Night Shield (12 page)

Cops. He turned his cheek against her hair. He’d never understand cops.

*  *  *

She slept for two hours, dropping into oblivion like a stone in a pool, and staying deep at the bottom. When she woke, she was wrapped around him in the dark.

She lay still a moment, orienting herself, while his heart beat strong and steady under her palm. With her eyes open and her mind clearing, she went through a mental checklist. She had a vague headache, but nothing major—just a hangover from the crying jag. There was a stronger feeling of embarrassment, but she thought she could live with that, too.

She wiggled her toes and discovered she was barefoot. And her ankle holster was gone.

So, she realized, was her shoulder harness.

He’d disarmed her, she thought, in more ways than one. She’d blubbered out her story, cried on his shoulder, and was now wrapped around him in the dark. Worse than all of that was realizing she wanted to stay there.

Believing him asleep she started to inch away.

“Feel any better?”

She didn’t jolt, but it was close. “Yeah. Considerably. I guess I owe you.”

“I guess you do.”

In the dark he found her mouth with his and sank in.

Soft, unexpectedly soft. Warm, deliciously warm. Yes, she wanted to stay there, and so she opened for him, sliding her hand from his heart to his face, yielding when he turned his body to press hers into the mattress.

The good solid weight of him, the hard lines of his body, the drugging heat of his mouth was exactly what she wanted. Her arms came around him, holding him there as he had held her in tears and in sleep.

He gave himself the moment, the dark taste of her mouth, the sleepy sigh she made, the feminine give of her beneath him. He’d lain beside her, his body alert, his mind restless while hers slept. Wanting her, wanting her so it was like a fever in the blood.

Yet when she woke, he found himself drowning in tenderness.

Yet when she surrendered, he found himself unwilling, unable, to take.

He drew back, skimmed a thumb over the curve of her cheek. “Bad timing,” he said and rolled off the bed.

“I …” She cleared her throat. Her body had just started to ache, her mind had just started to float. Now she floundered free. “Look, if you have some weird idea that you were taking advantage, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“I know how to say yes or no. And while I appreciate you bringing me home, hearing me out and not leaving me alone, I’m not grateful enough for any of that to pay you back with sex. I think too much of myself. Hell, I think too much of sex.”

He laughed, sat on the edge of the bed again. “You do feel better.”

“I said I did. So.” She slid over, tossing her hair back and nuzzling his throat.

His pulse tripped and a fireball burst in his belly. “That’s tempting.” He was lucky to be able to breathe, and still casually patted her hand and got to his feet. “But no thanks.”

Insult came first, and something vile nearly spilled off her tongue. Because it made her think of Dennis, she yanked herself back. “Okay. Mind if I ask why? Under the current circumstances, that seems like a reasonable question.”

“Two reasons.”

He switched on the bedside light, watched her eyes narrow in defense. And the look of her slammed into him like a fist in the throat.

“God. You’re beautiful.”

A little thrill jumped up her spine. “And that’s why you don’t want to make love with me?”

“I want you. Enough that it’s starting to hurt. That ticks me off.”

Idly he took the ends of her hair, wrapped a length of it around his hand, released it. “You’re on my mind, Ally, too often for comfort. I like to be comfortable. So reason one is that I haven’t decided if I want to get tangled up with you. If I do half of the very interesting things I have in mind to do with you, I’m going to be tangled.”

She sat back on her heels. “I imagine you know how to cut line when you want to.”

“I’ve never had any trouble before. You’re trouble. It’s that simple.”

Insult and annoyance had vanished. “This is fascinating. Here I had you pegged as somebody who took what he wanted when he wanted it, and the hell with the consequences.”

“No. I prefer calculating, then eliminating consequences. Then I take what I want.”

“In other words, I make you nervous.”

“Oh, yeah. Go ahead and grin,” he said with a nod. “I can’t blame you.”

She laughed, lifted her eyebrows. “You said there were two reasons. What’s the second?”

“That’s easy.” He stepped to the bed, bent down and caught her chin in his hand. “I don’t like cops,” he said and brushed his lips lightly over hers.

