she let me talk to Keyla.” She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I miss her so much, Joe. I didn’t think I’d ever be dependent on such a little person before.”
Joe grinned at his partner, never having thought she would either. “Did Belle say anything about when they’d be sending her home?”
“No, I didn’t ask. I think I was afraid she’d tell me never.”
“She say anything about Rick?”
“I didn’t ask about him either—I think she got the hint.”
Joe nodded.
Later that day, Midnight was heading to the courthouse to pick up some warrants she’d applied for when her car phone rang.
“Yeah?” she said, hitting the button for hands-free.
“Midnight?” Phil Griffin said, glad to have gotten ahold of her.
“Griff! How’s it goin’?”
“It’s goin’ okay, Midnight. How’re you?”
“Oh, busy as ever.”
“Good, I like to hear that. I was worried about you for a while there.”
“I know, Griff, and I appreciate it. So what’s up?”
“Well, I got something here I think you should see,” Griff said, his voice taking on a funny tone.
“What is it?”
“Well, some of our VSU guys hit a house this morning, and the lead agent just brought some stuff in to me that they recovered. I thought you should see it.”
“Okay…” Midnight said, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She looked down at her watch. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
The receptionist at the BNE offices knew her and buzzed her in automatically, paging Phil to go back to his office. Midnight and Phil reached his door at the same time.
“Hey!” Griff said, reaching out to hug her. Midnight moved easily into his embrace. Griff let her go a few moments later and motioned for her to precede him into his office. Once he was seated behind his desked, he looked over at her. “So, how’re things at SDPD? I heard the chief had a heart attack—how is he?”
Midnight made a face. “He’s alright, I guess. Of course, I’m not exactly getting updates. The assistant’s too busy busting my chops to give me any important information.”
“Who’s the assistant chief right now?” Griff didn’t like what he heard in Midnight’s voice, and knew there was a lot more to it than what she had just said.
“Greg Dearborn. Ever heard of him?”
Griff thought for a few moments. “Nope. What’s he up to?”
Midnight didn’t answer for a long moment, but then she shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to get into interagency gossiping right now. Just suffice it to say, he’s making my life difficult at the moment.”
“Okay…” Griff wasn’t really satisfied with her answer, but he knew Midnight was the last person to ever complain about her own plight.
“So what’s this stuff you wanted me to see?” she asked.
Griff reached down and picked up a small box. He dropped it on the desk between them. Midnight reached over and gingerly picked up some of the papers it contained. She scanned the writing, narrowing her eyes as she realized what she was reading. She looked up at Griff sharply. “DMV printouts?” she said, her voice deathly serious. The one she held was on Spider.
Griff nodded. “Why do you think I wanted you to see it?”
Midnight looked at the sheet more closely. “This one’s old. Spider doesn’t live there anymore. But…” She trailed off as she thought about the possibilities. She didn’t like any of the thoughts that came back to her. “Shit,” she said, and Griff nodded, his expression very serious.
Later that day, Midnight and Joe went through all of the papers in the box Griff had given her. Much of it was basically junk—it was like they’d been searching through computer files with no results. Some of the papers contained a lot of machine language, as if someone had been trying to write a program or something.
There was a printout in the file for Midnight, and what bothered her was that it had her and Rick’s house listed as her address—that was more current than it should be. Joe had looked up at her sharply when she’d handed that printout to him, after reading the name and address on it. Midnight had returned the stare, her eyes very serious.
“What does all this mean?” she said, scrubbing her face tiredly.
“Who had this stuff?”
“A gang called Perros Locos,” Midnight replied, her accent perfect on the Spanish words.
“Which means what?”
“Crazy Dogs.”
Joe grinned. “Sounds more impressive in Spanish.”
Midnight laughed. “Yeah, it does.”
“Think we should talk to them?”
Midnight thought about it for a minute, but then shook her head. “Let BNE finish up their investigation first. I don’t want to tip them off that we have this stuff just yet.”
Joe nodded, always trusting her judgement on these things.
****
A week later, Jessica had indeed stayed in San Diego. She had even gone so far as to look for an apartment. Joe had told her he’d be happy to help her with deposits or whatever, or she could just keep staying with him and Randy. Jessica had smiled at him, but shaken her head. “I think you two need to be alone a little more right now.”
Joe had returned the smile. He knew she and Randy talked all the time. “Fine,” he said, shrugging.
Later that night, he and Randy were alone, since Tiny and Jessica were out on yet another date. They spent a quiet evening together, part of which was spent on the deck, watching the sun go down. Randy had made dinner and they took their time eating, enjoying each other’s company. Randy told him about her progress at the academy. They’d had another range shoot, and her score had been downright respectable. She’d learned a number of things from Joe. He’d taken her to the range wi
th him and taught her how to line up her shots, and how to keep the muzzle of the gun from jumping up every time she fired. It pleased her to no end that he cared enough about her career now to help her and teach her things that he had never imagined she’d ever need to learn. It was a different experience for Joe as well. He found that he enjoyed being able to talk to Randy about police work. It was almost fun to have someone to teach and talk to that would understand everything he talked about, or would try to.
They ended up staying up late, watching Braveheart, a three-hour movie, on HBO. They fell asleep fully clothed on top of the covers with the TV still on. They never heard the intruder.
****
Rick sat in a night club with Teddy and some of her friends. Teddy had not really forgiven him for walking out on her that first night, but she was determined to get him into bed now. Her friend Romi had been eyeing him too, and Teddy was busy trying to fend her off.
“So Teddy says you live in America?” said Romi, a dark-haired, dark-eyed Mexican girl, her voice sultry.
“Yes, I live and work there.”
“What do you do?” Romi asked suggestively.
“I’m a cop,” he said, deadpan.
Romi looked taken aback. “But your family—they have money, no?” She looked over at Teddy, as if trying to decide if her friend had lied to her.
“Yeah, my family does, but I don’t.” Rick was growing weary of playing these little games. He’d forgotten how tiring being with society women could be.
“So where in the States do you work?” Romi looked mildly interested.
“California, in San Diego.”
“Really? I just love San Diego. A lot of places to sunbathe and buy good dust.”
“Dust?” Rick eyed the woman, sure he knew what she was referring to.
“Cocaine, you know,” Romi said, elbowing him.
Rick didn’t even smile. “Yeah, I know.”
“You don’t work narcotics, do you?” Romi was suddenly aware that she might be saying something she shouldn’t.
Betrayals Stand (MidKnight Blue Book 5) Page 10
