This time, Xander let his curse fly under his breath. “Then the case falls apart and he walks.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to tie up loose ends after that happens, either. Sansone was a nasty SOB the first time we went after him,” Garza said, and Sinclair nodded his agreement.
“Well, now he’s nasty and smart. Whoever he got to do his dirty work tonight knew exactly what to say to make this case an uphill climb.”
“More like what not to say,” Tara muttered. “The man who assaulted Amour never said Sansone’s name. Never mentioned the case, or anything even related to it. Sansone’s attorney will argue that he has no idea what we’re talking about. And I’d bet a Maserati that he’s got an airtight alibi for tonight, with no less than ten witnesses who can put him across the city from Amour’s house.”
“We’ve broken cases open with less,” Isabella said. “One good thing about riding a desk is that I have plenty of time to go over every inch of this case. Video surveillance, forensics from Amour’s house, witness statements. Name it, and I’m in.”
“That’s a good start,” Sinclair said, and Xander had to agree. Isabella had some of the sharpest eyes he’d ever seen. “We’ll have to do the obligatory meet-and-greet with Sansone and his attorney. Who’s presiding over the case?”
Tara made a face. “Alana Waters. Look up Stickler in the dictionary, and her face will be right there, front and center.”
“That bad?” Xander asked.
Tara snorted in time with the Intelligence detectives’ nods. “She once corrected my grammar while I was arguing against a dismissal in her chambers.”
Ouch. Still… “Okay, but no one can deny that Amour’s life was threatened.”
“It doesn’t matter if we can’t prove Sansone’s the one behind it,” Tara said. “The first step is getting on the record with Judge Waters, though. I’m going to have to figure out how to get Amour to agree to testify, but keeping her safe is a good place to start.”
Garza lifted his chin in agreement. “Capelli’s already working on getting her into protective custody.” At the mention of the Intelligence Unit’s tech and surveillance guru, Tara’s shoulders seemed to relax by a fraction. “But he’s running into an issue finding a good place with immediate availability.”
The RPD kept a handful of places on tap for protective custody, offsite surveillance and ops planning, and other various and sundry tasks that required the utmost secrecy, Xander knew. Apparently, they were all in use.
“What about an extended-stay motel?” Tara asked, but Sergeant Sinclair shook his head.
“That’s six weeks’ worth of variables we can’t predict. Staff who could be pressured or bribed. It’s too risky for a case this big.”
“There’s a vacant apartment on my floor,” Xander said, only realizing he was going to give the thought a voice after it had bolted past his lips. But now everyone in the room was staring at him, so great. Guess he was running with it. “The guy who lived down the hall from me moved out a couple days ago. The building is pretty nice. No doorman to worry about, but all residents need a keycard to get in and guests have to be buzzed through, so the security’s pretty tight.”
Isabella’s brows lifted as she slid a look at Sinclair. “That’s not a half-bad idea. I know the building—Gamble used to live there, right?”
Xander nodded. He’d taken over the lease at his brother-in-law’s place when the guy had moved in with Xander’s sister a couple years ago.
“It’s over on Delancey, about fifteen minutes from the fire house,” Isabella said for everyone else’s benefit. “As good a location as any for something like this.”
“Let’s schedule a walk-through first thing in the morning,” Sinclair said. “Amour’s going to have to stay here overnight anyway. Dr. Riley runs a clean ship, but we’ll put an officer outside her room, just in case. But if this apartment pans out, we’ll have Capelli roll through it with all the bells and whistles so we can get Amour in there as soon as possible.”
Tara put her hands on her hips, accentuating both her determination and her curves. “I’m staying with her until she’s released. She’s already rattled, and telling her she has to go into protective custody is only going to prove how much danger she’s in. She needs an anchor.”
“Lucky for her, she’s getting two,” Sinclair said, prompting a whole lot of WTF to cross Tara’s features.
And that made two of them. “What?” Xander asked.
Sinclair turned to pin him into place with a steely gray stare. “Isabella told me you earned Amour’s trust during her interview.”
Shock twisted through Xander’s rib cage, and he made every attempt to keep it far from his expression. “Yes, sir, but—”
“Nothing,” Sinclair finished smoothly. “It worked. She asked for help from you, specifically. I’m not inclined to tell her no. Unless you feel like you’re not up for working this case?”
Telling Sinclair no would be the most permanent sort of career suicide. Dade would probably murder him with her thumbs alone if he passed this up, and that was only if his sister didn’t do it first. Plus, the whole reason he’d signed on to be a cop in the first place was to help people who needed it, just like he had two years ago.
So he opened his mouth and said, “Not at all, sir. I’m happy to be on the team.”
So much for keeping his head down and his ass far, far away from Tara Kingston.
“Alexander Trenton Matthews, get your ass to the back of this bar right this instant!”
Xander winced, swinging a gaze through The Crooked Angel’s dining room as he made his way to the bar per his sister’s demand. “A little louder, Ken. There are a few people in the next county who didn’t quite catch my middle name.”
His brother-in-law looked up from his usual spot at the end of the bar and shook his head. “I wouldn’t fuck with her right now,” Gamble murmured quietly, turning to give Xander a handshake and a slap on the shoulder.
