by V. K. Powell
“I just thought we should clear the air. If we have to work together, I have a right to know that you’ll do everything you can to represent me without prejudice.”
“You have my word that I will represent you to the best of my ability, regardless of the circumstances of our first un…comfortable encounter. Now, can we please get to work?”
“Sure, so, why am I here?”
“I’ve asked the police chief to release your files to me for review and—”
“You’ve what?”
“If you’ll let me finish, I’ll be glad to explain.”
The anger Regan had seen in Syd’s eyes at their first meeting returned and burned even brighter. What was in these files that Syd didn’t want her to see? Was she one of those officers who got her kicks pushing the use-of-force policy? Regan didn’t think that was the problem. Besides, she’d already had a firsthand look at how Syd got her kicks.
The stately African-American woman’s back, rippling with sexual tension and power, flashed through Regan’s mind. She stifled a gasp at the memory of Syd’s thighs wrapped around that body. The vision of her humping and begging for more shot through her like a dose of pure adrenaline. She squeezed her legs together and wondered what evil deed in her past justified the physical torment visited upon her each time this woman was near.
She looked up into Syd’s waiting gaze and quickly glanced away. Even an unobservant woman would be able to see the desire that raged inside her, and Syd was trained to search for nuance. Regan wanted desperately to understand why her body had chosen this time and this woman to betray her meticulous control. Maybe years of a sexless relationship had finally taken its toll. Maybe the upheaval of living in a new place with a new job and no social outlets had rendered her vulnerable to even the most subtle hints of sexual interest.
“Counselor?”
Syd’s stare was a combination of innocence and temptation. At times her openness was intoxicating and at others she tested the bonds that tethered Regan to her tenuous patience. She wondered how many other women had wrestled similarly before Syd bedded them, wanting her and not wanting her, craving her and fighting to reject her. Whatever the reason for this push-pull of emotions, she had to stop the unproductive turn her mind and body had taken and get back to work.
“Yes, as I was saying, I’ve asked the chief for your files. I’ll be looking at your past uses of force, complaints, evaluations, supervisory remarks, and overall job performance. The purpose is to make a preemptive strike if necessary. The more I know about you and your history, the better I can defend you against anything the plaintiff’s attorney may dredge up. If there’s anything you think could be viewed as unfavorable, please let me know now.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
Regan regarded her with skepticism. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t tell me if there was. I can’t impress upon you enough how important it is for you not to keep anything from me.”
“I am unaware of anything in my file that would be cause for concern. But, then, I’m not an ambulance-chasing attorney hell-bent on destroying a hardworking cop’s life.”
The pain in Syd’s voice was covered by a thin coat of anger, but Regan had mastered the art of discerning the two emotions as a child. “That’s not the intended result but sometimes it certainly can be.” She took a sip from her Diet Coke and rolled the can between her palms. “I know this is difficult, but I need you to tell me about the night of the shooting, if you can.”
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me before I came in?”
“I honestly didn’t think you’d show up if you knew.”
“You’re absolutely right. It’s a waste of time.” Syd rose from her seat and paced back and forth in front of the windows. “It’s all in the report. I’ve given my statement so many times I’ve lost count.”
“Yes, it’s all here, but I’d like to hear it from you.” Regan felt Syd bristle from across the room and braced herself for the response.
“What’s with you people, anyway?” Syd whirled on her as if prepared to strike. “Do you get some perverse pleasure out of putting me through this over and over? Why can’t you just read the damn file?”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I need to verify the repeated consistency of your version of the incident, and, more importantly, I need to get a sense of you as a witness.”
Anger and pain alternated in equal parts across Syd’s tortured face. “You mean I have to tell it again?”
“We hope that won’t be necessary, but it’s a possibility.”
Syd shook her head. “Is there no end to this?”
Regan knew the last question was rhetorical. She waited for Syd to calm enough to tell her story once again. This was a critical part of her case and could not be rushed.
“It was August twentieth and hot as hell.”
Syd’s voice was almost inaudible. Regan leaned closer but didn’t speak.
“Some of the shops at Oak Hollow Mall were having a sale. It was closing time. I got the call of a robbery in progress at Bradford Jewelers. They gave a description of the suspect. I rolled to the scene blacked out.”
Regan looked up from taking notes. “I’m sorry, blacked out?”
“I didn’t run lights or siren. It’s the recommended response if you’re close to an incident and don’t want to alert the suspect of your arrival. So, I parked out of sight of the entrance and approached on foot.”
Syd stopped and drew several deep breaths. “That night, it was hot and humid. I could hear the traffic on the surrounding streets and the calm of the mall parking lot. The area stunk of rotting garbage from the overfilled Dumpsters and stale beer from a nearby bar. Everything was sharply focused but in freeze-frame snapshots.
“I was flattened against the wall making my way to the entrance when the door burst open and the suspect ran out. He had a gun in one hand. I announced myself and told him to stop. He turned toward me, brought the gun up, and aimed it at me. There was no cover anywhere around me.”
Regan watched Syd swivel, looking for cover, as if reliving the event in real time. She had no frame of reference for the feelings that must have overtaken her.
