“I don’t want to work for you,” he agreed.
“Then—?”
“I want to be your partner.”
A four-letter expletive exploded from her mouth.
He wasn’t fazed. “Fisher and Fox Investigations. Sounds good, right?”
“Get out of here.” She pointed at the door. Yeah, right, Fisher and Fox. He was definitely yanking her chain.
“I’m serious, Lindsay. From past experience, you know our skills are complementary.”
She remembered one dark, rainy night, when it had been more than their skills that had been complementary. Hell. Why was she thinking about that? She had to get him out of here. Fast.
“When we were partners, you drove me crazy.”
“You may not always appreciate my style, but you need someone like me around. Bending the rules now and then is one thing, but you don’t bend them. You bulldoze them.” He scooped something from the floor, surprising her when he surfaced with her red pump.
“High heels with your jeans?” He cocked his head assessingly. “Never saw you as the type.”
She snatched the shoe from his hand. She’d bought the Jimmy Choo heels full price, with the last paycheck she’d received from the police department, and she was going to wear them until the three-inch heels were worn down to the ground.
“Either you’ve changed, or I didn’t know you as well as I thought.”
“It’s not a big deal. I happen to like nice shoes.”
“Not enough to wear them, apparently.”
She slipped the shoe onto her foot, then fumbled for the mate. “Every morning when I put on a pair of heels, I’m reminded that I don’t work for a big organization anymore. There is no chain of command. The buck stops with me.” She lifted her chin. “It’s a good feeling.”
Nathan nodded. “I respect that. In fact, I respect a lot of things about you. That’s why I’m here.”
Despite herself, she felt flattered. Hearing Nathan say that he respected her…well, that was something.
Leaving the force had not been an easy decision. As a kid she’d wanted so badly to become a policewoman. After graduating from college and moving to New York City, her goal had been to work for the famous—and sometimes infamous—NYPD. But when she’d finally finished the education and training necessary to entitle her to wear the dark blue uniform, she’d been bitterly disappointed at the reality.
Rather than helping people, she pushed pencils. Investigating a crime as a member of a police force was like wading through waist-deep muck. Regulations and procedures ate away most of her available work hours. She’d wanted to serve her community, to protect society’s weakest members. Instead, criminals thumbed their noses at her and the system as they got away with the same misdemeanors and petty crimes over and over and over.
And then there were the crimes that weren’t so petty…
“You and I want the same thing, Fox. Together we’ll be a force to reckon with.” He planted his hands on her desk and leaned forward. She caught a whiff of his soap, noticed the clean-blunt lines of his fingernails.
He was serious. The realization sent a zap of adrenaline through her bloodstream. She couldn’t help but be intrigued, even though she knew it was a bad idea.
“Why not start a firm of your own? Why partner up with me?”
“Starting a business takes time. You’ve got everything in place here. Plus, you’ve already made a name for yourself. I saw the story in the Daily last month. Impressive.”
She knew the case he was talking about. The Anderson file had started out as a simple missing-persons case. She’d been asked to locate a long-lost uncle who’d been a beneficiary in a multimillion dollar family estate. She’d ended up finding Curtis Anderson, a convicted sex offender on the FBI’s Most Wanted List.
What a buzz that had been. Who knew how many children’s lives would be safer now that Anderson was no longer on the prowl. Talk about job satisfaction.
“You’ve got more cases than you can handle,” Nathan continued. “A good reputation and an ideal location with an excellent long-term lease.”
She couldn’t believe how much he knew about her operation. But then Nathan had always been the sort of investigator who did his homework. He was never tempted to cut corners, the way she sometimes did.
Her instincts were good. Very rarely wrong. Still, occasionally, she had to admit, she’d been burned by her impetuousness. In the past, Nathan had saved her butt more than a few times. He’d also driven her nuts.
“You know I prefer to work alone.”
“You’re the one who put an ad in the paper. Besides, we don’t have to handle the same cases. We could work independently.”
Much as she hated to admit it, he was wearing her down. “I’ve put a lot of time and money into this business. Why should you just walk in and reap the benefits?”
“I’m prepared to buy my way in.”
“Promissory notes?”
“Cold, hard cash.”
She thought of all the things she could buy with an infusion of capital. The extra computer programs, a new camera—maybe even a van.
Then she imagined having to vet every decision with another person. Discuss approaches, divvy up new cases. She wrinkled her nose. “I like being the boss. You want in as an employee, that’s cool. But partnership is not an option.”
She waited for him to stalk out the door, certain that he would. But he just smiled. Slow and confident. Then he placed an envelope on her desk.
“I have more to contribute than money. Read that, Fox. Then let me know if you change your mind.”
CHAPTER TWO
LINDSAY WAITED FOR NATHAN to leave her office. Only once the door was firmly closed between them did she touch the manila envelope he’d left on her desk. Using a letter opener, she slit the top open and peered inside.
She’d almost expected to find the cold, hard cash he’d promised her.
Instead out slid a package of case notes. She flipped through the pages. Did he really expect to sway her with this?
The client’s name was Celia Burchard. Burchard. That sounded familiar. Lindsay leaned back in her chair, propped her feet on an overturned wastepaper basket and settled in to read.