When he would have leaned away from the kiss, she leaned in, sliding up so that her body rubbed over his. She felt his body quiver, and nothing had ever been more satisfying.

“Yeah, you’re trouble,” he muttered. “I’m leaving.”

“Coward.”

“Okay, that stings, but I’ll get over it.” He walked over to shrug on the jacket he’d tossed onto a chair, slip his feet back into his shoes.

She didn’t just feel better, Ally realized. She felt fabulous. Invincible. “Why don’t you come on back here and fight like a man.”

He glanced at her. She knelt on the side of the bed, her eyes dark and challenging, her hair a tumble of gold around her face and shoulders.

The taste of her was still sizzling on his tongue.

But he shook his head, walked to the door. Tormented himself with one last look. “I’m going to hate both of us in the morning,” he told her, then strode away while her laughter followed him.

Ally was up at six and ready to roll out the door at seven. She nearly rolled right over her parents, who were at her front door.

“Mom.” She flicked her eyes up to her father, started to speak, but her mother already had her caught in a hard hug. “Mom,” she said again. “I’m all right.”

“Indulge me.” Cilla held on, tight, heart pressed to heart, cheek pressed to cheek.

Stupid, Cilla thought, so stupid to have kept it together all night and to feel herself falling apart now that her child was in her arms.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow it.

“Okay.” She laid her lips on Ally’s temple for a moment, then drew back far enough to study her daughter’s face.

“I had to see for myself. You’re lucky your father held me off this long.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry. And I believe in doing a job well.”

Ally watched her mother’s lips curve, saw the tears willed away. And knew it cost her. “You do everything well.”

Cilla O’Roarke Fletcher’s eyes were the same golden-brown as her daughter’s, her short sweep of hair a luxuriant black that suited her angular features and smoky voice.

“But I’ve got worry down to a science,” she said.

Since they were almost of identical height, Ally had only to shift closer to kiss Cilla’s cheek. “Well, you can take a break. I’m fine. Really.”

“I suppose you look it.”

“Come on inside. I can make some more coffee.”

“No, you’re on your way out. I just needed to see you.” To touch you, Cilla thought. My baby. “I’m heading into work. I’m interviewing a new sales manager at KHIP. Your dad’s dropping me off. You can use my car today.”

“How did you know I needed a car?”

“I have connections,” Boyd told her. “You should have yours back by midafternoon.”

“I would’ve handled it.” Ally shut the door behind her, frowned.

“Meaning you would have handled the car, and Overton and the tangle of bureaucracy,” Cilla put in. “I hope I didn’t raise a daughter who’s ungrateful, and who expects her father to stand back with his hands in his pockets when something happens to her.” Cilla tilted her head, lifted her brows. “I’d be very disappointed if I had.”

Boyd grinned, slipped an arm around Cilla’s shoulders and pressed his lips to her hair.

“Good one,” Ally muttered, properly chastised. “Thank you, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, Allison.”

“Now, which one of us is going to go beat the tar out of Dennis Overton?” Cilla rubbed her hands together. “Or can we all do it? In which case, I get to go first.”

“She has violent tendencies,” Ally pointed out.

“Tell me about it. Down girl,” he told Cilla. “Let the system work. Now … Detective.” Boyd draped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders as they walked to the elevator. “You’re to report to the hospital first. There’s a suspect who needs to be questioned.”

“The inquiry into the shooting?”

“Will proceed this morning. You’ll need to give your statement and file your report. By ten hundred. Detective Hickman filed his last night, which gives a very clear picture. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I’m not worried. I know I did what I had to do. It gave me some bad moments last night.” She blew out a breath. “Some pretty bad ones. But I’m okay with it now. As okay as it gets, I guess.”

“You shouldn’t have been alone last night,” Cilla said.

“Actually I had … a friend with me for a while.”

Boyd opened his mouth, shut it again. After Ally’s call the night before, he’d contacted Kiniki immediately. He knew that Jonah had driven Ally home from the hospital, so he had a good idea just who the friend was.

But he had no idea how he felt about it.

*  *  *

Ally pulled into the hospital visitors’ lot, circled until she found a space. She spotted Hickman as she set the locks and alarm.