“I hit the ground, yelling for him to drop the weapon. He kept aiming at me. I rolled out of his sight line and fired twice. Everything else was just aftermath.”
Syd stopped as if further explanation was unnecessary. Silence seeped into the stacks of books around them and swelled like a liquid invasion. Regan stared at her, amazed at the range of emotions that had played out on her face during the recitation. Now her shoulders sagged and she looked almost lost, her expression downcast and her brilliantly green eyes shadowed. Something in that look twisted Regan’s insides into a knot of confusion and hunger. Suddenly she was back in that alley denying accusations of jealousy, with Syd’s gaze burning her skin, seeing through her façade to the truth she didn’t want to admit.
“Syd,” she said quietly, “I’m sorry about the other night. I had no right to seek you out at the club. That was terribly unprofessional. Invading your privacy is not part of my job description and neither is trying to control your personal activities, sexual or otherwise.”
“You did that so easily, apologizing, I mean. It sounded as effortless as saying good morning when entering a room.” She seemed to be considering her next statement. “It’s not so easy for me, but I’m sorry for lashing out at you. It’s not your fault my life is in the crapper.”
“Still, I overreacted, made an assumption that was unwarranted.” Regan reached over and took Syd’s hands in hers. “I wish you didn’t have to go through this whole thing again.”
Regan felt heat rising between them and stood, intending to move away and return to work. She hesitated before asking her next question, knowing it had less to do with the case and more to do with her curiosity about Sydney Cabot. “Do you remember what you were feeling during the incident?”
“Feeling?” Regan�
�s hands were still on hers. She released their grasp, took a deep breath, and cupped Regan’s face in her palms. “This is how I feel now, and now is what matters.” She brushed her fingers over Regan’s bottom lip and tugged the moist, soft skin between her thumb and forefinger. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Regan felt as though her lips were on fire. The rush that accompanied Syd’s touch blazed deep inside. She was lost in green eyes that sparked heat but produced moisture in her most private places. Her hands moved upward to taut biceps that quivered with suppressed desire. Her body ignored all mental attempts at control, and she allowed herself to be pulled closer to Syd’s luscious mouth.
“Kiss me,” Syd whispered.
“Yes.” Regan thought the voice sounded like hers but the body response was definitely foreign. She felt the warmth of Syd’s breath on her face and inhaled her earthy fragrance. She waited to be consumed by the passion that was Syd, the passion she’d seen so freely shared and had so unabashedly craved since that night at the club.
The memory registered like a cold shower. She didn’t know this woman. This was what Sydney Cabot did. She seduced women to escape from her pain. I won’t be one of them. It took every ounce of energy Regan could summon to pull back. Her body screamed for connection, to be joined with the only thing she had lusted desperately for in her entire life. The thought itself was sobering.
“I can’t do this, Syd.” She walked toward the door, talking as she went. “Please check in tomorrow.”
In disbelief, Syd watched Regan move away from her. Their lips had been so close that she could almost taste the mixture of peppermint and cola on her breath. In the next instant she was gone. What had happened?
As she replayed the last few minutes in her mind, it became clear. She had happened, her typical response to anything that came close to feelings—divert and run. They’d shared a few honest moments, let their respective guards down, and then bam—she regressed into a hormone-driven, emotion-dodging, pitiful excuse for a human being. Uncomfortable feelings had started to surface and she burrowed further into her protective shell, letting her body and libido take charge. It was probably just as well; she was in no condition to offer anything beyond the pleasures of the flesh. And it seemed Regan had troubles of her own, aside from defending her in this case. Tragedy averted.
She left the conference room and walked toward the Cop Out. Regan Desanto was the first woman to resist her advances in a very long time. But it wasn’t her ego that was shaken. It was a nagging feeling that something inside her had shifted and could never be righted. One thing was for sure, she needed to find out more about this woman who had charged into her life, disrupted a perfect orgasm, and taken on the defense of her professional life. She could not summarily relinquish such monumental responsibilities to the unknown, or the unworthy. Syd wanted to know the woman she was counting on.
Chapter Seven
Regan exited the conference room without acknowledging the stack of phone messages the secretary waved in her direction. She darted into the ladies’ room and locked the door. Her skin burned where Syd had touched her, and the ache between her legs would not stop. She turned on the faucet and repeatedly splashed handfuls of cold water on her face.
What in God’s name was wrong with her? She’d almost kissed Syd during an interview about an ongoing case. It was obvious she hadn’t been thinking, at least not with any part of the body capable of intelligent cerebral function. Syd’s recounting of the shooting had been intense, and she’d gotten caught up in the progression of feelings. She translated Syd’s words and reactions about that night into emotions and internalized them. Her empathy for Syd was profound and she’d allowed the feeling to overwhelm her. Instinctively, she’d reached out to offer comfort. And that’s when her reality clashed with Syd’s.
Regan told herself she meant only to show compassion. Syd had interpreted her physical touch as sexually motivated, because that’s how Syd related. Regan had never met a woman who wore her sexuality so blatantly, like a badge of honor. Where Syd was concerned, most encounters with women seemed to be filtered through a sexually enhanced prism. But in this case, Syd had read the signals all wrong. Hadn’t she?
