Later that morning, Christian knocked lightly on Midnight’s door. A usual, he heard her say, “Come.”
Walking in, he looked at the Chief of Police, the one woman he had wanted since he’d met her but could never have. It was a source of amusing dismay for him. Christian Collins had been able to get any woman he’d wanted for years, but Midnight Chevalier was unattainable, and not because she was another man’s wife, but because she didn’t want him. Christian knew it was because she was in love with Rick, but it had become a wry joke between him and the chief. He’d frequently ask, “Want me yet?” With a grin and a shake of her head, she’d reply, “Not yet.” Midnight had become the infinite challenge, albeit not a serious one; even Christian Collins had to respect a love as deep and abiding as Midnight and Rick’s.
When Midnight was believed dead, Christian had been suspected of being in cahoots with the men that had ordered her murder. In truth he had been trying to infiltrate their plan to stop them, when no one else could get near them. At Midnight’s funeral, Rick Debenshire had literally attacked him, believing Christian was one of Midnight’s murderers. The words “She trusted you!” and the anguish behind those words had echoed in Christian’s head for months afterward, even though Midnight had been found alive and the men responsible for trying to kill her had been brought to justice or killed, an act orchestrated through Christian’s connection to them. It was still a source of many nightmares. The days when they’d believed he was part of the ring that had killed Midnight had been days in hell for him.
Now, he couldn’t help but flash back to those times. It amazed him that a woman like her could take all that she had been handed in life and still come back fighting.
“Hi,” Midnight said, glancing up from a report. She looked at her watch, then grinned. “Not too early, huh?”
Christian gave her a sour look as he sat down in a chair in front of her desk. “I got in at six.”
“Oh,” Midnight replied, looking a little crestfallen. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it, huh?”
“About what?” Christian deadpanned.
Midnight looked back at him for a long moment, obviously debating how much she wanted to interfere with him and Susan. Susan was Rick’s niece, and very dear to both him and Midnight. It was hard, trying to maintain a level of uninvolvement with employees when they happened to also be people she loved. In this instance, Midnight knew that what was happening between Christian and Susan was something that only time could sort out for them, so she decided to leave it alone if he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Moving right along,” she said, grinning. They discussed the lead time he wanted for his inventory projects, and other matters pertaining to briefing the clients before he actually went to the site for the work. An hour later they were wrapping up the details. “Anything else?” Midnight asked, glancing up from the pad she’d been writing notes on.
“Actually,” Christian said, his expression thoughtful, “yes, there is.”
“Okay,” Midnight replied, sitting back in her chair.
Christian paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Rhiannon needs help, Midnight. She’s getting buried down there.”
Midnight looked perplexed. “She hasn’t said anything to me, and she hasn’t missed a deadline yet.”
“I know she hasn’t,” Christian said, his lip curling in distaste. “And she won’t miss a deadline for you, even if she has to take the work home and stay up all night doing it.”
Midnight looked back at him for a long moment, a question clear on her face. Christian answered it for her before she could even formulate it.
“She is devoted to you, Midnight. You are the woman that gave her dead husband back his dignity. As far as she’s concerned, she owes you a lot, and she repays it doing the job you gave her.”
Midnight was stunned. Sitting back in her chair, she tossed her pen on her desk and blew her breath out in a deep sigh. She turned back to Christian, her look self-castigating. “Guess I should have figured that out, huh?”
“You can’t know everything, Midnight,” Christian replied, ever loyal himself. “This department has been expanding by leaps and bounds for years. I don’t think even you realized how big a job it was you were handing her. But with that grant money you got last year, you hired seventy new officers—they come with a whole complement of equipment. That means a lot more work. And now that you got that eighteen million…” He trailed off as Midnight started to nod.
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “Okay, what do you think she needs? How many people?”
“First of all, she needs to get that inventory taken,” he said, referring to the departmental inventory that had to be done to locate all of the equipment that showed on their records.
“I want someone on that with her anyway. I don’t need her getting a lot of flak,” Midnight said.
She was fairly sure Rhiannon had received a lot of antagonism from officers who saw her as the person who had taken the late Devereaux’s job. There’d been a lot of muttering about a cop being killed, and about how the person associated with that dirty cop—who had conveniently been the one to kill him—had gotten off scot-free. The fact that he was the cousin of Joe Sinclair, a well-known, well-respected captain in the department who also happened to be Midnight’s best friend, didn’t help matters much. Midnight had tried to keep rumors and hurt feelings in check, but one could never totally manage that in a department as large as hers. She was worried that in doing the departmental inventory, Rhiannon would be face to face with many of her nay-sayers. She was afraid that would prove to be too much strain on a woman who was already under a lot of personal pressure.
After a few moments’ thought, Midnight said, “I think I’ll have Kyle work on this when he gets here. It’ll be a good way to meet and deal with everyone in the department on a more official basis.”
Christian nodded, then gave her a crooked smile. “Did I hear the rumor about him right?”
Midnight narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t even start with me, Collins.”
