Internal Affair

by Marie Ferrarella

  Patience’s interest immediately increased one hundredfold. He could hear it in her voice.

  “She?”

  Too late Patrick realized his mistake.

  Chapter 6

  “Your new partner’s a woman?”

  Patrick could almost hear the wheels turning in his sister’s head. “Temporarily.”

  “Temporarily?” He couldn’t tell if it was confusion or amusement in her voice. “You mean it’s a guy dressed as a woman? He’s undercover?”

  Served him right for opening his big mouth. Trouble was, around his family, he wasn’t as vigilant as he was with everyone else. “No, I mean that she’s my partner temporarily.”

  “Until you send her running for the hills and screaming,” Patience said.

  Patrick took another sip from the amber glass bottle before answering. “She doesn’t have to scream.”

  If he thought he’d closed the subject, he should have known better. Patience had only begun exploring. “What’s she like? Is she pretty?”

  He frowned as an image of Maggi came unbidden into his head. “That has nothing to do with it,” he fairly growled.

  “Then she is pretty.” Now she was grinning. He knew she was grinning. Damn, give Patience an inch and she constructed a regular road out of it. “On a scale of one to ten, what is she?”

  An eleven.

  The thought came out of nowhere and he shrugged it off as if it were some kind of killer bee buzzing around his head, looking for a tender spot to leave its stinger and die. So what if he noticed that McKenna was a step away from drop-dead gorgeous? He was a detective. He was supposed to notice things. Like the way McKenna’s eyebrows drew together every time he called her by her first two names.

  Or the way her mouth curved when she thought she was one jump ahead of him on something.

  He took a longer drink from his bottle, as if that could wash away the image.

  “A huge pain in the butt,” he answered Patience. “Not unlike a certain sister can be some of the time. Like now.”

  “I like her already. What’s her name?”

  That she professed to like McKenna sight unseen didn’t surprise him. Patience liked everyone. In his estimation, she was way too friendly. He worried about her. A lot.

  “Don’t get too attached,” he warned. “She’s not going to be around long enough for you to need to learn her name.”

  “Something you said?”

  If only. McKenna appeared to have the hide of a rhino. A definite contrast to her soft skin. He frowned. The beer was making him lax, leading his thoughts around in circles.

  “Patience, you know I work better alone.”

  “No,” she contradicted firmly, “you don’t. You only think you do.” A note of concern entered her voice. “You’ve got to stop thinking of yourself as a loner, Patrick.”

  “I am a loner.”

  They’d gone around about this before. It seemed to him that Patience refused to accept the fact that outside the family, he had no desire to meet anyone halfway.

  “You’re only a loner until the right woman comes along.”

  The conversation had taken a sharp turn. “Hey, hold it a second, how did this jump from being about work to my private life?”

  Patience sighed softly. “Patrick, you don’t have a life.”

  “That’s what makes it private.” He finished off his beer and thought about making dinner into a two-course meal by getting a second bottle. “Look, Patience, I’m dog tired and I feel like I’ve been chasing my own tail for a week—”

  “Wouldn’t have to do that if there was someone else to chase.”

  She was like an iron butterfly, soft but strong and determined. He wasn’t in the mood for this tonight. “Enough.”

  “Okay then. Uncle Andrew says to say hi.”

  “Hi,” he mumbled back, knowing there was more to come. With Andrew, there always was, but then, that was his way, and though words hadn’t been said to the effect, he loved his uncle, both his uncles, far more than he ever had his own father.

  “He also wants to know if you plan on showing up at his table ever again.”

  Well, that didn’t take long, Patrick thought. He eyed the distance between the sofa and the kitchen, wondering if the trip was really worth it. For two cents, he could just sack out here on the sofa and forget about the second beer—he was that tired.

  “I’ll be there when I’ll be there.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  He smiled to himself. “Good girl.” He paused. Maybe he was just tired, but he thought there’d been something in her voice, something he couldn’t place, ever since she’d called. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Same as always,” she told him cheerfully. “Up to my hips in dogs and cats and the occasional reptile.”

  His eyes battled to stay open, but he wasn’t completely convinced. She sounded a tad too cheerful. “But you’re okay.”

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  Like a small stiletto, guilt slid through him, making tiny slits. “I could drop by tonight.”

  “What, and have your death on my conscience? No thank you. You sound like you’re half-asleep already. Everything’s fine, Patrick. Get your rest. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He let out a long sigh. He was damn tired, but that didn’t negate his responsibility. His sister had been the recipient of some very unwanted attention by a man whose African Gray Parrot she’d successfully treated. When this admirer sent a dozen long-stemmed roses to her, she thought he was just grateful that she’d cured the bird, but other gifts followed even after she’d politely but firmly refused them. Was the man bothering her again?

  “As long as you’re sure everything’s okay.”

