"Do you...are you living with someone?" she blurted. The moment the words were out, she wanted to snatch them back. Her question implied that she cared about the answer.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You're a good detective, recognizing the feminine touches." His smile widened. "Would you be disappointed if I said yes?"
"I'd feel sorry for the woman," she retorted.
Brendan grinned. "You can save your sympathy. I'm the only one who lives here. The feminine touches are leftovers from my brother's girlfriend Raine. It used to be her place. She left the couch, the kitchen table and a few other things when she moved in with Connor."
"Convenient for you."
"It was. She needed to sublet and I was looking for a new apartment. Worked out great for both of us."
Cilla scooped up some guacamole and black beans from her burrito bowl. "Do you have a big family?"
"Yeah." His expression softened. "Three older brothers and a younger sister. All cops except Mac, the oldest. He's an FBI agent."
"Wow. Talk about a family tradition."
Brendan lifted one shoulder. "My dad was a cop. Killed by a drunk driver while on duty. We were raised with his stories. I guess that's why we all became cops."
A shadow crossed his face, gone almost before she realized what it was. She rested her elbow on the table, propped her chin in her hand and watched him. "Are you sorry you followed the rest of your family into the business?"
He waited a beat too long to answer. "No," he finally said. "I like what I do. I like the hunt. The chase. I like getting the bad guys off the street."
"Sounds like there's a big 'but' in there."
He rolled his shoulders. "I think everyone has second thoughts sometimes about the career they chose." He leaned closer, until she could see the navy blue spots in his aquamarine irises. "You love what you do all the time? Ever regret becoming a cop?"
After she'd arrested Ryan Ward, she'd had a lot of regrets. She took her elbow off the table and clenched her hands in her lap. "Maybe we all do, once in a while."
He nodded. "If you don't, you're probably in the wrong profession."
Cilla blinked and studied Brendan more carefully. That was a surprisingly perceptive statement. Especially from a guy she'd dismissed as a cowboy adrenaline junkie. "Yeah. You're right." But she didn't want to talk about her own dark night of the soul.
She stood up and collected her cardboard bowl and the foil from Brendan's burrito. "Where's your trash?"
"Beneath the sink." The chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. "You have any siblings, Cilla?"
It sounded as if he was as eager to change the subject as she was. She opened the cabinet and deposited the trash in the white plastic bin. "Yeah," she said, closing the door and turning around to find him closer than she'd expected. "A brother and a sister. Olivia is an assistant DA. Sam plays baseball."
"In college?"
"No, on a minor league team."
His expression sharpened. "Sam Marini? Isn't he one of the Cubs' hot prospects?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. We try not to let it go to his head."
Brendan laughed as he picked up a sponge and wiped down the table. "If he has any swelling head problems, I'll talk to him for you. Being a hot prospect for the Cubs isn't that big a deal. Bunch of losers."
"Not for long," she retorted, fighting her smile. "They've picked up some amazing free agents and they're going to be great in the next few years."
"Yeah, great at losing."
"Sox fan, huh?"
"Of course. It's the only professional baseball team in Chicago."
"I'll make you eat your words when the Cubs win the World Series."
"You're on," he said immediately. "Want to put your money where your mouth is?"
Betting with him about the Cubs was implying they'd be...friends down the road. But she was surprisingly reluctant to point out the fallacy in his thinking. "Sure. How much you in for?"
"A hundred bucks says the Cubs don't make it to the Series in the next five years."
"Done," she said immediately. "That's a sucker bet, because I know they will."
"In your dreams, maybe."
"You better put that hundred aside, 'cause you're going to be giving it to me."
"You keep telling yourself that." He headed toward the living room. "Come sit down. I've got some books of mug shots, too. We can go through all of them."
The abrupt change of direction threw her for a moment. Then her cheeks heated. Looking at mug shots, discussing what had happened the night before, was the reason she was here.
Not talking smack about Chicago's baseball teams or having a 'first date' conversation about their families.