Christian laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He gave her a serious look then, staring right into her eyes even as his grin started. “Lucky guy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Midnight said, waving away his comment and rolling her eyes.
“Rick didn’t seem too upset.”
“Why should he be?”
“He’s got you now.”
“My point exactly.”
“But if I were Rick, I wouldn’t like it.”
“He doesn’t have to like it—he just has to trust me.”
“And he does,” Christian said, his tone not the least bit questioning.
“Yes, he does.”
“Smart guy.”
“Very,” Midnight replied, grinning at their exchange. Christian Collins had a very quick wit, and she enjoyed bantering with him sometimes.
“Smart enough to land you,” Christian said, getting to his feet. “So you’ll get Rhiannon some help in the meantime? I mean, I don’t figure an Assistant Chief will get his hands too dirty.”
“Don’t underestimate Kyle, Blue. He’s a hard worker—he’s going to be a good asset to this place,” Midnight said, standing up too. “I’ll get her someone else to help out in the meantime though, yes. Okay?”
Christian nodded, looking satisfied. “Thanks, Midnight.”
Things with Tiempo were progressing at a frustratingly slow pace. Stevie was at her wits’ end by the middle of the second week Dave had dedicated to the case. She knew she was getting close to losing Tiempo once again, and she couldn’t bear the thought.
She tried to push Dave to get down to business with Tiempo one evening, after yet another day of no commitment by Tiempo to deliver. She buzzed the intercom and waited for him to answer. He opened his front door wearing faded jeans and an unbuttoned navy blue Hawaiian shirt. Seeing that it was her, he stepped back and gestured for her to come inside. He detected instantly that this was not a social
visit. Since that first time, they hadn’t been together sexually. Dave hadn’t pushed the relationship, accepting that she would set the pace.
Dave walked over to his living room couch and sat down, watching her as she started to pace. She didn’t speak for a long time; he simply waited. Finally she turned to him, coming over and sitting down next to him, turning sideways to face him.
“Why aren’t you pushing this deal with Tiempo?” she asked, her voice holding the anger and desperation she was trying not to show.
Dave took a long pause before answering. When he spoke his voice was calm and assured. “You can’t push dealers, Stevie, or they push back. Then you end up either dead or with your cover blown. That won’t help us much.”
His calm answer frustrated her more. Her green eyes flashed with her effort to control her anger.
“You just don’t care either way, do you?” she said. “Either way you get what you were sent for, right? Who the hell cares anyway, right?” She looked away from him.
“I care,” he replied simply, his voice still calm.
“Bullshit!” she yelled. “All you care about is doing what Chief Chevalier told you to do. This isn’t a case to you—it’s a fucking game, and you’re not even playing it right.”
“Stevie, this is no game.”
“Like hell it’s not!” She was letting her anger loose now, not caring what she said. “You and Tiempo are playing cat and mouse. And in three days you get to walk away and I get screwed. You get to go back and tell your chief you did everything you could, which was nothing, and I get stuck with nothing for a year and a half of my fucking life! No one gives a shit that my brother-in-law is dead, that my sister may as well have died with him. That every day I feel like my life is missing something because that bastard Tiempo couldn’t just take his lumps the day they went to arrest him.” She stopped long enough to take a ragged breath, then yelled, “Goddamn you!”
“Stevie…” Dave began, his voice soothing.
“No!” she screamed, clenching her fists. “Don’t tell me how I need to be patient. I can’t be anymore. I’m losing this—I’m losing everything I worked for this last year and a half, all because I made a deal with you. I won’t do it—I won’t. If we can’t bust him then you can walk out and I’ll stay on him until I take him down, one way or the other.”
“I can’t let you do that,” he replied. His voice was serious, though his posture was still relaxed.
“Then you can try to bust me,” she spat, her anger uncontrollable now.
“I won’t try, Stevie—I will,” he said, his voice quiet, not even slightly tense, his body language alone screaming confidence in its nonchalance. “I’ll do what it takes to get you out of this alive. One way or the other.”
“You bastard!” she screamed, lashing out, meaning only to slap him but forgetting that her fist was still clenched.
Before she even knew what was happening, her fist was caught and she was taken to the floor with her arm twisted up behind her back. She could feel his knee at the small of her back, his weight holding her down. His other hand pressed against the middle of her back. She had been taken down like a criminal, and she suddenly realized that even though he’d seemed totally relaxed, he had been ready for her assault. She’d never had a chance to hurt him. Then it hit her that she was ready to attack the one person that might be able to arrest Tiempo and give her back her life. That understanding led quickly to shame. Suddenly all she wanted to do was get away. She struggled against his hold.
“Stevie,” he said sternly, right next to her ear as he leaned down over her. “Calm the hell down.”