  “Patrick, it was a harmless incident. I made too much of it. Fifteen years ago, Steven Jessen would have been called a persistent admirer, nothing more. These days people immediately assume someone with more than a mild interest in another person is a stalker. Forget it,” she insisted. “I have.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was just saying that to put him at ease. “Then he hasn’t—”

  “Nope, he hasn’t,” she countered quickly, “and I’m sure he won’t. Any interest he had in me evaporated when he realized that I came with my own personal section of the Aurora police department.” The last time he’d paid a visit to her pet clinic, she’d prominently displayed the group family photograph she had of her brother, cousins and uncles, all in police dress uniforms. That was more than a month ago and Steve hadn’t been back since. “But, if you’re feeling chatty, we can get back to the subject of your new partner. What did you say her name was again?”

  “I didn’t. Good night, Patience.”

  Patience laughed. “Good night, Patrick.”

  Just before he hung up, he heard dogs barking in the background and absently wondered if his sister was still in the clinic or had gone upstairs to her suite of rooms. Her own two German shepherds made enough noise to sound like a huge pack of dogs.

  As far back as he could remember, Patience had always gravitated toward animals, turning them into pets and lavishing her affection on them. Different strokes for different folks, he supposed. As far as he was concerned, a pet rock represented too much work.

  Patrick woke up with a start, so much sweat dampening his upper torso it was as if he’d spent the past three hours of troubled sleep on the top rack of a broiler instead of his own bed.

  His nightmare was back. With a difference. Now it wasn’t Ramirez who he saw being shot down in front of him. It was the woman.

  McKenna.

  Maggi.

  Halfway through the dream, the crack house he and his partner were entering dissolved into the front of a bank. The same bank where she had risked her life to disarm the robber. Except that this time she didn’t wrench the gun out of the man’s hand. This time it discharged with the bullet hitting her in the forehead the way it had Ramirez.

  His heart pounding, Patrick shot th
e robber dead as he raced to her side. But it was already too late. Maggi died in his arms, her green eyes staring up at him lifelessly. Staring into his soul.

  Ripping things out.

  He realized he was still breathing hard.

  Patrick scrubbed his hands over his face, forcing himself to get a grip.

  This just wasn’t going to work. He’d tried, given it more time than he’d thought he would, but it just wasn’t going to work.

  Having a new partner was bad enough. Having a woman as his new partner was far worse. He’d grown up feeling too protective of his mother and sister to switch gears at this point in his life. And feeling protective about McKenna was just going to interfere with the way he responded to situations. He’d be too intent on watching her back to pay the right amount of attention to everything else. All it took was a moment’s hesitation and all hell would break loose. He already knew that because of Ramirez. Because he’d been one step behind his partner instead of right there beside him.

  It just wasn’t going to work.

  Four hours later, he was still saying the same thing, except out loud now and to the only man with the authority to make things right.

  Patrick cornered his captain as soon as the man walked into the squad room. “It’s not going to work.”

  Captain Reynolds waved him into his office and closed the door behind him before sitting down at his desk and leisurely opening up his container of imported coffee. He studied Patrick over the rim of the paper cup.

  Reynolds forced a smile to his lips. “I’m assuming you’re talking about your new partner.”

  “It’s not to going to work,” Patrick insisted again, his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to live with another death on his conscience and she struck him as someone who could easily wind up dead.

  The coffee was obviously too hot. Reynolds placed it back on his desk. “It’s not that I don’t respect your judgment, Cavanaugh, but given your track record as far as taking on new partners goes, I’d say your opinion is a little less than reliable in this matter.”

  His back against the wall, Patrick tried to strike up a deal. “Look, I’ve always told you I work better alone, but if that can’t be the case, at least give me another guy.”

  “McKenna comes highly recommended. She’s got commendations up the wazoo from San Francisco—”

  Commendations didn’t impress him. It was all a matter of politics. Patrick cut his superior short. “I don’t care if she’s got a letter from the mayor, I don’t want to work with her.”

  “Why?”

  Patrick hated explaining himself, but he knew it was the only chance he had to get McKenna reassigned somewhere else. “Having a female around takes the edge off.”

  Reynolds grinned, as if amused. He blew on his coffee before taking a tentative sip. “This is a side of you I didn’t know about. I didn’t think you noticed women, Cavanaugh. I would have been a little worried if it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t think you really notice anything except the job you’re working on.” Taking another sip, longer this time, Reynolds replaced the container on his stained blotter. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. You’re damn good at what you do—lucky for you,” he tagged on.

  Patrick could read between the lines. “You’re not going to reassign her, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Ordinarily he didn’t push. But then, ordinarily he didn’t ask for favors, either. He might as well go all the way. “Can I ask why?”

  “Because I like having the best work for me and everyone else is happy in their little niches.”

  “I’m not happy,” Patrick growled.

  Reynolds shrugged. “You are never happy, that goes without saying.” Obviously needing to keep the peace and give Cavanaugh a false sense of hope, he added, “Okay, tell you what. Give it a few more weeks. If you’re still butting heads, I’ll see what I can do. I have to say I’m surprised, though.”

  “Why?”

  Draining half the container, Reynolds wiped his mouth with the napkin he’d brought in.

