This Guy's in Love

by Kathryn Shay

  Larry Gray and his sidekick Bruce Metcalf were making noises accompanied by rolled eyes and impatient huffs. The jerks. Metcalf was a weasel and Gray a misogynist. She’d had run-ins with the latter at her old district.

  Gabe continued without addressing their behavior. “First, we’ll have a demonstration.” He pointed to the Camaro and Chevy. “These cars are lighter and more easily maneuverable than the Beast, the president’s limo.”

  Raised eyebrows and comments of surprise.

  “BTW, we have old limos used by the president if anybody wants to take them out. Usually cops get a kick out of driving the Beast.”

  Laughter rumbled through the crowd.

  “Nick’s going to demonstrate vehicle-ambush countermeasures now. You’ll get to do some driving today.”

  Some murmured grateful comments that the morning wouldn’t be all lecture and demonstration, but there’d be an activity as well. Having been a cop, Gabe must know that the group would go stir-crazy just listening all day.

  As Nick headed to the car, Gabe said, “An alley or a small street you’re in could be blocked off. A stopped car is prime for an attack, so you have to drive in reverse at forty miles per hour and keep moving. Nick will demonstrate this in slow motion, so I can describe what he’s doing.”

  Gabe and Nick put on ear mics, the kind the service used on events.

  Nick climbed in the first car. Into the mic, Gabe said, “Drive about twenty yards down.” When Nick was in place, Gabe added, “Assume your car has to stop because of a blocked alleyway. Shift into reverse and back up.” Nick followed the instruction and came to a halt. “You won’t stop like Nick has, but turn around immediately.” Nick executed a 180-degree pivot. “What is this turn called?”

  Francesca yelled out, “The J-turn.”

  “Right. The driver will spin around and head in the other direction. By the way, a motorcade is trained to do the same thing, in unison.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Larry Gray grumbled.

  Gabe zeroed in on them. “It isn’t, Larry.”

  “Hard to believe, Gabe.”

  This time, Gabe’s face flickered with annoyance. “I’ll show you some video at the end of the day. Be out here when we finish up at five.” Gabe’s expression brightened. “All right, Agent Marino, go in real time.”

  The car headed out, stopped abruptly.

  Tires screeched.

  The smell of rubber filled the air. A motor gunned.

  Then the Camaro backed up faster than Frankie thought it ever could. Nick did a perfect J-turn and drove a few feet down the pavement.

  Frankie studied her colleagues. Most everyone paid close attention, except Gray and Metcalf who now were conducting a conversation under their breath.

  “See those three loops painted on the blacktop over there?” Nods from the group. “Nick, do the maneuver in time with my instructions again. Drive to the far loop on the left...use it to turn...come down the forty yards to the second loop at the other end, take that...and drive to the third loop opposite the first. Turn...take the loop, come back to the far end.”

  Frankie noticed Ty paying close attention. He focused better than anyone else she knew.

  Gabe said into the mic, “Go ahead, Nick. Show your stuff. Three times in a row. Three minutes.”

  The car headed down the pavement. Must be the active-duty blood was still in Gabe’s veins because he looked like he was enjoying himself.

  * * *

  After the demonstration, Nick handed out practice times. “You’ll go in pairs, for safety, as one of you will drive while the other watches, and so you can critique each other. We trust you won’t be reckless.”

  “You hear that, Metcalf?” someone yelled out. A small group laughed.

  “Screw you, Banks.”

  So Gabe added, “If there is any recklessness, your practice time will be canceled. And yes, we’ll hear about it.”

  When Ty received the list, his gaze stopped on number three then snapped to the woman next to him.

  She saw it too. “Huh. Seems like I can’t get rid of you.”

  “They probably put people from the same districts together.”

  “Or I got bad luck.”

  “Stuff it, Marcello.” He had to match her barb for barb and not show his irritation, but as her animosity continued, he didn’t even want to be with her. He thought they might bond at the training, but she sure as hell wasn’t inclined that way.

  “Some of you will practice right after lunch,” Gabe put in. “So you won’t get the extra hour we left open in case anyone didn’t check in. But that can’t be helped. Now go ahead to the cafeteria. David, over there, will show you the way.”

  David waved.

  “We’ll meet you back in the classroom at two.” Gabe and Nick started off.

  “Want to...” Ty began, but Francesca was already even with the trainers. Ty followed, feeling like a puppy dog nipping at her heels. He didn’t like the comparison.

  She said to Nick and Gabe, “That was great, you two. Fun and interesting.”

  “Whew!” Nick pretended to wipe his brow. “Teaching cops is tough.”

  “Yeah,” Ty put in from behind. “We think we know everything. I’m glad to be here.”

  She turned to Ty. “Gabe, Nick and I are going to eat together to catch up with each other’s families. Where shall I meet you to go to the hotel?”

  “You’re welcome to come, Ty.” Nick was covering for her rudeness in not inviting him.

  She was quick to say, “I’d like some alone time with the guys, if you don’t mind, Tyrell.”

  “Sure.” He turned abruptly and left.

  Pissed as hell.

