Why was she here?
Cilla had suggested she might come for the music, but it didn't look as if Holly was paying any attention. Could she be their seller?
He'd put her low on the list. He'd never seen her initiate a conversation. Hard to peddle drugs when you didn't talk to anyone.
He'd still keep an eye on her, though. Maybe chat her up later.
He recognized more than a handful of other people. Clearly, a lot of regulars came to the Pipe and Shamrock on weekends.
His gaze lingered on groups of people, but he didn't see anyone doing more than talking or laughing. Nothing that looked like a business transaction – nothing changing hands, no money being flashed.
He turned to head back to the front of the pub and spotted Dominic Romano off to the side. He was leaning against the wall, a mixed drink in his hand, watching the crowd.
Just like the last time he'd been here.
He sure wasn't acting as though he were here for some action. Maybe they needed to look more closely at him as their seller.
As Brendan studied him, a woman approached Romano, smiling. She clearly introduced herself, because she held out a hand. Romano shook it, the serious expression falling away to reveal a smiling man who was now indistinguishable from every other guy in the place. Looking for a beautiful woman and a good time.
Brendan watched discreetly for a few minutes, but saw nothing more than a flirting couple. He kept his eye on Romano and the woman, now deep in conversation, as he moved casually, just another guy trolling the crowd. Brendan hadn't been able to get a good look at the woman's face, and he was positioning himself to get a better look. Tomorrow, he'd look through the mug shots again.
Just as Brendan got close enough to see her face, she leaned into Romano and whispered something. Romano's gaze flicked to the people sitting at the bar. Then the woman headed in the opposite direction, toward the stage at the front of the bar. Brendan still hadn't gotten a good look at her.
Had it been deliberate?
His imagination was working overtime tonight. Why would the woman have even noticed him?
But his spidey-sense was tingling. So Brendan followed her, keeping one eye on the mystery blond as he stopped to talk to a few people he'd met during his time at the pub.
By the time Romano's woman reached the front of the bar, the band had stopped for their first break. He lost her in the crush of men trying to get close to Cilla.
As usual, Brendan's partner was smiling at all of them, talking to the closest men. Choosing one to buy her iced tea.
Standing on the edge of the crowd, Brendan watched her work. She was good. Every single guy in that mob thought he had a chance with her.
As Cilla's gaze swept the crowd, she spotted him. Her smile faltered for a split second, then was firmly back in place. She held his gaze a moment too long, then moved on. But several men had noticed.
They turned, scowling when they saw Brendan. Most of them recognized him by now. Another suitor for Cilla's favors. The guy who got to carry her instrument out to her car.
Angry Guy was one of the crowd. When his gaze met Brendan's, his eyes narrowed. He remembered what he'd seen last night.
Brendan held his gaze. That's right, asshole. She's mine. Don't you forget it.
The guy's mouth thinned. For a moment, Brendan thought the bro was going to come after him. Then he turned away, slammed his glass on the bar and called loudly for another Bud Light.
Cilla was getting ready to head back to her keyboard when the door to the pub slammed open and banged into the wall. "Help!" a woman screamed. "My boyfriend! I think he's dead!"
Chapter 10
Cilla froze for a split second. Then, as the woman sobbed, Cilla turned instinctively toward her. Cop reflexes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw several people with their phones to their ears. Calling for help. So she grabbed the woman's arm and dragged her out the door. "Where is he?"
"In the...in the car," the woman sobbed, wringing her hands.
"Show me." As Cilla ran toward the dimly lit parking lot, towing the woman with her, gravel crunched beneath their shoes. Another fainter set of footsteps trailed the woman. Brendan?
Probably. His instincts would make him react just as she had.
She glanced over his shoulder. Even though he was in deep shadow, she knew it was him.
Her pulse jumped, but she ignored it and ran faster. The dome light of a car in the lot illuminated her way. And highlighted the open rear door.
"That where he is?" she asked as she ran.
