Hard to Serve: A Hard Ink Novella (14 page)

“Thank you,” she said, her smile nearly beaming.

He loved that he’d made her feel that way. Having seen her art, he needed to know more. To know everything. “Does your family live in Baltimore?” he asked.

“Only my dad,” she said. “My mom and stepfather live in Philadelphia where I grew up.”

“Not too bad for visits, at least,” he said. He’d never lived in a different city from his parents. He was a Baltimore boy through and through, from growing up to college to serving on the force.

“No, it’s an easy trip,” she said with a smile. “And it’s been a while since I’ve lived in the same city as my dad, so I’m really glad for that.”

“You two are close?” he asked.

Her expression answered the question before she did. “Yeah. He’s kind of a hardass, but he’s always been a great father.” He loved the passion with which she spoke, the way that her feelings for those she cared about shined from her eyes.

“I’m pretty close to my old man, too. And I think ‘hardass’ is in the father job description.”

She laughed. “That would explain it.”

The waiter came and cleared their plates, and they ordered cheesecake to share for dessert. Every part of the meal had been easy and effortless, right down to their shared tastes in food.

“So, I feel like I’ve been talking too much about myself,” she said. “Tell me more about you, Kyler. What do you do for a living?”

His gut dropped. He knew this conversation would come, but he hated the thought that his work might turn her off. And, at any rate, talking about it stirred up his ancient worries that being a cop was a death knell for most relationships. But he’d already decided to let her make those decisions for herself. “I’m a police detective.”

Mia froze with her champagne flute halfway to her mouth. And then her expression dropped. She tried to shake away the reaction, but he’d seen it. He’d fucking seen it. “You work for BPD?”

“Yes, Mia. Is that a problem?” His dinner turned into a rock parked in his stomach.

“Uh, no. No, of course not. Just surprised,” she said, taking a fast drink of the bubbly.

The waiter brought the cheesecake, a giant piece covered with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. He placed the plate between them and laid two forks on the table. Neither of them reached for one.

“Um.” She gave a shaky little laugh and shook her head. “The world is really funny sometimes.”

A few men in business suits filed past their table. Kyler did a double take, recognizing a couple of the city councilmen. And, as if his night needed any more awkwardness, Commissioner Breslin was at the back of the group deep in conversation with the council president. Because what everyone wanted was for their boss to witness a date crashing and burning.

Kyler took a drink of his bubbly, the carbonation not doing good things for that rock he felt. “Funny, how?” he managed.

She looked up at the passing men and gasped. “Oh, my God,” she said under her breath. And then, when Breslin got right in front of them, she said louder, “Dad, hi. Um, what a surprise.”

Commissioner Breslin and Jack Shepard, the council president, stopped at their table. And Mia bore a resemblance to only one of the men. It was all in the eyes. Kyler’s boss was Mia’s father.

“Mia,” Breslin said, looking between his daughter—
his fucking daughter
—and one of the detectives under his command. So much for staying on the commissioner’s good side because there was no way the man was going to be happy about this.
No. Way
. Even if her dad was happy about her dating a cop, which Kyler doubted, he surely wouldn’t be happy about her dating one under investigation for possible corruption. Jesus Christ.

She slid out of her seat and hugged the man, and it was clear from the expression on Breslin’s face that the affection she’d communicated earlier about her father was returned a whole helluva lot.

“Mia, this is City Council President Shepard,” her father said as Kyler rose. She shook the other man’s hand. “And President Shepard, this is one of my men, Detective Vance.” Kyler did the same, and then he offered his hand to his boss.

“Commissioner Breslin. Nice to see you,” Kyler said.

“Detective Vance,” her father replied, not returning the sentiment. “I’m sorry to interrupt your…date.” The last word came out full of surprise and disapproval, hammering the last nail in whatever hope Kyler might’ve had that this wasn’t going to somehow come back and bite him and his career in the ass. Not to mention his relationship with Mia. Sonofabitch.

 An awkward silence stretched out.

“You didn’t interrupt, Dad,” Mia finally said. “I’m always glad to see you. You know that.”

Breslin nodded. “Well, I wish I could visit longer, but I’m here on business tonight.” He gestured to his colleague. “I’ll talk to you soon, babydoll.” He squeezed Mia’s shoulder. “Vance.” A single nod.

