Her Husband’s Partner

by Jeanie London

  “Blew off the mayor for you.” The chief glanced at his watch. “Figure he gave up on me about five minutes ago.”

  “I didn’t need any help.”

  “Didn’t say you did.” The chief cracked a smile. “That’s the best part of working with you. I never actually have to do any work.”

  “I have a partner. If I wanted him here, I’d have called him.”

  “I don’t think so. Not when it has to do with Riley.”

  The hairs on the back of Scott’s neck stood on end. “What in hell does that mean?”

  The chief shrugged, making light of an assessment that felt too much like an accusation. “It means I’ve noticed how you’ve made it your new quest in life to watch over her and the kids.”

  “How is that any different from what the rest of us are doing? Half the department showed up on her doorstep when that alarm went off.”

  The chief chuckled. “Heard all about it.”

  “Then what’s your point? I promised Mike if anything ever went south, I’d look after his family. And if things had gone the other way two years ago, he’d be your second-in-command at Renaissance right now.”

  Again, Scott couldn’t help but be struck by how empty that sounded. The only people who would shed a tear if he suddenly wound up under a headstone were his coworkers in the department and the volunteers with Renaissance. Maybe the kids there, too. The members of Poughkeepsie’s gangs would probably throw a block party. It was something, he guessed, but nothing like what he’d watched the Angelica family go through.

  Or Riley.

  The memory of the way she felt in his arms tore through him. And the chief just sat there, fingers steepled in front of him, gaze never wavering as if he was seeing so much more than he’d been meant to see.

  “You done yet?” he asked casually.

  Scott scowled.

  “I understand, Scott. Believe me. I like to think that if I go down, you all will keep your eyes on Deb. But I also know how tough this is on you. Unlike your new partner, though, I also know you’re a one-man circus. You’re not alone with this. I’d have thought you’d gotten that with the party on Riley’s front lawn the other day.”

  “A one-man circus?” God, could this get any worse? Not only did he have to deal with the fallout from his stupidity with Riley earlier, but now the chief was starting up this crap again.

  “Liked that, did you?” A smile played on the chief’s mouth. He was impressed with himself, no question.

  Scott wasn’t going to contradict a man who’d just blown off the mayor. “Okay, I’m not alone. Appreciate that. So, got any thoughts about who—”

  “No, no thoughts. Told you, that’s why I like working with you. The mayor would have had me jumping through hoops right now. You…” He shoved the chair back and stretched his legs out before him. “Well, it’s damn peaceful in here.”

  “Thanks…I think.”

  “You’re welcome. So what do you have in mind?”

  “Work. What else is there?”

  The chief frowned. “She’s only been back, what…three weeks at best?”

  Scott nodded.

  “Hardly seems like enough time to start pissing people off with her articles.”

  “I agree. But after what happened last week in Hazard Creek…” Scott let his words trail off. The memory of her sitting in that ambulance made his stomach clench with almost brutal force. “She jumped right back in the thick of it. She covered Lundquist’s press conference.”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t interrogated her yet?”

  “I haven’t. I was at the house when she left this morning.”

  “Really?”

  “Babysitting.”

  That got a reaction. “You babysit? What was she thinking?”

  “She wasn’t,” Scott admitted, not in the least offended. “Camille got sick. I happened by at the right time.”

  An answer to a prayer.

  “Kid still alive?”

  “One-man circus yourself.”

  The chief chuckled wryly. Then they fell silent again, scanning through the rest of the reports, looking for something that wasn’t there.

  “I’ll have to talk with her,” Scott finally said.

  “Yup.” The chief agreed. “Keep me in the loop. That’s an order. I don’t want you alone on this, and I know what a pain in the ass you can be.”

  “You’re hurting my feelings.”

  “If I thought you had any feelings, I’d apologize.”

  “Damned barrel of laughs.”

  The chief got to his feet. He gazed down and asked, “Do you know why I made you Mike’s partner?”

  “You always said it was because we were the same shade of green.”

  “Yeah, well, you both were that.” He gave a gruff laugh. “I put you two together because I knew you’d be good detectives. Damned good. There was only one difference between you.”

  “What was that?”

  “Mike believed it. You didn’t. You’re never convinced you’re doing enough.”

  There was so much truth in that statement Scott didn’t know what to say. “And the reason for this trip down memory lane?”

  The chief nodded. “Mike considered you a damned good friend. I know because he told me. And you’ve always done right by him. When he was alive. While you were investigating his death. You’re still being a good friend.”

  “Yeah, and…”

  “I thought you needed a reminder.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But he did. A weight was settling on his chest, making it hard to breathe, almost impossible.

  “Then you need to make some time to think about it.” The chief gave a huff as if he didn’t think Scott capable. “Mike made you a part of the family the minute he decided you were good people, Scott, someone he wanted around. You’re the one who doesn’t play well with others. I understand why, but it’s time to learn. Stop tearing yourself up. You care about Riley and the kids, and that’s okay.” He pulled open the door, but paused, glancing over his shoulder with a narrowed gaze. “Remember what I said. And good luck.”

