Mission Statement

by Catherine Gardiene

  Coming to Mimi’s had been a risk, but he’d taken it because it was so miserable out, he wanted to get her out of the weather. He assumed everyone else would head for home as soon as they could. If the rumor mill got hold of it, he’d deal with it. Hell, maybe he’d finally have a relationship that existed outside the club.

  Glancing toward the street, the whiteout seemed to be in full force. He knew the street tended to funnel the wind, so it probably wouldn’t be as bad once she hit the interstate, but he didn’t like the idea of her driving in it.

  “Have dinner with me. It’s not fit for man or beast outside, and there’s so much I’d like to know about you. For you to know about me. Will you let me take you to dinner?” he asked impulsively.

  For a moment, she seemed to harden, and he was convinced she would refuse him. But she nodded. Finally she gave him a small smile.

  “I think I’d like that.”

  He picked up her five-dollar bill the way he would lift evidence at a crime scene, and held it out to her.

  “Coffee is on me. And just so we clear it up now, dinner will be on me as well, so don’t even go there when the bill comes. What are you in the mood to eat?” He knew he sounded brusque, but there were some things he just couldn’t turn off; his commanding tone was one of them. It took effort to soften that, and if she was going to be with him, she needed to accept him as he was, bossiness and all.

  “Thank you for coffee. You don’t need to buy me dinner, but we’ve already had enough disagreements, so I’ll shut up. Since you’re paying, you decide. I’m not very picky. Except I don’t like curry.”

  He laughed. “Curry, huh? Big problem with curry ending up in everything out there in Glaston, is there?”

  Chuckling with him, she rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.” Rising from the table, he grabbed the check and helped her with her coat. The woman at the counter watched them with curiosity as he guided Victoria to the front, and he gave her a friendly nod as he dropped off the check and more than enough money to cover it.

  He saw the woman’s look of surprise when he placed an arm around Vicki’s shoulder. Winking, he called out, “You take care in this storm, okay, Mimi?” Her mouth dropped open, and Michael knew the cop grapevine would be humming soon enough. To hell with it.

  His car was parked back by the station, so the wind was mercifully at their backs as they traversed the sidewalk. The cold took their breath away, so it was a very brisk and quiet walk, a skill you developed quickly if you were going to survive an upstate winter.

  They made small talk about the weather and the city while he guided the car down the snow-slicked streets. It was accumulating quickly; although the snow removal teams were good, the secondary roads were going to be tough to navigate while they concentrated on the highways and the main thoroughfares.

  He hadn’t realized how late it was. He’d headed for a little Italian place he frequented, conveniently located between work and home, knowing they’d have privacy without it being overly fussy or romantic. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, and Tarantella’s was casual. Unfortunately by the time they finally got there, it was almost eight o’clock. Since he was a familiar face, they assumed he was getting his usual takeout when they greeted him.

  “Hello, Signore Detective! Some weather out there tonight, huh? Good timing. We were just about to shut down for the night. Picking up the usual?” Victoria’s presence had been blocked by the wall of the protected entryway, and when Joe saw her step from behind Michael, his face fell.

  “Oh, so sorry! Did you want a table? We can seat you if you like. We gotta clean up anyway, so it’s no problem.” Michael saw the chairs in the back section had already been flipped over on the tables, the floor still wet from mopping.

  He turned to Victoria. “Do you want to try someplace else?”

  She shrugged, but her body shivered. The snow that had stuck to the wool of her coat had melted, and her nose and cheeks were red from the cold. His car’s heater had just barely won the battle over the icy chill when they’d pulled into the parking lot. He reached out to cradle her face, and it was damp, as damp as her coat.

  “We could get it to go, if you like. My place isn’t far. But I never intended to take you there, I swear. It’s up to you. I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

  She seemed to consider it for just a moment before answering him firmly. “Takeout is fine. I feel like a drowned rat, so as long as you have heat and a towel, I’m game.”

