by TG Wolff
“Naw. But my girlfriend’s pissed at me so I didn’t get any sleep. She thinks I cheated on her. Didn’t. My girlfriend is hot. Scorching hot. Volcano hot. What’s hotter than a volcano?”
“Out of the car, sir.” He stepped back. “Have you been drinking?”
“Nope. I’m a recovering alcoholic. Clean and sober for over three years. That’s thirty-three months.”
“Thirty-six.”
“What’s thirty-six?”
“Three years.”
Cruz couldn’t make sense of the nonsense. And this man was dealing with civilians. “Officer, you aren’t making any sense. I should report you to your commander. I’ll let you off with a warning, long as you clean it up.” He turned back to his car.
The cop called for backup. “Sir, you’re high. I cannot let you back in that car. For your safety, I’m asking you to get in my car.”
“My safety? I’m not high,” he said, for the first time hearing all five of the i’s in the word. “Impossible. I was drinking 7 Up and cranberry juice. It’s called a Brass Ball. Yablonski named it because only alcoholics with brass balls hang out in bars.”
This time he heard the nonsense coming from his mouth. It just kept falling out, like a faucet left to dribble to keep the pipes from freezing.
“Fuck. How?” His brain was so dull, he made turtle racing look fast pace. “Officer, take me to a hospital, ASAP.” He folded into the back seat. He dialed Czerski, shouted over the music raging. “The drink I left on the table, is it still there?”
“Yeah, it’s here. What’s going on?”
“Secure it. It’s evidence. Someone drugged me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ranks closed around Cruz as he was led to the small patient room. They wanted a urine sample. They gave him a cup; Cruz took five cups and filled every damn one of them. Now all he wanted to do was stop moving. Stop thinking. He climbed onto the ER bed, working to stay aware. “My car’s not still on the side of the road, is it?”
“Nah,” Yablonski said. “Called it in and had it towed. We’ve got you covered, Cruzie.”
A nurse stepped into the room, pausing as her gaze swept the congregation. “Detective De La Cruz. I’m going to take a sample of your blood for analysis.”
“Why?” Yablonski snapped. “You have the drink. You have his piss. Why poke him with needles?”
“I don’t make the orders, I just fill them. If you will all step out.”
“Commander Montoya, homicide. This is my detective. I’m staying.” Arms crossed over his chest, it would take a forklift to move the man. After figuring out he’d been drugged, Cruz’s first call had been to his commander. He didn’t remember exactly what he said, but Montoya met the patrol car at the hospital, prepared to decimate anyone who got in his way.
“Dr. James Bollier. The detective is my patient.” The fact he wasn’t leaving went without saying. Cruz knew his head was fucked up, so after Montoya, he called Bollier. He needed an opinion he could trust when he couldn’t trust his own.
Yablonski shook his head. “Not happening.” There was no shutting Yablonski out of anything. Thank god.
Aurora moved a chair next to the head of the bed, sat in it, and took Cruz’s hand. “Like they said.” Cruz squeezed her hand, trying to prove to himself she was really here, with him.
The nurse looked to her patient. Cruz let his head fall onto the pillow. “I’m good,” he said, stretching his right arm out for her.
If there was a silver lining to being drugged, it was that he couldn’t get excited about having a pissed off woman about to fish for a vein with harpoon needle. He wasn’t a fan of needles. Too many of them after he’d been hurt. He turned away from the medieval instrument of torture and directly into Aurora’s eyes. Instantly, he was trapped. “I can’t live with you hating me.”
She stroked his puncture- free arm. “I don’t hate you, Zeus. We can talk about this at home.”
“I’m ugly, Aurora. You don’t seem to care, which is just one of the reasons I love you, but I am. I used to be handsome and then I got messed up. Yablonski, get the pictures out of my coat pocket.”
“Really, honey, we’ll talk about this at home.” She looked at everyone but him.
He didn’t like her turning away. It was a bad sign. “Just look. See? That one.”
She took the wallet-sized picture from Yablonski, not recognizing the young man in it. “Who’s this?”
“Me. College graduation.”