  “Usually it’s your partner in here, begging to be reassigned. I guess she doesn’t find you as hard to work with as you find her. Either that, or she’s got a hell of a lot more stick-to-itiveness than most of her predecessors.”

  She had a hell of a lot more something all right, Patrick thought, but he didn’t know exactly what the label for it was.

  “Whatever.”

  Annoyed, disgusted and more than vaguely unsettled, Patrick strode out of the office. He hated wasting time and he’d just wasted a precious amount of it trying to reason with a man who was far more interested in the kind of PR he could generate with the public than he was about the actual internal workings of his department.

  His mood black, Patrick decided to go back to the morgue to review the original autopsy report on Joanne Styles to see if anything out of the ordinary struck him this time.

  The morgue was deadly quiet. There were no autopsies in progress at the moment. The M.E. had handed Patrick his own copy of Joanne’s autopsy before leaving the room. Patrick made himself as comfortable as possible, sitting down to read at a desk that was equally likely to hold the coroner’s lunch as it was a victim’s final effects.

  The silence enveloped him as he read words that he’d gone over time and again already. Concentrating to the exclusion of everything else, the noise almost made him jump.

  Maggi marched in at the far end of the room, hitting the door with the flat of her hand and sending it flying open. The door banged against the wall, summoning his attention.

  She looked as if she were breathing fire. Her eyes had narrowed, boring small, burning holes into him before she ever reached him.

  All in all, he had to admit she looked rather magnificent, like one of those paintings he’d seen by that artist who reveled in strong, beautiful, scantily clad women warriors. All she needed was a spear and a mythical steed.

  It had taken Maggi several minutes to find out where Patrick was in the building. Her temper had increased with every second that passed and was now a hair-breadth away from reaching critical mass.

  Facing him squarely, she demanded, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He was as calm as she was angry. “Pay stub says Patrick Cavanaugh.”

  For two cents, she would have doubled her fists and beat on him even though the blows probably would have hurt her more than him.

  “Don’t get smart with me, Cavanaugh. I just heard you asked the captain for another partner.”

  Since the door was closed, she’d had to have heard that from Brooks, the only one in the squad who could read lips. Probably trying to cull favor with her, Patrick thought darkly.

  “Asked, didn’t receive.”

  Despite the fact that he’d been trained not to look away from a dangerous animal and he definitely placed his new partner in that category, Patrick lowered his eyes back to the folder on the table.

  Incensed, resenting the way he insisted on treating her, Maggi swept the folder aside with the back of her hand. Pages rained down onto the floor. Her eyes blazed, daring him to pick them up. The pages remained where they were.

  “Do you realize what kind of implications your asking for a new partner has? It makes me look incompetent. That you don’t trust me to watch your back.”

  He felt something inside him stirring in response to the look on her face, to the fire in her eyes. He banked it down. Just pure animal reaction.

  “All it says is that we’re incompatible,” he told her mildly, “and you wouldn’t be the first partner to find yourself in that position.” He bent down to pick up the pages, then placed them into the folder.

  “If you have a problem with me, you come to me, you talk to me,” she insisted. “You don’t go behind my back and talk to the captain.” She would have thought that someone like him would have respected that kind of a code. He wasn’t a team player, he was a loner. Loners didn’t run to their superiors with something.

&n
bsp; He shrugged, his disinterest rankling her. “Like I said, we’re incompatible. If we weren’t, I would have talked to you.”

  “Why?” Maggi spread her hands on the desk before him as she leaned into his face and demanded an answer. “Why are we incompatible? How do you even know? We’ve only been working together for a little more than a week and I haven’t gone against you once, even when I felt you were wrong.”

  His interest was aroused despite himself. “When was that?”

  Maggi waved away his question. “Doesn’t matter. I’m your partner—you’re supposed to talk to me.”

  He looked at her, his gaze steady. “I can’t talk to you.”

  Her voice softened slightly. “Well, you’re going to have to try, Cavanaugh. Because I am your partner and I am not going anywhere.” She paused, needing an answer, something to hang his reactions on. If she understood, she could fix it. She needed him to trust her. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

  Her face was too close, invading his space. Patrick leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “Partly.”

  Furious, Maggi struggled to swallow the scathing curse that rose to her lips. That wasn’t going to do anything but lower her to his level, the bastard. Old-fashioned prejudice. She should have known. Cavanaugh was a throwback, a Neanderthal. Well, she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her assignment.

  She held out her arms for inspection. “Look, two arms, two legs, all the same working parts as any other partner.”

  He looked at her pointedly. He’d never had a partner with a twenty-five-inch waist before and he was willing to bet that her legs were a hell of a lot better looking than Ramirez’s had ever been. Not to mention the obvious differences.

  “Not really.”

  She met his look head-on. Sex, he was talking about sex. That was never going to be a problem between them. “That doesn’t enter into this.”

  His eyes never left hers. “Doesn’t it?”

  Suddenly she heard a strange rushing noise in her ears. Maggi blocked it out, refusing to flinch, to give.