by VK Powell
She flinched. She’d hoped her recent distraction had gone unnoticed. The only thing she had left was her job and her motorcycle rides. She couldn’t afford to lose either. She tried a different tack. “We don’t have the budget to pull the trigger on this operation. We need more manpower.”
“I don’t give a damn. The chief has green-lighted the funds for overtime. Now finish the op plan and get to work. If one hair on this woman’s head is disturbed, it better not be on our watch.”
As Jordan walked back to her desk, she tried to analyze her objection to protecting Neela Sahjani. She’d never met the woman so her reluctance couldn’t be personal—but it felt very personal. Her reasoning just wasn’t logical or professional. She dropped onto the corner of her desk and crossed her arms. Bex didn’t speak. She’d become much more economical with her words recently. She was probably afraid she’d set Jordan off. “He wouldn’t even listen.”
“What’s your problem with this case?”
“Just forget about it, Bex. Really.”
“Guess I don’t have a choice. You’re not talking to anybody about anything these days.” When Jordan glared at her, Bex shrugged. “Well, you’re not.”
Jordan slid off the desk and headed toward the exit. She needed some air.
“Hey, some of us are going for a drink after work. Come with us.”
“Can’t. Sorry.”
As the door slowly closed behind her, she heard one of the other detectives say, “Told you. She never hangs out with us any more.”
Was that true? So what? They’d only want to rehash why she was still single, live vicariously through her latest sexual escapades, and offer well-meaning but useless advice. She didn’t need to rake through the shallows of her unfulfilling life to know she was unhappy. And she certainly didn’t need more opinions about it. Her therapist had hit some hot spots recently and dredged up things she’d rather not think about. What she did need was a long, fast ride on her Ducati, but she wasn’t likely to get that today, thanks to Neela Sahjani. This woman was already disrupting her life.
*
Neela twirled her reading glasses and tried to conceal her disappointment as she looked around the conference table at her small group of subordinates in the North Carolina State Health Department. For the first time in more than a hundred years, Republicans controlled the governor’s office and the legislature. Matt Lloyd, who had taken office only six months earlier, was the first Republican governor in the state in twenty-eight years. Everybody in the room knew what that meant. The state now had its most conservative government ever, and their jobs as part of the previous Democratic administration were on the line. “What do we know?”
The other three in the group looked at Rosemary, Neela’s administrative assistant and trusted friend, to deliver the bad news. “Before his election, the governor said he wouldn’t make any changes to the current abortion law.”
“That’s good news, so why do all of you look like someone stole your smart phones?”
“He lied,” Rosemary said.
“Rose, please.” She didn’t allow outright insubordination in her department, even if she totally agreed. She was never entirely sure who was listening or through what means.
Rosemary dipped her head in a quasi-apology everyone knew she didn’t mean. She called it as she saw it, one of the things Neela admired and respected about her. “We’re hearing he’s given a completely different directive behind the scenes. His strategist and moneyman, Elliot Ramsey, is supposedly running objective,” she finger-quoted the air, “surveys across the state to garner support for his agenda. They’re planning to bury the abortion language in a bill on motorcycle safety.”
Neela looked up from her iPad. “Motorcycle safety, really?” Nothing subversive going on here then. She admonished herself and tried to stay on track. “Do we know how bad it is?”
Her liaison on the Hill spoke up. “Not exactly, but I’m hearing it could be the most restrictive legislation we’ve had in decades, could set us back fifty years.”
Everybody around the table groaned and talked at once, voicing their concerns. Neela reflected on the past four years of her career under a reformist female Democratic governor, who’d championed significant advancements for the state. Under her leadership North Carolina was becoming more progressive, and people were relocating here as a result. In a matter of months the new regime could obliterate everything she’d accomplished and make it more difficult to reverse their antiquated rulings for years to come. The legislature didn’t have enough votes to defeat any bill the Republican stronghold put forward. What could she possibly say to comfort her coworkers and friends? She shared their discomfiture and the growing sense of doom that had hung over their heads since the election.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t have definitive information yet. Everybody keep your ears to the ground and let me know the minute you hear anything new. In the meantime, stay focused on your jobs. Free up as many funds as you can for community projects, and let’s do some good with the time we have left.” She looked around the room, meeting each gaze with as much encouragement and compassion as she could muster. “Anything else?” When no one spoke up, she said, “That’s it then. Have a good evening, everyone.”
Rosemary stayed behind as the room cleared, checking her iPhone before handing Neela a list of messages.
“Anything I need to handle right away? I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee and a chat with my best friend.” She smiled and placed her hand on Rosemary’s arm. “You’re my rock. You know that, don’t you?”
“Likewise, but a couple of detectives are here to see you.”
“Have our law-enforcement liaison assist them.”
“They’re not state highway patrol or Raleigh police. They’re Greensboro police, and they asked for you specifically. Wouldn’t say what it’s about. Fancy a drink after work? Looks like you could use one.”
“Can’t. Have some research to do and then hopefully home before midnight.”
