by Leigh, Jo
He looked at the photo, and his face changed. Softened. He climbed down and took it from her. “A guy I used to know.”
“Someone important.”
Vince nodded. “He’s the reason I became a cop.”
“Following in his footsteps?”
“Nah. He was an ex-junkie. He’d spent about thirty years behind bars.”
“How did you meet him?”
“He shared a cell with my father.”
Chapter 9
Vince looked once more at the picture of Jessie. Sometimes he missed the old man with a vengeance. Unlike his father, Jessie had written to him every week after that first time they’d met. He’d encouraged him to keep up his grades, to try to excel at everything he did. But mostly he’d kept hammering home that Vince wasn’t destined to become a man like his father.
“Is your father still alive?” Kate asked.
“Nope. He died in jail three years ago. No one was particularly sorry to see him go.”
“That must have been very difficult for you and your mother.”
“We did okay. My old man, he had a mean streak in him. He was better at using his fists than most people were, and there weren’t many who cared to go up against him.”
“He hit you?”
“Hell, yeah. All the time. It was a relief when they sent him up that last time.”
“How did he feel about you becoming a cop?”
“Pissed. Then he asked if I could get him a deal. Crazy sonofabitch.”
“So your mother raised you by herself.”
“She and Jessie, but I didn’t see him all that often. Hell, I got into college, I joined the force. I have no regrets.”
“Except that now you’re quitting.”
“I’ve done my time.” He climbed back on the ladder, but only after putting the picture on the mantel. He had an old frame at his apartment that was just the right size. “What about you? Any jailbirds? Heroin addicts?”
She laughed. “Nope, sorry. Do-gooders from the word go.”
“Oh?”
“My father’s a lawyer for the ACLU. My mother works for the American Cancer Society.”
“Holy crap. What did they want you to be? Glinda the Good Witch?”
“Something like that.”
He heard the shift in her tone that told him she’d realized they’d gotten a little too close to the bone. “But you did go to college.”
“Yep. Graduated, too. But I’m not going to tell you where.”
“Why, you think I want to look up your transcripts?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Kate, you wound me to the quick.”
“I just call ’em like I see ’em.”
“Fair enough.” He finished clearing the top shelf and wondered if he was supposed to dust or something. Screw it. A potential buyer would have to climb up here to see the shelf, and if they were that anal they didn’t deserve this house anyway.
As he started on the second shelf, it occurred to him that he’d had no hesitation telling Kate about his father. Mostly, he didn’t talk about his childhood. Odd. But maybe not. Maybe it was easy to tell her because he knew she’d be gone, out of his life, one way or another. Which was a damn shame. He really liked her, despite everything.
“Will you miss it?” she asked.
“What?”
“Being a detective. It clearly means a lot to you.”
“Past tense. It did.”
“What changed?”
“I probably should have gotten out of the gang unit a long time ago. It’s the toughest detail of all. Worse than homicide. It’s all so senseless. So many kids killing each other.”
“Tell me about Tim,” she said.
He took in a deep breath before he handed her another stack of books. “He was a lot like Jessie, only without the heroin. Tim grew up in downtown L.A. His mother was a strawberry. You know what that is?”
“A crack addict who prostitutes for drugs, right?”
“Yep. He never knew who his father was. He was born addicted, but the county didn’t take him away from his mother. Somehow he made it all the way through high school. He was in a gang, too.”
“How did he get out?”
“All his friends were killed. Every last one. So he made up his mind to stop. To help other kids stop. It wasn’t easy.”
“I can imagine.”
“No,” he said, leaning on the ladder. “I don’t think you can.”
Kate stood and looked up at him. “He must have been an exceptional man.”
Vince nodded. “One of the best. He risked his life every day. Lived below the poverty line just so he could keep working with these kids. He raised hundreds of thousands of dollars, but every penny went into Purchase House. You should have seen him work a room. It was something to behold.”
She smiled, and when she did that her whole face lit up. All the puffiness from her crying jag had gone, leaving her as fresh and pretty as the day he’d first seen her. He felt a stirring inside, the want of her just under his skin.
“So you met him on the job?”
“Yep. He came to me when I’d arrested one of his kids. Not his own child, I mean one of the kids he looked after.”
“What had he done?”
“Broken into a grocery store. I figured it was for drug money, but Tim convinced me that it wasn’t that way. The kid needed money for medicine for his sister. I checked it out and found out he was telling the truth. We worked something out.”
“What’s going to happen to his kids now?”
“I don’t know.” He climbed down and wiped his hands on his T-shirt. “I have to make a phone call. Why don’t we take a break.”
“Sure,” she said, looking at him carefully. “Whatever you want.”
He left her in the living room while he went to the kitchen. After pouring himself another cup of coffee, he got out his cell and called Jeff.
“What’s happening, my man?”
Jeff didn’t respond immediately, which could mean the Captain was in range, or that there was bad news. Vince hoped for the former.
“Baker’s been here.”
“Oh?”
