KCPD Protector

by Julie Miller

  Fueled by the aching frustration in his gut, George had lain awake most of the night, too, deciding exactly what he should do to help. Elise’s problem wasn’t something he could fix by writing a report, negotiating a compromise or issuing a statement.

  This was old-school. She needed someone to stand between her and the nut job who was stalking her. She needed a man in her life. A bodyguard. She needed a cop.

  More than anything—more than he should—George wanted to be that man.

  But his years behind a desk had made him soft. Sure, he passed all his physicals and kept in shape, but when was the last time he’d run after a perp and taken him down? He’d grown more cerebral, less instinctive. The sidearm he’d strapped onto his belt this morning felt heavy against his hip. He hadn’t taken the lead on an investigation since he’d left the Narcotics division. He was used to giving the orders, letting his team make things happen while he watched the budget, supplied the equipment and approved the manpower they needed to do their job.

  Elise’s intelligence, caring patience and endless legs gave a man plenty to notice and appreciate. But there was something more than the dark caramel hair and undeniable efficiency that had gotten beneath his hardened exterior. For years he hadn’t cared about anyone on this gut-deep level. He loved his sister and her family. He cared about Courtney being happy. But he hadn’t wanted anything like this for himself for a long time. There was a vulnerability about Elise Brown that had awakened some basic primal need in him. He hadn’t even thought about falling in love again, about being with a woman for something more than companionship. But Elise had him thinking.

  That forbidden kiss.

  Those tight embraces.

  I need you.

  What was he supposed to make of a woman who called him with a panicked request like that and clung to him like a second skin, yet pushed him away and quoted departmental protocol if he overstepped the lines of friendly concern or, God forbid, tried to get ahead of the slimy psychopath who’d made her so afraid?

  George’s chest expanded with a deep breath. Being a frontline cop wasn’t the only skill that had gone rusty on him. Elise’s fingers were moving over her keyboard again, and she seemed completely oblivious to his assessing gaze and uncharacteristic introspection.

  “Uncle George?” Startled from his thoughts by his nephew’s voice, George reached up to massage the tension beneath his collar before slowly turning, masking any reaction. Nick had pulled out his notebook and pen, ready to work. And if that was suspicion narrowing the blue eyes that looked so like his sister’s, it had better be aimed at finding answers for Elise, not reading anything into George’s long silence. “I said, do we have any suspects?”

  Propping his hip on the edge of his desk, George turned his attention to the family he’d called in for help with this unsanctioned investigation. “Here’s the plan. Annie, I need you to do your scientific magic and find out who sent that letter.”

  “I can swab the seal and stamp for any DNA trace, but I won’t make any guarantees. If he’s not in the system, I’d need more evidence to confirm a match. And this guy seems to be making a concerted effort to remain anonymous.” Annie carefully placed the sealed evidence inside her kit and locked it. Her explanation included Elise, drawing her back into the conversation. “I didn’t find any prints in your bedroom or on that vase except for your own. Even if there are prints on this letter, we’ll have nothing to compare them to, making it difficult to even know if it’s the same guy.”

  “It has to be,” Elise said.

  “He’s smart,” George conceded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wearing gloves.”

  “Anyone wearing gloves would stand out in this heat, wouldn’t they?” Elise suggested. “We could look for that.”

  “If we get a visual on him, yes. But I’m hoping we can ID this guy before he ever gets that close to you.” George turned to his nephew. “Nick. Compile a list of all the men in Elise’s life—everyone from family friends to men she’s dated to casual acquaintances.”

  “I’m already working on it,” Elise said, turning her laptop around to show them a screenful of names. “I started with my dad and worked my way down to the kid who bags my groceries at the store. I put asterisks next to a couple I thought might hold some kind of grudge against me—”

  “Like Westbrook?” George asked. Preppy-boy with the glasses had acted as if he had some sort of proprietary claim on Elise last night, which put him at the top of George’s suspect list. Of course, he’d still been mentally stomping out the residual embers from that incendiary kiss he and Elise had shared when Westbrook had stormed in, so he was pretty sure his objectivity had been in question. “Anyone else?”

  Elise shrugged. “I can’t imagine that James would want to hurt me, and I don’t know anyone that I’ve insulted or angered like Dr. Kilpatrick suggested, certainly not intentionally. In a lot of ways, I live a pretty unremarkable life. And what if it’s someone I haven’t thought of, or don’t even know?”

  Nick pointed to her computer. “I’ll give you my number. If you send me that list, it’ll give me a place to start running background checks, at least.”

  Nodding, Elise set to work organizing the list and attaching it to an email. But a second later, she raised her head. “What about Alexsandr Titov?”

  “Who’s that?” Nick asked.

  George could guess what she was thinking. “He’s the brother of that European mobster who went after Quinn Gallagher and GSS a few years back—blamed Quinn for his son’s death. Elise worked at GSS during that time.”

  Nick whistled between his teeth. “You were caught up in that mess?”

