On Her Six (Under Covers) (3 page)

She pulled back as if she’d been stung. Smart girl. “Who are you? Why do you have a gun? And how do you know so much about Vamp?”

Screw twenty questions. He took the final steps to his house two at a time and then rested his hand on the screen door latch.

Surprise, surprise—she was r
ight behind him.

“And why don’t you want cops involved?” She peered around his body to catch a glimpse inside his house. He didn’t care. All she’d see was that he was scarce on furniture and needed to dust the place. “What are you hiding?”

He pulled on the screen door, giving her only a second to move out of the way, before he stepped inside and pulled it closed. Turning, he debated whether to speak.

Nah.

Grasping the oak door, he shut it in her face.
Take that
. He grinned as he pictured her stunned expression—wide eyes, red cheeks, pouty lips pinched together.

The woman was the complete opposite of his usual taste—buxom brunettes with more than two handfuls up top—but damn if she didn’t have something that attracted him. Despite her barely-there curves, she had a spark.

Confirming his thought, she yelled from the other side of the door. “You are the rudest man I’ve ever met! I hope you don’t plan on being in the neighborhood long, buddy, because I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you! I can be extremely annoying when I want to be!”

Yeah, he’d already figured that out.

A thud sounded as if something hit his door. Then a loud groan.

Stealing a glance through his peephole, he watched her grab her foot and jump around on one leg.

He chuckled. Scratch that. This chick had more than a spark. More like a bolt of lightning.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t hear him through the door.

Shaking his head, he turned. This was going to be a long fucking assignment.

…

Ugh! What an ass!

Sam hobbled down her neighbor’s unstable cement stairs and crossed the street.

A drip of sweat at the back of her neck trailed under her shirt and ran the path of her spine. She pulled the damp blouse from her body, giving her a bit of relief, before pounding on her grandmother’s front door. “Grandma!” Grumbling, she pounded harder. Stupid man with his stupid door. “Grandma!”

The door opened. “What? What?” Her grandmother held a cup of coffee in one hand and pushed her bifocals higher on the bridge of her nose with the other. “I’m watching— Samantha? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work? If you’re late one more time, Major—”

Sam held up her hand, silencing Rose. “I met the new neighbor.”

Rose’s eyebrows lifted above the metal of her petite frames. She peered across the street at the jerk’s house and squinted through the daylight now peeking over the horizon. “The hunk next door? Really?” She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. “And?”

“Let me see.” Sam began counting on her fingers. “He’s rude, arrogant, psychotic, and an enabler.”

“That bad?” Grandma Rose frowned before taking a sip from her mug.

“Did I mention he keeps a 9mm in his waistband?”

Her hand froze midair, and her green eyes bulged out of her head.

“Oh, and he gives money to drug addicts.”

Grandma’s jaw looked like it had come unhinged. Thank you, Fixodent, for keeping those chompers in her mouth.

“You better call Maybel and find out what she knows.”

Rose’s shoulders sagged as she exhaled. “She’s been watching him since last night. I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure, but he made a few calls to some guy named Tyke. Maybel said it sounded suspicious. Now based on what you’re saying…”

You sneaky, sneaky man…
The wheels in Sam’s brain spun out of control. The gun, the information about Vamp, the big muscles—she didn’t feel at all at ease with her new neighbor living on their street. They needed to find out what he was up to fast. And force the jerk out of town ASAP.

“We need to get to the bottom of this,” Sam said. “Gather up the girls. When I get back from work tonight, we’re hosting a stakeout.”

Chapter Three

The drive to work was all of seven minutes, nowhere near enough time to rest Sam’s throbbing foot. Her plan was to get to her desk, elevate her bruised tootsies, and try to f
ind out as much as she could about her neighbor.

“Harper!” the Major’s unmistakable roar shot through the halls of the southeastern precinct.