As she began to sit down, her phone rang. She pulled it out and saw Sam's smiling face. "Excuse me," she said. "I need to take this. My brother."
She hit the connect icon as she walked into the kitchen. "Sam. How's it going?"
"Great, Cil. We're in the minor league playoffs. Doing pretty good."
"Yeah, I saw an article in the Trib sports section. Even mentioned you," she teased. "Talked about your game with three strike-outs, Mr. Phenom."
"Ouch," he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. "Nothing like a big sister to take a guy down a peg."
"Just keeping you the humble Sam we all know and love. So how are you doing otherwise?"
He drew in a deep breath. "Good, except for one thing."
Here it comes. "What's that?" she asked.
"I got a speeding ticket. I was hoping you could do something about it."
"A speeding ticket? Sam, are you kidding me? You're in Iowa. What makes you think I can do anything about a speeding ticket out there?"
"You're a cop. I figured you'd know what to do."
"Were you actually speeding?"
There was a long pause. "Yeah," he finally said. "Twenty over."
"For God's sake, Sam." She was getting tired of being the family 'fixer'. "Plead guilty, pay the fine and ask for supervision. You stay clean for three months and it's off your record."
"Yeah, but..."
"You're already on supervision," she sighed.
"Yeah."
"You know what, Sam? I'm working right now. I'll see what I can figure out and get back to you. Okay?"
"Thanks, Cill. You're the best."
"Damn right I am. I'll talk to you later."
Stabbing the 'off' button, she slid the phone into her pocket and sat down on the couch. Then she grabbed one of the heavy books. "Who are we looking for?"
Instead of answering, Brendan said, "Trouble?"
She glared at him. "I'm sure you heard every word. My idiot brother got a speeding ticket, and he's already on supervision. He wants me to fix it for him."
Brendan's face softened. "You're a good sister, Marini."
"Too good," she muttered. "He needs to figure stuff out for himself." Her mother and sister did, too. But they all called Cilla.
"Tell me what I'm looking for," she said, making it clear that the conversation about her family was over.
"The blond woman I pointed out at the end of the night," Brendan said. "Her name is Holly, although that could have been a lie. She was talking to Tiffany, and Tiffany has ignored every other woman in the pub."
He described their conversation and Holly's obvious disinterest in him.
Cilla raised her eyebrows. "And because she wasn't all over you, you assumed she's there for some nefarious reason?"
Instead of being offended, Brendan moved closer to her. "I like a woman who uses words like nefarious. That's hot."
His breath was warm on her cheek. She swallowed and fumbled the book open. "Let's see if we can find her."
* * *
Brendan leaned against the back of the couch and shoved the last book onto the table in frustration. His back ached and a hammer pounded inside his head. "Well, that was a waste of time. Maybe she's never been arrested, but she was at the Pipe and Shamrock for a
reason. And it wasn't fun and games."
Next to him, Cilla vibrated like she was holding a live wire. She clearly loved this undercover stuff. "You think she's our dealer?"
He thought about Holly for a moment. He'd kept an eye on her last night. "She wasn't talking to a lot of people," he finally said. "So I don't think so. She mostly sat at the bar, nursing her drink and watching everyone else."
"She talked to you," Cilla pointed out.
"I sat down next to her and engaged her. And she wasn't interested."
"Did she seek Tiffany out? Or did Tiffany go to her?"
"Damn good question." He thought about the interaction between the two women. "I think Tiffany went to Holly."
"Maybe Tiffany thought Holly was a rival. Maybe she was checking her out."
"Possible," he conceded. "But that still doesn't explain why Holly's there."
Cilla shrugged. "Maybe she comes to listen to the music."
"Yeah, that's possible, too." He shoved his hand through his hair. "I guess we need to give it more time."
"It's only been two days." Cilla smiled, softening her expression and lighting up her eyes. Her mouth curved, and he remembered how she'd tasted. How she'd shivered when he'd kissed her.
He remembered the tiny moan she'd made when his tongue tangled with hers.
