Disavowed (NYPD Blue & Gold)

by Tee O'Fallon

  Again Daisy found her eyes glued to his arms and the way they filled out his shirtsleeves so enticingly. All those bulging muscles were distracting as hell. It wouldn’t be easy having him around the shop every day, and if she hired him, she had to be prepared for that. And there were other things that had to be laid out on the table.

  “You already know Jack and I are dating, so—”

  “Have you gone out on a date with him yet?” he asked.

  “Well, no but—”

  “Then you’re not dating.” He smirked.

  “You are positively exasperating.” She shut her eyes for a moment. “I’m assuming that when you implied the other night that there was something nefarious about how Jack came to work for me, you didn’t know that my Jack was your old buddy.”

  “I didn’t.” The smirk on Dom’s face disappeared, replaced by a serious expression. “But I’ll still warn you to be careful with him.”

  “Some friend you are.” She snorted. “Don’t you think it’s backstabbing to talk that way about your friend?”

  “The guy’s my friend, doesn’t mean he’s a saint.” His mouth tightened. “He’s not good enough for you.”

  “Who I date is my business, not yours.” She glared at him, praying to all that was holy that she wasn’t making the biggest—no, make that the second biggest—mistake of her life. “I’ll hire you on one condition.”

  “Name it,” Dom said.

  “Stay out of my personal business.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And you do whatever I tell you to.”

  “That’s two conditions.” Dom grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

  She ignored the jibe. “Do we have an agreement or not?”

  “We do.” He stood and held out his hand.

  Accepting the challenge, she stood and placed her hand in his. He surprised her by lifting it to his lips, locking gazes with her as he did. His lips were warm and gentle, eliciting an unwanted shiver somewhere inside her core. And dammit, she was powerless to look away. Until he grinned, reminding her what he was and always would be.

  “Knock it off, Romeo.” She yanked her hand away, adding in a purposefully acidic tone, “There’s a third condition. You don’t get to touch me. Ever.”

  He grinned. “Scared?”

  “Of what?” She took a step back, which was silly considering the desk was between them. “Of you?”

  “You tell me.” He crossed his arms.

  “Payday is on Thursdays.” She gritted her teeth. “Now get out of my office.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Again he grinned at her, all perfect white teeth and twinkling eyes that reminded her of the ocean on a clear, calm day.

  That infuriating surfer-dude charm was already driving her nuts. But what really bugged her was that she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just been played.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dom closed the door to Daisy’s office and leaned back against the wall. He hadn’t been all that confidant she’d buy into hiring him. Now that she had, he’d be working side by side with Jack, getting real-time intel on the Pyramid’s next move, along with the added benefit of watching over her.

  He didn’t like using her this way, and he hated himself for doing it. But Jack had put her in the middle of this op, and it was the best way to position himself where he needed to be. If only Jack kissing her hadn’t made him want to smash his fist into the guy’s teeth. It was Jack’s way of staking his claim and sending him a message: she’s mine.

  Fuck. That. No way would she ever be Jack’s.

  One way or the other, he’d make sure as shit that Jack’s presence in Daisy’s life would be fleeting. Small consolation. There would always be someone else drooling after her. Gray was right. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out, and any man who didn’t want her was a fool.

  So what does that make me? Dumb and dumber.

  Getting close to a woman…falling in love again… He shook his head, trying not to count how many times he’d had this conversation with himself. Can’t do it. Too much pain. That and he needed to concentrate on the job at hand. Too many lives were riding on his ability to focus.

  Back there in Daisy’s office he’d intentionally behaved like a jackass in order to piss her off and push him away. If that’s what it took to create the distance he needed, then it would be worth every one of her derisive looks and sharp words.

  He smiled. Despite her cutting remarks, she’d been as affected by their encounter just now as he’d been. Her body had betrayed her. Hell, their bodies had betrayed them both. When he’d held her arms, steadying her, her nipples had jutted through her blouse and he really, really wanted to lean down and take them into his mouth. Truth was, he’d been nearly overcome with the urge to peel off every stitch of her clothing, piece by piece, and put his lips all over her luscious body.

