Bulletproof

by Maggie Cummings

  “God, so many things,” Briana said almost under her breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” Her response was a reflex even though the fact that Briana asked permission to ask a question made her a little unsettled.

  “Was JJ mean to you?”

  Goddamn JJ. All these years later, she still managed to steal the spotlight. Dylan reminded herself she didn’t care. She hadn’t in the past, and she didn’t now. The simple fact was JJ had a way of making her feel inferior. Like nothing but a lowly cop to her powerful attorney. But that was years ago when Dylan was younger, more sensitive. In retrospect she considered it possible her own insecurities played a factor in the imbalance of their bromance.

  “Look. It’s in the past. We all change. Evolve.” She didn’t want to overdramatize events so far behind them. “I’m fine. JJ’s fine. S’all good.”

  “That’s all I really care about.” Briana snuggled into her. “I want to make sure my baby is okay. Happy.”

  “I’m happy. Right now. Here.” She looked around Briana’s lovely apartment and heard the wind whipping outside the window. “I have you.” She kissed her forehead. “This amazing margarita. What more could I need?”

  “Tacos. But don’t worry, they’re on the way.”

  * * *

  “Wait. We’re getting two new detectives, and I still don’t get to leave the plant?”

  Dylan was going stir-crazy listening to calls but not seeing any of the action.

  “Buddy, it’s not about staffing.” Trevor chewed his nails. “I mean, it is, partially. We need all the help we can get. In the field and in here. But we can’t risk you being spotted on surveillance by these guys. It would blow everything up, and you know it.”

  She did know it. But there was part of her that hoped, at least a little, that she could fall into the rear and keep a loose tail on their subjects. Even in her head it sounded like a bad idea. But after weeks of being inside monitoring the phones, she was ready to climb the walls.

  “I’m just ready to get back out there,” she said.

  “I get it.” He nodded at the phones. “They’re going to the Wine Bar on Friday, right?”

  “So they say.” She shrugged. “We’ll see if it really happens.”

  “You and Trish should go. See if we can tickle the wire a bit.”

  “Do you think Nieves will go for it?”

  “I don’t see why he wouldn’t. It’s been a while since we sent you in.” Trevor reached across the workstation to a box of doughnut holes someone had brought in. “I’ll run it by him. Anyway, one of the new guys is going to be in here with you and Trish full-time. We’ll take the other one in the field with us.”

  “They’re not flip-flopping?”

  “We’re borrowing them from Team 4.” He shrugged. “Their roles are already established. Shawn’s an inside guy. Chris likes the street better.”

  “Cool.” She really didn’t care about the logistics. She was happy for the added help. “When do they start?”

  “Next week they’ll swing into the rotation.” He popped another Munchkin. “I’m going to go upstairs and touch base with Briana. I want to tell her about the new guys. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have her endorsement before I talk to Nieves about Friday.” Trevor looked around the room. “I could wait for Trish to come back if you want to tag along.”

  Of course she wanted to go with him. She relished any and all face time with Briana. But something about seeing AUSA Logan in action held a special appeal. In a sharp business suit behind her stern desk, taking notes and making decisions, professional Briana gave her serious wood.

  But Trish had just left for lunch. And she knew Briana hated when she and Trish faked being a couple, even if it was good for the case. There was no need to throw it in her face by excitedly breaking the news. She could at least allow her space to process.

  “Nah. Trish just went to grab food. You know how long that can take.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m stuck with these bozos for now.” Dylan thumbed at the wire monitoring setup. “I’m afraid you’re on your own, my friend.”

  “You’ll be missed,” he said, backing away.

  “Give the good prosecutor my regards.”

  “Oh, I will.” He raised his eyebrows. “Not the same way you would, I’m sure.” Trevor waved and winked as he exited.

  Dylan literally gulped at the thought Trevor might be on to them, but rather than wasting her energy on something she couldn’t control, she coasted through her shift, listening to calls and blocking it out. It wasn’t until she was in her apartment hours later making dinner for herself and Brianna that she even gave it a second thought.