"Yes." The woman's voice caught on a sob. "I...I didn't know what to do."
As she reached the car, Cilla saw a pair of legs dangling out the back door. The man was prone on the seat. Unmoving.
His chest was bare. His jeans were unzipped and pulled down, exposing a huge erection.
He'd taken the drug.
Otherwise, his erection would have faded by now.
Sprinting around to the other side of the car, she yanked open the other rear door and put her fingers on his neck. Pulse was thready, but it was there. He was still alive.
"Do you know CPR?" she asked the woman.
"I took a class once. You push on his chest, right?"
Cilla wriggled onto the floor between the front and rear seats, kicking aside a flashy, bright shirt. She watched his chest for a moment. No signs of breathing.
She began chest compressions, counting to six, then pinching his nose as she blew into his mouth. As she started the second set of compressions, Brendan reached the car. "You compress," he said, already lowering his face to the unconscious man's. "I'll breathe."
She nodded and began counting out loud. She stopped, watched the man's chest rise and fall in as Brendan breathed for him, then began compressions again.
It felt like hours until she heard the sirens, but it had only been minutes. Intense ones. When the door to the ambulance opened, she didn't even look up. Couldn't stop yet.
"We've got it now," a female voice said. Cilla pressed once more, Brendan blew into the guy's mouth one more time, then both of them stepped away. The EMT and her partner, a tall, wiry man, climbed into the back of the car. The woman fixed an Ambu-bag over the victim's mouth and began to squeeze it, while the man compressed his chest. The male EMT stopped after a moment, checked the guy's pulse, then nodded to the woman.
"Still has a pulse. Let's get him loaded."
The woman glanced at Cilla and Brendan, who were standing out of the way at the front of the car. "You two probably saved this guy's life. Nice work."
"Thanks," Cilla said as she rolled her aching shoulders. "Keep him alive."
"We'll do our best."
The two EMT's loaded the gurney into the ambulance, and the girlfriend scrambled in after them. Moments later, their siren wailed as they pulled out of the parking lot. When the bus turned right, it revealed a police car near the entrance to the pub, its light bar flashing.
"You see the guy's boner?" Cilla asked, watching the police officers talk to the crowd gathered near the door. "Even after he passed out? He must have taken the drug."
"My guess, too." He kicked at the gravel. "Damn it. Right under our noses."
"I know," she said quietly. "Burns my ass, too."
Standing next to Brendan, Cilla watched the crowd outside for a moment. She needed to think what to do, but she was too close to him. Their arms brushed whenever one of them moved, and she could smell his distinctive scent. She edged farther away and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
"Sore?" Brendan murmured as he wrapped his hands around one of her arms. He massaged it gently, his fingers pressing into exhausted muscles, then let go and did the same to her other arm.
When he finished with her arms, he turned her and began to squeeze her shoulders. He knew every place where the muscles were tight, and Cilla couldn't suppress the tiny moan.
His hands stilled. Then he let her go. Stepped farther away from her. Nodded at the two police officers
now talking to the crowd. "You recognize either of them?" he asked quietly.
"No. You?"
"Don't know them." He angled away from the car so he could see her face. "How do you want to play it? Identify ourselves? Or keep cover?"
Warmth stirred in her chest. Even though he had a lot more undercover experience, he'd asked instead of telling her what they'd do. Treated her as an equal partner.
"Keep cover," she said immediately. She glanced at his cool, assessing eyes and the warmth faded. That had been a test. "Number one rule on a job – don't tell anyone you're a cop. Even another cop."
"You're right. Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page."
Her stomach twisted. With anger. Not hurt. "You don't trust me, Donovan?"
"Course I trust you. Local cops could be some help, though. They'd know the local dealers. Might point us in the right direction."
"You ever get the locals involved on an undercover job before this?" she asked, keeping her voice even.
"Haven't needed to." He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the two police officers in the distance.
"So why now?" she pressed.