“You? But…”
“The eyes are still mine. I almost lost the right one. The nose is new. They had to rebuild my cheek and then make the other one match.”
Aurora’s eyes were wide as she searched his face. “I had no idea.”
“I was fucked up, baby. Ask them.” He waved a hand across their audience. “All of them were there. Yablonski pulled me out. Bollier and Montoya, they met me when I still looked like dog food.”
“You were a bloody mess,” Yablonski said, handing her the second photo. His hand shook. “Found him laying on a filthy floor in a pool of his own blood.”
“When was this one taken? That’s Rhia, right?”
“Her third birthday. I looked like fucking Frankenstein. She never cared. Gabi was afraid of me for a while. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t look at me, either.” He raised his hand to catch a tear rolling down Aurora’s cheek. “When you’re ugly, women don’t flirt, they pull out baseball bats. D’Arcy gave me a present. I thought it was cool. It made me feel…not like me. I screwed up with the present, but I never cheated on you.”
Aurora dropped her gaze to the pictures she held. “Remember our first date? I tricked you into it. I surprised you, just like she did, didn’t I? You never suspected it was anything other than professional, did you?”
“No. You have been the best surprise…ever. I should have told you before about all this, but, truth? I didn’t want to remember. I told myself it didn’t matter. That was in the past.
“I didn’t think D’Arcy was being anything more than friendly. And the friendly? It made me feel good, like a man women noticed. It almost made me good enough for you.”
Aurora glanced at the men gathered protectively around the bed. “I understand what you’re saying, honey, and you have to stop thinking that way. It’s not a matter of being good enough or not good enough for each other. For me, it’s a matter of choosing each other over everyone.” She took a deep breath. “You need to know something about me. God, I can’t believe I’m going to tell my most humiliating moment in front of everyone.” She looked at the crowd. They weren’t leaving. “About a year before I met you, I was dating a man named John. He was a manager in manufacturing and split his time between a factory up here and one in Dayton, where he was from. It didn’t take long before he was spending the night with me. We practically lived together two nights a week. The week of spring break, he was going to take the week off and we were going to have a staycation. You know, do the tourist thing right here in Cleveland. I had a great week planned. Last minute, he cancelled, said something had come up in Dayton and he couldn’t leave. I decided to surprise him.” She curled her shoulders in as though making herself smaller. “I drove to Dayton, getting to his house around dinner time. I had his address, not that he’d given it to me, but I had it and showed up wearing a sexy scrap of lace under a trench coat. Luckily, I had buttoned it, so his wife didn’t see it when she answered the door.”
“The fucker,” Yablonski said. “Slime,” Montoya threw in. “Ass,” Bollier spat. “Scum,” added the nurse switching the vials.
Aurora chuckled, almost smiled. “I got in the car and drove, not paying any attention to where I was going. I pulled over somewhere in Kentucky. I called Selena. I didn’t know what to do, or where I was. She found a hotel, got me to it, and then she and Tamara drove down. That’s why Selena reacted so strongly, Zeus. She thought it was John all over again.”
Cruz awkwardly raised his free arm,
patting her head. “Stop. You don’t need to do this.”
“Thank you for sharing these pictures. It helps me understand how that woman made you feel good and why that’s important for you. But, something in me broke when I was standing on John’s porch, his wife asking me if she could help me.” Aurora captured his hand, shifted until their gazes were locked. “Zeus? I don’t just want you to shut it down when other women make a play for you, I need you to. More than anything, I need you to choose me. You asked me why I didn’t fight for you. The answer is, a lot of the time, I don’t think I’m worth winning.”
“Oh baby, no. Never.” He turned to pull her into his arms.
The nurse retained his right arm, working faster now. “Just a minute, Detective.”
“You can’t think that way, Aurora,” Yablonski said. “It’s bullshit.”
“Gotta agree,” Montoya added. “You can’t let assholes like that get to you.”
Aurora chuckled, her cheeks blushing. “Thank you. I, uh, I know you’re right.”
“Okay, Detective. I’m finished. You can hug your lady now, just watch the IV line.” She collected her tubes, rubber hoses, and other instruments of terror as Cruz pulled Aurora onto the bed.
