by Brenda Novak
“Not everybody thinks that,” she said. “Why was he transferred?”
It was clear Steve didn’t want to tell her, but after a moment of mental debating, he finally relented. “A prostitute came forward and said he’d been taking advantage of their cop discount for blow jobs.”
Her stomach turned. “Which means what, exactly?”
“I never—but I knew some of the guys would take a free blow job here or there, then look the other way and not arrest the girls when they were working. But apparently Tommy threatened one of the girls if she didn’t do him.” Steve was clearly embarrassed.
“Steve, the girl I caught him with was fourteen. Maybe if someone had the balls to stop him sooner I wouldn’t have been shot in the back by my own fucking partner.”
“You know how it is, Alex,” Steve said, practically whining, wanting her to understand—which she didn’t. “Guys complained, sure. Eventually he was moved north. Clean slate. Promotion to detective. Good lieutenant who knew the score, laid down the law with him. Thought by partnering him with a female detective would help.”
“He was threatening prostitutes for sex and then promoted? And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not something we talk about, you know. I assumed Jim would have told you.”
Jim had never said a word. The bastard.
“Hey—Alex—don’t be mad.”
She turned back to face him. “Yeah, I am mad. But mostly? I’m disappointed. You were my friend. I shared a bed with Jim. And you both knew Tommy Cordell was a fucking pervert. Kept me in the dark. And Jim actually accused me of sleeping with him.” She shook her head. “Just—go. I’m meeting my dad for lunch.” She walked away before she said anything else.
Another lie. Her dad couldn’t have lunch, but it sounded good to keep saying it.
Time to have a heart-to-heart with Matt Elliott.
Chapter Nine
From seven in the morning, the D.A.’s office was busy. Budget cuts affected everyone, and law enforcement wasn’t excluded from the axe. Staff, mostly prosecutors, flowed in and out of Matt’s office while Alex waited, a flurry of them because it was after twelve and most courts had adjourned for the lunch hour.
Matt’s law clerk was a young blonde girl named Zoey who looked like she was barely out of college let alone law school, but she compensated by wearing a severe grey suit, her long blond hair in a tight bun, and no-nonsense glasses. Her make-up was impeccable and even though she downplayed her attributes, she was model-gorgeous. She hadn’t been here last year when Alex was working with Matt. She ran a tight ship, however, and finally at quarter to one said, “Ms. Morgan, you may go in now. I’m sorry for the delay.” She actually sounded apologetic.
“No worries. I didn’t have an appointment,” she said.
Zoey tilted her chin up. “You’re on the list.”
“List?”
“Of people who don’t need an appointment.”
Odd. Weird. Alex gave Zoey an awkward smile, then walked into Matt’s office.
Matt’s office was neat, but not obsessively so. Two stacks of files were aligned straight on his desk, one on the left and one on the right. In box, out box, without the boxes. He had personal pictures, mostly of his sister, his half-sister, and his friends from the Navy. A Navy flag dominated one wall. His office was in the corner and boasted windows on two walls, but the street view was hardly worth fighting over. The California flag and the American flag stood in each corner behind his desk with the Seal of Sacramento County centered on the wall between them. In fact, the whole desk image looked like it had been staged for a photo—unlike the rest of his office which was stacked with books, computers, two couches, and a long conference table that could comfortably seat eight.
She shut the door behind her. Most of the venom she’d had after meeting with Hart disappeared. If there had been any real anger to begin with. Matt wasn’t the type to set her up like that; it had been his idea for her to put Hart in contact with her father, which would give them access as well. But that Hart proposed the job was a far better opportunity.
Matt walked around his desk to greet her. “Hungry? We could get lunch.”
She was famished, but shook her head. “Sit down. We really need to talk.”
Matt sat, but she didn’t.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing—everything. First, I was about to invite Hart to my dad’s house, but he invited me to dinner instead. To thank me, yada yada, as well as hard sell me on taking a job with him.”
“He asked you out on a date?”
She stopped pacing. “Did you miss the part where he wants to hire me? As his security consultant or bodyguard or something.”
“No, but why is he taking you to dinner?”
“To thank me for saving his life. To convince me to work for him. Because he has the hots for me and wants to take me to bed.”
Matt’s face hardened. “You can’t trust him.”
Alex was confused and getting irritated. “I don’t. You’re the one who wanted me to find an in with Hart. This is it. It’s perfect—it was his idea.”
“I don’t like it.”
“What’s not to like? I haven’t taken the job. I’m just going to listen to him.” She hesitated. “What’s going on here? Isn’t this exactly what you need? Someone on the inside? As his security consultant I’ll know his schedule, his meetings, whether he’s slipping out at night to meet with a mistress or whatever. It’s the perfect cover. But that’s assuming I even take it.”
Matt let out a long sigh and rubbed his face. “You’re right. I just—I just don’t trust him. I know him far too well, and he’s as slippery as they come.”
“I got the same impression.”
