Sin on the Strip (14 page)

Cooper rubbed his stomach. “Nah, she can just keep on dreaming.” He gave a contented sigh. “Thanks, Beck, I needed a laugh.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” He saluted him.

Cooper returned to the more important business at hand. “Do you have anything to add to this case? Any theories that maybe you or Sheppard came up with?”

He'd been honest with Cooper. Well, almost. “Nothing you and I haven't discussed.”

Christian's temples started their slow, climbing throb to a migraine. Tomorrow he'd pay a visit to Juan DeSilva. Needing a couple of seconds to clear his mind, Christian stood. He walked over to the window separating Cooper's office from the rest of the detectives. With his index finger and thumb, he cracked open the brown slat blinds and looked out into the squad room. A female officer was handing a file to a detective. What would it be like to date a cop? He cringed at the idea, of always wondering if someone had her back. He supposed the spouse of any one of those officers must think the same, man or woman.

Christian didn't know what to think or, more to the point, how to react. Damn, he'd almost crossed the line. He spent his career with the FBI shutting down sex trade operations. For Sheppard, he'd hacked his way through jungles, gotten frostbitten in places no man should think about and dove deep into some of the world's worst political upheavals, all to retrieve or rescue a woman someone thought would make good collateral. To tell the truth, he'd gotten sick of it. He'd even warned Sheppard. When this case was over the only thing he'd search and rescue better not have a pulse.

Up to now, he'd been able to keep his clients' fucked up lives at arm's length. Unless it helped his case, he didn't want to know who they were, how they got there, and most of all how they felt about it. He went in, did what was needed and got out. He'd pass the victim over to another of Sheppard's crew and be done with it. Getting involved meant he cared.

But he hadn't followed his own rules with Maggie. If he failed to catch this guy, if she got hurt or worse, ended up like his sister . . . He had to focus on finding the killer, assign his brand of justice, then say good-bye to the preacher's daughter. And keep his sanity.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard Cooper.

“Beck? Where did you go?”

He jerked his hand away from the window. The phone rang, saving his ass.

Cooper answered in a short, brisk tone. “What?” He paused to listen. “Thanks.” He hung up. “That was the car depot. The deputies tagging Maggie were driving navy Broncos.”

“Could she have been mistaken about the car she thought was following her?” Even as he asked, warning bells went off in his head.

The lieutenant considered his question. “The way she drives, hopefully.”

“What are you not telling me?”

“I'll let you know when I know.”

Christian's neck prickled, remembering the SUV from the church. “Damn, there was a white Durango tailgating her from the church. I'm so fucking stupid,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “He kept trying to get between us.”

“You didn't get a plate, did you?”

“No,” he said, frustrated at his own ineptness. “I was focused on keeping up with her. Like that mattered. I know where she lives.” He jammed his hands into his front pockets.

“Good thing you did. If it was the killer and he was on her tail, you scared him off.”

Panicked, Christian sat up in his chair. “You still have someone watching her, right?”

At the sound of his phone ringing, Cooper muttered, “I need a damn secretary. And yes, I have someone watching her. What now?” he snarled at the caller, then his frown deepened. “Where the hell are they? Damn rookie. I'll kill him. How long has she been inside?” He waited for an answer. “No, I'll go myself. Stay at her house.”

She? Christian's stomach muscles tightened.

Cooper slammed the phone down and scrubbed his hand over his face. He let out a frustrated groan then growled, “Maggie's gone after Hannah.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.
Why would she be going after anyone?

“It means she's trying to recover a runaway. Trouble is, that runaway has one nasty pimp.”

Christian shot to his feet, the words
runaway
and
pimp
had him beating Cooper to the door. “What the hell happened to her tail?”

“Maggie happened. If she's lucky, she'll have Hannah before that piece of shit shows up.”

“And if she doesn't?” he asked, following Cooper through the bullpen and down the stairs.

“Let's hope I get there before he does,” he said, shoving the door open.

Outside they headed to the squad cars. Cooper pointed to a black and white. “Get in if you're coming. She's about twenty minutes away. That pimp is one of the nastiest sons of bitches you'll meet. She's butted heads with him before.”

“And she's doing it again? What the hell is she thinking?” But as he struggled with his seatbelt, he knew exactly what she was thinking. She was trying to find a runaway before it was too late.

“She's thinking,” Cooper said, putting the car in drive, “just not about herself. The kid is fourteen. Tell me you wouldn't do the same?”

He would, but they weren't talking about him. “I'm trained. She isn't.” He watched the speedometer approach sixty and silently willed the needle to rise.

“That's not totally true. I made her take shooting lessons a few years back and the county trains their frontline workers in self-defense. I've seen her flip a guy three times her size on his ass. Problem is, Devan's six times her size and doesn't travel alone.” He glanced over at Christian. “Stinson told his replacement that she'd been inside Harry's Bar ten minutes, no one else going in or out.” He went on to explain how she'd convinced Officer Stinson to give her space.

