Where Loyalties Lie (MidKnight Blue Book 3)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Midnight looked at her hand, then back at him. “I guess I did.” She shrugged. “Is there some law about having to wear a wedding ring in order to be considered legally married? Wearing one certainly doesn’t necessarily keep the wearer honest, now, does it?” Her barb struck home—Rick immediately looked contrite. As she saw his face change, Midnight raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what she didn’t know but not willing to ask.

  “You can be such a bitch sometimes, can’t you?” Rick said. He immediately turned away, his face drawn and angry. A moment later he pulled back onto the road, and they continued the ride in silence.

  At the office, a couple of the senior most members of FORS stopped what they were doing and stared at Midnight when she walked in. The whole team regarded Midnight with a high degree of respect, which she worked hard to earn with each of them. One of them, a very large Samoan named Tiny who had a crush on her that went way back, almost tripped over himself when he walked by. He, too, stopped and stared at her.

  “Alright, guys,” Midnight said, holding up one hand in a stop gesture. “Nothin’ to see here, show’s over, go on about your business,” she recited, like a street cop at a crime scene. A mild chuckle made its way through the room as Midnight walked to her office. Rick started toward his cubicle but was stopped by Spider, who had been with FORS from almost the beginning.

  “You’re lettin’ her go out of town lookin’ like that?” Spider asked, elbowing Rick companionably.

  Rick looked at the other man for a moment. He knew he was joking, but it still bothered him that his wife received such attention from other men. Finally he sighed dramatically. “Do I have a choice?”

  Spider laughed, shaking his head. “Not likely.” He cuffed Rick on the shoulder before walking away. “Later, man.”

  Rick sat down at his desk and looked at the paperwork there. He was working on a case with a new member of FORS, a young Mexican man who was still in the chip-on-the-shoulder phase, always trying to prove how “bad” he was. Rick liked the kid, but he knew there was going to come a time when the youth would have to face the music and realize that being the number one gangster wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. His name was Manuel—everyone called him Manny. Just as Rick was wondering where Manny was, in he walked. The kid had a knack for showing up at just the right time.

  “Hey, gringo,” Manny said. His tone was friendly, his Mexican accent purposely thick. He leaned against Rick’s desk. “Midnight es muy caliente today, eh?” he said, shaking his hand as if it had been burned. He eyed Rick carefully, waiting for his reaction.

  Rick didn’t fail him, scowling at the younger man. “Back off, Manny,” he said, low and threatening. It wasn’t that Rick thought Manny would make any sort of play for Midnight, and even if the kid did, Midnight would just laugh; at seventeen, Manny was about thirteen years her junior. But Manny knew Rick hated guys drooling and making sexual comments about her, which was why he had done it.

  “Hey, man,” Manny said, leering, enjoying the game he was playing. “I can’t help it, she’s smokin’.”

  Rick nodded tightly. “Yeah, she is—and she’s mine, so drop it.” It was not a request; it was a barely veiled threat, and Manny took the cue to back off. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the Englishman, he told himself, but he had to work with the guy if he was staying in the unit.

  Manny shrugged, holding up his hands defensively. “Okay, man. Jeez, can’t a homeboy mess with you?”

  “Not today,” Rick said simply.

  Manny and Rick worked through most of the morning, collating what they knew about a gang called the B Boys. Before Rick knew it, Midnight was standing at the entry to his cubicle. He looked at her, then at his watch.

  “Shit,” he muttered. They should have left about fifteen minutes ago. “I gotta go for a while, Manny.” He stood and pulled his jean jacket off the back of his chair, sliding his gun in the shoulder holster and verifying that he had his badge clipped to his belt. “I’ll be back,” he said, then held out his hand to Midnight in a “you first” gesture.

  Midnight led, walking by Joe’s office. She stuck her head inside and saw that Joe was on the phone. He looked up at her, rolling his eyes to indicate the person he was talking to was driving him crazy.

  “Call me if you need me,” she said. Joe nodded.

  Midnight continued toward the elevators, getting stopped a couple of times along the way to sign this or that. Eventually they made it down and out of the building. Once outside, it was obvious a storm was on its way. The clouds had moved in and the breeze was kicking up. Midnight found herself shivering as they walked into the parking garage. Rick automatically took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. She slipped her arms in the sleeves as Rick put his arm around her, pulling her close. Midnight could smell his cologne, and realized how good it felt to have him so close again.

