In Bed with the Badge

by Marie Ferrarella

  “It would—if you’d been a Boy Scout,” she told him with a knowing smile. “But you weren’t.”

  “How would you know that?” Sam asked, then realized the answer. “Have you been digging into my background, McIntyre?”

  “Maybe a little,” she admitted. There was no embarrassment, no apology in her voice.

  Why would she go through the trouble? Was there something going on he wasn’t aware of? An investigation came to mind, but there was no reason for one.

  “But you know me,” Sam protested.

  She gave him what passed as a mysterious smile. “Does anyone really know anyone?”

  The sigh that escaped was an impatient one. “Don’t go all philosophical on me, McIntyre. Why were you digging into my background?”

  “Because I don’t like surprises. Because I wanted to know more about the man I’d been partnered with. Besides, it’s not digging, it’s just familiarizing myself with some background information.”

  Had she talked to someone, or just looked at his personnel file? In either case, he couldn’t say he liked the invasion. “Asking me would have been simpler.”

  “Would you have answered?” she challenged.

  “Maybe.” His expression gave nothing away. “If you’d played your cards right,” he added.

  Yeah, right. “That’s what I thought,” she said out loud. “My way’s better. Anyway, I wasn’t going for any deep, dark secrets—”

  “Good,” he said, cutting her off. “Because I haven’t got any.”

  Everyone had secrets, Riley thought. Some just had more or bigger ones than others. “—I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity,” she concluded as if he hadn’t interrupted her.

  Riley leaned back in her chair, unconsciously rotating her shoulders to get rid of the cramp in her muscles. He looked up and saw her moving her head from left to right. It was a familiar movement that he’d seen boxers employ just before a bout was about to begin.

  “Getting ready for a main event?” he asked her, amused.

  “Just trying to get rid of this crick in my neck.”

  “That’s what you get for hunching over your desk.”

  She hadn’t noticed that Wyatt was observing her. Most of the time, she thought he was oblivious of her presence. “I didn’t know posture counted in the robbery division.”

  “Everything counts in the robbery division,” he said flippantly, getting up. He circled behind her.

  She turned in her chair, trying to see where he was going. To her surprise, Wyatt righted her chair to keep her from facing him. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to strangle you and I’d rather do it from behind so those big blue eyes of yours don’t get to me,” he cracked as he put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped in response and he laughed. “Easy, McIntyre, I was only kidding about strangling you. I thought I’d try to help you work out those kinks.” As he began to knead, he found that he had to use excessive pressure. “Damn, but you’re tense,” he commented, pressing harder. “This is what the Hulk must feel like after he goes green and winds up erupting out of his clothes.”

  Lovely, he was comparing her to a lumpy, angry green comic book character. “Sure know how to turn a girl’s head, don’t you, Wyatt?”

  “I don’t think of you as a girl, McIntyre.”

  It was a lie, but a necessary one, he felt. Necessary because in reality he thought of her as a woman far too much for either of their good. Doing so interfered in so many different ways that it boggled the mind.

  “Good to know,” she murmured. She caught her breath, trying not to make any whimpering sounds. Wyatt was using way too much force kneading her shoulders, but she’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of wincing. Instead, she tried to concentrate on something else. “You really think that I’ve got big blue eyes?”

  Still working her shoulders, he leaned over and peered at her face. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She sat up a little straighter. The pain now shot to the top of her skull and the very roots of her hair. “But my other partners never noticed.”

  He sincerely doubted that. “Trust me, unless they needed a seeing eye dog to get around, they noticed.”

  Despite the fact that his rock-hard fingers created their own wave of pain with each pass of his hands, the stiffness in her shoulders seemed to abate somewhat. She felt almost human.

  A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation.

  The moment was short-lived.

  The phone on her desk rang. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was five-thirty. Thirty minutes past the end of their shift. If she picked up the phone and it turned out to be an official call, she might not go home for a while yet.

  Wyatt withdrew his hands from her shoulders. “Are you going to answer that?” he asked.

  “I was hoping to outlast it,” she confessed with a sigh. Resigned, she picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. “McIntyre.”

  “Just me, honey. I tried calling your cell, but I think you let the battery wind down again. Anyway,” the soft, familiar voice on the other end continued, “I’m calling to remind you about Andrew’s barbecue. It’s tomorrow.”

  She relaxed in her chair. No emergencies, no robbery to follow up on. “I was just talking about it.”

  “Oh?” Lila Cavanaugh made no attempt to hide her piqued interest. “To whom?”

  “My partner, Mom.” She watched as Wyatt went back to his desk and closed down his computer. “I invited him and his daughter. I didn’t think Andrew would mind.”

  “Mind?” Lila echoed with a soft laugh. “You know Andrew, the more the merrier. So tell me, how’s your partner adjusting to fatherhood?”

  The question didn’t surprise her. Even though she hadn’t said a word about this new state of affairs that Wyatt found himself facing, she knew that word in her family traveled like the flames of a wildfire during the state’s dry season. Brenda knew and that was enough. All for one and one for all wasn’t just a slogan for a band of fictional Musketeers, it also seemed to be the Cavanaugh/McIntyre family’s slogan, as well. What one knew, they all knew.

