by Loye, Trish
She frowned as she left the room and headed back to her desk in the main area, feeling like she’d lost the battle somehow. She sighed. It didn’t matter. It was only a dinner. Once they’d captured Al Shabah—and she refused to think of any other alternative—he would head back to wherever he came from, and she’d likely never see him again.
She could have dinner with him. He may be gorgeous, with his dark skin and angled cheekbones, but he was her brother’s friend and if that wasn’t enough, a co-worker. A definite no-no. So even though he was the first man in a long time to make her heart beat faster, she was going to keep it professional.
No drooling.
She sat at her desk and went through her messages. There was one from a beat cop in her neighborhood that she’d known in the academy. She called him up.
“What’s up, Joe?”
“Al, good to hear from you. I just wanted to let you know, there was a jumper on the subway last night near your street, and I’m sitting with the body now waiting for the M.E. to clear the scene.”
“So why’d you want me?”
He paused. “The homicide detective on the scene says the guy jumped, but my gut says something’s off. But more than that, I think he was a vet. He was wearing a BDU jacket with a corporal’s rank. He deserves better than to be written off so quick.”
Joe had been in Afghanistan for a tour, so she knew he was being loyal to a brother-in-arms and didn’t want the vet dismissed as so many of them were. Finding Al Shabah was her priority, but taking an hour out of her day to help out a fellow officer and a potential vet was an easy choice for her.
“They’ve detoured the train on this line, but it won’t be long before the M.E. clears the body,” he said.
“I understand,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”
* * *
She told Drew where she was headed and took one of the Bureau’s unmarked cars to make the run. She pulled into the subway stop in her neighborhood ten minutes later.
She strode onto the sidewalk on Broadway and flipped her badge at the street cop who went to block her path. She hustled down the stairs to the number one line and welcomed the respite from the wind. Joe stood at the turnstiles. His short, squat frame belied his speed and strength, as she’d found out when they’d run the academy’s obstacle course. He smiled when he saw her.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Who’s the detective on scene?”
“Raymonds.”
She barely suppressed her groan. “You couldn’t have told me that before?”
Joe shrugged. “I know you like a challenge.”
He led her down another set of stairs to make it to the level of the train in question. Five officers held the scene—one at each end of the platform, two near the scene, and one near Detective Jack Raymonds.
Raymonds was a fifty-year-old sack of steel, will, and stubbornness. The fine broken capillaries in his nose and cheeks gave him a ruddy appearance and also told people what he liked to do in his off-time. Though his love of whiskey never followed him into the job.
“Hey, Jack, what do you have?”
Raymonds turned slowly at her question and took a moment before he responded. He was old school, never really believed women should be a part of the force. They’d had a couple of run-ins before she’d been selected for the Counterterrorism Bureau.
“Officer Harrison, to what do I owe this honor?” He narrowed his eyes at Joe as he spoke.
“That’s Detective Harrison. It’s understandable you might forget in your advancing years.” She grinned at him innocently.
“Cut the crap, Alyssa. What are you doing here? Last I heard, the fancy pants in the Bureau weren’t interested in day-to-day police work.”
“I got a call that this case might interest me.”
He scowled. “Make sure you remember that this is my case.”
She held up her hands. “It’s all yours. I’m just here to observe.”
He surveyed Alyssa until she raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her face calm.
Jack grunted. “Well, I hope you haven’t had breakfast. We’ve got a jumper.” He turned and stomped over to the edge of the platform. She followed and swallowed hard when she looked down.
Clothing, blood, and bits of body parts made a macabre collage on the tracks below her. The train had done a serious number on the guy. She’d known it would be messy, of course.
A young officer waited on the tracks, a few steps from the mangled body, his nose scrunched but his eyes eager.
“Any ID?” she asked the rookie.
“Not that I can see, Detective,” he said.
“Satisfied?” Jack asked, watching her, not the scene.
She looked back at the victim. “Brown hair, jeans, and looks like a camouflage jacket. Probably male. Maybe homeless.” Something jostled in her memory as she stated the description out loud.
“The M.E. should be here any minute to clear the body,” Jack said. He checked his watch.
She pressed her lips together. She had a job to do, and she wouldn’t allow Raymonds’ impatience to stop her.
She jumped down onto the tracks beside the rookie. He stepped back and almost tripped over the nearby train rail. She ignored him and knelt. A hand, severed just above the wrist, lay by the rail. Dirt encrusted the fingernails.
Blood soaked the dark dirt around the tracks. The smell of shit, guts, and blood dragged memories to the surface that she tried to keep buried. She breathed through her mouth but the smells seemed to coat her throat with a slickness that made her want to gag.
“Definitely homeless,” she forced herself to say over the rising bile. “See the hand? The grime indicates a life on the streets.” She moved to where the head lay. It had been somewhat hidden by the shadow of the platform, but she knelt by the bearded face. The man’s brown eyes were open wide, unseeing. She bit her lip and swallowed hard.
