In Bed With the Badge (15 page)

“Oh, Howard, I think you just might have solved the crime for us.”

Howard looked almost bashful. “Glad I wasn’t banged around for nothing,” he mumbled.

Riley laughed and pressed a kiss to the large bare expanse just above his forehead.

“I’m just glad you’re all right. I’ll be right back,” she promised, getting up. Moving to the far end of the living room, she took out her cell phone.

Wyatt followed her. “Who are you calling?”

About to press a number on the cell’s keypad, she stopped for a second. “I’m going to see if our other victims ever went to The Crown Jewels Restaurant.”

He glanced at his watch. It was now close to eleven o’clock. “Isn’t it a little late to be calling?” he pointed out.

“Justice never sleeps.” Riley pressed a single button and the phone on the other end of the line began to ring.

“You’ve got them on speed dial?” he asked.

“Sure. Just until the cases are solved. Why, don’t you?” she asked.

But before Wyatt could answer, she held up her finger, asking for silence. She heard someone come on the line.

“Four out of five is a pretty good track record,” Riley declared some twenty minutes later. She, Wyatt and Howard had adjourned to the kitchen to keep out of the crime scene investigators’ way as she made the rest of her calls. “Everyone but the Marstons remember going to The Crown Jewels Restaurant some time before they were robbed.”

“I’m sure they enjoyed going down memory lane with you at almost midnight,” Sam commented.

“I doubt if any of them are heavy sleepers anymore,” she answered. “And maybe they’ll sleep better once we get the bad guys.”

“But
are
they the bad guys if the Marstons never went to The Crown Jewels?” Sam asked. “Their home invasion was exactly like the others and we’d need a hundred percent match in order to establish—” Sam didn’t get a chance to finish.

Riley’s cell phone rang.

Flipping it open again, she put it against her ear. “McIntyre. Yes. What? Oh. Okay.” Sam saw a radiant
smile blooming on her lips. “Well, thank you for calling back, Mr. Marston. Yes, yes, that was extremely helpful. And yes, I would ground him if I were you. Uh-huh. I promise I’ll let you know the second we find out. Goodbye.”

“What’s extremely helpful and who are you grounding?” Sam asked the second she flipped the cell phone closed again.

“You look like the cat that ate the canary,” Howard observed, curiosity getting the better of him, as well.

Excitement vibrated in Riley’s voice as she filled in Sam and Howard about the home invaders’ other victim. “Mr. and Mrs. Marston didn’t go to The Crown Jewels Restaurant, but it seems that their son took his dad’s credit card and his girl there. Junior overheard the conversation and just confessed.”

Howard shook his head. “Teenagers. Absolutely no respect for money these days.”

“Not to mention that if he hadn’t taken his girl there, his parents wouldn’t have been targeted by the home invaders. He’s probably going to be grounded until he collects social security,” she commented just before clapping her hands together. “Okay, now we’re batting a thousand. What do you say you and I have a late lunch at The Crown Jewels tomorrow? We’ll use my car.”

It seemed like the way to go. Except for one thing. “Why your car?” Sam asked.

“Elementary, my dear Watson. Your registration will tell them that you live in an apartment. These people only rob houses.”

He conceded the point, but there was a larger one to consider. “This is a long shot, you know. There’s no guarantee that they’ll take the bait. I mean, they have to park hundreds of cars during the week.”

“That’s why I’m going to ask to borrow that rock that the chief gave Rose for their last anniversary. That, and a few other ‘trinkets’ from the family should do it. If I sparkle enough,” she looked at Sam and batted her eyelashes, “I’m sure I’ll move right up to the top of their list.”

It crossed Sam’s mind that Riley sparkled enough without any jewelry, but, since they weren’t alone, he decided to keep that to himself.

“I
know you want to keep your neighbor out of this if possible, but I think we should bring those valets in for questioning. This plan of yours just isn’t working,” Sam told Riley.