  The price one paid for having them all there for you, she thought philosophically.

  “Slowly, Mom, slowly.” She tried to avoid looking at Wyatt, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to know she was talking about him. “But he’s getting there. Gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, honey,” her mother said. “And Riley?”

  She’d almost replaced the receiver when she heard her mother say her name. She snatched it up just before it connected with the cradle. “Yes?”

  Her mother’s warm voice embraced her. “I love you.”

  Riley knew her mother was still worried about her, worried that she wouldn’t be able to pull out of the tailspin she’d found herself in right after Sanchez had been murdered. But, mercifully—maybe it was the work or maybe it was because she was helping out with Lisa—she seemed to be finally getting her act together.

  “Me, too, Mom,” she said quietly. With that, Riley hung up.

  Sam waited until she replaced the receiver. “Everything okay on the home front?”

  Nodding, she did her best to sound casual. “Just my mother, checking up on me.”

  “She have reason to worry?” he asked mildly, watching her face carefully.

  “No.”

  The answer came out automatically, without thought so that she wouldn’t be subjected to probing questions. But this time around, Riley realized there was more truth to it than just a few weeks ago. Progress. It felt good.

  “But that doesn’t stop her. Parents, according to my mother, worry about their kids for roughly the first hundred years. After that,” she smiled, “they start to back off.”

  “That means you’ve got more than seventy years to go,” he deadpanned.

  Even if her life span and her mother’s went that far, her mother would never completely stop worryin
g about them. It was an occupational hazard and the fact that all of them were on the police force didn’t help matters.

  “Something like that,” she agreed.

  “If that’s what parenting’s about, I’m glad I’m not like that,” he told her.

  There was humor in her eyes, as if telling him he would wind up eating his words. “Give yourself time. You will be. The best parents always worry, they just don’t show it.”

  He made no comment. The thing of it was, he had this undercurrent of fear that Riley was right.

  The next day, responding to the doorbell, Sam stared at the woman on his doorstep. Riley. He thought they’d settled this last night. Did she think he needed a keeper?

  “You know, you didn’t have to stop by. I told you that we were going to attend.” He stood there looking at her, his body blocking the entrance to his apartment.

  “Just wanted to be sure,” she answered cheerfully. “Besides, I’m not going out of my way stopping here. I pass right by your complex when I go to Andrew’s house.” It wasn’t entirely true, but close enough.

  Riley shoved her hands into the back pockets of her denim shorts. Her very short denim shorts, Sam noted, his eyes sweeping over her. His partner wore a white halter top that emphasized her tan, but it was the shorts that really captured his attention as well as stimulated his imagination. He took slow inventory of her legs.

  Who knew they were that long?

  She could almost feel his eyes trailing along her body. Making her warmer. She did her best to sound blasé.

  “Careful, Wyatt,” she warned. “You’re in danger of having your eyes fall out of your head.”

  “Your legs always been that long?” he asked, forcing his gaze back up to her face.

  Riley looked down, pretending to take his question seriously. “Since the sixth grade. I was the tallest in my class until everyone else caught up. One of the guys used to call me Flamingo Legs.”

  His thoughts turned to Lisa. Someday, maybe soon, some little boy would be teasing her. How was she going to handle that? How was he going to handle that? He didn’t want to be one of those overbearing fathers, but he knew he wouldn’t like the idea of someone tormenting his daughter.

  “Did it hurt?” he asked.

  She grinned broadly. “No, but he did after I gave him a fat lip.”

  He laughed. She’d been tough even then, fighting her own battles. Maybe Lisa would be, too. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but the sound of Wyatt’s laughter shimmied up and down her spine, making her feel even warmer than the day warranted.

  It also brought out his daughter from her room. Dressed in a red T-shirt and white shorts, Lisa came running up to her the moment she saw who it was.

  “Riley, Riley, Sam and I are going to a barbecue,” she announced.

  Riley looked quizzically at Wyatt. Why was he still letting his daughter call him by his first name? “I know, honey. I invited you.”

  Lisa fairly danced from foot to foot. “You’re going, too?” she squealed, then threw her small arms as far around Riley’s hips as her arms could reach.

  “You bet.” Riley glanced toward her partner. “She still calls you Sam?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she had an opinion one way or the other.

  Sam shrugged. “Easier to get used to than ‘Dad,’” he told her.

  “Same amount of letters,” Riley pointed out.

  “Yeah, well…” He let his voice trail off, then gazed down at his daughter. It wasn’t a matter of letters, but of feelings. He’d been missing for the first years of her life. Getting used to being here with him was hard enough for her without thinking of him as her father. “C’mon, Lisa, let’s get this show on the road.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. Grabbing Riley’s hand, Lisa fairly raced across the threshold, excitement apparently bubbling through her as she giggled.

  Chapter 11

  “Hear that?”

  It was several hours later when Riley asked Sam the question.