  With a groan, he pushed from the wall and found his way to the shop’s storeroom where Jack was emptying a bag of dark soil into an enormous three-foot-wide planter. Next to the planter was a small palm-like tree, its root ball wrapped in burlap.

  “Well?” Jack continued emptying the bag of soil. “How’d it go?”

  “I’m hired.” He went to the stack of soil bags and hefted one to his shoulder, carrying it to the planter.

  “Outstanding.” Jack cut open the bag with a knife. “Now we can really get to work.” He glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “These trees go inside the hotel ballroom and the lobby. After we get them planted and dump soil in the pots, we’ll deliver them and take our time so we can do recon. So many dignitaries got invites to this shindig, security’s tighter than a camel’s ass. This might be one of our last opportunities to get inside and look around without hotel Gestapo breathing down our necks.”

  “What kind of hardware we using?” He dumped the bag of soil into the pot, which Jack tamped down with a flat tool on the end of a wood pole.

  “Two SIG rifles, handguns with silencers.” Again Jack shot a furtive look to the door.

  “Only two rifles?” He grabbed another bag of soil and slit it open with his pocketknife. “Who’s taking the kill shot?”

  “The boss.”

  His hand stilled. This was a hugely valuable piece of intel. The boss taking the kill shot pretty much confirmed his suspicion that this job was personal. Finding out why it was personal could very well identify the targets.

  “The other rifle,” Jack continued as he began muscling one of the palm trees closer to the planter, “is a backup in the event of a malfunction. Give me a hand. These fuckers weigh a ton.”

  Dom got on the other side of the tree and helped Jack lift it into the planter. “If the boss is taking out the target himself, what does he need us for?”

  “Cover. Diversion. He doesn’t want anyone getting in his way. Luckily, the hotel has forbidden any cops inside, including UCs pretending to be guests.”

  “I heard the mayor is attending,” he said. “What about his security detail? They’re NYPD.” And there was no fucking way he’d let the Pyramid take out the mayor’s detail.

  “Taking them out isn’t part of the plan.” Jack sliced open another bag of soil. “Unless something goes totally to shit. Get me another bag.”

  Fuck. There was every chance something could go to shit, and he didn’t like those odds.

  Dom hefted another bag of soil and opened it. “So the mayor’s not the target?” If he was, that would put a whole different spin on things.

  “No. That was the first thing I asked the boss, and the only question of mine he answered.” Jack took the bag from his hands and emptied it into the planter. “Start tamping down the soil.”

  Dom grabbed the tool and began pushing the soil against the roots. He cast a quick glance at Jack. “You think there’s something personal at work here?”

  When Jack didn’t answer right away, Dom looked up to find Jack watching him through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ve thought the same thing,” Jack said. “
But since I don’t give a shit who the boss takes out, I didn’t ask.”

  Dom went back to tamping down the soil. Not that he’d actually thought otherwise, but Jack’s cold-blooded crack pretty much sealed the man’s fate. Jack was too far gone to ever be redeemed. Not only had he killed purely for profit, but he truly was a heartless killer. When a man kills so many times he feels nothing, it’s time to get out. That was why Dom had left Delta. The killing had gotten to him, eating away at his soul until it turned him into an unfeeling bastard.

  There were still so many other things about this job that bothered him. Like what the connection was to the Piazza. There had to be one, he was just missing it.

  “Why do the hit in such a closed-space, public venue? The odds of the boss getting away with it and escaping are against him.” And there’d be hundreds of people there. Any one of them might get hit in crossfire. This was insane. He’d have to recommend the commissioner get involved and convince the hotel to cancel the event. Too many lives were at risk.

  “Dunno.” Jack took the open bag from him and emptied it into the planter. “Boss is God. Whatever he says, goes.”

  “And the hotel security team? What about them?” Dom asked.

