The day after his meeting with Stevie, Dave walked into Midnight’s office to report his progress. Midnight was pleased to hear that the meeting had gone well. Dave was a bit sheepish to mention that he’d offered to drop his other cases for two weeks without clearing it with her or Spider first. Midnight waved his discomfort aside.
“Dave, you did what you needed to do. Don’t sweat it.” Midnight already knew the argument she was going to get from Spider, but was ready for it all the same. “So, do you think you can do it?” she said, voicing the same question Stevie had asked the night before.
Dave leaned back against the wall, shrugging casually. “I’m gonna do my best, but either way we get her back, right?”
Midnight didn’t reply at first, searching his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said. Then, after a long pause, “What do you think of her?”
Dave’s lips tugged in a wry grin. “What do you want me to think?” He knew where Midnight’s thoughts were going.
“I just want your opinion,” she replied mildly.
“Uh-huh…” Dave said, his grin still in place.
“Sergeant Dibbins, don’t give me that bullshit grin. Just tell me what you think of her,” Midnight said, doing her best to sound official but ruining it with a grin of her own.
“I think she’s a very intense young lady who will be quite interesting to work with.”
Midnight narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, aware she was being stonewalled but also realizing that in not answering her directly, he was answering her. She smiled. “You just be careful.”
“I always am,” Dave replied smoothly, giving her a casual salute as he turned to leave the office.
Midnight still looked thoughtful when Rick walked in a few minutes later.
“What did I miss?” he asked casually as he leaned against her desk.
“Dave just reported in on my errant officer.”
“Ah, how’d the meeting go?”
“It went well, except he offered to work with her on this for two weeks while ignoring all his other cases.”
Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger, eyeing her speculatively. “Did you authorize him to do that?”
“No, but if it works…”
Rick canted his head to the side, giving her a measuring look. “This means a lot,” he said softly. “Why?”
Midnight looked back at her husband of almost twelve years, ever astounded at his intuition. “Because she’s family.”
“Devereaux was family,” he pointed out, referring to a bad cop they’d busted three years before.
“Devereaux was out for himself and his greed,” Midnight replied stridently. “Stevie is looking for justice, because…” She trailed off, and Rick’s eyes narrowed.
“Because what, Night?” he asked gently.
Midnight took a deep breath, her chin coming up a bit, as if she were accepting what she was about to say. “Because I let her down.” Her voice was strong, but it was apparent to Rick that the situation was affecting her deeply.
“Night…” he began, shaking his head.
“No, Rick, don’t,” she said, shaking her head too. “Don’t say that it’s not true, because it is. Her brother-in-law was killed and my department couldn’t make a case against the man that did it. I let her down, so she went to finish the job.”
“That’s bullshit, Midnight,” Rick said, his tone short; he hated her demeaning herself because someone else failed to make a case. “We can’t win them all—you know that. And you know that you can’t control everything in this department. You’re the only one that went to bat for Templeton when the press was saying he’d been at fault in the accident. You’re the one that made sure it was investigated thoroughly. You’re the one that got his name cleared. You, Midnight, no one else. You can’t blame it on yourself if that bastard Tiempo was too fucking slick to get caught for this.”
Midnight looked back at him for a long moment. His eyes searched her face, pleading with her to listen to him. Finally she blew her breath out in a long sigh, nodding.
“You’re right, I know you’re right. But I can’t let her get herself killed for this, Rick.”
“I know,” he replied simply, reaching out to touch her cheek softly, then brushed a lock of her hair back from her face and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. “I love you,” he said, as if trying to mend her with his words.
“I know,” she said with a grin, echoing his earlier words.
Rick sat back against the desk again. “So he thinks he can make the case?”
“He said he’s gonna try.”
Rick smiled. “Usually means he’ll do it.”
“Yup,” Midnight replied, smiling too. “So,” she said, changing the subject again, “was this an official call?”
“Actually, it was.” Rick grinned. “I’m goin’ on a warrant with Manny tonight—just wanted to let ya know.”
“What’s Manny got goin’ on?”
“He’s got an inside on the Dos Fuegos.”
“Hmm… really?” Midnight’s attention was piqued.
“Yeah, it’s a girl that dated the leader. I guess he did her pretty bad, and she wants revenge.”
“Revenge is too quickly sated. What else has he got?”
“Well, he says she’s pretty serious, and has a lot of info that we can use.” Rick checked his watch. “In fact, I’m supposed to go meet her downstairs like now—I’d better go.” He stood up. “You okay?”
“I’m always okay,” Midnight replied, grinning up at him. He still looked incredible after all these years. Midnight stood too, glancing over to make sure he’d closed her door when he’d walked in. She slid her hand over his chest and up to his neck. He lowered his head, kissing her lips softly, but with just enough desire to make her tingle, as she always did with him. His hands at her waist gave her a gentle squeeze.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said with a promising smile.
“Count on it,” she replied, staring up into his eyes.
“Ohh…” he said, his voice a light groan as he grinned.
