Bulletproof

by Maggie Cummings

  “They gave it a huge overhaul about a year ago. Now it’s one of my favorite neighborhood spots.”

  “I see why.” It was quiet and lovely, just a few patrons scattered about the space. For the first time she looked up at the blue and pink sky. “It’s beautiful out.”

  “Right?” Dylan said with adorable enthusiasm. “Before you know it, winter will be here. We have to capitalize on this beauty while we still can.”

  “I hate the winter.”

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t mind the cold. But the snow. Gross.”

  “I feel you on that one.” Dylan hung her head and let out a husky laugh. It was…divine. “Are you from New York?”

  “Yes. Long Island originally. My family is still there. What about you?”

  “No way. Mine too. What part?”

  “Rockville Center.” What was she doing? This was not a date. Why was she acting this way? She’d agreed to a drink to ensure there was no awkwardness going forward. The whole point was to lay the ground rules for a professional relationship. No blurred lines.

  “My family is further east,” Dylan said. “Suffolk County. But I never lived out there. I grew up here in Brooklyn. My mom moved when she got remarried.”

  Briana ordered a glass of pinot grigio, and with the first sip she channeled her courage. “Listen, Dylan.”

  “I’m listening, Briana.”

  Ugh, even the way Dylan said her name dripped seduction. Dylan looked right at her and her eyes pierced through, like she could see inside. Was it obvious how much she wanted Dylan to kiss her, to take her, to dominate her?

  “I think…” Briana said, willing her voice to stay even. She picked up a fray of a napkin that blew off the bar and landed on Dylan’s knee. “I think we should keep things on the level. Between us. Professional, I mean.” It almost ached to say the words out loud, because her body craved the exact opposite. Like, forthwith. “Would that be okay?” Briana knew why she was asking permission. She wanted Dylan to protest, to convince her to break the only rule that made any sense in this situation.

  “You’re the boss,” Dylan said without missing a beat. Her grin was sly, but her words compliant.

  It was the stark truth and the entire reason this couldn’t work.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be.”

  Dylan’s tone told her she wasn’t mad, but Briana felt compelled to expound. “I’m obviously attracted to you.” She wasn’t able to maintain eye contact at her admission. “It’s just…in my experience…this doesn’t end well.”

  Dylan smiled. “Do you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing?”

  “Oh my God, that is not what I was implying. I just meant with the case, and us…” She waved her hands between them as she stammered out an explanation.

  “I’m teasing you.” Dylan reached out and stilled her hands. “Relax. We’re good.”

  Briana was pretty sure she registered disappointment in Dylan’s unbelievable blue eyes, but it had to be this way. She took a long sip of her wine, letting the alcohol work its magic to calm her nerves.

  “How’s Stef doing with the whole Mackenzie madness?” Dylan shifted the subject with a swig of her drink.

  “She’s fine.” Even if that wasn’t true, Briana would protect Stef to the end of the earth. “Over it.”

  “That was crazy, though.” Dylan shook her head. “I honestly had no idea Mackenzie was married.”

  “Really? You two aren’t buddies?”

  “I haven’t played with her team for very long. I’ve hung out with them after games a few times. That’s really it.” She spun her pint glass on the bar, and Briana couldn’t help but notice her long fingers, her perfectly square fingertips. “I’ll say this, though—I was shocked. Mackenzie is always looking to score.”

  “Funny, she said the same about you.” Briana sipped her drink, realizing in the moment that she wasn’t a hundred percent sure where Stef had gleaned that information.

  “Interesting.” Dylan shrugged. “She doesn’t really know me.”

  “Perhaps your reputation precedes you.”

  “Maybe.” She seemed unconvinced. “I didn’t think I really had a reputation,” she offered. “Mostly, because I’m very up front. Like you.” Dylan leaned into her space and looked right at her. Briana could smell her cologne. It was intoxicating. “You’re direct and honest. It’s captivating.” Her features softened. “Obviously, you’re gorgeous. But I’m sure you know that.”

