Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair Read online

  Sam parked on Ninth Street, rested her hands on the wheel, and looked over at Freddie. “Listen, in the event that she’s not blowing smoke, there could be some trouble in the form of stray bullets flying at me. I’d understand if you wanted to partner up with someone else until this blows over.”

  “Nice try, Sergeant, but you’re stuck with me.”

  “I could have you reassigned.”

  “You could,” he conceded. “But let me ask you this—if someone was taking pot shots at me, would you bail?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you think I would?”

  Under his junk food-loving, cover-boy exterior, Freddie Cruz was made of stuff Sam respected. “All right then,” Sam said, attempting to return things to normal. “When you get your pretty head blown off, don’t come crying to me.”

  He stuck out his jaw. “You really think my head is pretty? You’ve never told me that before.”

  “Shut up,” she groaned, reaching for the door handle. “Jesus.”

  “I’ve asked you to refrain from using the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “And I’ve asked you to refrain from preaching your Holy Roller crap to me.” There. Back to normal.

  The ramp that led to Skip Holland’s front door was a stark reminder of the changes wrought by an assailant’s bullet. Inside, Sam called for him and smiled when she heard the whir of his chair.

  “There’s my daughter who blows her curfew and stays out all night.”

  “I left a message that I know you got.” She bent down to kiss his forehead. “So don’t give me any grief.”

  “Morning, Detective Cruz. Have you eaten?”

  “Earlier.” Freddie squeezed Skip’s right hand in greeting. “But you know me, there’s always room for more.”

  “Celia made eggs. I think there’s some left.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Freddie flashed Sam a grin as he headed for the kitchen.

  She rolled her eyes. “Why do you have to encourage him?” she asked her father.

  “He’s a growing boy. Needs his protein.”

  “I hope I’m around when his metabolism slows to a crawl the way mine has.” She reached for the mail stacked on a table. “You look tired.”

  “I could say the same for you, Sergeant. What kept you out all night?”

  “Working the case. You know.” She glanced at him, caught a hint of something in his wise eyes. “What?”

  “I can still read.”

  “Oh.” She released her hair from the ponytail and combed her fingers through it in an attempt to bring some order to it. “You saw the thing in the paper. She’s looking for someone to blame.”

  “What’s being done?”

  She knew he meant by the department and wanting to quell his fears she told him of the meeting Farnsworth had called.

  “He’ll take you off the streets. Off O’Connor until you’ve testified.”

  “He’ll take me off kicking and screaming. I can’t let a useless excuse for a mother like Destiny Johnson get in the way of the job.”

  “She has a lot of friends—angry friends with guns. Farnsworth won’t have any choice but to put you under protection after the threats she’s made.”

  “If I go under, the case goes with me. I’ll be surprised if they haven’t already picked her up for threatening the life of a police officer.”

  “No doubt, but just because she’s locked up doesn’t mean the threat’s been neutralized.”

  Sam leaned over to press another kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry.”

  A look of fury crossed the expressive side of his face. “You can say that to me? When I’m sitting in this chair incapable of doing a goddamned thing when the life of my daughter, my child, has been threatened by someone who has not only the will but the means to follow through? Worry is all I’ve got. Don’t take that away from me, Sam, and don’t patronize me. I expect better from you.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.” She expelled a long deep breath as her stomachache returned with a vengeance. Navigating his new reality was a slippery slope, even almost two years later. “Of course you’re right.”

  “You’re to take this seriously and do whatever you’re told by your superior officers. I’m trusting Joe to do his part, so I need your word that you’ll do yours.”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed the one finger that could still feel it. “You have it.”

  “Go get changed and then come down to have some breakfast.”

  Because he was her dad and needed to feel like he still had control over something, she did what she was told without reminding him that she was thirty-four and didn’t have to.

  Over eggs and toast, she and Freddie hashed out the case with Skip while Celia helped him with a cup of coffee.

  “I agree with you about the female angle, the act of passion,” Skip said.

  “We haven’t encountered a woman yet with the emotional baggage toward O’Connor that this would’ve required,” Freddie said.

  “We’re talking to some ex-girlfriends when we leave here, so we’re hoping to get lucky,” Sam said.

  “You’re looking for a cool customer,” Skip said, slipping into the zone. “Someone who keeps tremendous anger bottled up under a refined exterior. You’ll find she’s been abused or had complicated relationships with the significant men in her life—father, ex-husband, ex-lover. Men have disappointed her in some way and whatever the senator did was the final straw. The breaking point.”

  “Damn,” Freddie said reverently. “You two are something else. She sees these things as clearly as you do.”

  Celia smiled at him. “It’s in their genes. I wonder sometimes if I should be afraid, spending as much time as I do with people who can slide inside a criminal’s mind as easily as these two can.”

  “Enough about our genes.” Sam stood as she downed a last swallow of soda. “Thanks, Celia, for the chow, and you for the consult.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “See you tonight.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” he said with a dry chuckle. To Freddie he added, “She uses me for a place to keep her considerable wardrobe.”

  “Seems to me she uses you for a lot more than that. Always a pleasure, Chief.”

  “All mine, Detective. The Skins are playing at home Sunday night if you want to stop by to watch the game. Celia tells me there’ll be snacks. Maybe even a beer or two if I’m good.”

  “Snacks, beer and football?” Freddie reached out to squeeze Skip’s hand. “Hard to resist an offer like that. I’ll do my best to come by. Thanks for breakfast, Celia. It was fabulous as usual.”

  “Anytime, Detective,” Celia said, blushing a little as even the strongest of women tended to do when on the receiving end of Freddie’s formidable charm.

  Outside, Sam paused before she got into the car. “I, ah, I just wanted to say thanks for that in there.”

  Freddie’s eyebrows knitted with confusion as he studied her over the top of the car. “For what? Eating your food like I just got rescued from a deserted island?”

  “No.” She struggled to find the words. “For treating him like he’s still a normal guy, a normal person.”

  “He is.” Freddie maintained the puzzled air of innocent befuddlement. “Why would I treat him any other way?”

  “You’d be surprised the way people treat him sometimes.” They got into the car. “I’m only going to say this once, and if I hear you repeated it I’ll deny it with everything I’ve got. Understand?”

  “Gee, I can’t wait to hear this. You leave me breathless with anticipation.”

  “Your sarcasm and significant dietary failings aside, you’re a special guy, Freddie Cruz. A one-in-a-million good guy.” She glanced over to find him staring at her with his mouth hanging open. “Now that we’ve got that bullshit out of the way, what do you say we get back to figuring out who killed the senator?” When Freddie failed to reply, she said, “For Christ’s sake, will you quit looking at me like I just hit you wit