  “Always so brave,” he commented quietly.

  They picked from the menu, and in short order they walked out with a box full of food. Joe seemed to have added some extras, including a bottle of wine, if the weight rolling around in the bottom of the box was any indication. Great. Another person in Michael’s life who had taken note of the fact that he was with a woman that wasn’t his mother or his sister.

  Balancing the box in one hand, he helped her into the car. Quickly stowing the food behind his seat, they headed back onto the snow-covered roads. His house really was close, but it took almost twice as long to get there as usual. He was wondering how he would convince her to spend the night, not liking the idea of her driving home before they’d finished clearing the streets.

  His house was a tidy three-bedroom ranch in one of the older neighborhoods in Liverpool. It had been a fairly rural area when he’d bought the place, and he liked having woods and open space around him. It was a far cry from the city streets he’d grown up on, and a nice escape from the harshness he dealt with every day at work.

  It was a relief to pull into the garage and be done with the snow. As the door rolled down behind them, he pulled out the box holding their dinner. He opened the door to the house and invited her in with a flourish.

  “Welcome to Casa Collins,” he said, laughing. “I hope I didn’t leave any dirty underwear lying around. I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

  He knew it was impossible, since he was a bit of a neat freak. He wasn’t fussy about it or anything, but he liked to be efficient, and it didn’t make sense to put something where it didn’t belong, since you’d still have to put it where it did belong eventually.

  She hadn’t said anything since they’d pulled up to the house. Finally turning to him as he helped her with her coat, she looked surprised.

  “This is really nice. I expected you’d have an apartment or a condo or something. It’s big.” Her gaze scanned the room. “Your place in Aruba was big too.” She smirked at him. “Compensating?” He tried to smack her ass in return for the comment, but she was too quick.

  The garage led to the laundry room, which led to a hallway that opened to the kitchen on one side and a half bathroom and closet on the other. Beyond the kitchen was a dining room and living room, which could also be reached by continuing down the hallway toward the front door. The front entry opened to the living room on one side and a hallway to the bedrooms on the other. The whole house was sort of like an “L” wrapped around the garage.

  It was a house. It suited him, but it hadn’t really ever become home. It was supposed to, but it never had.

  He had dropped the box on the island in the kitchen, and once they’d shed their coats and shoes, he offered her the towel she’d wanted. Showing her the half bath so she could clean up and dry off, he returned to the kitchen to set up dinner.

  Joe had gone a little overboard. There was, indeed, a bottle of Chianti in the box, along with the veal parmigiana, salad, and pasta é fagioli they’d ordered. There was also a portion of bruschetta they hadn’t ordered, and some tiramisu for dessert. It was certainly a good thing they’d decided to split a dinner entrée, he thought to himself. He microwaved the pasta and bean soup while he set the table. He put the veal in to reheat and placed the soup on the table, then cleared away the garbage and sponged down the counter.

  She walked into the kitchen just as the microwave beeped for the second time.

  “Perfect timing. I think Joe was looking to get rid of some stuff. Th
ere seems to be a lot more than what we ordered.” He pointed to the numerous containers on the table, as well as the wine, and snickered. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Actually I’m starving. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  She wrung her hands and looked down for a moment before meeting his glare. “Well, it wasn’t exactly shaping up to be a great day.” He motioned for her to sit and served both of them some soup. “I had my first meeting with the divorce attorney today.” She looked up at him, sadness clouding her eyes. “I’m officially the plaintiff in Simpson versus Simpson now.”

  He reached across and squeezed her hand briefly. “Well, sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry. I don’t make a habit of dining with other men’s wives, so it’s good news for me. But I know it has to hurt. I don’t like that you’re sad.”

  “This soup is really good. I’ve never had it before.”

  Hell, she could maneuver around emotional land mines like a stunt driver. “I’m glad you like it,” he commented tersely. He wasn’t going to let her change the subject. “So how’s your attorney? Is he any good? Figure he must be if you hauled all the way to Syracuse to find him. They must have divorce lawyers in Glaston.” He gave her a piece of the bruschetta and took one for himself.