“I know him,” she said.
“What?” Raymonds said. “Who is he?”
She stood up, her shoulders slumping. “A homeless guy who lived beside my building. Rob.”
Raymonds huffed. “Rob? That’s all you’ve got?”
She glared at him. “I don’t make it a point to interrogate every homeless person I see.”
“Detective Raymonds,” Joe called from the steps, interrupting their standoff. “The M.E. is here.”
Raymonds stomped away, muttering under his breath.
“Asswipe,” she said.
“Excuse me?” the rookie said.
She sighed and looked back at what remained of Rob’s body. Why had he done this? Had the paranoia finally gotten to him? She pulled on a pair of latex gloves the rookie handed her and squatted again beside the body. She’d almost gotten used to the smell. Almost.
She used a pen to poke at his jacket, trying to ignore the dark stains on it and the softness of the crushed body inside.
“There wasn’t any ID in his pockets,” the rookie said.
She nodded. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. “Why’d you do it, Rob?” She was about to stand when a glint of metal caught her eye. She pulled the jacket open further to see a ball chain around his neck. Her heart sank further.
Using the pen, she lifted it off the headless corpse. Dog tags. She held them up, still using her pen, and squinted at a bloodied tag.
“Rob Steiner,” she said to the M.E. and Raymonds, who stood on the platform watching her now. “He was a vet.”
She handed the dog tags to the rookie, who held an evidence bag open. Then she stared again at the body. How bad had it been for him? She’d suspected he’d been in the military, just from his bearing. She should have done more for him. Forced him to get help.
“Let me know what you find out,” she said.
“This is my investigation, Harrison,” Raymonds said.
“I know,” she said softly. “But I considered him a friend.”
Raymonds nodded. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “I’ll
make sure you get the report.”
* * *
Back at the office, Alyssa looked up Rob Steiner and sighed.
Drew stopped in front of her desk with files in his hand. “What’s got you looking so depressed?”
“There was a subway jumper last night. He used to be a corporal in the Marines. Heavy action in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Discharged last year.”
“We’ve seen that type of thing before,” Drew said, not unkindly. “It’s just a sad truth that so many of the troops come back with hidden wounds.”
She tapped her fingers on her desk. “But this guy. He was different.”
Drew pulled up a chair. “Wait. You knew him?”
“He was a homeless guy who lived beside my building. He was harmless.”
“Wasn’t he the guy who stopped that lady from being mugged?”
Alyssa nodded, remembering the day when Mrs. Almadi had come looking for her husband in the coffee shop and had been assaulted by two men looking for a quick buck. Rob had stepped out of his alley and taken them both down before they’d done more than scare Mrs. Almadi. Alyssa had arrived moments later and arrested the two on the spot.
Rob had cringed when everyone wanted to thank him. Alyssa blocked his well-wishers and let him escape back to the alley. She’d taken his statement quietly afterwards and didn’t make him come down to the station. That day had started their unusual friendship.
“We can’t save them all, Al.”
Alyssa looked up. “I know.” A heavy weight seemed to rest on her shoulders; she had to strain to sit up straight. But the bad guys never waited until they were ready. She didn’t have time to grieve for a man who had no one.
Drew stood up and picked up his files. “Come on. Masters wants us to track Al Shabah’s movements for the last two years.”
“I’ve done most of that already,” she said, following him to the big workroom in the back. The rest of the team already sat in there working at terminals, listening to chatter, or delving through the black net.
“Yes, but the big boss thinks there are too many holes and together we should be able to fill them.” He smiled apologetically. “You’re on crazy watch.”
She scowled. She’d already studied the videos from every crazy group known as, or wanting to be known as, a terrorist organization. Some of them, she swore she could recite their rhetoric word for word. “How did I get so lucky?”
She settled in front of a monitor. Zach and his friend Marc sat at monitors on the other side of the room. True to his word, Zach had stopped watching her. She found she missed his gaze. And that made her wonder if having pizza with him, even just as friends, was a good idea.
8
Zach sat in the small crowded restaurant wondering what the hell Jake had been thinking when he’d suggested this place. The smells coming from the kitchen were divine and the thin-crust pizzas the waiters carried looked delicious, but people jammed the restaurant. Three deep at the bar which ran along one wall, and no room before the tables started. A person literally leaned against the chair that Alyssa was supposed to sit in.
He’d come early and was able to get a table for two, but the people on either side of him were so close he almost had to hunch so he didn’t touch them. He’d put his back to the wall, only in part so he could watch for Alyssa. She entered a few minutes later, wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and boots. She may not have been very tall, especially compared to him, but she drew gazes when she entered. Her red hair hung in a loose braid down her back, little wisps of curls framing her face. She looked gorgeous, and he wondered what her hair would look like undone and draped around her shoulders.
He caught her gaze and nodded. She scowled back, not even attempting to hide her irritation. For some reason it made him want to laugh, though he suppressed the urge. She had absolutely no fear of him, and he loved that.