“I can hear you, you know,” Kennedy said, although Xander noticed her expression went way soft as she let her gaze flicker over her husband.
“I know, baby.” One corner of Gamble’s mouth kicked up into a smile. “But you love me and my smart mouth, remember?”
Annnnd welcome to the awkward portion of the evening. “I can hear you, you know,” Xander offered up, and Kennedy leveled him with a glare.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Xander. Why did I have to hear that you’re working a high-profile case with the Intelligence Unit from my girlfriends five days after the fact, instead of getting that ginormous piece of information straight from the horse’s mouth, hmm?”
Damn it. He should’ve figured both Isabella and Quinn would mention this case to his sister, at least tangentially. “Because I’m not supposed to talk about the details?” Thank God it was still early enough for the bar to be mostly empty.
Kennedy didn’t budge by as much as a millimeter. “And I know better than to ask for them. Still, a little ‘oh, by the way, I’m working a case with the most elite unit in the city’ wouldn’t have killed you, would it?”
“It is kind of a big deal, dude,” Gamble chimed in. “Sinclair doesn’t let just anybody run assists with that unit. You must have done something pretty badass to earn your way in. Even temporarily.”
Yeah, it was time to knock this conversation down a peg or ten. “Honestly, I was just doing my job. Which is why I’m here, actually. Can I place an order for carry out?”
Amour might not be able to leave the one-bedroom apartment six doors down from his, but she could at least have a decent comfort meal. Xander had mostly been on surveillance and security detail this week, keeping her safe from a distance while she was in protective custody. The apartment—with the exception of the bathroom—was wired to the nines thanks to Capelli’s handiwork, but Sinclair wasn’t one to fuck around. Having Xander keep an eye on the block from various vantage points at different times of the day and night ensured t
hat they had a handle on anyone suspicious lingering around.
So far, Xander’s job had been chock-full of a whole lot of nothing-to-see-here. Which would be great…if the investigation wasn’t also yielding the same brand of results.
Never one not to feed him, Kennedy sighed and wrote down his order. “So, you can’t tell me any details. Which I guess I get,” she added grudgingly. “But can you at least tell me how working with Tara Kingston is going? She’s not giving you a hard time, is she?”
More like a hard-on, not that Xander was going to let that little nugget of truth fly. Least of all to his sister. “Nope. I haven’t really seen her much since we set this up.”
Specifically, he’d seen her three times for a total of seven minutes, and she’d looked gorgeous enough to knock the breath out of him each time.
Not that he was counting.
“So, you two didn’t have a moment?” Kennedy pressed, and shit, he knew that look.
“I have no idea what that means,” Xander said, but his sister had never once let him off the hook for something like this. Of course she wasn’t going to choose today to go all new leaf.
“Isabella said that when she and Garza showed up to do an interview, you and Tara were standing toe to toe, looking all intense.”
Ah, hell. Isabella and Garza had some of the keenest eyes in Remington. Of course they’d picked up on all the hot-and-heavy that had been snapping between him and Tara like an electrical current when they’d arrived. But it had just been an off moment, fueled by an overage of adrenaline and emotion. Over and done.
“You’ve met Tara,” Xander said carefully. “Intense is probably her middle name. But it wasn’t a big deal.”
Kennedy snapped a bar towel from the half-apron around her waist and swiped it over the bar. “It had better not be.”
Before Xander could voice the surprise pinging through his system, Gamble intervened. “Kingston came at you pretty hard a couple years ago. We just want to be sure that’s all still in the rearview. Where it belongs.”
The reminder stuck between Xander’s ribs, but at least he could use this to his advantage.
He shrugged. “Oh, that. Yeah, everything between me and Tara is fine. We’re both pretty focused on working this case, so, you know. Can’t waste energy getting personal about business.”
No matter how badly he still wanted to kiss her. Hard and fast and so fucking deep, he could taste every inch of her smart, sassy mouth.
A flicker of something Xander couldn’t readily identify moved through Gamble’s stare. “You sure everything’s okay?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Xander said, dismissing all thoughts of Tara’s mouth as he tugged on a smile. A woman like that, with her high-class law degree and fancy car, wasn’t ever going to be for a guy like him. He needed to stop thinking about her, once and for all. “So, how have things been going here? Business good?”
It wasn’t until after Kennedy had filled him in on her week, then handed over his carryout order and hugged him goodbye that Xander realized the look on Gamble’s face when he’d said things were just business between him and Tara had been doubt.
Chapter 6
Tara dropped her spoon into the empty bowl in front of her and frowned. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”
Amour looked up from the mostly full bowl of ice cream she’d been trailing her spoon through and shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.”
Tara considered calling the younger woman out on the lie. She’d been here for an hour, catching Amour up on the investigation (condensed version: still no solid leads, but Intelligence was working the case from every angle) and making sure she was okay (news flash: she’d been assaulted and had her life threatened by someone who very much meant to kill her. Okay was a pipe dream). Amour might be safe, but she’d been pretty listless for the duration of Tara’s visit. She wasn’t good, but she was tough. Pushing now would only make her retreat.