“He’s pressing the lawsuit. He wants you gone, Vince, and he’s really sticking it to Emerson.”
Vince took a sip of coffee. “I don’t care about that. What’s going on with the investigation?”
“You don’t…Vince, I’m not kidding. The Captain might not have any choice about this.”
“It’s okay, don’t sweat it. Now come on. Has there been any progress on the case?”
“No. Nothing. No one’s talking. They’re too busy killing each other. It’s bad out there, buddy. And there’s a lot of collateral damage.”
“Shit. I figured someone would have taken credit for the murder by now.”
“There’s more,” Jeff said, lowering his voice.
“What?”
“You know that crap he was saying about Tim? About the drug connection?”
“Yeah. Total bullshit.”
“I know, but Baker claims he’s got evidence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“I don’t know. He’s not saying. The story is supposed to run, starting on Friday.”
Vince cursed, visions of strangling Baker with his own microphone cord swimming in his head. “Aren’t you friends with that copy editor at the Times?”
“Friends? I wouldn’t go that far.”
“See what you can dig up there, will ya? I need to know what that prick thinks he’s got on Tim. Before the story runs.”
“I’ll try. Any luck with your lady?”
“Nope. She’s a hard nut to crack. I’m not through trying yet, though.”
“Good luck. And keep in touch, huh?”
“Will do.”
He hung up, his thoughts on Baker and his insane idea about Tim. The man had despised drugs. The reporter was so off base that it was worrisome. Someone was giving him bad intel, bu
t why? Who would stand to gain if Tim’s legacy were destroyed? It just didn’t make sense. His murder—that at least made some horrible sense. Without Tim, the gangs were in charge, and no one in their hood got gone. It was a control issue. And gangs were nothing if not about control.
But to paint Tim as a drug dealer, now that was perverse. It made Vince sick to his stomach, and it gave him a whole new agenda: find out who killed Tim first, then find out who was behind these lies. And if Baker happened to get humiliated, or even, say, fired in the process, so much the better.
* * * * *
Kate closed the door to the small bedroom and dumped the fresh sheets on the dresser. It felt good to strip the bed. She’d have preferred going for a run, but she’d take what she could get.
She’d been so tempted to take one of those books. Oh, man, to curl up in a big, comfy chair with some tea and cookies and a thick historical novel. She sighed and punched the pillow before she put the case on. She thought about the ledgers waiting for her, but they would have to wait until she was at Cade’s.
She put on the clean sheets, then the comforter, and gathered the dirty sheets for the washer. But as she headed for the door, her throat tightened again. Tears were right there, a blink away, and it was crazy because there was nothing wrong. All she had to do was wait for tomorrow night, and all this would be over. She’d be on her way to Colorado, where no one knew her. She wouldn’t have to worry about testifying or hurting Vince. He’d go on and find those Asian killers, she felt sure he would. And then…
And then. She’d still be living a lie. She still wouldn’t be able to talk to her mother. Or go to a club or on a date.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped the sheets. Her energy drained, all she wanted to do was lie down, go to sleep and wake up when the world made sense again. Nothing was fair or right. The bad guys won all the time, and the good guys got mowed down in hotel rooms by teenagers with no hope. The only good thing that had happened to her in such a long time was that she’d been able to escape, for a little while at least, last night.
She ran her hand over the faded flower bedspread, then put her head down on the nearest pillow. She took the other one and pulled it to her chest, hugging it tight.
The truth was, she liked Vince. A lot. More than anyone she’d met in a long, long time. If things had been different, she’d have pursued a relationship with him. Although she didn’t quite believe he was going to give up police work, she would have liked to see what he’d do next. He was a good man, with good priorities, and the way he’d made love to her…
She rocked on the bed, willing herself not to cry. She shouldn’t have tears. They didn’t do anybody a damn bit of good. She’d learned that from her soldiers, among other lessons. Like not leaving anything behind. Like keeping herself separate.
It hadn’t been smart, telling Vince about her folks. She should have just stayed in the bedroom until her escape. But it was so against her nature.
Back in her life, she’d been a very outgoing person. She loved meeting new people, learning about different cultures. Kosovo had been a fascinating experience for her, and she’d developed a deep affection for the people she’d met there. She wanted to tell Vince about it. Hell, she wanted to tell him about everything. If he wasn’t so very determined to get her testimony, she might have. But it was clear that he’d never see that her silence was just as important as getting Tim’s killers.
With her eyes closed and the softness of the pillow in her arms she turned her thoughts from the overwhelming sadness of it all to the little spots of light. Like being able to cook with fresh ingredients on a decent stove. Like sleeping in a warm bed. Or not sleeping at all.
He was right up there with the best kissers on the planet. No, she hadn’t tried all the men, but she’d kissed her fair share, and Vince was definitely number one. Funny, back home, before she’d gone overseas, she’d never have dreamed of sleeping with a guy unless they were serious. But then her whole life had become serious as hell, and, while she didn’t give it away, she’d taken comfort where she could. Also funny, but the others, and there’d been only three including Nate, hadn’t affected her like this. There’d been no regrets at all. But she was sorry she’d slept with Vince. Sorry she’d listened to his stories. Sorry for the whole damn mess.