  Dylan took another sip of her drink, and Briana was grateful for the reprieve. She wasn’t entirely sure how long her resolve would hold. The wine was not helping.

  “The way you handled Nieves today. You put him right in his place,” Dylan said. “It was…hot.”

  Dylan thought she was hot. It sent her slightly over the edge. Her chest pounded. The butterflies in her belly were out of control. She needed to rein this in, and quick. It had been too long since she’d had any kind of release, and Dylan’s charm was making her weak. If they kept this conversation going, she didn’t know how long she’d resist. But she wasn’t ready to leave either. So she segued Dylan’s compliment into safer territory.

  “Nieves is an ass. Men like him make my skin crawl.”

  “Do you have to deal with that nonsense a lot?”

  “Probably the same amount as you.” But even as she said it, Briana felt an odd pang of regret at her words, wondering how much flak Dylan caught for her masculine-of-center presentation. There were varied levels of ignorance in the world. Even in progressive New York City.

  “Eh, I cope.” Dylan finished her beer. “The police department is mostly cool. My old team was awesome. The new team seems fine too.”

  “How come you didn’t tell me you were a detective yesterday?”

  “It didn’t really come up. I’m sure we would have gotten to it eventually. Honestly, I didn’t know you were an attorney either. I wonder if we would’ve put it all together.” Dylan seemed to be pondering those odds when the bartender asked if they wanted another round.

  “We shouldn’t,” she said to Dylan.

  “Come on, counselor. One more? We can talk about the case. I’ll regale you with the details of my dramatic overhear. We’re basically doing work.” Dylan coupled the hard sell with a killer smile, but the truth was she would have said yes even if Dylan wanted to talk basketball for the rest of the night.

  Staying went against everything Briana believed in. She ordered another pinot on the spot.

  True to her word, Dylan gave her the scoop on what was for sure the best case development to date. She also talked a bit about her stint in Vice and her years in patrol. Briana let it slip that she was heavily invested in this particular narcotics case because she believed in getting drugs off the street and holding pushers accountable, but also because a large-scale conviction was important for her career.

  “We’ll get ’em. Me and you.” Dylan held her hand up for a high five in solidarity of their professed teamwork. Briana knew she should pass.

  She did the opposite. She touched her palm to Dylan’s and didn’t protest when Dylan laced their fingers together.

  “We can’t, Dylan,” she said, letting go. But, God, she wanted to. “We shouldn’t.”

  “I know. I know.” Dylan seemed apologetic for her small slip across the line. “I know you’re right. I just really want to.” Her laugh was mischievous and sexy.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  They settled the bill and continued to chat as they walked along the streets of Brooklyn. Briana liked the natural confidence Dylan embodied when she talked about her job. She could drown in the huskiness of her voice. And the heat she felt emanating from her body as they walked side by side…forget it.

  “Is it okay if I walk you home?” Dylan asked politely. “I live right here,” she said pointing to a brownstone on the right. Almost on cue, a middle-aged woman passed by and turned up the walkway.


  “Dylan, thanks for helping Tom with the air conditioner this weekend. You know him, he’d never ask, and he’d never have been able to fix it on his own,” she added with a smile.

  “No worries, Marie.”

  “Are you two coming inside?” the woman asked as she backed toward the stoop. “Should I hold the front door?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Dylan answered. “That’s my tenant,” Dylan whispered in explanation.

  “You have a tenant?”

  “I do.”

  “Wait. You own your brownstone?” The shock in her voice was obvious, but real estate in this neighborhood was notoriously pricey. There had to be a story.

  “I’ll explain on the walk,” Dylan said.

  “I don’t live far—I’ll be fine. This neighborhood is completely safe.”

  “I know, and I’m sure you can handle yourself.” Dylan shrugged. “But even as your friend, I’d feel better if I saw you get in the front door.”

  Briana felt her stomach bottom out. Could she be more chivalrous? “If you insist.”

  “I do. Come on.” Dylan started walking. “I’ll tell you how my grandparents used to own this place, and now it’s all mine.”