“You did?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” She sat down across from him. “I know I screwed up last summer; I’m not going to screw this up.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Wrong was subjective when you were a spy. “I wish I’d never walked in on Tommy. If I hadn’t seen him with the girl ...” She’d thought about that, a lot. She couldn’t turn her back on what he’d done, but if she hadn’t known about it, she would have finished the investigation. Tommy trusted her. She’d crossed lines a good, straight cop would never have crossed, all to earn his trust. And then poof! Gone because he was a damn pervert. “I was close to getting something solid on Rykov with Tommy. I know the players. If Travis Hart has anything illegal going with Rykov, I will find out.”
“I don’t have to tell you this is dangerous. Last time ... I didn’t think it was dangerous and you nearly died.”
“I’m wiser now. And there is a Russian connection to Hart’s shooting.”
“You read the ballistics report?”
“What? No—I’m talking about the shooter.”
“The shooter is Russian? How do you know?”
“Freeze,” she said. “Let’s back up. There’s a ballistics report. Steve didn’t tell me what it revealed, but he slipped and said ballistics matched another crime.”
“Three years ago a Russian prostitute was killed and dumped in the Sacramento River. The bullet that killed her matches the bullets fired by the shooter at the hotel. Now, what do you know about the shooter?”
“He’s dead. Steve was just here getting files, I’d assumed he would have told you—and probably told you more than me.”
“I didn’t see him. And they have a name?”
“No—no ID, no prints in the system. I talked to Jim after I met with Hart. Hart told me the shooter was shot in Discovery Park. Possible suicide, but—I don’t know. Doesn’t feel right to me, though I don’t have my hands on the evidence. Then Jim was waiting for me outside Hart’s office. I had to practically force him to show me the shooter’s photo. I know who he is.”
“Who? Connected to Rykov?”
She nodded. “I don’t know his name, but Tommy met with him several times when I was f
ollowing him. It’s all in the notes I turned over to the FBI. I called him the skinny Russian. He has that distinct look, fair skin, square jaw, wispy light brown hair. I never got close to hear him speak, but I put pictures in the file.”
“I’ll call Hooper.”
“Your office gave Steve Jefferson a list of all the cases that Hart worked on. Is there any way I can get the same list?”
“Yes, but you can’t take them. I can let you look at them here.”
“That’s fine, I’m not meeting Hart until seven.”
“Alex—”
She didn’t want to hear anymore from Matt about being careful around Hart. She knew what she needed to do. So she told him what was really bugging her. “I didn’t tell Jim I recognized the shooter,” she said. “He needs that information to do his job, and I feel like I’m withholding evidence.”
“We’ll find a way for him to get the information without exposing you.”
“It just ... makes me feel dirty.”
“What on earth for?”
“Because I kept secrets all last year!” She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated and angry, mostly at herself. She jumped up and paced. “Those secrets destroyed my relationship with Jim. Cost me my job. And I’m still keeping those damn secrets because if I told Jim I recognized the shooter as being part of the Russian mob, he’d ask me how I knew, and I’d have to tell him about Tommy’s connection to the Russians and that I not only knew about it, but was a fucking snitch for the feds until I screwed the whole thing up and shot him.”
“Stop,” Matt said quietly.
“No!” She whirled around. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Someone in the Russian mob wants Travis Hart dead. Which makes no sense if Sergei Rykov is one of his big supporters. Unless Hart did something to piss him off, which is certainly plausible. Steve told me they ran Eric Huang, the legislative aide, and he’s clean as a whistle. Yet ... I still think that Huang was the target. Even a mediocre shooter would know to get a clear shot. But why would the Russians want a staffer dead?”
Matt got up and put his hands on her shoulders. She tried to shrug him off, but he held tight. “Alex,” he said softly, “I would do anything to change what happened last year. Anything. I hate what you had to go through, what you’re still going through. But I need you to focus.”
She took a deep breath. “I know. I am focused. I can do this, Matt. I need to. I think having to stop the investigation last summer when I was this close ... I want to finish what I started.”
For so long, she’d just wanted her life back. But she realized over the last two days that her old life was irrevocably gone. Any illusion she had that when the feds finished their investigation she could go back to her old life was shattered. There was no going back. There would be no more badge. Her life, her career, as she knew it, as she loved it, was over.
But for the first time, she was okay with it. There was no going back, but she could move forward.
Matt steered her to his couch and sat her down, then sat next to her and took her hands into his. She stared at their joined hands. Maybe because she didn’t want to look him in the eye. Embarrassment flooded through her. Because of her meltdown.
Or maybe because she still got that jolt of attraction—of lust—every time she looked at him.
“Dean Hooper and I had a long conversation last night,” Matt said, “and based on that, I don’t think the Russians want to kill Hart. That the shooter, who’s connected to your former partner, is dead makes this whole thing more than a little interesting. It draws attention to the Russians, and it lulls Hart into a sense of security. The shooter is dead, no one can get to him. A rival? Rykov is the biggest criminal in that community, but there are others clamoring for a position. Maybe it was a threat for Rykov, and Hart wasn’t supposed to be killed. Or maybe a threat to Hart to keep him in line. Or maybe you were right, and Eric Huang was the intended target. Hooper was very interested in your theory.”