He was sitting in his car, parked down the block and across the street from her house and talking to her via his cell phone. His muscles felt cramped and he was going just a little stir crazy.

As she sat in the dark in her living room, Riley hoped that the sight of her house locked down for the night would give the home invaders the go-ahead signal. So far, nothing had happened.

Though she didn’t want to, she was beginning to agree with her partner. She and Wyatt had been at this
for almost two straight weeks now with no success. Night after night went by and still no sign of the home invaders.

She’d thought for certain that flashing her borrowed jewelry would be a definite come-on to the robbers. That and the fact that when the valet had brought back her car, she’d loudly refused, as they’d previously agreed, to allow Wyatt to give the man a generous tip.

“You don’t need to give him that big tip,” she’d admonished. “For heaven’s sake, it’s not like he had to fight off some roving gang of bikers to bring the car to us. He just drove the thing around the corner. Honestly, Sam, you’re just too generous for your own good.”

If looks could kill, Riley would have been dead on the spot. The glare the valet had given her would have cut her to ribbons.

Maybe it had been the wrong valet. But he’d been tall and thin and looked exactly as Howard had described him. Besides, the valet dropped his Gs, just the way Howard had remembered.

Riley sighed into her phone. “You’re probably right. This is getting us nowhere.” For all she knew, they were still at square one, except she had a gut feeling that she was right: valets operating at The Crown Jewels Restaurant were behind the robberies. Nothing else made sense to her. “Go home to Lisa.”

“Will do. Good night, partner,” Sam said, flipping his phone closed.

He tossed the phone onto the seat next to him. The seat Riley ordinarily occupied. This surveillance cut
into not just the time he spent with his daughter, but the time he spent with Riley, as well. They hadn’t gotten together intimately since this surveillance began and he missed her. Missed being with her. Missed the scent of her skin, the feel of her body against his. He missed the sound of her breath growing erratic as they came together, pleasuring one another.

He’d never felt this way about a woman before, not to this extent and not for this long. He’d certainly never caught himself longing for a woman the way he longed for Riley.

This was all new to him and confusing as hell.

Or maybe not so confusing, just scary, he amended, because, like it or not, he felt vulnerable.

Sam glanced at his watch. He knew Riley was right, he should be getting home. For the last few days, Riley’s mother had volunteered to stay with the little girl so that Lisa could sleep in her own bed and not have her routine constantly disrupted.

Six months ago if anyone would have told him that the Chief of Detectives’ wife would be babysitting for his daughter and that he would be physically—and emotionally—involved with the chief’s stepdaughter, he would have laughed until gasping for breath. He’d had no daughter and he just wasn’t the lasting kind. Women came and went in his life like the seasons back east, one fading away just as another came along.

What a difference half a year made, he mused.

Maybe he’d wait just a little longer, Sam decided. He didn’t want to leave too early, just in case…

Forty-five minutes later, tired, Sam called it a night.

There was no point in doing this, he thought. The robbers weren’t coming. He needed to go before he was too exhausted to drive and fell asleep at the wheel.

Putting his key into the ignition, he turned it on. The car quietly came to life. Going up the next driveway, he turned his car around and began to drive down the street that eventually led out of the development.

It was late and hardly any vehicles were on the road. Anyone with an ounce of sense was home. Where he needed to be.

Even though it hardly felt like home without Riley there.

Don’t start in, just get home,
Sam silently lectured himself.

Coming to the edge of the development, he passed a car heading in. Sam pressed his lips together to stifle a yawn. Damn, but he was tired.

Riley bolted upright.

Was that a noise, or just an overly realistic dream spilling out into her awakened state?

She listened intently, trying to decide.

Leaving her living room, at the last minute she’d left a pile of books right by the front door—just in case. If someone came in, they’d knock the books over when they opened the door.

That was what she’d heard, the books being knocked over. She was sure of it.

Her heart pounding, Riley grabbed the telephone receiver to call for backup.

There was no dial tone.