  “You didn’t come to see me today with Trevor.” Briana pouted a little as she sat on a stool at the breakfast bar that separated Dylan’s kitchen from her living space.

  “About that…” Dylan grated cheese over the pasta she was prepping. “I think he might know.”

  “Know what?”

  Dylan winced. “About you and me.”

  There was a slight stutter in Briana’s movement as she sipped her seltzer. “Okay,” she said, swallowing her drink.

  “Okay?” Dylan placed a bowl of penne and broccoli on the counter for each of them. “That’s it? Just okay?” She didn’t want to create a stir, but she was expecting more of a reaction.

  “I don’t know what to say, really.” Briana picked up her fork. “I guess I’m curious why you think he knows.”

  “He said something today in the plant. Just teasing. But…” She thought back on the interaction. “Even though we’ve been careful, Trevor’s a pretty perceptive guy.”

  “Sometimes people just pick up on energy.” Briana shrugged. “Not much we can do about that.”

  “Did he say anything to you?” Dylan asked.

  “No. He told me that some new people were being added to the team. And that you and Trish were doing a UC op on Friday. We discussed the administrative and legal aspects that go along with those developments.”

  “Oh.” Maybe she’d been hypersensitive to Trevor’s remarks this afternoon. “Do you want me to talk to him about it?” Dylan asked.

  “If you want.”

  “I definitely thought you’d be more upset about this.”

  Briana speared a tube of penne. “It’s not that I don’t care. Obviously, we’ve gone out of our way to be discreet.” She was quiet as she moved her dinner around. “You seem unsure if he knows or not. I suppose what I’m saying is that I trust you to handle it in whatever way you think is best. I support whatever decision you make.” Briana gave her a soft smile, and it made her absolutely weak.

  Dylan wasn’t sure what approach she was going to take, but knowing that Briana had confidence in her was assurance enough that it would all be okay.

  “I’m more concerned about Friday,” Briana said with a defeated sigh.

  “Hey.” Dylan put her fork down and took Briana’s hand. “I know it’s hard. I hate putting you through it.” With the new fixed cameras and mics finally installed inside the Wine Bar, Dylan knew there were multiple angles to watch and listen to the interaction. It gave a fuller picture. Of everything. “You don’t have to stay at the plant and observe. You could make an excuse. I’m sure Nieves or Miri would fill you in.”

  “I know I could do that.” She frowned. “That’s not who I am, Dylan. I wouldn’t do that for any other active case. Plus”—Briana covered her hand—“aside from the gagfest of having to watch Trish paw you constantly, I worry about your safety. I need to know you’re okay. Every minute you’re in there.”

  “I get it.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Ouch.” Dylan knew it had to be difficult for Briana, but she didn’t think the shot was necessary. She was just doing her job, after all. “Look, Bri…” she started, but she really didn’t know what to say to make it better, so she let her sentence flounder.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” Briana seemed t
o read her. “It’s just hard for me. And I don’t think you get what it’s like to have the person you care about be both in danger and pretend to be interested in someone else. Quite honestly, it sucks. I know I signed on for this, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “I am sorry.”

  Dylan knew the phrase fell short, but she didn’t really know how to capture the complexity of emotions she felt over the whole situation. The truth was she found the undercover assignment invigorating. Not the Trish part, but she barely paid attention to that. The fact that she was so close, so instrumental in the investigation was thrilling and satisfying in ways she couldn’t seem to make Briana understand without causing her stress.

  “I know you are.” Briana’s expression was kind, her tone full of affection. Dylan knew she wasn’t angry as much as she was tense over their situation. Briana put her fork down and pulled her close. “Promise me something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Do not fall for Trish Suarez.”

  Dylan couldn’t help but laugh and Briana whacked her arm. “I’m not kidding. And I’m feeling vulnerable. So be nice.”