  The closing door echoed with a finality that jarred Scott’s already fried nerves. His few hours’ sleep after the night from hell was wearing off in a big way, evidenced by his inability to accept what the chief had said.

  “You care about Riley and the kids, and that’s okay.”

  Scott stared at the stacks of folders on his desk. He’d known he wouldn’t find anything about who might be stalking Riley. But he’d spent the afternoon going through them anyway, to be thorough, to investigate all the possibilities because he wouldn’t take chances with Riley’s or the kids’ safety.

  “You care about Riley and the kids, and that’s okay.”

  He did care. He didn’t want to dump this on her when she was so clearly struggling to get back on her feet. But he couldn’t figure out what she might have stepped into without her help.

  So why was he still sitting here? Why was there a vise crushing his chest, cutting off his air until he could barely think? Why did he hesitate to pick up the phone and call her when he knew the next step was to delve into her work, into what had been on her stolen equipment?

  Then Scott knew. With a sickening certainty, he knew.

  And there was no more running from the truth. No more hiding. So he sat there, hands stretched before him on the desk, lifeless, as if they belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn’t been so disconnected from his feelings that he’d managed to deny the obvious. He’d been telling himself he had his feelings under control. He’d made the choice to act honorably, the only choice he could make and still look in the mirror.

  The very silence in the office mocked him. How long? A day? Three weeks? Or had he been denying the truth even longer, burying feelings he didn’t know what to do with for years?

  How long had he been in love with Riley?

  The truth. Undeniable. He’d have known by the sheer absence of a
nything like this in his life before. He’d simply never felt this way.

  But it was there, had always been there. He’d noticed her from the day Mike had introduced them. He’d lived with that truth, dodged it at every turn. Only a scumbag would have feelings for his friend’s wife, and Scott had chosen not to live life as a scumbag. Simple. So he’d never allowed himself to get too close, had sidestepped her invitations time and time again. But he couldn’t let go even after she went to Florida. He’d stayed connected through phone calls, had let himself get sucked into Sundays at Joe and Rosie’s.

  Helping Brian with the horses. Bringing a crew to maintain the lawn. Fixing the truck. All stupid little things that had meant so much to him. He told himself he was being a good friend to Mike, watching over his family, but he was a liar.

  That didn’t surprise him.

  What kind of friend fell in love with another man’s wife? The mother of his partner’s kids?

  Scott knew that answer, too—the diseased kind, the kind who’d inherited poison instead of blood running through his veins. The kind of man he was, the reason he hadn’t allowed himself to get in deep with anyone, not once in all these years.

  “You care about Riley and the kids, and that’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JASON STEPPED OUT OF his unmarked cruiser when the familiar motorcycle roared into view, pulling into the parking lot. Jason had chosen this long-abandoned tire plant as the meet point for a reason. The place was so remote this meeting with Tyrese should go unnoticed, and there were several access roads. They could go their separate ways, eliminating any connection between them should anyone take notice. Not that there was anyone around. This parcel of industrial acreage tucked away on the outskirts of town had been on the market so long, Jason wasn’t even sure the owner—or the Realtor for that matter—was still alive.

  Tyrese maneuvered the bike up close to the cruiser, cut the engine and removed his helmet. His expression was solemn. “You just used up your Get out of Jail Free card, Jason.”

  Through all the years of their acquaintance, Tyrese had called Jason a lot of things, starting with Buster and winding up with Brother in Christ. But Jason could never remember Tyrese ever using his first name. Not once.

  “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in.” Tyrese began unraveling the bungee cords that held a bulging laptop bag to the back rail of his bike. “But I’m praying for you, and I’m going to keep praying. I want you to know that.”

  Jason inclined his head but didn’t say anything. He honestly didn’t know what to say.

  “I want to help you.” Tyrese set the laptop bag at Jason’s feet. “But I’m not doing any more of your dirty work. My account is closed. Paid in full.” He fixed his dark eyes on Jason, eyes so dark they seemed almost black, eyes that suddenly saw through him to the quick. “You know what was with all that stuff you had me steal?” Emphasis on the steal. “Kids’ stuff. Fishing poles. Roller-blades. And dolls, man. Little girl dolls. I had to dig through it all to get to that bag because your mark hid it under that stuff to protect it from thieves.”

  Thieves.

  There was irony here. A mouthy hood with a rap sheet as long as his arm lecturing a police chief on ethics. There was definitely irony here. The kind that made him itch to defend himself, to explain to Tyrese exactly what was going down, so he’d understand why Jason had become a thief, had turned Tyrese into one again.

  But there wasn’t any defense. How could he defend turning Riley Angelica into a mark?

  So Jason stood there in his neatly pressed suit that Callie had picked up from the cleaners just last night, a suit that had probably cost more than Tyrese grossed for six months of work at the church.

  Tyrese, on the other hand, wore one of those casual shirts old men liked to wear. Neat-looking and lightweight, comfortable in the summer heat. The short sleeves didn’t cover the elaborate tattoo adorning his left arm to the wrist, a jumble of thick black mathematical symbols that was a souvenir of his days as a member of 16 Squared. He’d have had to wear gloves to cover the prime numbers etched on the backs of his fingers in black ink, more souvenirs that marked him for exactly what he’d once been.