  “Well, she seems good, came highly recommended. And while the fair borough of Glaston, I’m sure, has divorce lawyers, I didn’t want to use anyone that might be connected with anybody from the plant, or my kids, or my soon-to-be ex-husband, or his new girlfriend, or her ex… You get the picture.”

  “Yeah, small towns can suck, huh?”

  She snorted, making him smile. “It’s not small for around here, but it does seem everyone knows everyone, and a lot of those everyones aren’t really interested in helping out the Vicktimizer.”

  “The what?” Who the hell is the victimizer?

  “That’s what they called me. The employees. And their friends and, well, a lot of people.” She sighed. “It’s been a rough year.” She concentrated on her soup, and he watched her eat. Her shoulders had fallen. The broken woman he’d seen in the Aruba airport sat before him again. He’d seen signs of what he assumed was her former self in greater measure at the coffee shop, rather than the shattered woman in front of him. Part of him wanted to go on a rampage through her town for making this one woman a scapegoat for everything that ailed them.

  “I can see that,” he said. “You don’t deserve it, though. Any of it. You were doing your damn job.” They ate quietly for a few minutes, and he noted she was pushing the soup around, not really eating it. “You know that won’t work, right? It’s soup. It won’t look like you’ve eaten more if you move it around.” She snickered just a little bit and he smiled broadly. “How about something solid? You ready for our entrée? Remember, you were starving. And you need to eat.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I can afford to skip a meal or two. But I’m not one to nibble on a salad while you eat all the good stuff. I think I’m ready for dinner.” While he portioned out the veal, she picked up the soup dishes and put them in the sink.

  He let the comment about missing a meal or two slide. For now. “You know you’re a guest, right? You don’t need to do that.”

  “Blah blah blah. It’s efficient. I’m not going to sit here while you wait on me.” Her voice was quiet, but her tone was playful. He was glad he could help her forget.

  “Well, I’m not averse to having you wait on me. But not tonight. Tonight you’re my guest. But thanks for adiosing the dishes.”

  She laughed loudly, appreciating the Notting Hill reference, and they started talking about movies. The rest of dinner passed that way—moving fluidly from one topic to the next, and they found they had similar taste in movies and music, even books. Well, except for his teasing reminder of her naughty stories obsession. She blushed, and he wondered exactly how naughty those stories really were.

  When he suggested dessert, she groaned and rubbed her stomach. He told her to sit in the living room and relax while he cleaned up, and after some minor protesting, she obeyed. With the running water, it was impossible for them to talk, so he set about finishing up quickly so he could rejoin her. Just as he put the last container in the recycle bin, his cell phone buzzed. Crap.

  Work.

  “Collins,” he answered gruffly.

  “Yo, Android! Did you get a look at the snow out there?”

  “Snyder, I don’t remember signing up for a weather report.” They didn’t have partners, per se, because the captain liked to assign them based on their areas of expertise. He and Snyder had caught a case the week before, and he’d been in the field that afternoon while Michael finished his paperwork from the interviews they’d done earlier in the day. “Something happen today?”

  “Jeez, man. Didn’t they program you for small talk?” He wasn’t accustomed to calls off shift that weren’t from dispatch, but Snyder was one of the only other detectives who wasn’t married with kids, so there was still a chance he wasn’t being called in to work. “Just wanted to catch you up on something I got at the vic’s girlfriend’s place.”

  Checking his watch, Michael figured it was still early enough that he didn’t have a right to be really pissed, but it was well after nine. He told Snyder to hang on and poked his head around the corner to tell Victoria he’d be a few minutes, and hoped it would be just that. He walked down the hall to his office and sat down.