“Commissioner.” A single nod in reply. Fuck. He was so fucked. How predisposed was the old man going to be to give Kyler the benefit of the doubt now? When he was clearly displeased to see him with his daughter. His
babydoll
.

And God forbid Breslin ever learn any of the more intimate details of their relationship. Because holy fucking shit. Kyler would be lucky to keep all his parts.

“Shall we…um…sit?” Mia asked when it was just the two of them.

Kyler gestured toward the table, and they both sat. But all the easiness between them was gone now. Obliterated.

“So, that’s why you thought it was funny that I’m a detective? Because your father’s my boss?” he asked, trying to rein in his anger but hearing it in his tone all the same.

“Uh, yeah.” She fidgeted with her fork, straightening it next to the dessert plate. “I wasn’t certain that you’d know one another, though. Big department and everything.”

He emptied his glass, but the sweet champagne didn’t come close to being what he needed. “Mmhmm.” A long silence passed. And with each passing second, any hope Kyler had allowed to grow that he could have something with Mia melted away.

“Have some cheesecake?” she asked, forcing a smile.

He picked up a fork. Stabbed the creamy cake. Barely tasted it as it went down.

Mia swallowed her bite and dropped her fork back to the table, too. She sighed. “May I please be direct?”

He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “I wish you would.”

She frowned, anger sliding into her gaze. “What does that mean?”

He shook his head. He waved at the waiter, silently asking for the bill. Kyler needed to get out of there before his own anger and frustration got the better of him. This wasn’t Mia’s fault. It was his. His for even trying. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Kyler—”

“He’s my boss, Mia. My fucking boss. And you’re his babydoll.” His voice dropped. “Who I tied up and choked and beat and fucked in a public place. Among other things.”

The annoyance on her face ratcheted up the turmoil raging inside him. “Why does that matter? Even if we were totally vanilla, we wouldn’t be sharing that with him either, would we? I’m almost twenty-eight, Kyler. My father has no say in what I do in my personal life.”

“But he has a big say in what happens in my professional one.” He nailed her with a stare. Sadness slinked through him. Damn. He’d really wanted this to work out.

She sagged against the back of her seat. “So, what? That’s it. Because my dad’s a cop, too, we’re done?”

He shook his head. “He’s not just any cop.”

“Right. He’s the commissioner. I get it—”

“You don’t,” he gritted out. The waiter chose that moment to drop off the bill. Kyler tossed a card into the leather folder without looking and urged the man away. He heaved a long, weary breath. “I’m under investigation, Mia. Part of your father’s effort to oust corruption in the department. I’m
not
corrupt, and hopefully things will work out the way they should and I’ll be cleared. Soon. But I’m already on Breslin’s shit list.” He shook his head as saying her father’s name made him realize. “So your name is Mia Breslin.” If he’d have asked, even once, all this could’ve been avoided. Breslin was too unique of a name to not have cued him in sooner. But he’d been keeping to his rules…and then he’d been foolishly running roughshod right over them. Now, here they were. “Yep,” she said, her shoulders dropping.

The waiter returned with the credit card slip and Kyler scribbled his name in a hard line.

Mia was quiet for a long moment, and he was sure that what he’d revealed about his career must’ve soured her toward him. Who’d be happy to learn they were dating a potentially dirty cop? Absolutely no one. And certainly not the daughter of a decorated, high-ranking officer. “Look, Kyler, I’m sorry to hear about the investigation,” she said. “From everything I’ve read in the papers, it sounds like it’s needed in the department, but I’m sorry that you’ve gotten swept up in it.”

Her words made his chest ache. She believed him? She wasn’t suspicious of him? “You’re sorry?”

She gave a little shrug. “Of course I’m sorry. My dad was investigated once years ago and I remember how stressful that was for him.”

“So you believe me,” he said, the truth of that still not fully computing.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Hurt flashed across her face. “But, I guess, does it even matter that I believe you?”

It mattered. It mattered to him a fucking lot.