  If Riley Angelica or any other soccer mom had spotted Tyrese in a grocery store parking lot, she’d have steered her cart in the opposite direction.

  Jason knew better than anyone there was a lot more to Tyrese nowadays. He was getting through community college one class at a time. Yet, he’d used Tyrese’s past against him because he had specialized skills. Skills that Jason needed because now he was the thief.

  “We’re square, Tyrese. You have my word.” As if that counted for much anymore. “You head back to your life and forget that any of this ever happened.”

  Tyrese inclined his head. “I hope what you need is in that bag because I’m for real. I found the CD under a seat. It’s in the bag, too.”

  “Thank you. Ditch the phone. We’re square.” On a debt that hadn’t needed to be repaid. Jason had never once in all these years thought of what he’d done for Tyrese as a debt. Until now.

  “Listen, brother. I’m going to tell you something someone told me back when I needed to hear it.” Leveling that inky black gaze at Jason, he said simply, “‘Own up, take the heat, then get on with your life.’”

  At first Jason could see nothing but images of what he’d look like on the news when production ran clips of that video, of him having the time of his life with four hookers.

  “Today, the Hazard Creek police chief was indicted on charges of criminal obstruction….”

  Jason just stood there until Tyrese’s voice broke in, all too real and surprisingly self-assured, a man with a message.

  “It was good advice when you gave it to me all those years ago,” he was saying. “It’s still good advice.”

  Shoving the helmet onto his head, he kick-started the bike. “Good luck, man. I’ll be praying for you.”

  Then he wheeled around and drove off, leaving Jason staring at his receding figure, the dust kicking up in his wake as the powerful engine growled through the buzzing, late-afternoon quiet. Jason stood there in his crisp suit, wondering what had happened to the man who’d cared enough about a mouthy street punk to give him a chance when no one else would.

  RILEY KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG the instant she opened the door to find Scott on her doorstep, looking much the same as he had when he’d left earlier. Same rumpled shirt. Same faded jeans. Same hiking boots. His hair looked as if he’d shoved his fingers through it a few dozen more times.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked without preamble.

  “Nothing. I need to talk with you about today.”

  Their gazes met.

  Today?

  Did he mean her stolen equipment and the time she’d spent in his arms?

  “Come on in.” She stepped aside and held the door wide.

  He passed with a long-legged stride, gaze averted, tension all over him. While she might not know what part of today he wanted to discuss, their earlier exchange was between them in a big way. She was aware of him in every cell, the feel of his arms around her so much more than a memory.

  “Any luck with getting the glass replaced?” he asked. “Your van isn’t out front.”

  “I parked it in the garage. Gene from Abb’s Auto Glass came this afternoon to install it. Popped it right in. Took a grand total of ten minutes.”

  “I’m glad it wasn’t a hassle.”

  She forced herself to stand her ground, to meet his eyes, to get a grip, willing a sense of normalcy she didn’t feel. “Not at all. But at this rate, I’m going to be on a first-name basis with every glass guy in town.”

  “I hope not.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “How’s Camille feeling?”

  Scott moved through the front porch, and Riley pulled the door shut and locked it. “Much better, thanks. After a good night’s sleep, she’ll be good to go.�
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  “I had no idea kids even got migraines.”

  She exhaled hard, trying to get hold of her breathing. Honestly. “Me, either. Not until she started getting them, anyway. It’s a family thing from Joe’s side. He got them when he was a kid. Caroline still gets them.”

  Scott stepped aside to allow her to enter the house before him. “Nothing they can do?”

  “Medication once one starts. That’s about it unless I’m willing to keep her medicated. I’m not. She doesn’t get them all that often. And there are triggers—whenever she gets overexcited or eats too much sugar. Or spends too much time in the pool. The chlorine, I think. We can usually control that.”

  Scott didn’t get a chance to reply before Camille’s shriek echoed across the living room. “Mo-om. Jakie won’t give me the dental rinse.”

  Riley seized the moment to catch her breath and regain her composure. “Everyone’s ready for bed around here. Beyond ready. If you have a few minutes—”

  “Go do what you need to do. No rush.”

  She motioned him toward the kitchen. “I won’t be long. Brian’s here. Why don’t you—”

  “Yo, man,” Brian said around a mouthful of pizza when he appeared in the hall holding a massive slice. “Aunt Riley cooked. It’s awesome.”

  “Scott, if you’re hungry, help yourself. There’s plenty.” She did a double take at the pizza stone, where her ravenous young nephew had been eating his fill. “Brian, grab a plate for him, please.”

  Then she beat a hasty retreat, allowing the routine of tucking in the kids to calm her runaway nerves. Camille was down for the count the minute her head hit the pillow. Jake, on the other hand, was still wound tight from his first day of school without his sister. He got chatty, and Riley didn’t have the heart to rush him, so she let him talk himself out while she talked herself down from her own racing thoughts about Scott.

  Friends supported each other. Scott was a friend, and she’d needed support this morning. No reason to obsess over the exchange or read more into one hug than was there.

  Except that she’d been aware of him as more than a friend. She’d been aware of him as a man.