by Cera Daniels
"You tryin' to take off my hands, lady?"
"Detective," she corrected. "You're lucky it's my day off. Metal cuffs are far less comfy." Or warm. As her adrenaline tapered off, the chill in the air seeped under her collar and right to her bones.
She hauled him back to the alley and Ryan grabbed his bicep. "I'll watch him."
Amanda paused, studying the determined look in the businessman's eyes and ignoring another protest from her charge.
"What?" Ryan stepped closer. The move flexed his arm in a way that drew attention to his jacket sleeve. Along with the generous muscle underneath. "It's not like I'll let him go."
"If you really didn't do this," she said, forcing the young thug to look her in the eye. "You don't run again. Try it, and you might as well sign that confession now."
She waited until he frowned, his stance loose with defeat, then she released her charge into Ryan's care. Amanda dropped her gaze to the victim, whose unseeing green eyes stared up at a darkening sky. Her chest tightened. Another death. Old Town didn't need more ghosts. She narrowed her eyes at the body. Those eyes, the jutting cheekbones, they were familiar somehow.
"I know him," Amanda said, careful not to stir the gravel around the body as she squatted by its side. Dockers, olive green slacks, and a plaid button-up with a sizeable bullet hole through the chest. Cursory glance said cause of death, but—
"Friend or foe?" Ryan asked.
"I don't . . . " The man's identity was right on the edge of her memory. She held out her hand. "Phone. I've got to call Dispatch."
Ryan relinquished her cell and her thumb mashed the "2". Flipping to speaker phone so she could use the camera built into the device at the same time, she paced around the body and snapped shots for the crime scene unit. As she detailed the scene and ordered out a team, snowflakes grew more frequent. "I've got a person of interest in custody."
She called her lieutenant next and he answered in a huff. "I knew you couldn't stand down. Look, we haven't IDed the precinct vic yet. I don't know any more than the news outlets, so just hold your horses."
The precinct vic? Amanda flipped the speaker off and jerked the phone to her ear. "You found a body."
At the precinct. Her heart skipped about a dozen beats. Did that mean the rest of Greg's tip, about the man wearing a mask, was also true?
Silence. Then, "Why are you calling me on your day off, Detective?"
She turned her side to the crime scene. A dead body in-house should have been a big deal. All hands on deck. Why hadn't he bothered to bring her in? "Apparently, you're not the only one finding bodies today. Sir."
"Where are you? Werner—"
She hung up on him, frustration punching along the inside of her skull. And yeah, maybe a little bit of hurt. Her phone rang almost instantly but she sent it to voicemail as she turned back to the body.
"Recognize him yet?" Ryan asked, nodding at the body.
She nodded, pushing doubt aside as recognition drove home. "An informant. One of ours." Something flapped in a gust of winter wind and she flipped it over with her toe.
A mask.
Amanda stared at the black strip of fabric with two holes cut out of the center.
"I just wanted to see who the stiff was."
Her gaze slammed toward the young knife-wielder and she narrowed her eyes. "He was wearing this?"
He leaned away from Ryan, but her companion held firm. "Yeah." He clamped his lips shut in a thin line and then sighed. "You're not gonna believe me until you run the gun. It's not mine. You won't find my prints."
She glanced over at the tiny pistol with an uncomfortable feeling he'd told the truth. A pistol that tiny wouldn't account for the size of the bullet hole in this man's chest. "I found you kneeling over a dead body with a weapon," she said, but she stared down at the victim with growing dread. The mask pointed her right back to her mysterious masked attacker and with the victim's relationship to her precinct . . .
Rumors almost always held a shred of truth.
Amanda punched redial.
"I'm following CSU your way, Werner. What's going on?"
"Was the other victim wearing a mask?"
"Yes." The answer came fast, and angry. "Don't touch anything until I get there."
This time, he hung up first. Amanda's fingers were too numb to press the button.