Apparently Celia Burchard was looking to retain an investigator to assist in the defense of her mother who had been charged with the attempted murder of her husband.
Lindsay realized then where she’d heard the name before. The story had been all over the news media for most of August.
The case had caught Lindsay’s attention because of the twist on the abused-wife scenario. For once it wasn’t the husband who had attacked his wife, but the other way around.
The news quotient had been upped by the Burchards’ social status. Maurice Burchard was well-known as a Manhattan property developer and his wife was active in the arts community. The couple had a reputation for hosting amazing parties. To be invited to an event at the Burchards’ town house in the city, or their hunting lodge in the Catskills was the pinnacle of social success.
In some circles, anyway.
How had Nathan landed a client like this?
She turned a page, dismayed to see that her hand was shaking. Just a little, but the slight tremor was enough to worry her.
Aftershocks from Nathan Fisher’s visit?
She’d never imagined that she would see him again—she’d been pretty blunt when they’d said their goodbyes two years ago. Not that she’d meant what she’d said, but she’d thought a clean break would be the best—they usually were.
And now he wanted to be her partner again. What was up with that?
She knew that during their year together she’d driven him as crazy as he had driven her. He thought she was impulsive, relied on her intuition too much, didn’t follow the rules.
Yet, they had had their moments of brilliance, despite the clashing, or maybe because of the clashing. If she could put up with their different investigating styles, the possibilities
were intriguing.
Nathan was a stickler for rules and procedures, but he had other, more impressive qualities. His work ethic, for one. His integrity for another. He was also smart, a wizard at gathering background research and meticulous about gathering facts and operating according to a defined plan.
Those qualities had made him a much better police officer than she had been. Which begged the biggest question of all.
Why had he quit the force?
He’d avoided the question when she’d asked. But it wouldn’t be difficult to find out the answer.
Lindsay called a friend who’d gone through basic training with her. Kate Cooper was still at the Twentieth Precinct, connected enough to give her the answers she wanted.
Kate answered the phone with a clipped “Cooper here,” then whistled when she found out who was on the line. “Fox—nice work on the Anderson case. I meant to call when I saw your name in the paper. Pretty impressive bringing down a piece of scum like that.”
“It felt good,” Lindsay admitted. “You want to give this kind of work a try? Quit the force and I’ll make room for you.”
Kate just laughed. “Got to admit I’m tempted. But do you have a health plan? Guaranteed pension?”
“What do you care about those things? You’re young and healthy.”
“Thank God, yes. But when it comes time to start a family…”
It was hard to think of coolheaded, tough Kate as a mother. “Have you met someone?”
“Not really met. More like reconnected. Remember Conner Lowery?”
“Sure.” Lowery was a detective at the NYPD and their paths had crossed a few times during her year at the precinct. He had Irish good looks and an easygoing temperament. Lindsay remembered him as competent and hardworking, though very charming.
“We’ve just moved in together.”
“Well…that’s great. I’m happy for you.” She tried to make it sound as if she really meant it, but commitment was something she ran from in her own life, so it took a leap of imagination to consider this good news.
“Thanks. We should get together for lunch or coffee. But right now I’m super busy—”
Lindsay could tell she was about to hang up. “One second. I have something else. A question. It’s about Nathan Fisher. Did he really quit?”
“You’re kidding, right? Everyone in the precinct—hell, in the city—knows about Nathan. It was so unfair what happened to him.”
“What?” Lindsay sat upright, her muscles tensing. “Tell me everything.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t heard about this. It’s been in all the papers.”
“I’ve been busy. I must have missed it.”
“Well, then. This story goes back several months. Nathan was on the street, busting up a drug deal and making an arrest when the perp pulled out a gun. Shots were exchanged, both guys were injured.”
This was sounding familiar. She had heard something about the story, but had never seen a name or a photograph. “That was Nathan?”
“Yeah. The punk shot him two times in the leg. Fortunately the wounds were minor. He could have been back at work within a few weeks. But the kid’s injuries were more serious and he happened to be the son of a high-powered attorney who made a huge stink, insisting his kid was innocent, that Nathan fired first, etc., etc….”
Lindsay felt the familiar burn of injustice. “Innocent, huh? So why was he packing a gun? Why did he resist arrest?”
“Exactly. Ask me, the punk is lucky not to be dead. And you know Nathan…he followed procedure to the nth degree. Still, Internal Affairs got all sticky during their investigation. At one point they even laid charges against him. Nathan was sidelined for several months and not one of the big brass said a word in his defense.”
“No balls,” Lindsay said with contempt. “God, one of their men takes bullets and still has to defend firing in return? It’s crazy.”
“Charges were dropped eventually, but Nathan was put through the wringer. Just last week his name was finally cleared. The next day, he handed in his resignation.”
“Good for him.” Lindsay felt like cheering.
“Yeah, who could blame him, right?”
“Hell. I can’t believe I didn’t know that was him.”
She was just too damn busy. And right now she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather share office space with than the woman she was talking to. “Are you sure you aren’t ready for a change in careers?”