“Nice ride,” he commented, hands in pockets, eyes squinted into slits against the brilliant sunshine. “Not every cop’s got herself a Mercedes as a backup vehicle.”

“It’s my mother’s.”

“You’ve got some mother.” He’d seen Cilla, so he knew it was true. “So, how’s it going?”

“Okay.” She fell into step beside him. “Look, I know you already filed your report on last night’s incident. I appreciate you getting it in so fast and backing me up.”

“It happened the way it happened. If it smoothes any edges for you, you should know that you fired about a split hair before I did. If I’d been in the lead instead of you, I’d’ve been the one to take her out.”

“Thanks. Any word on Dietz?”

“Still critical.” Hickman’s expression darkened. “He made it through the night, so that’s hopeful. I want a round with the son of a bitch who put him here.”

“Get in line.”

“You know how you want to play it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” They moved together across the lobby to the bank of elevators. “She made a call from her cell phone—that puts at least one other person in on the deal. I say two. Whoever’s inside the club, and somebody pushing the buttons, organizing. Our guy here shot a cop, so he knows he’s going down hard. His wife’s dead, his operation’s broken and he’s looking at death row.”

“Doesn’t give him much incentive to talk. You going to deal him a life sentence?”

“That’s the road. Let’s make sure he walks it.”

She showed her badge to the uniform on guard at Fricks’s door, walked through.

Fricks lay in bed, his skin pale, slightly gray. His eyes were blurred, but open. His gaze passed over Ally and Hickman, then returned to contemplating the ceiling.

“I have nothing to say. I want a lawyer.”

“Well, that makes our job easier.” Hickman walked over to the bed, pursed his lips. “Doesn’t look
like a cop killer, does he, Fletcher?”

“He’s not. Yet. Dietz might make it. Of course, this guy here’s still looking at being strapped to a table and being put down like a sick dog. Nighttime B and E, burglary, possession of an unregistered weapon, assault with a deadly, attempted murder of a police officer.” She moved her shoulders. “And plenty more where that came from.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Then shut up,” she suggested. “Why try to help yourself? Trust a lawyer to take care of everything. But … I’m not in the mood to make deals with lawyers. How about you, Hickman?”

“Nope, can’t say that’s my mood at this time.”

“We’re not in the mood,” Ally repeated. “Not when we have a fellow officer fighting for his life up in Intensive Care. That really puts us off lawyers who look for ways to wiggle cop killers out of the noose. Right, Hickman?”

“Yeah, puts me right off. I don’t see any reason we should give this guy any kind of a break. I say let him hang for it all by himself.”

“Well, we ought to look at the big picture, though. Show a little compassion. He lost his wife last night.” She watched the ripple of pain run over Fricks’s face before he closed his eyes.

There, she thought, was the key to him.

“That’s rough. His wife’s dead, and he’s lying here shot up and looking at a death sentence.” Ally lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Maybe he’s not thinking how other people, people who helped put him in this situation, could walk away clean. Clean, and rich, while he’s twisting in the wind on a very short rope. And his wife gets put in the ground.”

She leaned over the bed. “But he ought to be thinking about it. Of course, maybe he didn’t love his wife.”

“Don’t talk to me about Madeline.” His voice wavered. “She was my heart.”

“Really. I’m touched. That touches me. Now, that might not hold any weight with Hickman here, but me, I’ve got a soft spot for true love. Since I do, I’m going to tell you you ought to be thinking how you can help yourself now, because if you were her heart, she wouldn’t want you to go down for this alone.”

His eyes flickered, then closed.

“You ought to be thinking that if you cooperate and tell us what we want to know, we’ll go to the D.A. and press for a little leniency. Show some remorse now, Richard, reach out. That’ll go a long way toward keeping you off a table in a little room a few years down the road.”

“I talk, I’m already dead.”

Ally shot Hickman a glance. “You’ll get protection.”

Fricks’s eyes were still closed, but tears began to leak out of them. “I loved my wife.”

“I know you did.” Ally lowered the bed guard so she could sit beside him.

Intimacy now, she thought. Sympathy. And infused her voice with both. “I saw you together at Blackhawk’s. The way you looked at each other tells me you had something special between you.”