The building looked like any other station. Old and dusty. Desks littered with stacks of papers, bright halogen lights gleamed from the drop-tile ceiling, and clamor from the dispatch radio echoed all around. It had a distinct musty smell that always gave her a sense of calm when she entered.

This particular precinct was responsible for the dealings in the southeastern part of Baltimore City. More blue collar than the rest of the city, so none of the craziness and debauchery she would prefer, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. No one else would hire her, and since Major Fowler was a family friend, Sam was happy to simply gain the experience until she passed the police exam and became a real cop.

“You’re in big trouble now,” Officer Daniel Martinez said as Sam passed him on the way to her desk. “He’s been shouting your name for thirty minutes. We’re all taking bets on whether he’s going to can you for real this time.”

“How much is it up to?” Sam asked, amused. She dropped her purse into the bottom desk drawer and turned on her computer.

“Fifty bucks.”

“That’s it?” She stuck out her bottom lip. “Come on, Martinez, you know I’m worth more than that.”

His brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

Martinez had been at the precinct for a few months, his first assignment after graduating from the academy. He helped process bails and book criminals once they were brought to the station.

A bit younger than Sam, but a whole head taller, he was a good-looking man. Lean and fit with tanned skin and a smile that could light a room. No matter what kind of day Sam was having, Martinez could always make her laugh. He was one of the only friendly faces at the precinct. Most of her other coworkers, those who’d been around since the days of her father, tended to steer clear of her. Or bad-mouthed her family behind her back.

She glanced at her computer, then down the short hallway toward the Major’s office. Eh, what’s another minute or two? He’d be in a bad mood no matter when she showed up.

“How’s your grandma doing?” She frowned at the abundant stack of reports next to her monitor. Secretary to the Major had its perks, but the monotonous workload definitely wasn’t one of them.

Relief sparkled in Martinez’s eyes. “Better, thanks. The hip replacement went well. Doc says she can move back home tomorrow.”

“That’s great news.” She sat and drummed her fingers on the mouse. The computer always took forever to boot up when she was in a rush.

“Yeah, I told her no more stairs. My heart can’t take it. I’m moving her into the first floor bedroom.”

“Think she’ll let you boss her around?” Sam smiled, knowing Grandma Martinez was a firecracker, despite her age.

He laughed. “Probably not.”

She’d just opened the first search program, when another bellow sounded from the Major’s office. It ricocheted off the white walls. “Harper! Is that you?”

“You better get in there before he has a coronary.”

Fearing Martinez might be right—the Major
really
loved his triple-decker sandwiches with bacon—she left the computer program open and limped down the hallway toward the rear of the precinct.

She looked through the glass front of her boss’s office to assess his mood.

Major Louis Fowler was a stout man, his navy uniform shirt not quite fitting, the buttons straining against the pull across his chest and bulging belly. He’d lost most of his hair, leaving nothing but a shiny dome on top that could double as a mirror. His bushy eyebrows and thick mustache were sprinkled with shades of brown, gold, and platinum.

His desk was always in disarray, and today was no different. When she stood in the doorway, he didn’t lift his gaze from the stack of papers on his desk. Based on the deep crease in his forehead and the way he slouched, he seemed to be reading a disturbing report. “You’re late. What’s your excuse this time?”

“Hi-ya, Lou.” Maybe her chipper tone would reverse his mood and get her out of his office pronto. Her leather sandals itched to get back to her desk. “You’re never going to believe why I’m late.”

“Take a seat.” He rubbed his temples, still not looking at her. “This better be good, Harper.”

She settled into the dark leather chair opposite his desk but sat on the very edge of the cushion. “It is, I swear.” The shock had worn off considerably. Her voice was calm, like she was reading an article from the newspaper. “I got mugged.”

He dropped the report and abruptly looked up. Alarmed brown eyes raked over her. “My God. Are you okay?”

Well, at least that diverted the attention away from her lateness. She leaned back and stretched her arms across the leather. “I’m fine. It was an almost-mugging. Perp on drugs put a gun to my head and demanded money, but I didn’t give it to him.”