Kate laughed. “Call me back when you can offer a full benefit package.”
“Well, thanks for the info, anyway. And good luck with Conner.” Lindsay replaced the phone, then stared at the file on her desk, not really seeing it, but instead remembering Nathan’s expression when he’d told her he’d left the force. He’d been calm, impassive, but now she knew that had all been an act. It had to have been.
Unlike her, Nathan had loved being a member of the NYPD. He’d been a natural at the job, clearly a superstar destined to go far. Until he’d had the bad luck to try and arrest a spoiled rich kid with an influential father.
She couldn’t imagine how bitter he must feel at having his career sidelined so unjustly. And it was so like him not to have said a word about this during their meeting. Or maybe he’d assumed she would have heard.
Lindsay made a note to start reading the newspaper more regularly.
MANY HOURS LATER, LINDSAY swirled the ice in her paralyzer and tried to believe it was a coincidence that Nathan Fisher had just walked into her local bar.
He was wearing dark jeans and a cream-colored pullover sweater, thick enough to keep a fisherman warm on a cold day at sea. As she watched, he brushed a hand through his hair, creating a stylish, messy look. Had he done that on purpose? He was scanning the crowd, searching for someone—she didn’t need to guess who.
She shrunk into the corner of her booth seat at the back of the Stool Pigeon. This was going to be tough. She had better prepare herself.
Since Kate had explained the story behind Nathan’s departure from the NYPD, she’d been battling the urge to call him and offer him the job.
Despite his “by-the-book” mentality, Nathan was an excellent investigator and quick on his feet, too. She’d be lucky to have him on her team, the only hitch being that she wasn’t willing to take him—or anyone—on as partner.
Lindsay took a sip of her drink, then lifted her head for a second look. The pub was about half-full tonight. Several men were seated at the bar. The booth across from hers was empty, but an elderly couple sat in the booth ahead of that one. Four tables were lined up along the front window. A group of twentysomethings had pulled two of the tables together. They were mostly guys, with a couple of dolled-up girls along as sidekicks.
Though she didn’t know all their names, Lindsay recognized most of the faces. The local joint was tired, and small, but the clientele was loyal.
Or perhaps, like her, they simply lived nearby. It was nice not to worry about hailing a cab when you were finished drinking for the night.
“Cute place. I like the ambiance.”
Lindsay sighed with resignation as Nathan slid into the bench seat opposite from her. From their days of working together, she knew Nathan was into health food, a borderline vegetarian. This was the last sort of establishment he would choose to visit.
Of course he wasn’t here for the food.
The guy had definitely done his research if he knew enough to find her here. That fact alone was enough to make her want to hire him.
“What did you have for dinner?” His gaze dropped to the dish she’d pushed aside a few minutes ago. “It must have been delicious. That plate is almost clean enough to put back on the shelf.”
“Chicken potpie. You wouldn’t like it. It’s about a thousand calories, most of them saturated fat.”
Nathan flagged the server. “I’ll have what she had. Plus a mineral water if you have any.”
Wendy Pigeon, who co-owned the place with her husband, Mark, looked a
t him in disbelief, then back at Lindsay. “You have a date?”
“Definitely not. Nathan used to work with me when I was a cop. Don’t bother remembering his name. He won’t be back.”
Wendy removed Lindsay’s empty dish and replaced it with a slice of coconut cream pie. “Want another paralyzer?”
Lindsay took the last slurp from her glass, then nodded.
Once Wendy had returned to the kitchen, Nathan said, “You still drink those things?”
“Why not? They’re a great source of calcium.”
“If you want calcium, you should try soy milk. Those things are loaded with alcohol, sugar, fat and caffeine.”
She smirked. “That’s why I love them.”
He shook his head. “The way you eat amazes me, Fox.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged and proceeded to enjoy her first taste of pie. At least she tried.
Nathan was looking at her steadily, his arms folded on the table, his body leaning forward. Close up like this, she couldn’t help but be aware of his broad shoulders and solid muscles.
“We worked together for a year and I still don’t know anything about your personal life.” The power in his gaze lessened, was replaced with curiosity. “You never talked about family or friends. Never mentioned a boyfriend—ex, or otherwise.”
“I’m not much for chitchat. Especially at work.” She took another bite of the pie, trying again to appreciate the rich flavor and creamy texture.
“No. Clearly you have your friends for that.”
She grimaced at his reference to the fact that she’d been eating—worse yet, drinking—alone. “Hey, these people are my friends. Wendy and Mark.” She waved her pastry-and custard-covered fork in the direction of the bar. “Those losers watching the baseball game.”
“Right. Bosom buddies, I can tell.” He leaned into his seat and shook his head at her. “So how were the rest of the job interviews? Did you hire anyone?”
She considered lying. But he’d find out soon enough. “No,” she admitted. “But we’re running the ad again this week. I’m sure someone suitable will turn up.”
At least she could hope. She’d tried so hard to find potential in the two other applicants she’d met this afternoon. But one had been a disorganized mess, the other curt to the point of rudeness. Even good-hearted Nadine had agreed that neither one of them could possibly work.
Perfect Partners? Page 2