  “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

  She felt Dylan’s hand on her shoulder. “Is that a deal breaker?”

  Briana laughed out loud at the silly exchange. She didn’t even allow herself to dwell on the combination of strength and softness in Dylan’s touch.

  Moments later, when they arrived at her apartment, Dylan said good night like a perfect gentleman, and while her brain said she’d made the right decision, her libido was absolutely devastated.

  * * *

  “Oh my God.”

  Briana covered her mouth and breathed everything out as she let her body go limp against her apartment door behind her.

  “Rough day at the office, honey?” Stef was sitting on the living room couch. She paused Love Island to assess her roomie. “Whoa. You look…frazzled. What’s going on?”

  “Get this.” Briana hung her bag off a stool at the kitchen island. She reached in the fridge and poured herself a La Croix. “Dylan Prescott is an NYPD detective who has just been assigned to the narcotics case I’m prosecuting.”

  “Wait.” Stef took a minute to place the name. “The hot butch from yesterday. The basketball player you were talking to?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She swallowed the crisp beverage, savoring the hint of lime as she continued to wrap her head around the wild turn of events. “The very one.”

  “Well, that’s fucking hot.”

  “Is it?” she asked with a dramatic head tilt.

  “Isn’t it?” Stef countered.

  “There’s not much I can do about it,” Briana said. “I have no control over the police staffing.”

  “Hold on a second.” Stef placed her bowl of artisanal mac and cheese on the coffee table, the fork clanking loudly against the dish. “Why are you acting like this is a bad thing?”

  “Because it is.” Briana pouted. “Is there any more of that?” she asked with a nod at Stef’s food.

  “Yes. Of course. I’m a team player. I figured you were working late, so I ordered takeout from Wilkie’s. There’s a turkey burger on the counter for you.”

  “This is why you’re my favorite.” She opened the cardboard container.

  “It’s only one of the reasons,” Stef teased. “Now, let’s discuss the Dylan development.”

  Briana took a bite of the burger. “We had drinks just now.”

  “The whole investigative team?”

  “Nope. Just me and her. At Connolly’s.”

  “Shut up!” Stef clapped happily. “It. Is. On.”

  “It’s actually not.” Briana picked at the whole wheat bun as she thought about the last hour with Dylan. God, she was sexy. Smart. Dedicated to her job, clearly. It was a damn shame their worlds had collided like this. “We just finished having that conversation.”

  “That you can’t hook up?”

  “Basically.”

  “Why?” She appreciated Stef’s support and knew it came from a good place, but still. “Hear me out.” Stef took a minute to compose an argument.

  Briana grabbed the mac and cheese while she waited. She loved that her bestie was a brilliant corporate attorney. She knew her defense was going to be good.

  “On one side we have the lead prosecutor with a fantastic conviction rate. She’s beautiful with a slamming body. Amazing hazel eyes. Perfect dot nose and a smile that makes both men and women swoon on the daily,” Stef said, going over the top as she listed her physical attributes. “One caveat: she’s not ready for a relationship.” Stef held up one finger to keep her from interrupting. “On the same side,” she said with emphasis, “is the sexy detective. Equally gorgeous. A known player, also not looking for a relationship. Your Honor, the defense rests.”

  “You’re such an idiot.” Briana covered her mouth, continuing to chew as she laughed.

  “I honestly don’t see how it’s that big of a deal. I watch SVU. I know what happens on those desks after-hours.” She laughed at her own joke. “But seriously, I know for a fact you’ve hooked up with cops before. What’s different this time? Dylan’s obvious level of hotness notwithstanding?”

  “Fuck, Stef.” Briana let herself indulge in the memory of Dylan’s eyes, her dark hair. A dozen times she’d almost reached forward to feel the sensation of the buzzed fade against her palm as she imagined bringing their faces together. She shook off the thought. “This is different. I have never, ever slept with anyone I was working with. At least not while we were actively working together. That goes for lawyers too.” She knew Stef had engaged in a brief affair with one of the partners at her firm last year. She wasn’t passing judgment. “I know there’s no regulation against it.” Briana was careful with her word choice. “I do worry about credibility, though. It’s bullshit. But you know as well as I do, as women, we already have to work harder to be taken seriously.”