  George interrupted before Elise could answer or confess to the collusion she blamed herself for. “Quinn’s on his way over here to discuss his suspicions about why Alexsandr is in Kansas City.”

  “His timing is a little hinky, considering what’s going on with Miss Brown. Is he connected to a foreign mob, too?” Nick shook his head and jotted a note when George didn’t answer. “I’ll find out.”

  But Elise refused to avoid the subject George had tried to protect her from. “It’s the same thing his brother, Nikolai, did to me when I worked for GSS.” She set her laptop on the desk and stood, clearly agitated by her thoughts. “Oh, not the threatening love letter and creepy stuff. But, seeing me as the weak link and preying on that.”

  “The weak link to what?” Annie looked from George to Elise as they faced off. “Are you talking about what Dr. Kate said? If our unsub is a copycat instead of some pervert psychopath?”

  Elise tilted her eyes up to George. “I would never betray you or this office. I would never jeopardize the work KCPD is doing or reveal any kind of sensitive information.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “I did it before.”

  “No.” Forgetting their audience, George took her by the shoulders, holding on tighter and dipping his face closer to hers when she would have twisted away. “You didn’t. Nikolai Titov was a selfish bastard who took advantage of you when you were hurting. He used you.”

  “I’m hurting now, George. I’m frightened, and I don’t know how to make it stop.” Her hands settled at his biceps, ready to push him away, but somehow curling into the cotton of his sleeves instead. “What if I make the same mistake again? I wouldn’t mean to, but I could. It may not be Mr. Titov. It could be someone else who wants something. The budget negotiations are going to determine who gets to keep his job and who’s going on probation. Aren’t there plenty of officers who’d like to have the inside scoop on that? The city’s on edge with this heat wave—what if someone wants to take advantage of the emergency response procedures we have in place to rob a bank or commit some other crime when your officers are focused elsewhere? I have access to that information, just like you do.”

  “Elise, I trust you.�
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  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “Elise—”

  “It’s nearly ten o’clock.” She smoothed the wrinkles she’d made in his shirt—one stroke, two—before snatching her fingers away and quickly picking up her laptop. “I’d better go out to my office to meet Quinn for his appointment. He’s usually very prompt.”

  “Ma’am.” Nick stood when she headed for the door. “We’ll get this guy.”

  Elise paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder to Nick and Annie. Her smile might not have reached her eyes, but it was there. “Thank you for your help.”

  Then she was gone and the barrier of an office door had been resurrected between them. George couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t been included in that thank-you. Maybe he was the one who should be worried about his sanity if he was still thinking there could be something more than a professional relationship between them.

  “She’s wound up pretty tight,” Nick said, tucking his notebook into his back pocket. “Do you think this stalker is going to hurt her?” George’s brooding silence was answer enough. With a nod, Nick bent down to pick up Annie’s investigation kit. “We’ll get to work.”

  “Sorry to chase you kids out, but I’ve got a meeting.” His eyes were burning by the time he blinked and tore his gaze from the door to shake his nephew’s hand. “I’ll hear from you later?”

  “I’ll make it priority one today.”

  “Same here.” Annie stretched up on her tiptoes to give George a hug. “I’ll call with whatever results I get from the lab.”

  He hugged the petite woman right back. “Thanks. I know I’m asking a lot of you both to volunteer your time to help the old man. I don’t need to remind you that until we find more concrete evidence, this isn’t an official investigation.”

  Nick shrugged off the apology. “You’re family. You’re the reason I became a cop. It’s what the Madigans and Fensoms do...old man.”

  Annie swatted Nick’s arm and scooted him toward the door. “You’re not old, Uncle George. And Elise is very pretty. Her pupils dilated when you two argued. I think she likes you, too.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  Nick grinned. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice those legs going all the way up to her neck.”

  “Nicolas,” George warned.

  “Nick!”

  Nick threw his arms out in protest, smiling down at Annie. “What? You get to tease him about the looks he’s been giving her, but I don’t?”

  Annie pointed. “You open that door right now. We’ve got work to do.”

  “All right, all right. I get it. Their relationship is as unofficial as the investigation.”

  “There is no relationship.”

  “Uh-huh.” Nick flipped George a salute and opened the door. “Getting to work now. I’ll have something to report by the end of the day.”

  The young couple left George’s office, bickering back and forth in heated whispers, but holding hands and bumping shoulders together like the newlyweds they were as they exited into the hallway.

  Well, hell. No wonder Elise was so adamant about keeping their own relationship professional and platonic. He’d already crossed some invisible barrier if Nick and Annie could spot the tension radiating between them after spending barely thirty minutes together. George planted his hands on his waist and stood in the middle of his office, willing the rawness inside him to go away.

  As the line between boss and man blurred, George admitted that he wanted Elise with a fury he hadn’t felt for any woman since long before he and Courtney had started to splinter. He liked holding her, feeling her sleek curves and soft skin pressed against him. He loved how her fingers snuck past that careful reserve of hers and latched on to him with a surprising passion. He wanted to kiss her again. Hell, he wanted to strip off those sensible dresses and kiss a lot more than that sweet mouth. He’d felt more alive, more like the man he used to be these past few days than he’d felt in years.