Making his way back down to the FORS offices, Rick thought about his wife. He and Midnight had been together for a long time. They shared everything, including fair-sized tempers and stubborn streaks. They’d been through hell together, and had weathered it. He knew to his very core that Midnight was the one woman he was meant to be with. There had been little doubt of that since shortly after he’d met her eleven years before. Midnight had all the fire and passion that he himself had. She was able to match him in intensity and drive, and she challenged him in every way. He’d never before met a woman that could do that, even though he’d had many in his life before Midnight. Most had simply thrown themselves at him, willing to let him do anything to them as long as he paid attention to them. Then there were the women that thought they could play the hard-to-get game. They’d tried it, and he’d walked. None of them interested him long enough to chase.
But Midnight had been more involved with his best friend when they’d met, and she certainly hadn’t been the type to throw herself at any man. He’d seen fire and intensity in her that interested him. Eventually, he’d also seen a vulnerability that had brought out feelings of protectiveness he’d never had for any woman before. It was that combination of hardened cop and helpless waif that caught him so unawares. He’d never regretted it for a minute since. He loved his wife with every ounce of his being, and he was secure in the knowledge that she felt the exact same way about him.
Stepping off the elevator, he walked toward his office. Manny was already there. Manny had been a member of FORS for going on nine years, and he frequently baited Rick about Midnight; he had a crush on her, as did many men in the department. Rick saw that he was talking to a young woman. When he walked into his office, he smiled at her; her eyes were on him immediately. She was very pretty, in a hot, all dark eyes and long, dark hair way. No wonder Manny wanted to work closely with this one, Rick thought wryly.
“Hey, Manny, what’s happenin’?” Rick asked. He clapped the younger man on the shoulder.
Manny turned around and smiled. “You’re late, boss,” he drawled.
“Yeah, yeah, so shoot me.”
“Gladly.” Manny laughed. “Look, Rick, this is Angelica Muñoz. Angelica, this is my LT, Rick Debenshire.”
Rick extended his hand automatically, already noting the heat in the young woman’s eyes. What’s goin’ on here? he thought, even as Angelica extended her hand. Her look was direct, her dark eyes fairly smoldering. “It’s good to meet you, Angelica.”
“Yes, Rick, it is.” Angelica said, her voice low and as smoky as her eyes. Warning bells went off in Rick’s head. He glanced over at Manny and saw that he was looking between Angelica and him, his expression indicating surprise at her sudden intensity.
Rick nodded, grinning lopsidedly, his blue eyes narrowing just slightly as he let her hand go.
Two days after meeting Dave Dibbins, Stevie found herself in his classic 1970 Dodge Charger, with its navy blue leather interior. The inside of the car smelled like the man driving it, a mixture of leather, salt water, and his cologne, which had a fresh but rich smell to it. Stevie watched Dave as he drove. She noted that he was as relaxed at the wheel of his car as he had seemed in Tiempo’s library two days before, even if he was on his way to a meeting that could have any kind of result. Stevie couldn’t fathom this man’s ease; she knew she was twisted in a hundred different knots, and she was careful not to show it when she was around Tiempo or his men, but sitting in Dave’s car, she was shaking. She adjusted the vent to blow into her face, feeling the need for more air.
Dave caught the movement and noted her trembling. His hand moved from the steering wheel to cover hers, resting in her lap; they’d stopped at a light. When Stevie raised her eyes to his, he was looking directly at her. He gave her a small grin. “It’ll be cool,” he said calmly.
Stevie stared back at him for a long moment, wanting to ask how he knew that but realizing that she was dealing with someone who’d been doing this stuff for years, not the mere year and half she had. Finally she nodded, feeling him give her another squeeze before the warmth of his hand left hers.
Giving herself a mental shake, Stevie looked outside, watching the cars around them. A dark-haired man in a Porsche Boxster pulled up next to Dave’s car on the driver’s side. The Porsche’s engine revved as the man behind the wheel glanced challengingly over at Dave. Dave’s left arm was extended, his wrist resting on the steering wheel, his right hand on the gear shift. He glanced over his left shoulder at the guy in the Porsche, catching the other man staring at Stevie. Dave twisted his lips in a disapproving smirk and looked away. Seconds later the light changed, and the Porsche roared off. Dave continued to drive at his normal speed. After a few minutes Stevie couldn’t help but comment.
“Okay, I don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?” Dave asked, his voice smooth and low.
“I can feel the power of this engine—that guy was challenging you, and I know this car could have taken his. Why didn’t you go for it?”
Dave glanced over at her, then back at the street. “What was the point?”
“To kick his ass.”
“What would I have accomplished?”
“I don’t know,” Stevie said, letting her breath out in a sigh. “Just to do it. To win.”
Dave looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m not going to throw a rod or shear a gear for some punk in a Porsche. I know I can beat him—chances are good he did too. What was the point in proving it?”
Stevie just stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “You’re not like most guys I know.”
Dave inclined his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Stevie noticed the grin on his lips. She laughed in spite of herself. “Maybe you should.” She gave him a direct look. “Do you get nervous?”