  * * *

  Even Frankie was embarrassed by her rudeness. But she couldn’t let Tyrell have lunch with them. Aspects of her background were bound to come out as she and the Marinos filled each other in on their lives, and he’d surely seize on them. She had called Gabe and asked him not to divulge the princess thing, or where she was from. Who knew what Tyrell would do with that? So she couldn’t chance a slipup.

  At the cafeteria, they went through the line. “Wow, this is a feast.”

  “Another bribe.” Nick’s smile was easy. “We’re catering lunch and snacks through the day and evening.”

  “Will we do dinner here?”

  “Nope, we thought people would like some time on their own.”

  As they took seats at one of the smallest tables so no one would intrude, she said, “You’ve thought of everything to make this a pleasant experience.”

  Gabe dug into his salad. “So, are you good? Liking your new precinct?”

  “The term used in Baltimore City is district. The county uses precinct. Yeah, it’s okay.”

  “You and Ty don’t seem to get along.”

  “We don’t.”

  She drank from her water bottle and scanned the room. She saw him at a table with three women. Right now, he was grinning at them and they seemed mesmerized by whatever he was saying. No surprise there. Women loved him. She dragged her gaze back to Nick and Gabe.

  “So, tell me about Whitney and the baby.”

  “Liam’s great. I hope you get to meet him and see our cousin again. She’s coming out to discuss some presentations with David.” Nick chuckled. “She’s like another person with her little guy. So is Max.”

  “Calla was the same way. Connor, too?”

  A big brother snort from Gabe. “He’s the worst.”

  “How old are your boys, and girls, Nick? I lost track with all the kids at the baptism.”

  “The twin boys are eleven and the girl twins five months old. Thankfully, we have help. We’re hanging in there, but twins are challenging.”

  “Simon doing well, Gabe?”

  “Yeah. I love having a kid.”

  The salad was tart and tasty. Next she dug into her lasagna. “Oh, this is delicious.”

  “True compliment for a born and bred Italian. Speaking of which, how are your
other sisters?”

  “I’ve seen less of some of them since I took this new job. Did you hear about Lexy’s book?”

  “Yeah.” Gabe lowered his voice. “The princess thing came out. I take it from your call last week that no one in the police department knows yet about your connection.”

  “They don’t, and I appreciate you keeping it quiet here.”

  “What about the rest of the girls?” Nick asked.

  “Raven’s submitted her portfolio to the most prestigious art gallery in Baltimore. She’s hoping to delay the princess revelation until it’s accepted. Of all of us, she’s wants the most independence from our name.”

  “Will she get the show?”

  “Yeah, I think so. She’s very talented.”

  “Macy’s seen her.” Gabe’s wife was also an artist, and one of the sweetest people Frankie had ever met.

  “I know. To work with Raven in the art therapy she does on the side.”

  “Let’s see,” Gabe put in. “Brie’s finishing up the school year. How’d she make out going back to work after Christmas where the guy who took her also taught?”

  Brie had been kidnapped by her oldest sister’s husband in an effort to get to Calla. “I think she’s having a tough time. I wish she’d quit and start her own school, which has been her dream, but she thinks she doesn’t have enough practical experience.”

  “Hmm.”

  A boisterous bout of laughter came from Ty’s table and heads turned. Now six women had flocked around him. Frankie sighed heavily. She could see why. He was physically attractive and his personality enhanced his allure. Stop looking at him, she told herself.

  “Evvie lives right down the street from me, so that’s fun. I see her all the time. Mari’s happy in law school. She says Georgetown has great professors.”

  “We were all enamored of your mother,” Gabe told her. “And awed by the king, of course.”

  “People have always been drawn to Mamá. She’s so confident and poised, but manages to emanate a warmth and joie de vivre, I guess.” Frankie snorted. “Not to mention she’s the prettiest in the family, still, at fifty something.”

  They finished up lunch by one. Frankie walked outside and found Ty waiting for her. “Enjoy your lunch?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Met some nice people. Ready to go?” His tone was cold, curt.

  Not moving, she touched the bare part of his arm. “Look, I know I was rude. I’m sorry. I should have invited you to eat with us.”

  “Thanks for the apology.” His gray eyes softened. “Don’t worry about it, they’re your family and that’s the most important thing in the world.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  * * *

  “I think this practice deserves a little wager.”

  “Yeah? For what?”

  Ty wanted to flirt with Francesca in the worst way. Make an innuendo out of what she said. But that would be sexual harassment, and he wasn’t about to go there. He wondered briefly if, because they couldn’t flirt, they picked on each other. Nah. She just didn’t like him. Which never happened with him and women.

  Instead, he said, “Let’s keep track of the best time between us when we practice driving and anything else we have to do. Then, at the end of the week we’ll settle up.”

  “Again, for what?”

  “The person who wins gets to decide.”

  “No way. God knows what you’ll ask for.”

  “All right. If y’all got that little confidence in y’all winning, then forget it.”

  “It’s not that, Southern boy. Okay, I agree to the terms. I go first in the Camaro.”

  “Be my guest.” He watched her jog to the car. At the hotel, they’d both changed into lighter clothes. She wore brown jersey shorts and a tan T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a braid which bounced jauntily as she ran.