“A gun? Drugs?” Fowler swiped his broad forehead with the back of his hand. “Samantha!”

Her eyes slanted to the doorway. “I’m fine. Look at me.” She stood, turning in a carousel move and inched for the exit. “See, not even a scratch.”

“How?” A vein pulsed on his forehead as if ready to burst.

“Well, I had this whole plan worked out where I was going to chuck my purse into the middle of the street and wrestle the guy when he wasn’t looking—”

“
Wrestle him?
Jesus, Samantha!”

“—but I didn’t have to because my next-door neighbor came out with a gun of his own and demanded the guy surrender.”

Fowler’s eyes were huge, and the vein on his forehead throbbed double time. “The eighty-year-old man next door?”

“No, no.” She waved her hand in the air back and forth and rolled her eyes. “This is a new neighbor. Just moved in on the other side. Big, really annoying guy.” The emotions swam across the Major’s face—worry, confusion, relief. “Who’s handling the report?”

“No one,” she said before she thought better of it.

The Major waited.

Oops
. “My neighbor didn’t… I mean, I didn’t want…we bickered…he shut the door…I kicked it…”

“Sam,” he said through a sigh, “we’ve been through this. You’re not a cop. You can’t go around taking the law into your own hands. You should have called Young or Webb.”

She fought to belie the disappointment washing over her. “Come on, Lou, I’ve got more training under my belt than both of them combined, and you know it. The only thing they have over me is a badge.”

He shot her a look that said,
My point exactly.

She picked at her fingernails. “You know neither one of them would’ve jumped to help me anyway. Even if I’d called. They still think—they think I’m…”

His gaze shifted from hers, taking keen interest in the dead plant hanging from a hook on the ceiling behind her. His chest expanded a few times before he brought his attention back to her. “No one holds what your father did against you.”

A sharp current of heat zapped down her spine, making her jerk upright. “What my father did?” she hissed. “He didn’t
do
anything! My father wouldn’t, he
couldn’t
, be a dirty cop. You were his partner. You knew him better than anyone.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Calm down, kid. I wasn’t implying he was. It’s just…it’s hard for some of the guys on the force to get over the rumors. I’m not saying it’s right. It’s just the way it is.”

It was rumored that after a year of working undercover for a local drug dealer, Viktor Heinrich, Sam’s dad had stopped reporting back to his handler. Weeks passed with no word, so a team from BPD Narcotics assembled to go after him and bring him in. But they never found him. After awhile, people on the force started suggesting he’d either become a dirty cop or he was dead. Sam didn’t believe either theory. Who knew the truth? Only her father and Heinrich.

She’d tried to use her limited resources as Major Fowler’s secretary to find one of Heinrich’s locations and go looking for her dad. But those files were locked up tight. Only the officers on the case were given access. And since no one trusted her because of what they thought her father had done, they refused to offer up any information on the case or Heinrich’s suspected whereabouts.

Eventually everyone moved on with their lives. Except Sam, who had a missing piece of her heart that would never be filled. Her father would forever be disgraced in the eyes of Baltimore City Police. And there wasn’t anything she could do to clear his name.

“I’m sorry I brought it up, Sam,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. But promise me if something like this morning happens again, you’ll call the precinct, okay?”

Her lips flattened into a thin line, and she resisted the urge to bark at Lou. To tell him he should stick up for his old partner.
Make
people believe her father would never turn against the badge. But the piercing pain in her stomach stopped her. There wasn’t anything out there to prove his innocence. “No one was hurt, Lou. If it makes you feel better, I’ll give a description of the perp to Henderson so she can do a sketch to post around town.” She took two more side-steps toward the door.

Fowler stared at her for a moment longer, seeming to weigh her words, and then nodded. “You know your old man would have your hide if he was here and heard you’d tried to wrestle a man with a gun.”