She pushed her way through the crowd to his table. Her face was pinched by the time she shrugged off her jacket. She scanned the room before she sat across from him and let him see her stormy eyes. She wore a soft-looking black sweater that hugged her curves, making him hungry for something other than pizza.
“Are you going to tell me why you look like you’re going to shoot someone?”
She pressed her lips together and her gaze darted behind her again. “I hate crowds.”
Now he noticed that her skin was paler than normal. Her hands were hidden under the table, but he bet they were clenched together. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea it would be so packed.”
She stared at him, her scowl deepening. “Really.”
What was she accusing him of? He cocked his head. “You think I brought you to a crowded restaurant on purpose? For what?”
She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him.
Then he got it. “You think I’m testing your PTSD.” He huffed a laugh. “You don’t think very much of me, do you?”
She didn’t say anything, but her scowl lessened. “You didn’t plan this?”
He didn’t need this. He’d spent all day slogging through the darker corners of the black net looking for any word on Al Shabah, and now all he wanted was a beer and a good slice of pizza. He’d get his concierge to order him something decent.
“Come on,” he said, standing up.
She continued to sit. “Where?”
His drawn-out sigh made the couple beside him frown. “Do you have to question everything?”
“Of course,” she said, sparks lighting her stormy gaze. “I was in military intelligence and now I’m a cop. Did you expect me just to do what you tell me?”
He leaned down so she could hear him over the noise. “For your information, I dislike crowds too. Let’s go somewhere else.”
He walked to the door, people watching him out of the corner of their eyes. He was used to that. People had been nervous around him since he was a teen and passed six feet. Now at six-two, he stood above most everyone here.
He stepped outside and immediately his chest loosened, the May evening air cooling his heated skin. He rolled his shoulders and then looked at the woman beside him.
“You hide it better,” she said.
“Hide what?”
“Your dislike of crowds. But I can see it now in the way you stand that you’re more relaxed out here.”
He shrugged. “Who likes pretending to be a sardine?” He started walking. “Please tell me you know somewhere good to eat around here. I’m starving.”
They grabbed slices of pizza to go from a little joint two blocks over before walking up Madison Avenue and then began crossing through the park back toward her place and his hotel. The sidewalks had streetlights placed close enough together that they were never in the dark. And it was quieter here, though New York was never silent.
They didn’t speak as they devoured the pizza—though the little moan of delight that Alyssa made pricked his interest. They walked side by side and he watched her out of the corner of his eye. His muscles tightened at the look of rapture on her face. He swallowed hard and looked away.
Focus on the pizza. She’s Jake’s sister.
Alyssa was not someone he could pursue, no matter how much he might want to at the moment. He couldn’t have a one-night stand with his friend’s sister. And not many women could handle the absences of a special operations soldier.
He polished off his two pieces of mushroom, meat, and cheese heaven and wished he’d gotten more.
Alyssa laughed. “You look so sad right now, staring at your empty plate.” She took it and crumpled it along with hers, tossing them into a trash can they passed.
“Tell me there’s another good pizza place near you.”
She spread her arms. “It’s New York. There’s good food everywhere. If it’s not good, then it doesn’t survive.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “Well, except near Times Square. That’s a tourist trap, so I can’t vouch for the food there.”
Her smile caught him by surprise, like a sucker punch to
the gut. He couldn’t help but reach out and trace a finger down her cheek. “It looks good on you.”
They’d stopped walking when he touched her. Her skin was so soft. Her eyes widened as she watched him. He used the same finger to trail down her neck to the pulse pounding there. Those gray eyes heated and his stomach clenched with need at the sight.
“What…” She cleared the rasp from her voice. “What looks good on me?”
He wanted to taste those lips. “Your smile,” he said. Unable to stop himself from closing the distance between them. He brought his other hand up and cradled her jaw and cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned her face into his palm.
But then she stepped back.
The movement woke Zach from the trance of desire he’d been in. He dropped his hands. She was Jake’s sister, and he was leaving as soon as they stopped Al Shabah. This could not happen.
He wrapped his iron control around him. Alyssa stared at the ground, her breathing a little fast.
“I’m sorry,” Zach said quietly. “I was out of line. It won’t happen again.”
She looked up at him then and her eyes glittered in the streetlight. “It wasn’t just you.”
It took all of his will not to go to her. He clenched his fists instead of running them through her hair. The need to kiss her fired his blood.
“Let’s get you home,” he said, and if his voice was rougher than usual, then that was beyond his control. She fell into step beside him, their pace now brisk where before it had been leisurely.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said.
“Do what?” he asked. His voice still wasn’t even. He could tell she watched him and he wanted to tell her not to. Not to show any interest. It was playing with fire.
“You don’t have to walk me home,” she said, and started ticking points off on her fingers. “I’m armed. I’m a cop. And I’m ex-military with a ton of training.”
He nodded. “You’re right. A mugger wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
She frowned at him as he kept walking beside her. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously.