  She slid into the car and slammed the door. The motor roared to life. He checked his watch for the time. She drove down to the barrier at a normal speed, then stopped. When she went to back up, the car stalled. He could practically hear her swear. She got going again and reversed the car. Not at forty miles per hour, though. Huh. Francesca wasn’t adept at driving?

  She was scowling as she hustled back. “How about if that’s a practice run?”

  “No way. Your time was three minutes.”

  “The car stalled. I haven’t driven a standard much.”

  “That shouldn’t matter on this maneuver.”

  She shrugged.

  “What car did you drive as a teenager?”

  “A limo.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m joking. Come on, it’s your turn.”

  Since Ty had been fascinated with hot cars all his life, this was a piece of cake. He drove the Camaro to the barrier, stopped short and backed up. Fast, faster, too fast, he knew. But he was showing off. When he exited the car, he pumped his fist in the air.

  She came toward him. “I concede. You win this one.” She watched him, as if trying to decide something. Then she sighed. “My driving skills suck on a standard. Show me what to do and correct my practice so I don’t stall out again? We can compete on something else. I’m more concerned that I learn this.”

  Ty grinned at her request.

  “Aw, ain’t this cute.” They turned to see Metcalf and Gray, who’d snuck up behind him. Gray continued, “You’re gonna help the girl.” He poked his sidekick. “That’s why broads shouldn’t be cops, right, Metcalf?”

  “Damned straight.”

  Frankie walked over to Gray and got in his face. “You asshole. At least I admit I need help. Besides, it’s none of your fucking business.”

  Then she stalked away. Ty followed. Any woman who was strong enough to admit she needed help, then face down a jerk mocking her was, unfortunately for him, very tempting.

  * * *

  The flashback hit her as soon as she took her hair out of the braid and untangled it....

  Lou, across the room, backdropped by the ocean, his arms folded over his chest. Supposedly on an undercover mission, he’d escaped with Frankie to Maryland’s beaches for four days. “That’s a sight.”

  “My hair?”

  “You know I love it down. You’re gorgeous, babe.”

  She smiled in the mirror as she brushed. He started toward her. Even ten feet away, she could see his eyes burning. He wore black boxers, showing off his stocky Italian build and olive skin. When he got to her, he leaned over, fisted his hand in her hair and brought it to his nose. “Hmm. Sexy perfume.”

  He smelled like musk and man.

  “I bought some for the trip.”

  “And this wisp of a thing?” He ran a talented finger down an emerald green strap, raising goosebumps wherever he touched. “This for me, too?”

  “No, a gift from Brie. She loves girly things.”

  “So do I. Stand up.”

  She set the brush down, stood, circled the bench. He hefted her up over his shoulder—shocking her—and carried her to the bed. Tossed her down.

  He said, “Mine, all mine,” and covered her with his body....

  Even then, she knew she might be all his, but he was never, ever hers.

  Chapter 6

  On Tuesday, Gabe stood before the group with a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry to give you bad news, but we’re spending the morning in this classroom.”

  Low gripes around the room, which irritated Ty.

  Nick added, “We know that’s tough for active cops like you, so we’ve made sure you’ll have breaks for light exercise and snacks, then this afternoon we’ll be out on the courses.”

  “What are we doin’ now?” one man in front asked.

  Nick took over. “Police response to school shootings.”

  The room became silent. This was serious business. But then...

  “You know,” Larry Gray called in a booming voice, “I’m sick of being blamed for those deat
hs. Some psycho steals his daddy’s gun, picks off kids, and that’s our fault?”

  Yesterday, an amused Gabe told them they didn’t have to ask permission to talk. So Ty spoke up. “Come on, Gray. You know we bear some responsibility for what happens. Officers have stayed outside until SWAT comes.”

  “I think that’s a good starting point.” Nick stepped forward while Gabe crossed to the whiteboard. “Let’s hear everybody’s thoughts. Call out comments, and Gabe will write them on the board. What do we do when we arrive at a school shooting scene?”

  “Wait for backup.”

  “Rush the shooter.” Francesca.

  Another guy who hadn’t said anything before offered, “Get rifles from the cars to use.”

  “We don’t got rifles in the car.” Gray’s sidekick, Metcalf.

  “Keep talking,” Gabe encouraged.

  “There’s no blanket rule.”

  “Arm teachers.”

  “Have more armed security inside the schools.”

  “All right,” Nick told them. “We’re getting into solutions here. So let’s stop.” He put up another Power Point slide. “This is from J. Peter Blair, a professor of criminal justice who conducts rapid response training in Texas. ‘If there is an active shooter on scene, we train officers to isolate, distract or neutralize the shooter as soon as possible.’” Blair added, ‘“Neutralize, in this context, means shoot to kill. Move to the sound of gunfire quickly and stop it.’”

  Gabe faced them. “Someone mentioned having rifles in cars, which is necessary to this kind of response. Yeah, yeah, I know all vehicles in Baltimore don’t have them. But President Manwaring has summoned the governors of each state to discuss making rifles mandatory for every police car as well as other equipment we might need.” He shrugged. “By the way, the advice on weaponry came from the Secret Service.”