Dave didn’t answer for moment, then nodded. “Sure I do.”
“Are you nervous now?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked, surprised.
“What do I have to be nervous about?”
“Well,” Stevie began, confounded by his mellow attitude. This was police work—it was supposed to be tense and nerve-wracking, wasn’t it? “How do you know that Tiempo hasn’t figured you out?”
“Has he?” Dave replied calmly.
“No, not that I know of, but—”
“Then what’s to worry about?”
Stevie made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, rolling her eyes. “How do you know you can trust me?”
“Can I?” he asked, glancing over at her, his sky blue eyes seemingly looking straight into her. “Trust you?”
Stevie was taken aback by his direct look, as well as the question. It took her a moment to answer. “Yes, you can.”
He smiled, and it reached his eyes. “Then what’s to worry about?”
“Ugh!” Stevie said, throwing up her hands but laughing at the same time. “How do you know you can trust Tiempo? How do you know he’s not going to kill you just because he doesn’t like the way you look?”
“I don’t,” Dave said calmly.
“Well?” Stevie said, seizing on his answer. “Doesn’t that make you nervous?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” she asked, her voice rising in frustration at not being able to figure him out.
He glanced at her, his eyes holding hers for a long moment. Then he turned back to the road. The silence stretched for a full minute. Just when Stevie was sure he wasn’t going to answer, he started speaking.
“I believe that when you’re born, your death is predetermined. If I’m meant to die at the hands of some drug dealer like Tiempo while doing my job, then I am. I can’t change it, so there’s no point worrying about it, because being nervous can get me hurt. There’s no point in damaging myself any further than necessary, right?” His voice was calm, and Stevie knew she couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. It did give her a very definite insight into this man, who was, to her, a walking enigma. But, she thought, maybe that’s what makes him the best narc in the country.
At the same time, Dave was assessing the young woman sitting beside him. He could sense her impatience, and wasn’t sure if he should attribute that to her personality or the current situation. She was close to settling a longstanding score, and that could be making her edgy. Dave was inclined to believe that Stevie O’Neil was a constant furor of activity, though; she seemed to have harnessed some sort of power source, and was holding it just under her skin. He wondered how good a hold she had on that power, though.
He found out later that day.
Tiempo, Dave, Stevie, and a couple of Tiempo’s bodyguards were talking over lunch at the pool at the Hotel Del Coronado. The breeze coming off the ocean was light, and the day was warm without being oppressive. Dave sat across from Tiempo, with Stevie to his right. She was straight-backed, one leg out in front of her, her forearms resting lightly on the arms of her chair. She seemed relaxed, her face serene. She looked more like a beautiful debutante than a bodyguard. The two other bodyguards lounged against a nearby wall, two feet from the table.
Dave and Tiempo were discussing the merits of the latest football team when a man walked toward them. There was nothing menacing about him; he seemed to be looking away from them, as if searching for someone else. He stopped at the table and looked at Tiempo, smiling as if to an old friend.
“Ah, Tiempo, my friend. It has been a long time, no?” he said jovially.
Tiempo laughed, sitting back to look up at him. “La Guardé, how are you?”
“I’m just fine, my friend.” The man reached up to scratch his protruding stomach. “And how are you?” he asked as his eyes trailed over to Stevie, an interested light in them instantly. She looked back at him calmly, her expression giving nothing away.
“Fine, of course, fine. Business is g
ood, no?” Tiempo asked, his tone changing slightly.
Even as Dave caught the challenge in that tone, the man standing above Tiempo slipped the hand scratching his belly under his jacket in a lightning-fast move. Dave was standing to pull his weapon when he caught a flash of rich red hair. With his hand on his gun, Dave saw that not only had Stevie vaulted out of her chair, but she was even now holding a particularly lethal-looking gun to the man’s gut. She whispered to him in a calm voice, “I don’t think you want to do that.”
She was purposely standing between Tiempo and the man, as any good bodyguard would be. She had the moves down—Dave had to give her that.
La Guardé had quickly dropped his hand, and he nodded, his eyes narrowing at Stevie. He glanced at the two other bodyguards, who were now standing behind Dave, threat evident in their stances.
Dave sat down with an air of relief, then grinned over at Tiempo. “For a minute there, amigo, I thought I was going to have to save you.”
Tiempo grinned, patting Stevie patronizingly on the rear as she moved the man away from them. “Ah, but you can see I have good protection, no?”
“Yes, I can see that,” Dave said, with an admiring glance at Stevie. He caught the jealous glint in Tiempo’s eyes and quickly changed the subject back to the football they’d been discussing previously. The rest of their business was concluded an hour later. Stevie left the restaurant with Tiempo and his men.
Early that evening, Stevie arrived at Dave’s house again. He let her in. She was wearing black, her hair loose this time. Dave motioned for her to sit, and she flopped onto the couch, glancing up at him as he perched on the arm above her.
Past in the Present (MidKnight Blue Book 9) Page 14