In her defense, and as much as he hated to admit it, Maggie had had a point. It didn't make him happy, but he could understand why she'd done it. Going through all that effort just to have the kid bolt would be counterproductive. Plus, if the girl trusted her, bringing in the cops would destroy Maggie's reputation.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, each men lost in his own thoughts. Maggie didn't deserve some scumbag coming down on her for caring too much. She was doing a job she had been specifically trained to do. Guess he and Maggie had something in common after all. But damn, the woman was reckless. What if someone like Maggie had helped his sister? Would he still consider
her
reckless? How different would his life be had Claire never died?

He'd give it to the lieutenant—the man could drive. They made it in twelve minutes. Christian got out before Cooper. On the street, a scruffy looking redhead hopped back and forth, taking a few agitated steps toward an alley then turning around, frantically chewing on her nails.

“Hannah,” Cooper shouted to her.

Christian ran toward the alley. Something had scared the girl. From between the two rundown apartment buildings he heard Maggie shouting.

“You're an asshole!”

“And you're a bitch who needs to be taught a lesson.”

As he rounded the corner, a fat motherfucker went to kick Maggie, who was on the ground, curled on her side. She rolled away, but not fast enough. His foot caught her back. Another street thug stood by and watched. Christian wanted to kill someone. Instinct told him to go for his gun but as he reached under his jacket a man in his late fifties with short gray hair, most likely an army vet, came into the alley, a baseball bat in hand. Christian didn't think. He grabbed the bat. Approaching the two men he swung with everything God had given him, smashing the fat fucker across his head, knocking him down. He rounded on the other one, only this sack of shit was armed, his gun pointed at Christian.

“Drop it or I'll shoot.” Cooper had come into the alley, his weapon drawn.

Christian took advantage of the distraction. As the fucker turned to see who was challenging him, Christian swung again, striking him in the teeth. Shards of metal flew everywhere as his head snapped back. He pressed a hand to his mouth as he fell to the ground screeching in pain.

Maggie looked up, a dazed expression on her face, and he wanted to kill someone all over again. Blood oozed from a cut under her left eye, her cheek swollen an ugly shade of red. The fat bastard had hit her in the face. Tossing the bat, he went to her. Behind him, Cooper barked orders. Christian dropped to his knees and gently took her by the shoulders, forcing his hands steady. “Lie down. Cooper,” he called over his shoulder “get an ambulance.”

“Done. Maggie?”

“I have her. Deal with the garbage behind me,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“I don't need to lie down. I'm fine,” she said, her grimace telling a different story. “Hannah?”

“With Officer Stinson.” Cooper approached, bending down on one knee. “Damn, what did you do?”

Christian knew exactly what she'd done. She'd risked her life to help a young girl.

“N
ot now, Horace, please.” Maggie knew he was going to lecture her, just as her friends would the minute they got wind of this. And from the look in Beck's eyes, he'd be jumping on that bandwagon. “Either of you wanna make yourself useful and help me up?”

“There's an ambulance on the way,” Beck said, his voice too calm.

Was he holding back because she was hurt? If so, she was grateful. From the corner of her good eye, she watched as handcuffs were slapped on Devan's goon. His mouth looked like a frontend collision. “Devan?” she asked, wondering but not really caring if he'd survived Beck's rescue or not.

“Out cold but alive. Which is fortunate for Beck here since he decided not to wait for me.”

“Somehow I doubt he'll press charges,” Beck argued.

“Not the point,” Cooper said.

“Can we discuss this later? After Maggie's been taken care of.”

As they argued, Maggie tried to get to her feet by herself, only to have Beck intervene.

“Stay,” he told her in a tone he must have figured she'd listen to. He couldn't have been more wrong. No one told her what to do.

Tucking her feet behind her, she gave him what she hoped was her best
back off
glare and started to rise. It must have worked because with an exasperated sigh, he helped her, keeping his hands on her arms. Good thing. Her body shook with a will of its own, making already tender ribs hurt more. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from groaning and waited for the adrenaline to drain and her heartbeat to slow enough for her to stand on her own without her knees hitting a seven on the Richter scale. Her body stubbornly refused to cooperate. She told herself it would pass.

“Maggie? How about you sit back down?”

“No.” She forced herself to stand erect.

“Fuck, you're stubborn.”

“And you would do well to remember that.” She couldn't verbalize how grateful she was that he showed up when he did, but that didn't give him the right to give her orders. She'd moved to the other side of the country to escape a man who figured he knew what was best for her, regardless of her opinion on the matter.