“And that’s exactly why you need a drink. You’ve got to slow down, Neela, or you’ll crash.”
“I will.” She stopped short of promising, because she couldn’t see any break in sight. Neela tucked her iPad under her arm and walked toward the exit. “Tell the detectives I slipped out before you could catch me. They’ll just have to come back tomorrow.” She blew Rosemary a kiss. “Once more into the breach.”
Chapter Two
The next morning Neela stepped into her office and came to an abrupt halt. The two women standing in front of her desk couldn’t have been more opposite. One wore bright clothing, appeared to be in her thirties, with short, dark hair, deep-brown eyes, and a sporty build. Her companion, maybe mid-twenties, looked like she’d stepped out of a vampire movie, chiseled from alabaster with a snowcap of white hair and dressed entirely in black, down to heavy biker-type boots. Neela’s breath caught in her throat. Both of these women were attractive, but she’d remember the taller androgynous one if she passed her on the street years from now.
“I’m Detective Rebecca Ward with the Greensboro Police Department’s Special Investigations Division.” Ward, the sporty one, greeted her with a warm smile and cordial handshake. The other woman with thick white hair barely touching her collar and cobalt eyes didn’t speak. Ward jerked her thumb in her direction and said, “This is Detective Bishop.”
As Neela dropped her briefcase beside her desk, she fixed her gaze on the woman who couldn’t be bothered to introduce herself. The energy around her vibrated with recklessness and impatience. Neela pictured her on a Harley-Davidson zooming down the road while doing a handstand on the handlebars. She had a tiny scar on the right side of her lip, and Neela wondered if she’d been injured in the line of duty or taken a tumble while performing some daredevil stunt.
“How can I help you, detectives?” She addressed her question to Bishop, determined to make her speak. Instead, Jordan Bishop simply stared at her until the room became uncomfor
tably quiet.
“So much for public relations. Have I done something to offend you, Detective Bishop?” Neela never backed down from conflict. She wouldn’t have survived long in politics if she had.
“Being here offends me, Doctor.”
Bishop’s voice, deep and sultry, would’ve been more fitting in a bedroom than an office. Her tone rumbled through Neela, stirring up heat, while her words were a cold blast of liquid nitrogen. Neela started to speak but words failed. How could she respond to someone she didn’t know, had nothing in common with, and had somehow offended by her very presence? Jordan Bishop turned and walked to the bank of windows overlooking the athletic field in front of their repurposed school building. Neela stared at her back for several seconds before raising her hands in resignation.
Ward stepped closer and whispered conspiratorially. “You don’t want to know.”
“Would either of you care for coffee? I think we might even have some croissants.” Ward shook her head and Bishop didn’t respond. “What can I do for you, detective?” She waved for Ward to have a seat and tried to ignore Jordan Bishop, which proved harder than it should’ve been for someone so rude. Bishop’s taut frame and dark clothing seemed to block the light trying to seep in around her. Neela decided to give this woman a wide berth.
“Actually, we’re here to do something for you,” Ward said as she handed her an official-looking document.
“How so?” Neela put on her glasses and skimmed the assault report on Ed Branson.
“You’ve received some threats recently, and in light of the assault on one of your associates, we’ve been assigned as your protection detail until the case is solved.”
Neela’s heartbeat increased as she imagined spending time around the woman standing across the room. Was she afraid of Jordan Bishop, or had her strong reaction been something entirely different? Either way she didn’t need more complications. “Why would they target me?”
“You’re pro-choice, a liberal in a conservative administration, and a stem-cell researcher. Some people take offense to all those things. And let’s not forget you’re a politician,” Jordan said from the window. The way she emphasized the word sent a chill through Neela.
Her normally even-keeled temperament rankled at having to address Bishop’s back when she spoke. Her rudeness was the epitome of disrespect. “Well, I—”
“Branson was probably attacked because he’s an abortion doctor,” Jordan said.
“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t perform abortions and I don’t need protection.”
“Great.” Jordan finally turned from the window and started toward the door. “And we don’t need to waste our time.”
“Might I suggest an attitude adjustment before you cross my threshold again? At the least a little common courtesy, or don’t they teach that in the academy?”
“Sorry if I offended you, Doctor Sahjani. You won’t see me again.” The words were appropriate but Jordan’s tone dripped contempt. With such an attitude, how had she survived in law enforcement long enough to become a detective?
“Perfect.” Neela couldn’t stop her childish response. Detective Ward stared back and forth between them like she’d been dropped into a sibling dispute.
“Jordan, sit your ass down. Sorry, Doctor Sahjani.”
Jordan stared ice bullets at Rebecca and her nostrils flared. “I don’t need to be here.”
“Yes, you do. Sit. This is the job, whether you like it or not.”
Neela watched their interaction over the rim of her glasses while trying to appear nonchalant. Rebecca seemed to penetrate Jordan’s haze just enough to make a difference. Jordan’s icy gaze melted to a light frost, and she raked her fingers through her white hair.