  In the car, Rick and Midnight reached for the heater at the same time, and both laughed. Midnight gave way and let him turn the unit on. When their hands had touched, Rick had noticed how cold hers was, so once the heater was on he reached over and took her hand in his. They drove to the airport in an almost companionable silence. Once parked in the short-term lot, Rick turned to his wife.

  “Night,” he began, “don’t go to Sacramento. Call them and cancel. Tell them whatever, just don’t go.” She started to shake her head, and he rushed on. “We could go somewhere, maybe a vacation or something. Maybe Hawaii, like Joe and Randy, maybe somewhere else. Just, please, don’t go…” He trailed off as he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. He thought at first she was going to cry, but then he noticed the set to her jaw and realized she was mad.

  “Goddamn it,” she said, her voice a mixture of hurt and anger. “You have to do this now, don’t you? You wouldn’t talk to me for a whole week and a half, but now that I’m leaving you want to beg me to stay. It’s bullshit, Rick. I can’t play these games with you.”

  “What games?” Rick replied angrily.

  “This bullshit with staying out half the goddamned night and coming home half-crocked, and you don’t even have the decency to fucking apologize. And now this?”

  “What, this?” Rick said harshly. “I asked you to stay here with me and your daughter, and I’d say it takes a pretty screwed-up person to try to turn it around on me.”

  Midnight looked at him for a long moment, shaking her head almost sadly. “And I’d say it takes a pretty screwed-up person to use a child and what you call love as a weapon.” She got out of the car and used her keys to open the trunk, pulling out her small valise and garment bag as well as a leather satchel-type briefcase. She still didn’t carry a purse—she never had.

  Rick sat in the car, fuming over what she had said. Slamming the trunk, Midnight turned and walked into the terminal without looking back.

  Rick stared after her for a few minutes, feeling angry and lost at the same time. He knew what he had done hadn’t been fair, but to his way of thinking, if Midnight really wanted to end all the fighting, she wouldn’t have gone. He started the engine with a roar and jammed the car into reverse. Cussing under his breath, he drove back to the office.

  Chapter 6

  Midnight walked straight to the airline desk. She pulled her ticket and a letter out of her briefcase and presented them to the woman behind the counter. The woman looked at the ticket and then the letter, then up at Midnight. “Excuse me, ma’am, but what is this, exactly?”

  Midnight stared at her for a moment, trying to overcome her irritation at Rick and trying valiantly not to take it out on this obviously inexperienced young woman. “It’s what is called a gun letter.” Midnight paused to see if she would assimilate that, and when the woman looked at her blankly, Midnight unclipped her badge and showed it to her. “I am a San Diego Police officer, and as a full-time peace officer I am on duty twenty-four hours a day and required to carry my firearm at all times. This letter verifies this information and gives your security office the information about my f
lights.”

  The woman glanced at the letter again, then looked at Midnight with renewed respect.

  “Okay, ma’am, thank you for explaining that to me. I’ll call the security unit and inform them, and I’m sure you’ll need to show them the letter.” She looked at Midnight for confirmation. Midnight nodded, smiling at her.

  “I wouldn’t let her on the plane,” said a male voice from behind Midnight. She turned and smiled immediately.

  “Griff!” she exclaimed as the man grabbed her in a hug.

  “How the hell have you been?” he asked, releasing her.

  Phil Griffin was a man Midnight had come to see as one of her closest friends. Phil, or Griff, was the Special Agent in Charge of the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement’s San Diego office. She had met him when one of her members solicited BNE’s assistance on a case.

  “I’m okay,” she said, taking her ticket and gun letter from the young lady, who had by now stamped the appropriate sections. Griff moved up to the counter and handed over his own ticket and letter. She looked at the letter, then at Midnight, and smiled. Midnight laughed.

  “So where’re you headed?” she asked.

  “Same place you are,” he said slyly.

  “What? You’re going to Sacramento too?”

  “Yep.”

  “For?”

  “For the same meeting you are.” His grin widened.

  “You jerk!” She punched his arm. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Griff shook his head. “Why did my wife divorce me?”

  “’Cause you never called!” They’d said the same thing to each other a million times over the last year, since his divorce.

  “I really meant to, to see if you had a ride, but obviously you did…” He trailed off as he saw the expression on Midnight’s face. “What?”