  “Like I said, they’re just a bunch of rent-a-cops. We’ll knock them out with tranquilizers.”

  Finally. The opening Dom was looking for. “What about security at the entry doors? Won’t they have magnetometers?”

  Jack nodded. “Starting tomorrow, anyone going in through the main doors has to pass through a magnetometer, and all deliveries at the loading dock are subject to inspection.”

  “If security’s so tight, how do we get the hardware inside?” he asked.

  “We don’t.” Jack began emptying another bag of soil around the palm tree. “Smith does. The day of the event everything will already be in place.”

  Great.

  The idea of that fucker being in charge of the weaponry sent more than a shot of unease up his spine.

  “In place where?” He hefted over another bag of soil, trying to appear nonchalant when inside his brain was buzzing with the need to know where the weapons would be stashed.

  “I have no fucking idea.” Jack took the bag from him and hoisted it over the next pot. “Smith won’t tell me. The only thing I know is he got a job with Magellan Foods. They’re the hotel’s food supplier. He’ll probably smuggle the hardware inside a box of broccoli.”

  “You guys work together, but you don’t trust each other as far as you can spit,” Dom said.

  “Ain’t that the fucking truth.” Jack paused to wipe sweat from his brow.

  Shit. If he didn’t know where the weapons were or when they were being brought in, there’d be no way to get to them in advance. And he had nothing on Smith. No real name, no address, and no vehicle for the surveillance teams to follow. They couldn’t be certain that he’d be driving the Magellan Foods truck this time around.

  “C’mon.” Jack tipped his head to the eight palm trees assembled in the corner of the storeroom. “We’ve got a lot of planting to do before lunch so Daisy can inspect the job before we make delivery.” He glanced at his watch and grinned. “And I gotta get back here by six. Got a hot date tonight. I’m taking her someplace nice, so I need time to shower and pick her up by eight.”

  Dom ripped open the next bag of soil with more force than intended, and half the bag spilled onto the concrete floor. He grabbed a nearby broom to sweep it up. “Where you taking her?”

  “La Rosa. You know it?”

  “Yeah, nice place.” And too fucking romantic. He recalled Gray said that’s where he took Alex on their first date. His partner had also related that he’d practically had an orgasm feeding her chocolate-dipped strawberries. Apparently that restaurant was known for its intimate ambiance.

  High heels clipping on the hallway floor grew louder, and a few seconds later Daisy came into the storeroom. Dom’s gaze traveled down the pumpkin-colored silk blouse and matching slacks. The shirt wasn’t form fitting, but he’d already noticed how the slithery material flowed over her breasts like liquid copper. She stripped off the matching sweater and rolled her shirtsleeves to her elbows. The gold bangles at her wrists clinked as she dug her hands into the soil he and Jack had dumped into the planter.

  Her eyes lit up, and she smiled as her long, elegant fingers sifted through the dirt. “Niiice,” she said in a throaty voice and continued massaging lumps of soil apart and letting the dirt fall back into the planter.

  As he watched her work, a prickle of heat lanced to his groin. There was something sensual and sexy about the way she worked the soil and the obvious elation on her face. Christ, it’s fucking dirt. But she looked as if she’d just discovered gold.

  Annoyance flared inside him as he glanced at Jack to see he was also fixated on Daisy’s hands. Hands that might be tearing the other man’s clothes off after he wooed her with strawberries and goddamn melted chocolate.

  “When can you have all these potted?” She shook residual dirt from her hands and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe off the rest. She rested one hand on Jack’s arm, rubbing it gently. “I’d hate for you to be late for our date.”

  Jack touched his fingers to her cheek and gazed at her intently. “I have no intention of being late. Dom and I can get these babies potted and over to the Piazza by two, and we’ll be back here by six. Right, buddy?”

  “Right.” Dom gripped the broom handle tightly, forcing an encouraging grin to his face, one he so didn’t feel. And I ain’t your fucking buddy.