The line was dead.

And she’d left her cell phone downstairs.

Thank God she hadn’t put her service revolver away in its usual place, she thought. Instead, she’d brought it to her bedroom and placed it on the nightstand. She put her hand on it now for reassurance.

Slipping quickly out of bed, she made to the doorway as quietly as possible. Holding her breath, she crept to the hallway.

Someone from the left grabbed her by the waist, pulling her so hard, he all but knocked the air out of her. The gun was wrenched out of her hand.

And then there was this awful pain in the back of her head. He’d hit her with something hard.

Riley struggled to keep from fading into the darkness that grabbed her. Instead of fighting back, she pretended to be limp, hoping that the home invader would drop his guard.

Whoever had hit her was carrying her down the stairs. And then she felt herself being roughly deposited onto a chair. It was now or never. She knew what came next. Duct taping her to the chair. The second she made contact with the seat, she leaped up, grappling with her assailant.

She’d caught him off guard. But not his partner. Behind her Riley heard a gun being cocked.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, bitch,” a raspy voice warned.

“Good advice. I suggest you follow it.”

A split second earlier, the unlocked door had slammed against the opposite wall. Riley whirled around and saw that Sam had his gun out and pointed toward the robber with the gun on her.

Some kind of inner instinct had her envisioning the next move. The shorter of the two men spun around, his gun still in hand, except that this time, the weapon was pointed toward Sam.

His eyes looked crazy enough for him to use it.

With a guttural scream, Riley launched herself at the man with the gun, grabbing his arm and trying to point it up in the air. The distinct odor of garlic assaulted her nose. The gun discharged, the bullet going wild and hitting the overhead chandelier just as the sound of sirens filled the air.

Backup, she thought, a tidal wave of relief washing over her. Sam had called for backup. God love ’im.

“I give up, man, I give up!” the taller of the two cried, raising his hands in the air. They were trembling. “I don’t have a gun. The gun’s Jason’s. It’s not mine.”

“You don’t have the guts to even hold a gun,” the one called Jason retorted in disgust, taunting his partner. “You’d be nowhere without me.”

“And now you’ll be in jail because of him,” Sam chimed in sarcastically.

Quickly stuffing Jason’s weapon into his belt, he handcuffed the man and turned toward Riley. He was about to ask her where her handcuffs were when he saw her pallor.

Pointing his gun at both the men, he glanced at her again, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine,” she answered before she sank to her knees and everything went black.

Her eyelids felt as if they were being weighed down by anvils as she struggled to lift them and open her eyes.

It took her several tries before she succeeded. As she fought, she heard voices, felt the presence of bodies moving around her, surrounding her.

What was going on?

Oh, right, the invasion.

Two men in black, they’d broken into her house. One of them had grabbed her and hit her from behind.

Sam.

Sam!

That was when Riley finally opened her eyes. The first face she saw was Sam’s.

“You’re all right.” She thought she shouted the words, but all she heard was a raspy whisper.

It was her own.

“Don’t talk,” Sam cautioned. He had his hands on her shoulders, restraining her as she tried to get up. “We’re going to take you to the hospital.”

There was a gurney beside the sofa. When had she laid down on the sofa? A gurney meant paramedics and an ambulance. Where had that come from? More importantly, why was it here? Her mother would have heart failure if she heard that an ambulance had been summoned for her.

“No, no hospital. I’m fine,” she insisted. “Really.”

The words carried no weight for Sam. “That’s what you said before you passed out.”

“I didn’t pass out,” she protested with as much indignation as she could muster under the circumstances.

“Okay,” Sam allowed tersely. “You took a short nap. Either way, you sank to the floor and there’s a nasty bump on the back of your head along with a nastier gash. You’re bleeding. I want that gash looked at,” he told her sternly.

“So look at it.” She tried to raise her head to allow him to do just that, but the room began to spin. She fell back against the sofa again.