  “I can’t fight you there.” Stef frowned. “Screw the haters,” she said, changing her tune. “I think you should be able to have what you want. Dylan seems to tick a lot of the boxes. Let her tick yours.” She stuck out her tongue and wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Mm.” Briana moaned at the thought of Stef’s overt suggestion, picturing Dylan for the millionth time. She sighed. “With any luck, this case will break wide open and wrap up while there’s still some sparks between us.”

  “Ah, going for the long game.”

  “You think it’ll fizzle?”

  “I think the opposite is true. When you two finally give in…” Stef mimed an explosion with both hands. “Until then, stock up on batteries.”

  Briana almost choked on her seltzer. Her best friend might be hilarious, but she was also on point.

  “Noted.”

  Chapter Five

  “I picked up our sandwiches. Hook us up with a spot to chill.”

  Two weeks in and Dylan already had a routine established. Okay, so it was really Trevor’s routine, but it suited her just fine. When they were working in the office, they brown-bagged lunch and ate in the wire room as they monitored calls and analyzed intel. On surveillance, they took turns grabbing something on the go and met up at the park under the FDR Drive to stretch their legs. Today was a field day.

  “10-4,” Dylan said into the portable radio. “I got our location secured.”

  Her phone buzzed with a text from her mother. She sighed.

  She didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she had zero desire to message with her mom or that some small part of her had hoped it was Briana. It made no sense.

  Since their impromptu drink at Connolly’s, they’d had exactly no contact. No run-ins at the office, not a single text. Which was, she supposed, what they’d agreed on. Still, it was a total bummer. Ironing out the boundaries hadn’t made the slightest dent in the amount she thought about the gorgeous prosecutor. She could still picture the way Briana dip
ped her chin slightly when she smiled, the glint in her eye when she put Lt. Nieves in his place. It was confident and authoritative and in such contrast to her sweet laugh that was equal parts rasp and giggle.

  “I’m going to miss sitting out here when the weather turns.”

  Trevor’s voice brought her back to reality. Thank God.

  “That was fast.” She snapped into the present. “Somehow, I thought you were farther away.” She slid her phone back into her pocket and made a mental note to text her mother later.

  “I lucked out. Found a parking spot right away.” He handed over her lunch. “Here you go. Turkey on rye, extra mayo.” He winked. “Just kidding. It’s completely dry. I have no fucking idea how a person eats a sandwich like that,” he said, biting into his enormous roast beef hero.

  Dylan liked that he felt comfortable enough to rip on her.

  “I wish Rivas would take us somewhere good,” he said, changing the subject as he chewed.

  The team had been following George Rivas for days, watching him meet up with lowlife after lowlife. More players in the game, but no one new. They needed another break.

  “He’s gonna meet up with Benji. We just have to be patient.”

  Intelligence gleaned from George Rivas’s phone records had led right to Goldenballs himself: Benjamin Rafferty. Cross-referencing the phone number led to a DMV search where Dylan was able to place him as Rivas’s cohort at the bar with no problem. Rafferty was a recent college grad from a white-collar family. No job, it seemed, but he lived in a nice house in a suburban section of Brooklyn. No criminal record. Thus far, a complete mystery.

  “Patience is not my strong suit,” Trevor said.

  “Yeah, mine either, bro. But you know it’s going to fall into place. Trust me.”

  “I do. Your instincts got us here.”

  Dylan appreciated the deference Trevor gave her. Even though he teased her for being the rookie on their team, he still listened to all her theories and asked for her take. The other members of the squad were equally welcoming. She liked the camaraderie and the way everyone’s opinion was valued. In just a short time she felt connected to the case and to the detectives working it. Like there was a natural cohesion among them. This was where she belonged.