She tried to offer a smile to mask the pang of anger and sadness. “I know. But he’s not. So I’m your problem to worry about, remember?”

“Yes,” he said, through a wry smile. “I do.” His eyes misted as he shook his head. “Sometimes you’re more trouble than you’re worth, kid.”

“It’s a good thing I’m so lovable then, huh?” This time the smile did come, spreading across her face with ease.

“Get out of here before I fire you.” He grinned before dropping his head and massaging his temples once again.

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute and turned on her heels content in the fact that the Major must have completely forgotten why he’d called her into his office in the first place.

Standing at her desk, she glanced at the piles of reports. Later, she promised. Right now, she needed to do some investigative work.

Dropping into her office chair, she moved her mouse to wake up her computer. She flexed her fingers as the Baltimore City Police’s database homepage appeared. The program was invaluable in finding perpetrators with prior records.

Her eyes shifted from her screen in a wide arc around the precinct. She and Martinez were the only two in the front room. Webb, Hirsch, and the rest of the gang were out patrolling the streets. Martinez sat behind his desk, phone resting on his shoulder, typing on his keyboard. He must have been taking a complaint from a citizen. As a probationary officer, Martinez gathered the facts and then sent an officer to the scene to handle it. Most of the calls that came into the precinct were non-emergency,
my cat is stuck in a tree
or
my neighbor parked in my spot
kinds of things. If it was a real emergency, people called 911, and the central dispatch center handled the calls and correspondence with officers on the road. Sam listened idly to the consistent chatter on the dispatch radio. Mostly domestics and B and Es; nothing she needed to respond to. At least for now.

She maneuvered the pointer to the search box. If her neighbor was as dangerous as she thought he was, then his butt would definitely be in the database. She was counting on it.

“Bird tattoo on neck.” She typed and clicked SEARCH. She waited, tapping her fingers on the keys of the keyboard.

4,367 RESULTS.

Yikes. That would take forever to sift through.

“Hmm, okay, how about
black
bird tattoo on neck.”

1,287 RESULTS.

Impatience rose from her stomach and lodged in her throat.

“Let’s try black bird tattoo on
male
neck.” Her fingers pounded each letter on the keyboard. The program took its sweet time processing the search.

“Hey, Sam,” Martinez said across the room. “You busy?”

She held off a groan, pulling her gaze from the computer screen. “Kinda, why?”

“Sinclair just called and said he’s got a 10-95 coming in. Guy’s hopped up on PCP. He’s gonna need extra hands. Can you cover the phones while I help?”

She looked sideways at the phone on her desk, praying it wouldn’t ring until he got back, and nodded.

Then she glanced back at her computer screen.
435 RESULTS
.

Holy momma!
A rush of excitement blasted through her from head to toe.

Sam scanned the first three pages of results, growing more impatient with each passing minute. Her dinosaur computer kept locking up, and the server was busy, so it took forever to get to the next page. At this rate, she’d get through all four hundred entries by quitting time.

There had to be another way.

Rocking back in her chair, she looked up at the drop-tiled ceiling. A hum from the bright halogen lights invaded her ears. “What else? What else? Come on, Sam. Think.” She closed her eyes and white orbs flashed behind her eyelids.

Opening her eyes, she leaned forward. “Hey, Martinez.”

The young, dark-haired officer lifted his head from his computer screen, smiling. It was different than his usual smile. One that held an excited hint. The amber in his eyes was brighter, too. He must have been thinking about the impending arrival of the PCP user.

That look made her want to chuckle. She’d seen officers on probation come and go. They all had that nervous anticipation whenever they had a chance to get their hands dirty. Hell, she felt it, too. “If I want to get information on a guy, but I don’t know a lot about him, what can I do?” The stakeout and Maybel’s contact would tell them more about Mr. Grumpy next door. But she was too impatient to wait until tonight. She wanted info now.

A grin erupted on Martinez’s face. “Someone catch a case of the Salt Water Pinchers?”