  Almost twenty minutes later, he’d gotten the lowdown from his partner, and they’d divvied up the interviews they’d need to do in the morning, agreeing to hook up at the vic’s apartment at eleven for another walk-through. The girlfriend’s information, if solid, could help them figure out who’d shot their drug-dealing victim, execution-style, the week before. Snyder had gotten her into detox under a fake identity and arranged for witness protection after her inpatient stay was finished.

  People get into some fucked up situations for love.

  He stacked his notes and placed them on the corner of his desk, then walked back down the hallway. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa, her e-reader resting on the cushion, still held loosely in her hand.

  The screensaver was up, so he assumed she’d been out for a little while. She looked adorable curled up in the corner of the sofa. The image made his heart clench; it had been a very long time since anyone had looked comfy and cozy in his house. Too long. Even when he had seen it, it had been an illusion. He shook his head slightly to clear the thought and dealt with the sleeping woman in front of him.

  His grandmother’s quilt was draped over the back of the sofa, and he pulled it over her. Easing the e-reader from her hand, he couldn’t resist a little snooping.

  He settled into the other end of the sofa and turned it on. It was open to a document titled “Mission Statement.” He laughed when he read her treatise on how she was going to run her life, as if she were some vast corporation in need of a vision. Clicking the Home button, he scanned her reading list.

  There was a folder called “Distractions.” Opening it, he saw a list of what had to be her supply of erotica. Some of the titles were fairly self-explanatory, but he opened them up just to be sure. A small smile began to form at the corners of his mouth as he took in the gist of the stories. This may be easier than I thought.

  He was just about to put the e-reader on the coffee table when she stirred. Looking up, he saw her blushing and staring at the unit in his hand.

  “It’s not nice to poke around other people’s stuff,” she muttered.

  Pointing at his chest, he shrugged and said, “Detective. Can’t help it.”

  “Try,” she answered tersely.

  “Sorry. And sorry about work. It was a case I’m working on. The guy I’m working it with, he caught a break today. So we needed to coordinate tomorrow.” He handed her the e-reader and sat back.

  “If you’re tired, I can set you up in the guest room. It’s still pretty bad out there. You should pr
obably stay here tonight.” He tried to remain calm and even. More than anything, he wanted her in his bed, and not sleeping, but that wasn’t the plan for the evening.

  “No, I’m okay. Let’s just wait and see if it clears. You can call me a cab or something to go back to the car later.” She ran her fingers through her hair and stretched. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll make some coffee and we can try that tiramisu.”

  His mind wandered off when she stretched, but he heard coffee and tiramisu and grinned. “Dessert would be nice. Do you mind decaf? If I have the real thing now, I’ll be up all night.”

  She stood and folded the quilt, laying it gently over the back of the couch before turning to him.

  “Would that be a bad thing?” she asked. And winked.

  Jesus Christ. I’m trying to be good here, and she’s killing me.

  Turning for the kitchen, he saw the intentional shaking of her ass. No mixed signals there, that’s for sure. Naturally he followed.

  She opened the refrigerator to get the tiramisu and began rummaging through drawers looking for utensils while he set the coffee to brew. When he finished, she was standing at the island putting the dessert on a plate. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “I was trying to behave, you know,” he murmured in her ear.

  She twisted in his arms and nuzzled his neck. “Why?”

  “Because we should take things slow. I don’t want to fuck this up again,” he said carefully.

  Victoria pulled back and placed her hands on his chest.

  “How slow?”

  “Guest room slow. Sitting at the table with our own forks slow.” He took his hands from her waist and laid them on the counter. “Get to know each other slow.”

  She smiled wickedly. “Have I mentioned how many speeding tickets I’ve gotten in my life?” The coffeemaker gurgled, letting them know it was finished. “Dozens. Scores. I’m not very good at slow.” She pushed him away. “Get the coffee. I’ll get another fork. I can’t promise you the rest.”

  He took a deep breath, released it. Pulled two mugs from the cabinet, along with the sugar bowl. Got a spoon and dropped it in one of the mugs. Finally he picked up the coffeepot and joined her at the table.