She sat down in front of Neela’s desk but didn’t make eye contact. Her right leg bounced constantly. Nervous tic or restlessness? “Sorry if I was…abrasive.”
Abrasive didn’t begin to cover it and Neela was about to tell her so, but Rebecca shook her head. “Where were we?”
“As I said, detective, I don’t need protection. I’ve received these so-called threats for the past several years. They’re always fairly generic and nothing has come of them. I’m sorry Doctor Branson has been hurt, but it has nothing to do with me.”
“That’s not the way our boss sees it. You live in our jurisdiction, and you’re a high-profile state employee who’s been repeatedly threatened. We can’t have anything happen to you. Wouldn’t look good, especially after what happened to your associate.”
“How did you find out about these threats? I certainly haven’t reported anything.”
Rebecca referred to her notes. “Doesn’t list a complainant, but it’s obviously someone who’s concerned about your welfare.”
“What if I refuse protection?” How could she possibly do everything in her busy schedule with cops following her around, not to mention her after-hours activities? She didn’t have the time or inclination to put up with the intrusions of a detective with a chip on her shoulder.
“Still have to do our job, but without your help, it would be more difficult,” Rebecca said.
Neela didn’t know how to ask her next question. While she was used to tiptoeing around delicate egos in the political arena, Jordan Bishop seemed more volatile. “Would the two of you be my detail?”
“Unfortunately,” Jordan said. Her eyes stared at her through dark lashes that contrasted with her stark-white hair, and Neela’s nerves pulsed. She pushed her glasses up to divert her attention from the woman in front of her.
“Yes, that part is non-negotiable, but we’ll also have another team covering our off time. Twenty-four-seven coverage,” Rebecca said.
“Great.” It was anything but; however, Neela was stuck with the situation whether she wanted it or not. “What do I have to do to facilitate this surveillance?”
“We’d like to install a camera in your office and two more outside your residence, front and back. Nothing inside the house at this time.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t allow cameras in or around my home. What you do here is up to you, with the governor’s approval of course. But my home is off-limits. Is that understood?”
Rebecca scratched her head. “We’ll just work around it.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
Jordan stood, placed her hands on Neela’s desk, and leaned toward her. “What that means exactly is you’ve just made our job harder than it needs to be. We’ll have to sit outside day and night in rain, sleet, or snow to make sure nothing happens to you when we could’ve been dry and warm in a van with a camera setup. But hey, we’re here to serve.”
Jordan was so close Neela watched the irises of her eyes turn dark like an animal on the prowl. Her voice rippled over Neela’s skin like thunder, and when her breath brushed Neela’s face, it was like a blast of summer heat. Something dangerous lurked beneath Jordan Bishop’s beautifully packaged exterior. Neela’s survival instinct screamed for her to flee, but she inched forward instead and removed her glasses. When she violated Jordan’s personal space, the undeniable scent of arousal mingled with a fragrance that reminded her of innocence. There was nothing innocent about this woman. Neela modified her caustic response only slightly. “Just remember, detective, that I didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”
Jordan started to say something else but slowly straightened and walked out of the room.
“What’s her problem?”
“You really don’t want to know,” Rebecca said.
“If she’s part of my protection detail, I certainly deserve an explanation. I don’t need more pressure and stress in my life right now.”
“She’ll calm down. Besides, you might be exactly what she needs—somebody to stand up to her. Too many people have been handling her with kid gloves lately.”
“I’m not a babysitter, detective.”
“Rebecca, but everybody calls me Bex.”
“I have enough problems without adding an unpre
dictable cop to the mix. I don’t want to complicate her issues, but sort her out or I’ll ask for a replacement.”
“Understood. I’ll have a talk with her. Now, if I could ask for a few more details, we can get the ball rolling on this assignment. Is there anywhere else you frequent that we need to be aware of? It’s better if we have an idea of your relationships and routines.”
Neela didn’t think this whole exercise was necessary and was certain it wouldn’t last long, so she chose to keep some aspects of her life private. “No.”
“Sure? You hesitated.”
“Sure.” If Bex examined her too closely, she’d discover Neela wasn’t a very good liar. “If there’s nothing else, I have a busy day.”
“Of course. Thank you for your cooperation, doctor.”
“If you’re hanging around, you might as well call me Neela. When does this protection begin?”
“We’ll have a detail at your home this evening. If you need to contact us, here’s my card.” Bex wrote her cell number on the back and handed it to her. “I’m sorry. I know it’s inconvenient to have the police shadowing your life. Hopefully we’ll clear everything up soon.”
When Bex left, Neela collapsed in her chair, vibrating with energy from the interaction with Jordan Bishop. She finally drew an unrestricted breath. Was she angry, frustrated, or aroused? Whatever she was feeling, these particular emotions hadn’t been churned up in a very long time. She was a consistently stable and even-tempered woman who got along with everybody—everybody, it seemed, except Jordan Bishop.
*
“That went well, don’t you think?” Bex stared at Jordan, forcing her to respond before she cranked the car and started back down I-40.