He saw the split second of weakness. “Damn it, woman, you’re going to the hospital and that’s that. I’ve had enough of a scare tonight. Do I make myself clear?” he demanded.

Riley stared at him as she tried to focus on what was going on. “The robbers?”

He assumed she was asking about the fact that the two were no longer in the room. “On their way to the precinct.”

A lot of police personnel crowded into the room and most likely, beyond. Crime scene investigators? When had they gotten here? “How long was I out?”

“Too long,” was all that Sam would tell her.

In reality, he’d spent a harrowing, endless fifteen minutes staring at her unconscious face, terrified and wondering if she would come to or wind up in a coma.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she realized. When had he come back? And why? “You went home.”

Sam shrugged, as if his appearance on the scene was of no great consequence. “I hung around for another forty-five minutes or so, thinking they might show up late. I was on my way out of your development when I passed a car with two guys sitting in the front. They looked like they had on black pullovers. It’s too hot for black pullovers,” he pointed out. “So I doubled back—just in case my hunch was right. And it was.”

Riley began to nod, then stopped. The waves of pain crowding into her head made the motion impossible to complete.

“Good thing you did. I was already in bed, asleep. They caught me off guard.”

Sam glanced toward the pile of books scattered on the floor near the door. “I’m guessing not entirely.” He laughed, nodding toward the books. “First-class security alarm you have there.”

“But it did the trick,” she pointed out. “When they hit the books, the sound of them falling woke me up.”

He should have stuck around, Sam admonished himself silently. If he had, they would have never gotten to her, never roughed her up. “Good thing.”

She took a deep breath, letting it go again. It was over. They’d gotten the home invaders and she was incredibly relieved.

“You’d better go home to Lisa. I can handle the paperwork,” she added in case that was on his mind.

Sam looked at her as if she was crazy. “You’re not handling anything. What you’re doing is going to the ER to get a once-over.”

Riley huffed impatiently. “Wyatt, I already said that I’m—”

“Don’t care what you said. I’m primary on this,” he reminded her, “and what I say goes. Besides, I called your mother to tell her that we caught the robbers—”

Riley looked at him, horrified. “You didn’t tell her I was hurt, did you?”

Wyatt made no attempt to hem and haw. “Your mother asked for details and I had to tell her. She’s sending the chief to the hospital to see you so you’d better make an appearance there.”

Riley closed her eyes, sighing. “I hate you,” she said with no feeling.

“Yeah, I hate you, too,” he told her with a grin. “Now get on the damn gurney before these paramedics grow old.”

With another plaintive sigh—and help from Sam—Riley grudgingly got off the sofa and onto the gurney.

“I told you I was all right.” A note of triumph registered in her voice as she turned toward Sam after receiving her discharge papers at the hospital some four hours later.

The woman was incorrigible. “They had to stitch up the gash in back of your head. Fifteen stitches is not ‘all right,’” Sam pointed out, helping her off the hospital bed. He pulled back the curtain for her.

Her shrug was dismissive. “I had worse when Frank tackled me for taunting him when I was ten,” she informed him.

Tonight was an education. If she’d ever doubted it,
she now had undeniable proof that word spread fast in the Cavanaugh network. She and Wyatt had barely gotten there when the first wave appeared. For a while, the hospital turned into a hotbed of activity as her siblings, stepbrothers, mother and stepfather came to the hospital to see how she was doing. It wasn’t long before the rest of them turned up, as well. Only Zack’s wife didn’t come, but she had been pressed into service to remain with a sleeping Lisa so that Lila could come and see for herself that her youngest daughter was really all right the way she claimed.

“A hospital is a hell of a place to hold a family reunion,” Riley had quipped at the height of the Cavanaugh influx. She felt absolutely awful about being the cause of concern for her mother and all the others who had abandoned their beds to come to the hospital in the middle of the night.

Satisfied that only “Riley’s hard head,” as Frank put it, was involved and that she would be all right, it had still taken a while for everyone to finally leave the premises.