CHAPTER SIX
Lieutenant Dale skirted the yellow "Do Not Cross" tape with long, punishing strides, closing in on their spot by the CSU truck with a look meant to be as intimidating as a rampaging T-rex. Related homicides meant Dale would need manpower. He'd want her back in full capacity. Finally. Amanda strove to keep triumph from bleeding into her expression.
"I want you gone." Dale stopped in front of Amanda, but he pointed to Ryan then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. McLelas, if you so much as set foot in front of a camera regarding this incident, that privileged neck of yours is going behind bars for obstruction."
Surprised by the rigid edge to his tone, Amanda fought harder to keep her expression bland. This side of Dale was a far cry from the amused tolerance—almost geniality—he'd showered on Ryan in his office the day before.
Ryan inclined his head. "News 9 likely spotted my car."
"If they approach you, you'll be silent," Dale said.
"I'll be discreet." He was all powerful businessman with those words, the confident stance, the unyielding expression, and the way he stood up to her commanding officer made it clear he hadn't maintained control of a major financial institution by inheritance alone. "Silence would make it difficult to get word out about your benefit."
Dale frowned. "I'm not picking a fight, McLelas. I'm not bargaining, and I'm not asking. I'm telling you how it's going to be. Anything other than 'no comment' about today's adventure and you're done."
"They won't hear it from me. But you might want to lower your voice." Ryan nodded toward the connecting alley, toward his car and the main road. "If you two will excuse me, I should see to my dinner plans."
Dinner plans.
Despite his apparent interest where she was concerned, he walked away. He'd end the night with another woman. Disappointment had an instant to settle in her gut before Amanda caught a slight flick of his gaze over his shoulder, heat in his eyes and a half-smile on his lips as he sought her out. She shook her head. The same mischief in his expression now had brought her out here with him in the first place. Well. The expression, and the near kiss.
Her pulse bounced, and it shouldn't have. She couldn't have expectations or desire tied up in a man whose "single" status varied by the hour.
Amanda shoved thoughts of her non-existent personal life from her mind, more than ready for the responsibility Dale would return to her shoulders. "What's the situation at the precinct, Sir? Tell me about the other masked body."
"No." He gave a sharp shake of his head. "He wasn't one of ours. That's all you need to know."
No? Amanda's eyes narrowed. Was he joking? She'd had it with "no". Charlie was signing her papers today, and she was taking on this case.
"When, tomorrow?" She stepped into his personal space. "Sir, with all due respect—"
"I'll be frank with you, Werner." He ran a hand over day-old stubble. "You're a liability, not an asset."
Her jaw dropped and kept dropping until she felt like her bottom lip dragged through the snow. Cold, crawling sensations struck her chest and spread from there. "A liability?"
Oblivious to her shock, he continued louder, "The last time you were on the street, you entered a dangerous situation that nearly got your partner killed. You then not only lost your firearm; it was discharged in the middle of syndicate territory and, by your own admission, triggered a cross-syndicate encounter. We are at war."
Hurt and frustration turned boiling at the accusations. He couldn't be suggesting she was to blame for the tension on the streets. "Both Psych and Internal Affairs cleared me for active duty. I—"
"War, Detective," he repeated with a swip
e of his hand. "More to the point—and this is important—I can't trust you to obey a direct order."
He couldn't trust her? Amanda's fingernails dug into her palms. Just the day before he'd touted her loyalty, and now he couldn't count on her?
Her temples started to throb. "This is about my phone call? What did you want me to do? Ignore the body?"
"I don't care if you'd found ten bodies. You were to stay home. And where do I find you? Skulking around back streets, working on a sealed case file."
"I haven't worked a case in months." Her voice came out low and hoarse with suppressed fury. How had this conversation gone so wrong? He was supposed to move her off the bench, not publically take her to task. Dale seemed set on her guilt on every point, and he was the one who'd granted Ryan's access to the file in the first place. She wanted to scream. "I was not investigating Old Town."
He held out a hand, his face severe. "Give me your badge."