  “I will not fall for Trish Suarez.” Dylan squared her shoulders and stood tall as she spoke like she was reciting a pledge. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Briana hooked her belt loops and led her in for a kiss. “Don’t get killed.”

  “Check,” Dylan said, meeting her lips. “How easy was that?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “How’s your view, Briana? Can you see okay from there?”

  It was nice that Miri Hollander was looking out for her, but Briana could see everything from her spot in the center of the wire room, her eyes glued to the sixty-inch monitor feeding the details of the undercover operation at the Wine Bar. Whether or not her heart and blood pressure could withstand the visual of Dylan with Trish talking to bona fide drug dealers was a different story altogether.

  “Why don’t you sit? Ahmed, wheel over a comfortable chair for Briana.”

  “I’m fine, Miri.” Briana waved her off. “Thank you anyway, Ahmed.” Briana couldn’t even think about sitting. She needed to be able to stand and shuffle and fidget just to work through some of her anxiety.

  “Here they come.”

  The plant fell silent as Dylan and Trish entered the frame. Briana tried not to focus on their joined hands or the way Dylan pulled out a stool for Trish to sit down. Dylan stood next to her, and Briana knew it was because standing made her feel more in control of the situation. She could do without Trish caressing the small of Dylan’s back, though. It’s just work. Block it out.

  Paul approached them, and they hugged hello like they were all old friends.

  “Why can’t I hear them?” Briana asked.

  “Hold on a second.” Ahmed threw on a headset, and one of the detectives from the tech unit fiddled with a series of gadgets before he typed furiously at the computer controlling the equipment. “We’re getting it. It’s recording,” Ahmed said. “There seems to be a problem with the audio feed to the monitor,” he said, pointing to the big screen. “But it is coming through. Looks to be about a half a minute behind—is that what you’re getting, Tony?”

  Tony the tech guy agreed. “I could mess around with it to see if we can hear it through the speakers, but we risk losing it altogether.”

  “Don’t do it,” Nieves ordered from his perch in the back. “Ahmed, for now just listen and give us the play-by-play. You tech gurus can work out the kinks later.”

  In a way, Briana was happy not to hear the cutesy dialogue she was sure was being exchanged and, in Trish’s case, laid on way too thick. But absent sound, her mind filled in the blanks anyway.

  “Oh, shit,” Ahmed said. But he sounded excited, not worried, so her pressure didn’t spike too bad. “Look.” He pointed at the monitor and pulled one earmuff to the side. “You saw how Dylan just stretched her back?”

  They all nodded.

  “Paul must have thought it was bothering her, so he asked if she was okay.” On the screen Paul was signaling Benji and George to join them from the end of the bar. “Fucking Dylan, man, she went with it. Gave him a whole story about how she works for her uncle who’s a contractor and she got hurt on a job.” Ahmed was talking so fast it was almost hard to follow. “He just asked if she was taking anything for the pain, and she said Motrin or some shit and he just fucking offered her Percocet.”

  Nieves jumped out of his chair. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m telling you, Boss. Look, look.” He pointed at the screen where Benji stood next to her, blocking the camera’s view a little. “I know you can’t see it. Fuck. Oh, good, good. Paul wanted her to take it, but she told him she just took a Motrin 800.”

  “Good job, Dylan.” Miri breathed a sigh of relief, and Briana felt it to her core.

  Ahmed covered both ears with the heavy-duty headset. His voice was loud as he continued to keep them updated. “Okay, okay. He told her to take it at home. She offered him cash, but he declined.”

  Even though she had complete faith in Dylan, Briana could feel herself start to sweat.

  “Paul’s asking her details about the injury.” Ahmed shook his head. “Holy fuck, she’s insanely good. Kid does not miss a beat. Now they’re talking about how great Trish is to be there for support, yadda-yadda.”