  But he needed her to feel safe and confident and sure of her world again.

  Elise would be the one risking her career if they got involved. If the board of review demoted or fired her for breaking KCPD protocol, she could claim sexual harassment and sue the department. Not that he thought Elise would be so vindictive and lie about an affair, but he didn’t want her to go through a hassle like that. She didn’t deserve it. Especially, with the nightmare she’d gone through with her previous job.

  “Suck it up, Madigan.” He had to keep it square in his head that Elise only needed his help, not his heart.

  He could live without a special woman in his life—he’d done it well enough since his divorce. But he couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to Elise Brown—at a stalker’s hand or because of his own selfish desires. He needed to rope in his libido, get a grip on these burgeoning emotions and be what Elise needed him to be. A cop with considerable influence. Her protector. Nothing more. And certainly nothing less.

  With his resolve firmly in place, George straightened the knot of his tie and strode out to Elise’s office where he could hear friendly voices greeting one another.

  Some resolve. He walked out to find Quinn Gallagher, invention genius and wealthy entrepreneur, lifting Elise onto her toes in a tight hug. Yep, that was definitely a stab of jealousy that hit him in the gut when her feet touched the carpet again and Elise beamed the big smile she’d denied George all morning.

  George and Quinn were good friends who’d done a lot of business dealings together to benefit the department and Kansas City. Quinn was a happily married man—George had attended the wedding and even wished him well. But yeah, he wished that hug and smile had been for him.

  Understanding the departmental rule forbidding romantic entanglements between police officers and their direct subordinates far better than he’d like, George crossed Elise’s office with his hand outstretched to greet his friend. “Quinn. I was looking for another crisis to add to my list today. So what’s raised a red flag about Alexsandr Titov coming to town?”

  * * *

  SETTING THE BLACK steel gun down on the counter beside the empty magazine that had housed fifteen bullets, George removed his noise-dampening headphones and pushed the button to bring up the paper target at KCPD’s indoor firing range. The attendant had already gone home, and with C shift out on patrol or working at their desks in their respective precinct buildings, George was alone in the building’s basement.

  Good thing, too. He grunted a curse as the paper outline of a full-grown man flapped to a stop. He was all over the place with his shooting. He’d clipped an ear, hit three belly shots and landed the rest of his bullets on the picture’s extremities—nice, if all he wanted to do was give a perp an interesting scar. He counted fifteen holes. At least all his shots had hit the paper. The eye doctor had promised him reading glasses in the near future, but the more likely culprit for his sad performance was simply a lack of being out in the field and practicing his skill as often as he once had.

  “You used to be better than this, Madigan,” he grumbled.

  He sent the target back and reloaded the Glock’s magazine. He used to have better hunches about suspects, too. But he was no closer to knowing who was terrorizing Elise than he’d been this morning. Quinn Gallagher had given him an interesting theory about Alexsandr Titov. Although the Lukinburg native had no known ties to organized crime in his country, neither had his brother, Nikolai, until Quinn had closed the ammunition production factory Nikolai had run for him. Arms smugglers who’d used the factory’s shipments to transport their contraband around the world had kidnapped and killed Nikolai’s son in an effort to coerce him into reopening the plant. Nikolai had come to the U.S. supposedly to urge Quinn to reopen the plant, when in reality, he’d come to take revenge on the man he blamed for his son’s death.

&nbs
p; Was Alexsandr really in Kansas City to rebuild a business empire and restore his family’s good name? Or was he, like Nikolai before him, here to avenge his family? Quinn had arranged a lunch meeting with Titov tomorrow, ostensibly to hear his pitch for working with GSS again and selling the goods produced in his newly opened factory to KCPD. But George and Quinn both were hoping to come away with a more accurate reading about Alexsandr, and whether or not he held a grudge against Quinn, his wife or Elise.

  If Titov was legit, then that left a whole city full of potential nut jobs, resentful employees and desperate crooks who might be targeting Elise.

  Yeah, he was doing a real whiz-bang job of keeping her safe.

  George loaded the magazine into his gun and slipped the first bullet into the firing chamber. He was ready to put his headphones back on and yell, “Firing fifteen,” when he heard the footsteps on the floor behind him.

  “Target practice?” Some of the tension eased from George’s shoulders as his nephew, Nick Fensom, strolled into the firing booth beside him. “I noticed you were carrying this morning. Haven’t seen that for a while.”

  George set his gun on the counter, with the barrel facing away from them both. “Since the department is short staffed right now, I’m heading over to Elise’s to park out front and keep an eye on her house tonight. Figured I’d better be armed with more than a big cup of coffee if I was going to do her any good. Didn’t want to push my luck on recruiting more volunteers.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He eyed the deceptive nonchalance in Nick’s muscular frame as Nick leaned an elbow on the counter and peered downrange to assess George’s lousy performance. “Do you have a report for me?”