“I mean,” she continued, “does it matter what I think about that if you’ve decided that my father being your boss is a deal breaker? For me and you?” Me and you. He’d loved when she’d said those words the other night at the bar. Now, they broke his goddamned heart. Not that his heart was involved. Well, not really. She kept her eyes on his, but he could tell that it was costing her to put herself out there so directly.

Which meant he owed her the same. “No, I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, Mia.” And even though on some level, it
didn’t
matter, not when her father could ruin Kyler’s career, the words still tasted like ash in his mouth. Because they weren’t all the way true, either. Mia’s belief in him mattered. The affection with which she’d looked at him up until about ten minutes ago mattered.
Mia
mattered. To him.

But you couldn’t always have what you wanted, could you? If Kyler could, Miguel would still be alive.

“Well.” She dropped her gaze to the white-cloth-covered table. “I see.” She grasped her little clutch purse from the seat beside her. “Thank you for dinner, Kyler.” In a quick move, she rose and started walking.

He followed, easily catching up with her. “I’ll drive you home.”

Without looking at him, she shook her head. Her heels clicked against the marble floor. “That won’t be necessary, Detective. The valet can call me a cab.”

Detective. Fuck. “Mia—”

The rotating doors cut off his effort to talk to her. When he came out onto the street, she was already asking the valet to get her a car. The man stepped out into the road and blew a whistle.

“Mia.”

She turned to him, her expression carefully neutral. But her eyes revealed everything. Sadness. Disappointment. Hurt.
He’d
caused that. Every bit of it. “Yes?”

“Miss, your taxi,” the valet called.

She looked at Kyler another second, then turned on her heel and made for the car.

Kyler rushed after her, putting his body in the way of the door. He debated for a long moment, but it was already paid for. It was hers, no matter what. He retrieved the little black leather card case from his suit coat. “I…I got this for you. It was going to be a surprise. It’s yours. No strings attached, of course.” He squeezed her cold fingers.

“Good-bye,” she said, not even looking at what he’d handed her.

And then Kyler was watching her drive away from him. And he’d been right. It did fucking hurt more now that he was involved. Which just meant that he’d been right to let her go that night at Blasphemy. To let her go and not follow.

Because the police force always won. And always ruined relationships.

Lesson learned. Hard.

And he wouldn’t ever forget it.

Chapter 11

Two weeks later, Mia was standing in the middle of a disaster area. Crates and boxes and packing material littered the shining floor of her gallery, the debris part of the process of unloading some of the newly arrived pieces for the next show that would open in two weeks. Wearing shorts and a T-shirt, she scooped up an armful of paper wrapping and stuffed it in a big trash can.

She was really excited about the upcoming show. The theme was
avant garde
contemporary art, and highlighted work that mixed photography, graphic art, and pop culture. Today’s shipment of crates was from one of the five featured artists, and already she could see that she’d been right that these pieces would speak to her own artistic interests.

God, she was lucky to get to do what she did.

A knock on the glass front door drew Mia’s gaze. She grinned and rushed across the space, then unlocked the door for her father. “Daddy, what are you doing here?” She stepped back to let him in.

A big brown paper bag in hand, he kissed her cheek. “I was in the neighborhood.”

She snorted. “Not likely, but I’m glad you came anyway. Though it’s kind of a mess in here.”

“Creative genius at work.” He gave her a wink.

“Ha, exactly.” She waved him toward the back. “We can sit in my office. Is that Thai I smell?”

“Yep,” he said.

“Oh, man. You’re the best.” She shifted some things on her desk to make room. “Pull that chair up.”

He did as she asked and unpacked container after container. “Of course I’m the best. You don’t need lunch to prove that.”

Mia chuckled and grabbed bottles of water from the staff kitchen right next door. “No, I don’t,” she said, returning. “But how the heck did you get away in the middle of the day?” They spooned food onto paper plates.

“I’m the boss. If I say I want to play hooky with my daughter, there’s no one to tell me no.” He grinned, and she smiled back. But his word choice sucked her back to that terrible night with Kyler, the night everything fell apart. Who would’ve thought that even another cop would get freaked out by the fact that her father was a cop? Granted, the fact that her father was Kyler’s boss was a complicating factor, but she’d never known her dad to do anything but support the things that made her happy. And she didn’t know why that would change now.