“Jim and Steve don’t think there’s any merit to it. It’s not logical.”
“But?”
She look at Matt and wished she hadn’t. They were sitting too close together, reminding her of when she kissed him and he rejected her.
“It may not be logical when you think about motive, but based on the evidence at the scene – which is minimal—I don’t see how the shooter could have possibly thought he could hit Hart. So either it was a threat and killing Hart wasn’t the goal, or Huang was the target and my intervention distracted the shooter or caused Huang to get out of the way in time. Is there any video? There were at least three television cameras there. They must have been rolling when Hart came in.”
“Sac PD would have grabbed copies,” Matt said. “I can get them.”
“Without tipping your hand.”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You forget—I am the D.A.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She tried to pull her hand away, but Matt tightened his grip. “Matt.”
“Be careful tonight with Hart. I know, I know, you’ll be careful, you know what you’re doing. I trust you, Alex, but that doesn’t mean I’m not at least a little worried. I used to work with him. I’ve been suspicious for years about some of his plea agreements, some of his cutting corners, but there was nothing overtly illegal. More ... borderline unethical. Never forget that Travis Hart cares about only one person: Travis Hart.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” she said with a half-smile, trying to keep the conversation light. Because her stomach was twisting and her heart was pounding and her hands—the hands that Matt held—were sweating. Shit. She was actually sweating from sitting too close to this man.
“I’m serious, Alex.”
“Can you please let go of my hands?”
He did, as if he’d forgotten he was holding them.
Alex jumped up. She needed to get away from him before she did something stupid. Like kiss him again. Damn—that was nine months ago and she hadn’t forgotten how that hot make-out session had made her feel.
Matt got up as well. She stepped back. He took a bigger step forward and at the same moment she realized his intent, but before she could stop him, he kissed her.
It wasn’t a simple kiss. It was an assault. The good kind, the kind of physical devouring she hadn’t had in months. Maybe years. Maybe never.
Her mind went blank and she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t think. Her body betrayed her. Her own lust, her own need, took over. She didn’t want this ... yes, oh yes, she mostly certainly did.
Her lips parted and Matt’s tongue slid smoothly between them and she would have melted to the floor in pure pleasure if he hadn’t grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him. Her hands gripped his shoulders. His shirt was expensive, smooth, crisp, and smelled wonderfully spicy, like Matt. She wanted to take it off him, feel his bare chest against her palms.
She pulled away, heart racing, almost unable to catch her breath.
She had no words. A year of pent-up sexual frustration over this man had nearly exploded; seeing him last night had completely messed her up. What was she thinking?
She wasn’t. Attraction did that. Hot, physical lust caused smart women to lose their brain cells.
The way Matt was staring at her, like he wanted to strip her naked, made her stomach flip. She flushed. Her skin burned. If they were anyplace else, he wouldn’t have to strip her because she’d already be naked.
“I’ve been dreaming about taking you to bed the moment you walked out of my house last year,” Matt said.
“This can’t be a good idea.”
What had she said? Of course it was a good idea! She hadn’t had sex in over a year. She was attracted to Matt. He was attracted to her.
“It’s a damn good idea, just not in my office.”
She glanced around. “Maybe if we just get it out of our system. One night, we’ll get over this, whatever it is.”
“Is that what you want? One night of
sex? Do you think that’s what I want?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think right now.” She licked her lips.
He smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his mouth. “After I take you to bed, Alexandra, neither of us will be satisfied with just one night.”
“Maybe we won’t be compatible.”
Matt laughed and walked over to his desk. “I’ll ask Zoey to run a copy of everything we gave Detective Jefferson. It’ll be ready in an hour, I’ll have her set you up in a conference room so you have privacy.”
“Thanks,” Alex said and walked to the door. This whole conversation had gotten out of hand. She didn’t know what to think.
“And Alex?”
She turned and looked at him over her shoulder.
“We’re very compatible.”
Chapter Ten
Alex spent the rest of the afternoon at the D.A.’s office going through all the cases that Travis Hart prosecuted during his tenure. She wasn’t done, but there was one case that caught her eye and she left Matt a note to look at it.
The case itself wasn’t all that suspicious, but what caught her eye was the address on River Road. It seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why. She wrote it down to look at later. If she had the case file here, it might trigger her memory, so she also added to the note that she wanted to see a copy.
Before she knew it, Zoey knocked on the door and told her it was 5:30 and she was leaving. Alex thanked her, then practically ran to the hotel parking garage six blocks away. She had to pay a small fortune to get her car out and worse, because it was rush hour and she had to navigate the one-way streets and traffic lights, it took her nearly ten minutes to drive the point eight miles to her apartment.
She ran up the stairs to her fourth floor flat because the elevator was taking too long. Already, it was after six. Quick shower, but she didn’t wash her thick, straight dark hair because it would take too long to dry. Standing naked in the bathroom, she put on some make-up while her curling iron was heating up.