She needed to forget his touch, his kiss, the way he’d run his hands over her body. It would just make her angry and then she’d start crying, which simply wouldn’t do.
Instead she should focus on her job. Without the paper trail, it would be very difficult to convict the bastards, and, like Vince, she was all about putting the pricks behind bars. Damn it.
She sat up, tossing the pillow to the head of the bed. Vince wasn’t such a goddamned special guy. He was simply there. That was it. She’d been cut off from normal interactions for too long, which made him appear to be Mr. Wonderful, when, in fact, he was just a cop. A relentless cop who’d do anything he had to, to get the information he needed.
He hadn’t denied that he’d slept with her to get her to talk, right? So why wasn’t she pissed about that? He’d used her. Okay, she’d used him, too, but that wasn’t the point. She’d only known him a few days, so how could she even think she liked him?
She picked up the dirty sheets once more and headed to the laundry room. Vince was back at the bookshelf, but she wasn’t going to go there. What did she care how he packed? She’d be gone tomorrow.
Colorado was nice. She’d been there once as a kid, and it had been so beautiful. And, though she didn’t know Cade well, he was a pleasant enough guy. A sharpshooter. Talk about feeling safe.
Yeah, Colorado would be perfect. She’d find herself an innocuous job, and at night she’d whip through those ledgers. She’d been trained well, so she knew she could put together an ironclad case as long as all the paperwork was there. If it wasn’t, at least she’d know what to ask for when she contacted Branislav again.
She poured the detergent and the powdered bleach, then put the sheets in the washer. It was an old machine, but she wasn’t in a laundromat and it wasn’t the middle of the night, and she didn’t have to keep looking out the window, terrified that she’d be shot and left to die on some filthy floor. Oh, yeah, she was livin’ large.
“What’s so funny?”
She whipped around, startled at Vince’s voice. “What?”
“You were laughing.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“I heard you.”
“Well, it was nothing.”
He seemed skeptical. “If you’d called me, I would have helped with the bed.”
The washer kicked on. “I can change sheets,” she said. The room was too small for him to be so close. She folded her arms over her chest, wishing he’d go back to packing.
He smiled at her, but it wasn’t a regular smile. This was more the way a person would smile at a nutcase, to make them not go off the deep end. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”
He nodded. “I kept you up pretty late last night. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m a big girl. I could have kicked you out anytime.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You could have. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Don’t you have to pack? Because I have things to do, too. Like look for a job.”
“We don’t have a newspaper.”
“I brought my own.”
“Ah. Okay then. I don’t want to interrupt the job search.”
He might have said he didn’t want to interrupt, but he didn’t back off. Standing in the middle of the door like that? He was trying to start something, she just knew it. And where was her training? She didn’t get flustered. Not anymore. She was tough and cool, and, dammit, she knew hand-to-hand.
“Kate?”
She jerked again, which pissed her off even more. Rather than answering him, she decided to leave. Go to the bedroom and lock the door. It was the only solution
.
Only, he didn’t move. Not when she was right in front of him, and not when she tried to pass. What he did instead was touch her arm. One hand, gently laid.
The second it happened, she burst into tears. Totally without warning, completely without provocation. Big sobs, giant tears, legs wobbly, hands trembling, it was all she could do not to slide down on the linoleum in a giant puddle.
In fact, she would have, but Vince pulled her into his arms and held on tight. She leaned on him and tucked her head into the curve of his neck and wept like a baby. It was worse than last night because he was right there, watching, rocking her, whispering, “Shh, it’s okay,” but it wasn’t okay. She didn’t even know why she was having this meltdown, why it felt so necessary to hang on to him, to feel his hard body. Or why she couldn’t stop.
She hurt in every kind of way. And the sobbing went on and on—and loud, even with the washing machine going. He rubbed her back, but that didn’t stop her either, so she tried to break away, only he wouldn’t let go.
He said her name, over and over, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want him to see her, and she struggled, but even that didn’t get him to ease his grip.
It was only when he kissed her, when his lips pressed hers hard, when his tongue slipped inside her, when his palm went to the back of her head, that she stopped.
She wasn’t sure if this was worse, though. Holding on to him so tightly she knew he’d have bruises. Kissing him back with a desperation that was completely pathetic. Praying that he’d take her back to the little bedroom and make love to her until the whole universe disappeared.
Chapter 10
Vince pulled back, not because he wanted to but because he had to. The need he had for her was at odds with what he needed her for, and that wasn’t good at all. Her pain cut his thinking to shreds so that all that mattered was to take away the hurt. “Who did this to you?” he whispered. “What happened?”
She shook her head, then broke free with a jerk. She started out of the room, but he couldn’t let her go—he grabbed her again, and she spun around, shoved him away, then tried another escape.