Damn it. He'd been doing really well this afternoon, focusing on business instead of that kiss last night.
Now Cilla's mouth was all he could think about.
When he lifted his gaze from her mouth, her smile had faded. But her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and fell too quickly.
She fumbled the book she still held onto the table and stood up, smoothing her hands down her thighs. "I should get going."
He stood up as well and reached for her. She wasn't going to get away until they talked about that kiss last night.
As he touched her arm, his phone rang. Curling his fingers around her wrist, he reached into his pocket for his phone.
Connor. "Hold on a minute. I need to get this."
Cilla nodded as he pushed the 'call' button. "Hey, Con. What's up?"
"You know Jack Murphy, right?"
"Yeah. I've worked with him a couple of times."
"He's been shot. Chest wound. He's at Northwestern."
His stomach clenched and his throat tightened. He swallowed hard and said, "I'm leaving now."
He took a deep, stuttering breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Cilla clutched his sleeve. "What's wrong?"
"Cujo's been shot."
Chapter 7
Brendan slammed through the emergency room doors, Cilla trailing behind him. He'd told her to go home, but she'd insisted on coming with him. Insisted on driving, too.
She'd woven in and out of traffic on Lake Shore Drive, her foot pressing on the accelerator until his teeth ached from clenching them. But she'd gotten them to Northwestern Memorial in record time. She'd tossed the keys to her SUV to the valet in front of the hospital, stopped long enough to grab her ticket, then ran after Brendan toward the emergency room.
He spotted Connor, standing in the middle of a group of cops from Con's district. Clumps of other cops dotted the waiting room, some in uniform, others in plain clothes. A bunch from his own district stood in the corner, heads bowed, murmuring together.
Cujo was from Belmont. His district.
Instead of heading toward them, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked toward the group from Town Hall. Con and Quinn and Mia's district.
"Hey." Con's voice was too high. Jittery. "Thanks for coming, Bren."
"Wouldn't be anywhere else."
Con jerked his head toward the corner. "Belmont's over there."
"Yeah, I saw them. Wanted to thank you for calling me." He'd wanted to see his brother. Reassure himself Connor was okay.
Connor's face softened and he squeezed Brendan's shoulder. "Knew you'd want to know."
"Yeah. Hear anything yet?"
"Not a thing." Connor shrugged, but his foot tapped the floor. "Nurses are a damn close-mouthed bunch."
The doors to the ER whooshed again, and Cilla stepped into the room. A few older guys from the 16th stood on the other side of the room, but she ignored them. Didn't meet anyone's gaze. She leaned against the wall, as if trying to make herself invisible.
Which was a waste of time. Cilla was the most vivid person he'd ever met.
He waited for her to join a group, and when she didn't, he caught her eye and jerked his head, telling her to join them. She shook her head, a short, choppy motion, and looked away.
What the hell? They were partners. Temporarily, but still. Partners stuck together.
He started toward her, but before he reached her, Ryan Ward broke away from a group and headed for Cilla.
Brendan walked faster. He knew what had happened between Cilla and Ward.
He got close enough to hear Ward say, "What are you doing here, Marini?"
She held Ward's gaze and said evenly, "Same as you. Standing with a brother."
"You're not wanted here." Ward flexed his fingers, then shoved his hands into his pockets.
Brendan wanted to step between them, but Cilla gave him a sharp warning glare before returning her gaze to Ward. "You going to make me leave? Slap me around a little, like that woman in the alley?" She raised an eyebrow. "You must have liked the cuffs last time."
Shit. She was goading the guy. Why didn't she just ignore him?
She stood straight, her gaze locked onto Ward's. Arms crossed over her chest. Daring Ward to come after her.
That was Cilla, Brendan realized. She'd never back down. Would always face a threat head-on.
He was lucky to be her partner, even temporarily.
The room had fallen silent. Quiet enough to hear the squeak of shoes behind the double door into the ER. Everyone stood frozen, but the air hummed with tension. Anger. Suppressed violence.
Cilla and the blond cop stared at each other, neither of them backing down.