Tara reached across the tiny café table in the rented kitchen and squeezed Amour’s too-thin forearm. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. Just give me a minute to put the rest of these groceries away.”
Amour glanced at the multiple brown paper bags from the upscale organic market across from the building where Tara worked. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You’re not supposed to exert yourself,” Tara tried gently, but Amour got up anyway.
“It’s groceries. Believe me, I’ve handled way worse.”
The reality of her words sank into Tara’s bones. “How about we split it?” she asked, because screaming at the injustice seemed like a bad option. She’d already put all of the perishables in the fridge when she’d first arrived, anyway.
Amour shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
Taking on the heavy lifting, Tara pulled the last of the eight grocery bags she’d brought with her to the counter with a thunk. Her muscles had given her what-for as she’d loaded the bags onto the rolling cart she’d brought to transport everything to Amour’s apartment in one go, then done an encore as she’d done the car to lobby to elevator to doorstep route. She’d had to take a very specific, somewhat circuitous path to make sure security cameras caught her (and anyone who might follow her) every step of the way, but if it kept Amour safe, it would be worth it.
Speaking of which.
“I’m really glad you decided to stick with testifying against Sansone,” she said, pulling a can of soup from the bag in front of her and sliding it into a cupboard.
“I don’t want to,” Amour replied flatly. “But if I don’t and the case gets dismissed, he’ll probably kill me anyway. He’s not the kind of guy who leaves loose ends, you know? The best shot I have at not ending up dead is to testify. Even if I have to stay holed up until then.”
Not one to mince words, Tara said, “You’re probably right that it’s the best way to stay safe in the long run, even though it seems counter-intuitive to testify after what he did. But he threatened you because he’s scared of you. He only wants you to think he’s got the control.”
A dismissive noise crossed Amour’s lips. “His guy seemed pretty in control when he did all this.”
She gestured to her temple, where the mass of gauze had been reduced to a large adhesive bandage covering her wound. But oh, no. No. Thoughts like this were going to submarine Amour’s strength, and she was going to need all of it to prep for this trial.
“You’re still stronger than him.”
“You know Detective Garza brought me groceries like, the day I got here, right?” Amour asked, and even though Tara noticed the about-face in subject, she didn’t call it out.
“Well, yes, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared with a little extra.” Pointing to the bowl Amour had left on the table, she took aim at a grin. “Plus, I bet he didn’t bring you any Double Belgian Chocolate Chip.”
That got a smile out of her, albeit a small one. “He didn’t.”
“Okay, then. Now you have all the bases covered.” Tara unloaded the rest of the contents from the bag in front of her before saying, “I guess the extra snacks are a little bit of a peace offering, too. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come out before now.”
Although Tara had spoken to Amour daily thanks to the secure-line magic Capelli had worked on the phone lines in the apartment, Sinclair had wanted the dust to settle before he allowed in-person visits from anyone other than the detectives on the case. Even then, those had been limited.
“It’s all good,” Amour said over a shrug. “I know you’re busy working on the trial.”
“Yes, but part of that is making sure you’re okay, so…”
She trailed off expectantly until Amour had no choice but to respond. “I told you, I’m fine.”
Tara’s bullshit detector gave up another hearty ping. But before she could put it to words, an oddly patterned knock sounded off on the door.
“Are you expecting anybody?” Tara asked, her heart doing an aerial backflip against her sternum.
“How do you know?” And how was Amour already halfway to the door?
“We have a secret knock. He lives, like, a few doors down, so sometimes he comes to say hey. Make sure everything’s cool over here. You know. Cop stuff.”
Sooooo many things to unpack there. Tara went with safety first. “Let me double-check, just to be sure.” Leaning in, she looked through the peephole, and sure enough, Xander stood on the other side just as easy (and hot) as you please, wearing jeans and a snug gray T-shirt and a half-smile that made Tara’s libido go full tilt.
“Told you,” Amour said. But she smiled as she said it, so Tara simply stepped back and let her open the door just wide enough to let Xander in, then shut it tight behind him.
“Hey, you.” Xander lifted a brown paper bag as he greeted Amour. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought some—oh.” His smile did an insta-fade as his gaze landed on Tara and widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”
Amour rolled her eyes, although not meanly. “It’s okay, it’s just Tara. She brought me some groceries and stuff.”
“Sinclair said it would be okay if I stopped by now that Amour has been here for a week,” Tara ventured. She’d seen Xander in passing at the Thirty-Third precinct over the last five days, but she hadn’t had a chance to speak to him one on one since that night at the hospital when he’d calmed her down.
A.K.A, the night she’d stepped so close to him, they could’ve kissed.
Oh, how she’d wanted that kiss.
“Right,” Xander said, and Tara blinked her way back from Fantasy Island. “Well, I just stopped by to drop this off. It’s nothing fancy, just a Cuban sandwich.” His stare moved over the empty bags just visible in the kitchen thanks to the combination of open concept/small space in the apartment, taking in the gourmet grocery store logo with a frown. “But I see you’re already set, so I can just—”
“Are there onion rings in there like last time?” Amour asked, her eyes lighting up as she reached for the bag.
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