  When they’d arrived at Andrew’s house, the barbecue was already in full swing and they were quickly embraced and then absorbed. Within minutes, Lisa had been “borrowed” from Sam. Clasping Brenda by the hand, the little girl was happily led away to join in a series of games that Brenda, Jared’s wife, Maren, and Troy’s wife, Delene, were overseeing, playing with the up and coming next generation of Cavanaughs. Lisa hadn’t been back since.

  In the interim, separately and together, Riley and Sam were drawn into one conversation after another. The topics were varied, some serious, some humorous, but they were all spirited. Time, offset with an ever-changing array of snacks, appetizers and main meals, passed very quickly.

  And now, the “official” barbecue foods—hot dogs, hamburgers and steaks—were being served. No one, even the most stuffed of them, could find it in their hearts to say no. It was all just too good. Sam had volunteered to get her serving and his, returning with both after ten minutes.

  Sam handed his partner the plate Andrew had insisted on preparing for Riley himself.

  “Hear what?” he asked, sitting down with his own plate on one of the dozens of folding chairs. It was nothing short of a balancing act, trying to keep everything on the extra-large paper plate rather than it come sliding onto his lap. Besides the hamburger, there were three kinds of salad, all vying for a limited amount of space. “With all this noise, it’s hard to hear just one thing.”

  “Listen,” Riley underscored.

  Humoring Riley, Sam cocked his head the way she was doing. He heard a lot of things, but nothing in particular. “So what am I listening for?” he asked.

  Riley sighed. Men. “The sound of your daughter, laughing.”

  Sam straightened his head and looked at her. “You’re kidding, right?” When she didn’t say yes, he realized she was being serious. “You can actually hear that?” he marveled. “Lisa laughing?”

  “Yes.”

  He listened again, then shook his head. Riley had to be pulling his leg. “There’s got to be at least a dozen kids laughing, maybe more.” Not to mention the countless high-pitched voices raised, competing with one another. “How can you possibly make her out?”

  “I can,” she insisted. “It’s a matter of concentration. And attachment,” she emphasized. “You’re her dad, Wyatt, you are supposed to be able to tell the difference.”

  “Sorry,” he quipped. “My ‘dad’ gene is a newly acquired one. It’s going to take me some time to hone it properly.”

  Riley watched her partner for a long moment, gauging his tone. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you, Wyatt?”

  He pretended to be incredulous. “In a yard filled with your relatives, most of whom have access to guns?” He took a bite out of the hamburger. Damn if it wasn’t heaven on a bun. How could a simple hamburger taste this good? “Wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t have a death wish,” he assured her before he took another bite.

  His comment made Riley look around for a second. As she did, she smiled to herself. She hadn’t thought about it in those terms. But Wyatt was right. This was a yard full of her relatives.

  Not blood relatives except for Taylor, Frank and Zack, and of course her mother, but one way or another, this really was her family now. And, no doubt, every last one of them would back her up whenever she needed it.

  She hadn’t realized how good that felt until this moment.

  “You’d have to do something pretty terrible for them to shoot you,” she quipped.

  Swallowing another bite, Sam shook his head. “That’s one envelope I have no desire in pushing.”

  “Oh? And what envelope would you like to push?”

  Their eyes met and held for longer than she’d intended. Long enough to evoke that strange, funny shiver that danced along her spine these days whenever their hands accidentally brushed or she encountered him when she wasn’t expecting to.

  A strange, funny, warm shiver that s
pread out tributaries and left her stomach unsettled.

  “I’ll let you know when the time comes,” he promised her quietly. So quietly that she had to look at his lips in order to have the words register completely.

  “Oh. Okay.” She went back to watching Lisa. Somehow, it seemed safer that way. And better for her digestion.

  Watching Riley and her partner from across the yard, Lila smiled to herself.

  A sense of relief intensified. The same relief that had begun when she first greeted Riley as she arrived with Sam and his daughter. Lila turned toward her husband, the man she could now freely admit she loved. The man who she’d loved in secret for so many years. Lila placed her hand on his arm.

  “You did good, Brian,” she praised in a soft, lowered voice.

  “Of course I did,” Brian replied, turning toward her. Andrew had recruited him to bring another box of buns over to the grill, but that could wait. What his wife was saying intrigued him. “But just for edification purposes, is this in reference to anything specific or is this a general seal of approval?”

  With a laugh, she shook her head. “Yes, it’s specific. I’m talking about taking Riley out of Homicide and partnering her up with Sam Wyatt in Robbery. Look at her.” Lila nodded in her daughter’s direction. “She almost looks like her old self again.” Lila turned toward Brian again and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “No thanks necessary, milady. I’m always at the ready and at your service.”

  A little sigh of contentment escaped Lila’s lips. After all these years, she was finally, blissfully, happy. And she owed it all to Brian.

  “Nice to know,” she murmured.

  “I can show you just how ready I am once we get a chance to slip away and go home,” he promised her with a wink.

  “Brian,” she laughed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard him. “You’re the Chief of Detectives, don’t let anyone overhear you.”

  “Why?” He grinned. “Where is it written that the Chief of Ds is supposed to be a robot? Or live by the letter of the law alone?” he challenged playfully. “Besides,” he said, lowering his voice and whispering in her ear, “even a robot would find his mighty tin body getting overheated just by being so close to you.”