  Seeing him touch Daisy irked the shit out of him, and dammit, it wasn’t his business to be irked by anything she did outside of what he needed to accomplish his mission. But fuck, by the end of the night Jack might very well be in her bed. He began sweeping up spilled soil with urgent, angry strokes of the broom.

  “If you’re running late,” she said to Jack, “I’m sure Dom wouldn’t mind closing up the shop. Would you?” Her mouth curved into a smile as she turned to him, but it was frosty at best, and he understood precisely what she was telling him: fuck you, Carew.

  “’Course not. Happy to help.” When hell freezes over.

  “Good.” She slid her arm around Jack’s waist and leaned into him. “It’s settled then.”

  When Jack slipped his arm possessively over her shoulder and tucked her against his side, Dom made a mental groan and turned away to grab another bag of soil. If he had to watch any more of this shit he’d vomit. They were both laying it on thick.

  “We’d better get back to work,” Jack said, his gaze following Daisy as she left the storeroom.

  Fuck, if he didn’t know better, he’d say the guy was really in puppy love. He hoped Daisy didn’t actually fall for him. She didn’t know it yet, but there was zero future with Jack. One way or the other she’d be hurt, and that thought bothered him as well. Above all else, he didn’t want to see her hurt.

  I’ve done enough of that to her already.

  Two hours later, he and Jack loaded the last potted palm into the back of the delivery truck with a forklift. Thirty minutes after that they were backing up to the Piazza’s loading dock. Jack lowered the window and waved to the security guard, who indicated he should pull right in.

  A young guard with a clipboard approached the driver’s side of the truck.

  Fuck. Dom grabbed a ball cap he’d seen earlier stuffed between the windshield and the dashboard, yanking it low over his face. I know that guard.

  Mario Valenzuela’s name had been on the thumb drive that Alex had retrieved from the fire last year. He and Gray had interviewed Valenzuela, who swore he hadn’t been contacted by the Pyramid and that he would notify the police immediately if he was. There’d been so many names on that list, he couldn’t recall Valenzuela’s issue but remembered the guy worked for a contract security company. At the time of the interview, Valenzuela was assigned to a warehouse in the Bronx, not the Piazza. That, he would have remembered.

  “Whatdya got today,
Jack?” Valenzuela said as they rolled to a stop.

  “Palm trees.” Jack pointed to Dom. “Mario, meet Dom, Daisy’s new hire.”

  “Welcome to the Piazza.” Mario leaned down from the dock to look through the truck’s window.

  “Thanks.” He nodded back, pulling his ball cap even lower. If the guard recognized him and said something, he’d be screwed.

  When another delivery truck began backing into the other loading bay, Valenzuela straightened. “Gotta go, fellas.” He left their loading dock to check on the other driver.

  Dom snorted. “Some security.” Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jack gave him a sly grin. “Tell me about it.”

  Utilizing a heavy-duty hand truck, they muscled the potted palms into position in the lobby and grand ballroom, where Daisy had marked X’s on the floor with electrical tape. By the time they were done, both were sweating, and they stopped at a workstation to grab water.

  All around them, the place was a hive of activity. Delivery carts rattled by carrying boxes and furniture. Power tools buzzed, floor polishers whirred, and men shouted orders back and forth across the cavernous lobby.

  The last time Dom had been inside the Piazza was about ten years ago, and then only to fall asleep in the jazz club. He’d gone there with a date who loved jazz, but to him it sounded like one run-on riff after another, as if the musicians were making it up as they went along.

  As he sipped water from a plastic cup he took in as much detail as possible, committing critical observations to memory. Entrance doors. Elevator bank. Escalator. Gilded stairway leading to a black wrought-iron balcony encircling the floor above. More importantly, anyone standing on the south side of the balcony had a perfect vantage point, looking directly down through the lobby and into the ballroom where guests would be seated. He noted the podium at the far end of the room, set high up on a dais.

  He’d also taken note of the magnetometers flanking the main entrance doors. Every guest would have to pass through the units, and presumably trained guards would view all belongings on screen.

  Mall cops, most likely.