Ward took a step toward Cilla, but she stood straighter. Narrowed her eyes. "You're a piece of shit, Ward. But I'd come here for you, too. So go to hell."
Ward sucked in a breath. Then, with a muttered curse, he spun around and stalked away. Brendan stepped in front of him.
Ward raised his arm and pulled it back, but dropped his fisted hand in time. "What do you want, Donovan?"
"No grudges in the ER, Ward. She wants to be here, she's here. She's one of us."
"You fucking her? That why you're defending her?"
Brendan curled his fingers, resisting the urge to smash them into Ward's smug face. "Marini doesn't need me. She's doing a damn good job of sticking up for herself." He shook his head. "Bates deserves better than a partner like you. She's right. You're that stinking pile on the sidewalk everyone steers clear of."
He deliberately turned his back on Ward and found Connor right behind him. His brother watched Ward as he crossed the room, then turned back to Brendan. "Nice job," he said quietly.
Connor glanced at Cilla and jerked his head in the universal sign for 'come here'. She stared at both of them for a long moment, then strolled over to join them.
"I'm Connor. This one's brother," he said, holding out his hand. "Good to meet you, Marini."
Cilla shook Connor's hand. "Thanks. You, too." Her face was pale, and her hands shook. When she saw Brendan staring at them, she shoved them into her pockets.
Brendan grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward an unoccupied corner of the waiting room, away from the other cops. "Why did you stand there by yourself? You're my partner. Partners stick together."
Cilla eased her wrist out of Brendan's grasp. "We're partners on this job. At the pub. With other cops?" She lifted one shoulder. "Standing with me isn't a good idea."
"Good idea or bad one, doesn't matter." He glanced across the room at Ward, who was facing away from him, talking to another cop. He wanted to beat the crap out of Ward. But he wasn't going to start somethi
ng in the ER waiting room.
Brendan returned his gaze to hers. "Don't do that again, Cilla. Don't think I'm going to shun you when other cops are around. It'll never happen."
She swallowed. Blinked a couple of times. Then nodded. "Thanks, Brendan. That...that means a lot."
"Cops are assholes sometimes."
She managed a smile, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Except for the Donovans, apparently."
He shrugged. He'd had his moments of asshole-ness. "Including me."
"He's right about that." Connor nudged his shoulder. "Guy has pulled some stunts you wouldn't believe."
Connor studied Cilla for a long moment, then nodded. "You have some big cojones, Marini, showing up here. Gotta hand it to you."
"Knock it off, Con," Brendan said sharply.
His brother held up his hands. "Down, tiger. I wasn't telling her she didn't belong. I was admiring her guts." Connor elbowed him in the side. "Walking into a roomful of already-angry cops was a ballsy move. You're damn lucky to be working with her, little brother."
"Yeah." Brendan exhaled. "I know it."
"So bring her to dinner."
Brendan froze. His older brothers had all introduced their girlfriends at one of the monthly family dinners. His gaze skittered away from Cilla and back to Connor, who was walking away.
"It's not like that," he called after his brother.
Connor glanced over his shoulder. "You do know all of us said the same thing, right?"
"Bite me, Con."
"Said that, too."
Brendan stared after his brother for a long moment. He should be panicking. If Connor thought he had something going on with Cilla, his brothers would be brutal with their ragging. Payback for the way he'd teased them when they'd brought their girlfriends around.
This tightness in his chest didn't feel like panic, though. It felt like...anticipation.
Because he wanted to have sex with Cilla. That's all it meant.
Clearly, Con had noticed.
He swung around to face Cilla again. Her expression was less guarded, and the tension in her shoulders had eased.
"I should get going," she said, clearing her throat. "I don't want to cause problems for you."
"You're not causing problems for me." He spotted a guy standing by himself. Greg Harrison. Cujo's partner. "Harrison looks like he could use some company." Without thinking, he put his hand on Cilla's back to guide her toward the other cop. Dropped it when he felt her tense.
Cover Me Page 6