Splashing another round of cold water on her face, Regan replayed the scene in her mind. Had she somehow encouraged Syd to come on to her? The flush in her body remained as she tried to convince herself that Syd’s advances were unprovoked and unwelcome. She was not the kind of woman Regan would be interested in. Syd was gorgeous enough, that part appealed to her, but she was obviously irresponsible, irrepressible, and incapable of loyalty to one woman.
And, Regan acknowledged, Syd had avoided mentioning her feelings about the shooting. Her body language and expressions relayed an emotional component, but she never articulated what she felt. In fact, she’d deflected the question by overt physicality and inappropriate touching.
A conversation about the young officer in Nashville came to mind. Friends of his had told Regan of the changes the officer suffered after the shooting incident, about too much alcohol and drugs, withdrawal from friends and family, and sexual promiscuity. A wave of sadness and loss washed over her. Perhaps the same thing had happened to Syd. Maybe she was trying to compensate for the emotional numbness with physical contact. Or maybe sexual excitement substituted for the feelings she no longer experienced. Either way, Regan’s initial impression of Syd remained unchanged. She needed to keep the officer on a short professional leash for the sake of the case and a very long personal leash for her own sanity. In the meantime, more information about Sydney Cabot, her past, and her work would be an easy distraction.
*
“Line me up a flock of dirty geese, Jesse,” Syd called as she perched on her favorite stool at the end of the bar.
“Looks like desk duty isn’t any easier the second time around.”
“Oh, it’s great if you like waiting at home for the phone to ring. It’s worse than the first time. At least I was at the station and could see the guys and talk to people. I’m stuck in nowheresville now. And this, this woman is driving me nuts.”
Syd suddenly had Jesse’s total attention. She slid the first Grey Goose martini in front of Syd and propped herself across the counter on her elbows. “There’s a woman involved? Do tell. I want details.” Her thick New York accent brimmed with teasing.
“It’s nothing like that. She’s the assistant city attorney who’s handling my case. And, God, is she a pain in the ass.”
Jesse grinned devilishly at her and waited.
“Get that stupid look off your face,” Syd said. “I told you, it’s not like that.”
“But you have to admit, she’s the first woman to get a rise out of you in years, without getting in your pants.”
“She’s snooping around in my life like it’s really her business, asking questions about the shooting, my past—”
“But that’s not really the problem, is it? You’ve answered those questions at least a dozen times now.”
“Yes, and I just don’t like going over everything again.” Syd took a sip of her martini and looked around the bar, wishing more people were there so she’d have a legitimate distraction. Guzzling martinis and avoiding eye contact would only last so long with Jesse.
“Syd, look at me.”
As if on cue, the front door opened and Lacy sauntered in, scanning the room as she walked. She caught sight of Syd at the counter, nodded in recognition, and took a table near the back of the room.
“Look at me,” Jesse repeated. “She’s not the answer to your problem, darling. None of them are.”
Syd shifted uncomfortably and did what Jesse asked. “What?”
“You know what I mean. You’re running from your life. It’s time to figure out what you really want. Bedding women like a mating rabbit isn’t going to give you the answer.”
“You sound like that departmental shrink they sent me to.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t listen to her either. Don’t try to b
ullshit a bullshitter. I was a cop once, too. I know how we operate. Have you been honest with anyone about how this has affected you?”
Syd couldn’t lie to her best friend so she said nothing.
“I didn’t think so.” Jesse reached across the counter and squeezed Syd’s hand briefly. “I gotta go see what your latest paramour wants to drink. This isn’t a lecture, Syd. I just want you to be happy. And if this attorney has you at least thinking about your feelings, I say that’s a good thing.”
Regan Desanto had Syd doing more than just thinking about feelings. The soft tone of her voice, her compassion, and the tenderness of her touch had brought Syd to the edge of her closely guarded emotions. Her assumptions about Regan’s controlled demeanor suddenly seemed hypocritical and cruel. She had no right to criticize anyone for something she so blatantly practiced herself. But they had different motivations. Regan’s control was about bridling life and all its possibilities. Her own inhibitions were about self-survival and sanity—not at all the same thing. She fully explored all her possibilities, didn’t she? Her mind and gaze wandered to Lacy. Was Jesse right? Were these women just an attempt to salve a wound too deep to heal by itself?
She recalled the feel of Regan’s fingers wrapped around her hands, the emotional warmth, and the singularly directed focus of Regan’s attention. Her body responded again to the current that had swept through her at the time. It was sexual, no doubt, but it was also foreign and frightening. She’d wanted more, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t sure if her desires were purely physical.
One thing was certain, she wanted to know more about Regan and her Nashville police contacts could make that happen. She downed the rest of her martini, waved to Jesse, and exited the club. As she reached the sidewalk, a deep throaty voice sounded from behind.
“Leaving so soon?” Lacy came alongside and finessed an arm around her waist. She edged Syd back against the building. “I was hoping for a replay of Friday night. Any chance?”