The world never felt so right as sitting on the crappy mattress, Aurora tucked under his shoulder, his head resting on hers. “We understand each other, baby.” He rubbed his jaw in her silky hair. New voices entered the room. He didn’t care who they were or what they wanted. Everything was good in his world.
“Zeus? Honey? You’re heavy.”
“Hmm?”
“What’s happening to him?” Aurora asked, her voice strained.
Hands were on him, then, pulling him away from his woman. He fought, tried to fight, but his arms weighted so damn much. And sleep was just so…
Awareness was a firecracker under his ass. He looked at the faces staring his way, at the one face crushed under him. He sat up, pulling Aurora with him. “What the fuck happened?”
Yablonski laughed. “You got drugged and nearly arrested for driving under the influence. On the upside, looks like you got the girl back and we got the asshole who drugged you in holding.”
Montoya looked to the stranger in the room. “Doctor, did someone try to kill my detective?”
“Unlikely, given his height and weight, the fentanyl and heroine wouldn’t have been deadly without an underlying condition. My guess is someone wanted him incapacitated. We’ll know more once the samples are analyzed. The meds will have him back on his feet in a few hours.” He handed the report to Montoya. “I’ll come back and check on you.”
“There’s a note here,” Montoya said when they were alone again. “The lab detected vanilla.”
“Wait. I remember. My Brass Ball tasted like vanilla. I thought the bartender was getting fancy on me.”
“Am I hearing you right?” Yablonski said. “Fentanyl, heroine, and vanilla? Same as with Sasha Carter and Sophie DeMusa?”
“We get an ID on our suspect?” Montoya asked.
Yablonski shook his head. “Won’t say anything besides ‘lawyer.’”
“How did you get him?”
“Was headed into Becky’s when I got a call from Angela Johnson, she was concerned about ‘my partner.’ I was talking with her when you stumbled out the door, then this guy follows you out. I couldn’t get to you, I was too far away, but I followed. I hear dispatch sending a car for a suspected DUI on the innerbelt. Soon as the patrol car shows, your tail peeled around. I went after him. Hated leaving you, but we got him.”
Montoya tucked the report under his arm, zipped his coat. “Now that you’re stable, I’m heading in to have a conversation with the suspect. Yablonski, you’re with me.”
“Me, too,” Cruz said, readying to pull the IV from his arm.
“Stay, Detective. You’re off for the next twelve hours. I see you anywhere near our house and I’ll bust you so low, you’ll be saluting ants. Aurora, you’re in charge of him.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Yes, I am.” She knocked his hand away from the IV. “Lay back and let the IV do its thing. He needs it, right Oscar?”
“He does,” Bollier said. “And we need to discuss what to expect next. Addiction doesn’t care that this wasn’t your choice.”
Cruz subsided only because he had no choice. “Kurt, thanks for coming. I hate that Posey outplayed me, don’t know what I would have done if you believed I’d been drinking and driving.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too hard. We expected him to come after you and you recognized what was going down. Getting to the hospital was the right thing to do. If anyone’s ass needs to be hung it’s Yablonski’s for not providing back up.” One side of the commander’s mouth curled into a smile, teasing in the tense situation. “Get some rest tonight. I expect you back at it first thing in the morning.”
Friday came on with a craving he would have army crawled across a nasty alley to satisfy. Bollier had warned him that addiction was never beaten. It was like a Jurassic seed, patiently wanting for the right conditions to spring back to life. Cruz stared at his ceiling, focusing on Aurora’s soft, steady breathing. She was warm against him, soft in his arms. He’d buy her a ring. Today. Fuck Yablonski’s stupid rules about spreading dates out. After everything that happened, he wanted to give them both something to celebrate.
And then he remembered…he never told her about the suspension.
Last night had been all about him. First at the hospital, then once they were home. He was so damn happy to have her, it clouded out everything else.
With a deep inhalation, she woke. “Hmmm, morning.” She snuggled in closer. “What time is it?”