“Hannah needs to get back to the house.” She hadn't done all of this just to have the girl tossed into secure custody.

“I'll send Stinson with her,” Cooper said. “Maybe she can teach him some street smarts since that's what he'll be patrolling for the next year.”

“He didn't do anything wrong.” She didn't want to be responsible for the officer's reprimand.

“Yes he did, and so did you. How many times have we talked about this?”

“Lieutenant, the paramedics are here,” Harry said, and Maggie realized where Beck had gotten the bat. Harry kept one under the bar.

“Before you tear into Maggie, maybe we should have her checked out first,” Beck said.

Horace nodded, his lips pursed. Once again she'd disappointed him.

“You scared the shit out of me, Maggie. I'm just grateful it wasn't worse this time.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't set out to get hurt.” That had been the last thing she wanted and the reason she'd hesitated in the first place. But Hannah had to be found.

“Lieutenant?” Officer Stinson stood at the entrance of the alley. “She wants to see Ms. Anderson.”

“Tough. Take her home.”

“Horace, she's scared.” Seeing the ambulance, Hannah would be terrified for Maggie.

“Fine, stay there,” he barked at the officer. “We'll bring Maggie out.”

“After she's checked out,” Beck interjected.

Maggie opened her mouth to object but Beck cut her off. “You have a huge gash on your face. You want the kid to see that? Plus, you're still shaking.”

She looked down at her hands. He was right. Hannah would blame herself, so for her sake she needed to keep it together, to put out the volcano in her head. Beck motioned for one of the paramedics to come forward. Then he stepped aside but stayed close as her cut was cleaned and bandaged, his stern frown a good indication he wasn't happy with her. Well, he could get in line with everyone else.

After Maggie admitted she'd hit her head, the first responders insisted she go to the hospital, suggesting she have her ribs X-rayed while she was there. But she'd broken them once before and knew they were only bruised, and as everyone could attest, she had a hard head. There'd be no trip to the emergency room.

“All right, if you're sure,” the medic said, shaking his head. “But someone should stay with you tonight.”

She politely thanked him, then allowed Beck to lead her out of the alley. “Aren't you going tell me I need to go the hospital?”

“Do you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then I trust your judgment.”

She was going to ask if that extended to helping Hannah, but the moment the girl spotted her, she shook free of Stinson's grasp and was running toward her. Obviously having reconsidered hugging Maggie, she stopped a few feet away.

Maggie opened her own arms. “Just don't squeeze, okay?”

With a weak smile, Hannah approached, settling into Maggie's embrace. It still hurt but she's wasn't going to let on.

“This is my fault,” she said. “I promise, no more bullshit. You'll see, I'll make this up to you.”

“No.” Maggie stroked the unruly red curls. “You don't change your life to make me happy or because you feel guilty. You change because you're better than this. And, Hannah,” she said, drawing back and staring into the prettiest of golden eyes, “you are better than this. You just have to believe it, even if no one else does. That is the corniest thing I can say to you, but it's also the truth. It doesn't matter what others say about you. Fuck them. You are a survivor.”

At Maggie's use of profanity, Hannah laughed. “I've never heard you swear.”

“Yes, well there's a time and place for certain choice words and this is one of them.”

Then she pressed a kiss to Hannah's temple and released her into Officer Stinson's care, letting her know she'd go by the home tomorrow.

Just then she wanted a shower, clean clothes and time to herself.

Horace gave his keys to Beck, saying he needed to stay behind and clear the scene and they'd talk later. It was a lie. His officers were perfectly capable of wrapping up loose ends. He needed time to cool off. She knew he worried about her safety, and in the past she'd given him plenty of reasons for that worry. He'd forgive her. He always did. But would it kill him just this once to do it without the disappointment in his voice?

She and Beck rode in silence to her place. It would come, his sermon, but she was in no hurry, or shape, to hear it. At her house, he opened the car door and helped her out, her rattling keys the only sound between them. Taking them from her, he unlocked the front door. Inside, he led her to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her. She prepared for the lecture.

Instead, he said, “What can I do for you?” He bent down on one knee. “How about some ice for your face?”

Why was he being nice? Where had all that pent up anger she'd seen gone? “Icepacks are in the freezer, thanks.”

He got up and went to the fridge. “Hurt yourself often?”

Here it was. “Look, I don't need this from you. Unfortunately, once my friends get wind of this, I have their sermons to look forward to. But, I couldn't let Devan get to her first. He'd have beaten her for getting arrested, then put her back to work,” she said defensively.

He raised an eyebrow at her, then reached into the freezer. “Dish towel?”

“Bottom drawer, left hand side of the stove.” What was he waiting for?

After covering the icepack, he passed it to her, grabbed a chair for himself and sat beside her. “Maggie . . .” She braced herself, ready to defend again what she'd done.