"Damn it, Cilla." He scowled, shoving his hand through his hair as he watched the pair of uniforms. "I'm frustrated. We're no closer to knowing who's selling those drugs than we were three nights ago. Some poor schlep almost died tonight. And we've got nothing."
"I've worked undercover before, Brendan."
He finally looked at her. "I know you have." He studied her for a long moment, then grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the front of the car, where they'd be out of sight. "Cilla, I'm sorry. We're partners, and I trust you. To have my back. To cover for me. I'm just impatient. I want to make some progress."
She exhaled, reading the truth in his gaze. She wanted to reach for him. To tell him she was frustrated, too. Just as impatient as he was to get this done. But not after this afternoon. No more touching. "Yeah, I get it."
He took her hands and slid his fingers between hers. She froze, but he didn't let her go. Instead, he rubbed his thumb absently against the back of her hand. As if he didn't realize he was doing it. "I didn't mean to imply I didn't trust your work. You're a good cop, Cilla. Thorough. Careful. Aware. I'm just..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm impulsive. Too reckless. I'm trying, but it's a work in progress." He squeezed her hand and let her go. "I need to check my instincts against yours."
He touched her cheek, and she wanted to lean into him. Instead, she held carefully still. "Like this afternoon," he sighed. "I wanted you so bad. I didn't stop and think. Didn't think of you. Didn't think about what you deserved. I'm sorry for that, too."
The regret that had chilled her since she walked out of his apartment began to thaw. "I was right there with you, Brendan. I think that was pretty obvious."
"Yeah, you were, and it was so hot. Made me feel like a sixteen-year-old kid with no control. But you deserved better than a quickie against the door. I should have taken my time with you. Should have at least made it to the bed."
"It wasn't a 'take-your-time, in-a-bed' kind of thing, Donovan," she said, struggling to keep her voice light. Nonchalant. "It was a reaction to someone getting shot."
"Yeah. So you said." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and it was far more intimate than a kiss. "I'll do better next time."
Next time? She sucked in a breath as her heart jolted and began to pound. "There's not going to be a next time."
"After what happened this afternoon? Most amazing sex ever?" He drew a finger down her cheek, onto her throat, down to the neckline of her shirt. "You gonna be able to resist?"
She couldn't stop the shudder of desire that rocketed through her. But she'd had plenty of practice at hiding her reactions. "We have a job to do. And that job doesn't include sex."
"It involves making other people believe we're having sex."
He tugged at the neck of her shirt once, then let it go. The brush of the silk against her skin made her long for his touch. She swallowed once and stared at him. She wasn't going to back down. Wanting him was a weakness, and she wouldn't let him see that.
"I want you, Cilla. I'm not going to lie. It's going to be hard to keep my hands off you." His voice was a low rasp in the darkness. But she saw his eyes, focused only on her. As if she was the only thing he could think about.
Her stomach fluttered. Desire blossomed deep inside her. But she managed to say coolly, "Good. That will make our fake romance easier to sell."
"Our personal life is separate from our work life." He took a step closer, and it took all her strength not to back up. Never show weakness. It was a lesson she'd learned well since she arrested Ryan Ward. "We could get together as Cilla and Brendan, not the keyboard player and the single guy trolling for chicks. We could have a lot of fun."
"Yes, we could." Sex that afternoon had been unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Before, it had been pleasurable. Controlled. Nice.
With Brendan, it had been explosive. Earth-shaking. More pleasure than she'd ever felt in her life. She shoved away the mental picture of herself and Brendan, rolling around in a bed. Not going there. "But I don't date cops. Especially not cops I'm working with."
He frowned. "Why not?"
"Lots of reasons." She remembered her mother, comforting her aunt when her Uncle Joe had missed another family event. When her Aunt Jessie had found out Uncle Joe had a girlfriend. "But let's just say I don't mix business with pleasure, and move on."
He smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his mouth that made her swallow. "Bet I can change your mind."
"Really, Donovan?" Her voice sounded too breathy, and she cleared her throat. "You think you can sweet-talk me? Do you know me at all?"