“Around six-thirty.” He curled around her, his arms holding her tightly. “Baby, there were a few things we didn’t get a chance to talk about last night.”
“About that woman?”
“No. This is about Andrew Posey. You got that we—Montoya, Yablonski, and me—we know that Posey was behind the attack on Sophie in the hospital, Yablonski’s snitch overdosing, and, now Hannigan’s death. The weapon may not have been in his hand, but he was the force behind it.”
“I understood that, yes, and that you all think Posey is behind this man drugging you last night.”
“Right. The thing is, drugging me wasn’t Posey’s first attempt to get me to back off.” He told her about Tony’s contract being cancelled and the implied solution.
“You aren’t going to do it, right? You can’t let someone blackmail you into letting criminal behavior go unchecked.”
“I’m not giving in. We’re not giving in, but Aurora, Tony isn’t the only one being used against me.” He tightened his arms, not letting her turn to face him.
She struggled, trying to roll over. Then just stopped. “Me? How?”
“Mrs. Kaylor received a call from the superintendent. It’s bullshit, baby, everyone who knows you knows it.”
“Just tell me.”
He did. When he finished, she didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to do. He expected tears and cries of injustice, not this quiet. He rolled her to her back, looked down into green eyes glowing with fury. “Aurora?”
“What exactly does the suspension mean?”
“I, uh, don’t really know.”
“I’ll have to talk to Mrs. Kaylor. And my mother. After she finishes saving Matt’s butt, I guess she’ll have to save mine. Do you think I’ll get paid?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“If not, I’ll need a job.”
“We can live off my salary. You don’t need to rush into anything.”
Her warm hand cupped his cheek. “I love you for saying that but I’m not living off you, especially when I have so many bills. Plus, I can’t just be here all day, waiting for you to come home. I’ll go crazy and take you with me.”
He studied her face, looking for the thin fissures that said eruption was imminent. He coul
dn’t find them. “You’re good?”
“Good is not the word I’d use. I’m…determined. Nobody is going to use me to get to you. Get dressed, Detective. You have an asshole to lock up.”
He barked out in laughter before kissing those resolute lips. “I love it when you talk dirty.”
The morning got him nowhere. Montoya was out, Yablonski wasn’t answering. Even the gossip around the coffee pot had dried up. No one knew anything about the arrest made last night. All the system said was male, Caucasian, fifty-to-fifty-five years old. It did have the mug shot. The asshole had a nasty bruise on the side of his face. Cruz brought up the files for McCracken and verified the match. William McCracken. Sergeant, Cleveland police, currently assigned to evidence.
“Cruz! My office.” Montoya shouted the order as he passed Sonja’s desk. Cruz sprinted across the floor. “I got warrants for Posey’s home and office. Time to mobilize. Get your team assembled ASAP. More lake effect is predicted for today. I want Posey’s ass warming a cell before we get buried again.”
“The suspect from last night, was it Sergeant McCracken?”
“Straight from evidence. Brought in a trio of high-dollar lawyers who all claimed it is a mistaken identity. In short, he didn’t roll.”
“What about the Feds? Bishop know we’re bringing his boy in?”
“I briefed him. He’ll be present at the interview.” Montoya wasn’t an asshole. Because he listened, used his brain, some people thought he was soft. When he needed to be, Montoya was a bulldozer. From his tone of voice, he’d been that this morning.
“I got no problem with Bishop,” Cruz said, showing he wasn’t a complete asshole either. “He’s a good guy. Moves like a fucking snail, but a good guy.” Cruz needed a team he trusted with zero time to recruit. He tapped Campbell and Buell, borrowed Yablonski, Smitty, and Czerski. He was one short when he noticed Montoya standing at Sonja’s desk. “Commander, need one more. You in?”
A wide grin replaced his paperwork grimace. “You bet your ass.”
They entered the city hall outer office of the chief of staff en mass prepared for the hellfire Posey would rain. His deal making days were over, he just—Angie Johnson, on the phone, raised one finger to the black clad team. No surprise on her face, no wide eyes, or coming to her feet. It was if having the Cleveland police storm the office was as common as having a florist show up on her doorstep.