"You're not listening to me." Her heart neatly swandived off a cliff. Law enforcement was her lifeblood. He couldn't mean to pull her off the team completely. A stunned thought hit home, wrenching her stomach. She lowered her voice to a desperate whisper. "Are you doing this because of the deal yesterday? Is someone blackmailing you?"
There was that T-rex look again.
"Don't put this on me, Detective. Political maneuvering has nothing to do with"—and his voice continued to rise, ripping down the street—"blatant disregard for the chain of command. You've endangered the lives of civilians, as well as your own, and I've already sent word to the Commission. You're suspended, pending review." He waved his outstretched hand. "Your badge."
Suspended.
Disbelief burned in her throat. She fumbled for the wallet in her front pocket and her fingers clamped around the ID card in a grip that shook. Starkly aware of her audience, she forced her hand still.
Do not show weakness.
"This is wrong, Lieutenant. Put me on this case and let me prove I can do this job. I worked hard to get here and I'm going to fight to stay here. You know I will."
"You are not to touch this case. Any case." His hand was still out. "Phone, too."
Wordlessly, she dropped the department-owned cell into his waiting palm.
"It's for the best," he said.
Like hell it was.
"Your partner is dead, and I can't afford to waste manpower so someone can watch your ass." He tucked both the small card and phone in his shirt pocket. "Go home."
Every cruel word hit like a body blow. Her chest shuddered, her lungs pinching tight. He'd brought Jackson into this, on top of everything else? Did he blame her for that too?
She thought he tipped her a sad smile but then it was gone, cold and calculating, the public thrashing complete. Remorseless. He cut off another protest and pointed toward the street where Ryan had vanished. "Clear out, before I'm forced to place you under house arrest."
Dale walked away with her whole world in his pocket and not a single officer on the street dared to meet her eyes. Because they agreed? Or because they didn't want the same treatment? All her oaths, her commendations, her track record—wiped out in one fell swoop. If he felt she couldn't be trusted after that night four months ago, why hadn't he sent her packing then? Why make her sit around and file papers?
Why humiliate her in front of everyone?
She kicked a cinderblock but the physical ache did nothing to counter her loss. Maybe he'd hoped she would quit instead of pushing for reinstatement. He didn't know her as well as she thought he had if he thought she'd give up.
Then or now.
That didn't stop her eyes from burning like a son of a bitch.
She returned to the main Old Town thoroughfare and turned the corner to see Ryan leaning on his car with his arms crossed. She blinked the unwanted moisture away.
He was talking to a reporter.
One warning cough was all it took. The woman next to him spun away, trotting to a news van parked between two crumbling buildings.
Amanda stared after the van as it churned glass and gravel in a hasty retreat. "I'd hate to add 'obstructer of justice' to your list of delightful qualities."
"You're making a list?" Ryan's eyes went purposefully wide in her peripheral vision, all feigned offense and innocence wrapped up in a definitely-not-innocent and far-too-sexy package. "In that case, you should add good-looking, boyish charm . . . "
He kept right on going, but even his "charm" couldn't fix this. She held up a hand. "Save the boyish charm for your lady friends."
"I'd much rather use it on you. Besides, I'm beginning to think you like it." Mirthful brown eyes sought hers as he turned, then his grin dissolved. "Amanda."
Ryan didn't break eye contact as he jerked open the passenger door. A puff of inviting, heated air escaped onto the sidewalk.
She shook her head. "Thank you. I appreciate the offer. But I need to walk. Blow off some steam."
"It's snowing." He pulled the door open further. "Heater's already running."
A gust of chill wind swept down the street, combating the welcoming promise of Ryan's car and stirring gray and red banner remnants like macabre spirits. Fire and death. A fate they could have shared just the day before. She smoothed the edges of her coat with her palms, desperate to get a grip on her emotions.
"Let me take you home."
The warm air wrapped tendrils around her neck and she shivered.
"Long walk to the nearest rail station." Ryan's free hand lifted as though he intended to soothe her and she ducked underneath it, sliding into the toasty vehicle.
She shoved her hands to the air vents, a peculiar melting sensation dripping over her fingers as they thawed.