"I'm working on that. On knowing you." He slid his hand up her arm and down again, then twined his fingers with hers. The sweet, innocent gesture made her throat swell.
"When you do, you'll know I won't change my mind," she managed to say.
"Oh, I get it," he said, leaning closer. His breath lifted the hairs on her neck and made her shiver. "You're gonna be sweet-talking me."
She gathered her wits and elbowed him. "In your dreams, Donovan."
"Oh, you'll be in my dreams, all right." His voice was a low rasp of sex and sin and temptation. "Every night, Cilla." He slid his hand into the open back of her shirt, his fingers burning hot against her skin. "Will I be in your dreams?"'
Reaching desperately for her composure, she smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt, knowing her cheeks were flaming and she was breathing too hard. As she shoved him away, she heard shoes crunching over the gravel.
She and Brendan turned toward the sound. Both of them reached for their weapons, as well. Exchanged a glance when they realized they didn't have them.
The female uniformed officer appeared between the two cars, her hand on her gun. "Who are you two and why are you still back here?"
"I'm Cilla Mason, the keyboard player for the band." Cilla cleared her throat to get rid of the rasp in her voice.
"I'm Brendan Patton. A customer."
"We were getting ourselves together," Cilla said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. True, but not for any reason she would share with this cop. She wiped at her eyes, hoping she was selling it to the uniform. "Pretty upsetting, to see something like that."
"How did you two get to the victim so quickly?" the officer asked. Her hand was still on her gun.
Smart woman. Smart cop. Cilla glanced at her badge. Officer Sobieski.
Cilla began, "Our band had just taken a break when the guy's girlfriend ran into the pub. I was standing right next to the door, and since I know CPR, I went out to see if I could help." She glanced at Brendan.
"I followed Cilla out the door. I know CPR, too, and I figured that's where she was going." He jerked his chin toward the other patrons who were still outside. "Saw a bunch of them on their phones, figured they were calling 911."
"You two know each other?" Sobies
ki's voice had sharpened.
"Only from the pub." Brendan gave the woman what was probably supposed to be a smarmy smile. "I like the way Cilla plays the keyboard."
Sobieski began to roll her eyes, then glanced at her notebook.
Cilla smiled to herself. The cop would write Brendan off as a jerk who was trying to get into Cilla's pants.
Her smile disappeared. Which would be perceptive. Because he already had. Due to her own stupidity. And the fact that she hadn't had sex with an actual guy for way too long.
Sobieski interrupted Cilla's thoughts to ask, "How do you know the guy was the woman's boyfriend?"
Cilla jerked her attention back to the present. She shrugged. "That's what she said. That her boyfriend had died."
Sobieski wrote in her notebook, then asked, "What did you find when you got to the car?"
"He was lying on the back seat," Cilla began. "Unconscious. No shirt, his pants were around his ankles and he had an erection. He had a pulse, but I didn't see him breathing. So I started CPR." She nodded at Brendan. "He took over the breathing and I compressed."
She sounded too calm. Too objective. Like a police officer giving a report. So she made her voice wobble as she asked, "Is...is he going to be okay?"
Sobieski gave her a sharp, assessing look, then shrugged. "He was alive when they loaded him into the ambulance. Hopefully he stays that way."
"Did anyone know what happened?" Brendan asked.
"A few of the onlookers had theories."
"Yeah? Like what?" Cilla knew the officer wouldn't tell her, but she figured most people would ask.
"Sorry. Can't share that with you. Can I have your phone numbers?"
Cilla rattled off the number of the burner phone she'd gotten at the start of the job, and Brendan did the same.
"Thanks," Sobieski said. "If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch."
The woman walked toward the other officer, who was taking a statement from one of the men clustered outside the door. He finished with a guy, walked over to Sobieski, talked for a moment, then they got into their car and drove off. The people standing outside the pub watched the car until it was out of sight, then they trickled back inside.
Cover Me Page 9