“Let me up,” she grated out, trying to use her legs to push back against him. She didn’t like the feeling of helplessness at all.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
He sounded like a cop talking to a criminal resisting arrest. She was a criminal, after all, wasn’t she? She’d killed a man; she’d been working for a drug dealer. If they didn’t take Tiempo down by the end of the week and she carried out her threat to continue with him, this could be real someday. All these thoughts ran through Stevie’s head, and finally it hit her. She had become one of them. She was a criminal. How would her father feel about that? How would Jason? It was the last two thoughts that made her cry out. The subsequent anguish she had held back for so long, for the losses she’d sustained, flooded her mind. The tears started then. Tears of anger, pain, sadness, and helplessness.
To her surprise she felt herself released, and suddenly Dave was pulling her into his arms, holding her against his chest. She buried her face in his shirt and allowed herself to cry for the first time since she’d set herself on a course to take Tiempo down. It seemed like hours. Dave was silent the entire time. He held her, at times stroking her back.
When she’d finished crying she leaned against him, feeling exhausted. Still he said nothing. He probably thinks I’m nuts, Stevie thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. She was ashamed for what she’d tried to do, for being so nasty and then actually trying to strike him. Then, to make matters worse, to have not only burst into tears like some silly schoolgirl but to have had the man be gallant enough to try to comfort her as she did so.
Stevie let her mind drift over all this as she leaned against him, feeling drained. She’d been tense for the past few days, hardly sleeping at night as she worried about what would happen by the end of the week, or not happen.
Suddenly she felt herself being picked up as he moved to stand, and she realized she’d actually been drifting off to sleep. Dave held her cradled in his arms, and she kept her face buried against his shoulder, her arms around his neck. He carried her to his bedroom and laid her on his bed. When she looked up, his back was to her as he lit the end of a stick of incense, blowing on it until the tip glowed and fragrant smoke trailed up. The room was semi-dark, the only light coming from the hallway.
He turned to her, not saying a word as he lay down next to her. Staunchly refusing to meet his gaze, she trained her eyes on his shirt as he turned onto his side. He reached over and pulled her back into his arms. Stevie found herself drawn into his warmth, enjoying the feeling of acceptance that his actions reflected. She lay in his arms, the back of her head resting against the hollow of his shoulder, her face against his neck. She fell asleep that way.
As she slept, Dave lay staring at his ceiling, reflecting on the night’s occurrences. He knew she was getting edgy over losing Tiempo. He knew that her anger was just a manifestation of that nervous energy. What bothered him was the way she’d lost all control of her temper. It had made him realize that he needed to get her out of this situation regardless of the outcome at the end of the week. If she was this edgy, this desperate to get Tiempo, it would start to show soon, and Tiempo would pick up on it. If Tiempo was even slightly suspicious of her, he’d kill her; Dave knew he would. He also knew that he’d hurt her immeasurably before he killed her, because it was apparent Tiempo was interested in her as more than a bodyguard. Men like Tiempo didn’t react to rejection well. Combine her rejection of him with any suspected duplicity, and Stevie would suffer greatly. Dave had seen the result of women’s suspected disloyalty. It was brutal, and many times fatal. He had no intention of allowing that to happen to Stevie O’Neil. She’d been through too much to allow an end to her life simply because she couldn’t control her temper.
Stevie woke the next morning to the feel of Dave’s lips on her cheek. She opened her eyes and noted he was standing next to the bed. He was wearing an open shirt and shorts over a short wetsuit.
“I’ll be back,” he said, and left the room.
Stevie turned over, looking at the clock. It was still fairly dark in the room, so it wasn’t fully day yet. The clock said 6:00 a.m. Groaning at the stiffness in her neck from obviously having slept in Dave’s arms all night, she turned back over. Glancing down, she noted she was still wearing her shoes. She got up slowly and kicked them off, then removed the rest of her clothes,
tossing them onto a chair. She slid under the covers and went back to sleep. It was three hours later when she heard the shower start.
When Dave came out of his bathroom ten minutes later, she was sitting up, the covers pulled up over her. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her chin on her knees.
Dave was wearing faded jeans with no shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He sat down on the bed, and Stevie found herself admiring his chest once again. When she looked up, it was to note his blue eyes watching her. She immediately found herself biting her lower lip as she waited for the reproach she was sure was about to come. She steeled herself for it, determined to take anything he said, knowing how wrong she’d been the night before.
“Do you want coffee?” he asked, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.
Stevie was stunned for a moment. He wasn’t going to say anything? She nodded dumbly.
Dave got up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He left the room and Stevie got up to throw on her jeans and at least her shirt. She figured he’d want to talk about the night before over coffee; she didn’t want to be naked when they did. She was sitting Indian-style on the bed when he walked in with a mug of coffee and handed it to her.
“You’re not having any?” she asked, surprised.
“Already had three cups,” he said, grinning as he sat down on the bed again. His eyes surveyed her as she took a sip. “You feeling better?”
Stevie hesitated, not sure how to answer. She wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure whether anything she said would help. Again she found herself nodding.
Dave nodded in response. “We’re having lunch with Tiempo today. I’ll see what I can do to get him to set a time for delivery.”
Past in the Present (MidKnight Blue Book 9) Page 16