“I admire what you did. It took guts. I'm not happy about the
how
, but I understand the
why
. You've been waiting for me to say something, perhaps tell you how stupid that was? Maybe ask what the hell you were thinking or accuse you of not thinking? From my understanding, you chose to butt heads with one of the meanest pimps the county has. Should I tell you that wasn't the brightest move?”

“I think you just did,” she said, uncertain if she should be disappointed that he'd still managed to lecture her under the guise of not.

“No, I didn't.” He smiled, and the last of her adrenaline high evaporated, replaced with a rush of warmth all over her now cold body.

“You saw a kid in danger and figured you'd get to her before that asswipe did. You were wrong, but that's not your fault. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you must have known you had backup . . . What's his name? Harry? With a Louisville Slugger under his bar. Right? And the undercover cop on the street watching you? Tell me I'm right? It will make me feel better.”

“Right.” But had she known that? She guessed she had. “Why are you being so calm about this? I saw you in the alley. You looked like you wanted to kill me.”

“No, not you. The bastard who hit you, who makes his living off defenseless kids. That's who I wanted to kill. The prick who hurt you because you wanted to get a kid off the street. There aren't enough people like you, Maggie. Maybe if there were . . . more kids would survive.”

She opened her mouth. Shut it. Then opened it again. Nothing came out. He wasn't going to tell her she'd been stupid to go after Hannah by herself? “That's it? No ‘What on earth were you doing'?”

“I have to admit,” he said, “when Cooper first told me what you were up to, I thought you were insane. And then I was reminded of someone who I wished had had someone like you. Someone who cared enough to help her when she needed it. So no, I'm not going to lecture you. Not on this anyway. And I think,” his beautiful eyes grew dark but his fingers remained gentle as they touched her bandaged face, “I think you've had enough for one day.”

He was still mad. Was it because he cared for her wellbeing, or because someone had done something similar to a woman he'd loved, and perhaps still loved?

Then why had he kissed her? “Who?” she asked.

“It's not important,” he said, lifting the icepack to her face.

She flinched at the icy cold and he withdrew his hand. “Better if you do it yourself. How about tea or something?”

“Tea?” Was he kidding or simply avoiding the question?

“Yes.” He smiled again. “Isn't that what women like, you know, to feel better? Tea, a hot bath?”

She started to return his smile, then a sore twinge from her cheek reminded her not to. “If someone punched you in the face, would a beer make it all better?”

He tipped his head back and forth, considering. “Couldn't hurt.”

She appreciated his trying to lighten the mood. “I wish it were that easy.” She shivered, as if having said it out loud made it sink in. She had once again been unable to defend herself. Had Beck and Harry not come along when they had . . . she
was
stupid.
No
, she amended. If she had to do it again, she would. She wouldn't leave that poor girl in the hands of a pig that deserved a good gutting. Better not to think about what could have happened. She'd never dwelled on the
what ifs
before Desilva.
Because I thought I could defend myself.
Look how that turned out.

“Maggie? How about that hot bath?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“You're shivering,” he said, moving his chair closer and rubbing her arms, careful not to jostle her ribs. “And I hate to point it out, but your shirt has blood on it.”

She looked down and groaned. The left side of her shirt had several splotches of blood. “This was one of my favorites.”

“I'm sure you can get it out.”

“It's dry clean only.” It had been a while since she'd had to toss out a favorite piece of clothing because of bloodstains. “I didn't think to change. Didn't think I had to.” Hoped she wouldn't need to.

“I'll buy you a new one,” Beck said, surprising her.

When she regarded him quizzically, he shrugged.

“I owe you for the way I misjudged you. Consider it my way of apologizing.”

This time she did laugh, not caring how much it hurt and not because it was funny. “You're insane.
You
saved my life today. I owe you, not the other way around. Devan would have kept hitting me. He'd have made an example of me . . . he—” Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn't cried in years and here she was about to cry, now twice, in front of a man who'd seen her at her weakest. She got up to put the icepack on the counter, turning her back to him, trying to find some composure.

“He didn't,” Beck said. “I'm not saying don't consider what could have happened. That only makes you careless the next time. But focus on the fact he didn't win. Hannah is back in her group home and you, Maggie Anderson, are alive. You'll heal, that miserable excuse for a human is going to jail and Hannah will turn her life around. End of story. You're a brave woman.”

Maggie wiped away a stubborn tear. No one had ever called her brave. “Thank you,” she managed over the tightness in her throat. Except a brave woman would do more than wait for those who needed help to be delivered to her doorstep.

“I call it like I see it.” He'd come up behind her, so close she felt the heat radiating off his body. She wanted to press into him, partially to make the cold go away, mostly because it would feel good, safe. But she wouldn't. Not until she knew for certain that his southern charm wasn't an act.