  She watched a soundless Dylan work the room. She divided her attention between Paul and Benji and Trish, animated but reserved at the same time. Trish rubbed her back and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. Gross. But they were making real progress, and Briana had to remind herself of the endgame.

  Onscreen, Dylan hung her head in laughter the way she did when Briana teased her. Trish was hanging all over Dylan, and it made her stomach turn. Briana almost looked away, and if she had, it probably would have been for the best. But it was like watching a train wreck. She simply couldn’t tear her eyes away. And then Dylan did the unthinkable. She faced Trish, and holy crap, she kissed her. It was just a peck on the lips, but it was enough to make the bile rise in her throat.

  “Yowza.” Ahmed fanned himself. “That was definitely for show. But those guys ate it up. You should hear them talking about what a great couple they are.”

  The action portrayed on the TV indicated that the conversation had changed, and only then did Briana remember the audio lag.

  “Oh, oh.” Ahmed nodded. “This is good, people. Paul just said if Dylan likes the Percocet, he can get her more. He told her to stay in touch with Benji.”

  Miri and Ahmed high-fived.

  Nieves fist-pumped.

  Briana’s heart sank.

  She knew what had just happened was monumental for the investigation. But all she could see was her girlfriend kissing someone else.

  Everything else seemed a blur as the action wrapped up, and Dylan and Trish exited the Wine Bar without incident. They were headed back to the plant, and Miri suggested Briana stick around for the debrief and a ride home, but she knew she needed to leave. She needed the rumble of the subway and frigid temperature to steel her and calm her and talk her off the ledge.

  As Briana exited the F train she saw a text from Dylan. I’m coming over.

  Don’t, she typed back.

  Barely a second passed before Dylan responded. Bri, please. I need you.

  God, she needed Dylan too. She was mad and hurt and upset, warranted or not. Instinct told her the only person who would make her feel even marginally okay was Dylan. She needed her, she wanted her, she was thankful she was okay, she was furious with her. It was…a mess.

  Briana looked up and realized she was on the corner of Dylan’s street. It was as though her body knew the answer it had taken her mind some time to come around to.

  I’ll meet you at your apartment, she typed, not bothering to mention that she was basically already there.

  Dylan responded with a giant red heart.

  Briana walked for another twenty minutes, knowing it would
be a while before Dylan made it home. The cold air was cleansing. It relaxed her and helped her see things for what they were. At first, she’d contemplated breaking things off with Dylan. It was simple enough to do. One conversation could put a stop to everything. But the thought of not being with Dylan the way she was right now immediately made her eyes water and her hands shake. And for what? There wasn’t anything real between Dylan and Trish. Dylan cared about her. She saw it in her eyes—she felt it in her soul.

  The kiss was just part of the act.

  Repeating that mantra in her head made her feel better. Comforted by the thought and healed by the words, Briana paced the streets, coming down with each step until she stood shivering outside Dylan’s brownstone.

  She thought she was fine. She felt better.

  But then Dylan pulled up and stepped out of her car. Across the short dark distance, Dylan’s eyes stood out, bright and deep and full of emotion against the night sky. Without any kind of internal warning she was completely overwhelmed with emotion.

  In a second, Dylan was next to her, holding her close and kissing her face. “You’re crying.” She seemed surprised and distressed at the realization. She hugged her tighter. “Oh my God, you’re so cold,” Dylan whispered as she walked them to the door and ushered them upstairs. “I didn’t know you were here. I would’ve had Marie let you in.”

  Briana didn’t say anything. She couldn’t even form words. Instead, she let Dylan take her coat and hold her hands, rubbing them for warmth while her tears flowed in a steady stream.

  If the emotional display unnerved Dylan, she didn’t let it show. In fact, she kept an arm around her, holding her close, as she turned on lights and flipped a switch on the wall that ignited the fireplace.

  “Stay here for a minute.” Dylan urged her to sit by the fire. “You’ll warm up quick. I can make tea. Or would you prefer wine?”