He buckled in and shifted the car into gear. "If you need to talk, I'm listening."
She conjured a smile but it dissolved in a hurry. Her humiliating dismissal must have been written all over her face. Amanda slid her gaze toward the window and tried to focus on the buildings as they passed. Losing her lieutenant's faith cut to the bone. Self-doubt trickled in and she needed to sear the wound with something hot. Relek's turf war, Jackson, the Old Town case, phone calls and bodies . . . for Dale to rack up a laundry list of reasons to kick her off the force didn't fit with what she knew of the man. But then, she'd never have pinned him for someone who could justify bargaining with sealed case files as a "political maneuver" either.
Amanda hugged her arms over her chest. She wouldn't figure it out in the engine-punctuated silence.
"Zach thought you'd be called out for coming to Old Town with me." Casually neutral.
"I've been suspended." She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath of leather and man. The earthy scents grounded her. Dale's cutting words couldn't dominate her thoughts here. Maybe at home, where she'd be free to analyze his reasons aloud.
Amanda sat up a little straighter, studying Ryan's profile as she quashed the argument from her active memory. He still wore his communicator, a discrete black circle with deep blue veins of wires and a tiny mic that extended to the edge of his earlobe. Her dismissal today wasn't his fault, but when he'd seen her on the sidewalk that morning, he'd considered asking her to work on the case. He'd said as much to his brother. He'd considered it, but he hadn't followed through.
"If I blamed you, I wouldn't be in this car." She sighed. "I'm not a total idiot. Had you asked me to help you on the case this morning, I'd have said no."
His right hand left the wheel and settled over the gear shift. A smile curved the corner of his lips. "You're not an idiot at all, Amanda."
"Dale doesn't agree." She chewed on the inside of her cheek and faced the windshield. "Maybe that's it. He's still pissed I didn't best that perp."
"You did, though. Rather thoroughly."
"Not the kid today. A different incident, months ago. I made a mistake that got my partner injured and me shot." She shrugged her right shoulder. "I've been trying to work my way back onto the active team ever since, but it seems Dale's given up on
me."
Ryan's fingers brushed the knee of her jeans. "Maybe he doesn't want anything to happen to you."
"Taking my badge certainly accomplishes that goal." She traced a circle around the chrome horse insignia on the glove compartment, determined to ignore the rapid tingle of awareness zooming up her thigh. Ryan offered comfort, nothing more. "I took this job to protect and serve, not to play it safe."
With her emphasis on the last word, his fingers twitched on her thigh. She waited for him to speak, half-expecting a comment on how she should employ more caution. As if staying on the street while he'd gone behind the building without her this morning had been an option.
If Ryan was thinking it, he didn't say a word.
Wise man.
She tilted a wry smile his way. "Remember how you said a day off would be good for me?"
"I see. It's my fault after all." He grinned. "Our outing was cursed from word one."
A laugh tap-danced its way up her throat and into the enclosed space of his car. Why did her tension seem easier to bear around him? "Ryan, I meant what I said. It's not your fault. Dale made it pretty clear he's been looking for an opportunity to push me out since the night I took that bullet." She shrugged. "So if I get to blame anyone for costing me my badge, it'll be the slick bastard who benched me in the first place."
His lips parted. For a fleeting moment, Amanda read shock in the slack line of his jaw. It vanished when his hand jerked off her leg and his eyebrows furrowed. The car took the next corner sharper than prudent, drawing her eyes back to the road.
"Did something run in front of us?" She checked her mirror, but unless he'd been concerned by a paper bag blowing across the road, she didn't see cause for alarm. Not the kind of alarm that warranted a white-knuckled grip on the gear shift. "Ryan?"
"Is this guy behind bars?"
Amanda raised her gaze from his hand to his face, but he hid his thoughts well. "No. They never caught him. The man's a shadow."
He pulled up to a stop sign and his eyes left the road, his gaze like a heated caress to her skin. "You don't seem like a woman who'd give up."