  Midnight shook her head. “I’ll tell ya later. We better hurry up, the plane boards in about five minutes.” Neither of them noticed the young woman watching them. She was thinking what a handsome couple they made. Griff was a tall, well-built man in his mid-forties. His hair was salt and pepper, and he had a silver mustache and sky blue eyes that twinkled good-naturedly.

  Together they hurried to the plane. Since they were allowed to board first because of their law enforcement status, they were able to get seats together. They chatted amiably throughout the hour and twenty minute flight. Griff did not ask her about her ride to the airport, and Midnight didn’t really want to get into it.

  “So where are you staying?” Griff asked.

  “The Clarion,” Midnight said. Griff grimaced. “What?” she asked, laughing.

  “Oh, nothing, if you like that type of neighborhood…” He trailed off dramatically.

  “What’s wrong with the neighborhood?”

  “Nothing, about twenty years ago.”

  “Alright, smart ass, whaddya know?” She elbowed him in the ribs.

  Griff laughed, shrugging.

  The people sitting nearby glanced at them, assuming they were a couple; they seemed to be so close, and getting along so well. The stewardess had her eye on Griff nonetheless.

  They continued to chat, deciding that Midnight would drive Griff to their meeting then over to his hotel, the Radisson, and also see if they had any rooms available. With a number of anecdotes, he had managed to demonstrate to her that downtown was still not exactly the safest place in San Diego, even though the Clarion was right across from the governor’s mansion.

  After they landed, they headed to the luggage carousel. “That’s all you brought?” Griff said after securing her bags.

  “How much do you think I’ll need for a five-day stay?”

  “More than that!” He shook his head.

  “Jeans don’t take up much space, and I only brought one other black-tie outfit.”

  “Just tell me,” Griff said, sounding like an obscene caller, “how many pairs of shoes did you bring?”

  Midnight laughed, and put on her breathiest Marilyn Monroe voice. “This pair, and one more.”

  “Ooooh!” Griff said, shivering.

  They broke into laughter, and again, everyone around them noticed.

  Once they had retrieved Griff’s luggage, they headed outside. A black ninety-seven Maserati pulled up just as they reached the curb. A young man hopped out.

  “Lieutenant?” he said.

  Midnight smiled and nodded. “How’d you know?”

  He smiled shyly. “Well, you look a lot like you sounded on the phone.”

  Griff burst into laughter. Midnight shoved him, and he laughed harder. “It’s true,” he said to the blushing youth.

  Midnight walked around to the young man, thanking him as he handed her the keys. “Do I need to drop you somewhere?” she asked.

  “Much as I’d like that, I get picked up here.” He smiled at her again, and Midnight grinned. She glanced at Griff, who was barely containing his laughter.

  “And you,” Midnight said, pointing dramatically at Griff, “better be good, or I’ll leave you here to hitchhike to the AG’s office!”

  Griff held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!”

  “Thanks again,” she said to the young man.

  “Anytime.”

  Griff and Midnight—mostly Griff—loaded their luggage into the trunk of the sports car and drove off toward downtown. Griff looked around the car in appreciation.

  “Gotta hand it to ya, Night, you sure know how to travel in style. Leather seats, CD player, cell phone, power, everything—probably even a turbo boost for the engine.”

  Midnight glanced around the vehicle, then shrugged. “Gotta do somethin’ with that platinum card they gave me.”

  “They who?” Griff asked. “And can they get me one too?”

  Midnight waved his envy away. “Some credit card company, schmoozing up to Rick to spend his trust fund with their great card.”

  “Poor baby.” Griff clicked his tongue. “Must be rough.”

  Midnight rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah.”

  A few minutes later they drove into the parking garage for the Attorney General’s new offices. Griff showed his ID at the front guard shack and signed Midnight in. The security officer at the desk handed Midnight a green badge that identified her as a sworn peace officer and gave her access to the entire building. They went up to the thirteenth floor and checked in with the receptionist. A few minutes later an agent came out to meet them.

  “Mike Green,” he said, shaking Midnight’s hand, then reached out to take Griff’s as well. He looked back at Midnight. “I’m the Special Agent in Charge at the Sacramento regional office. If you’d come this way, the rest of our group is already here.”

  Green led them to a nearby conference room, and Midnight assessed him as she followed. She had noted a certain look in the SAC’s eyes, one she’d seen many times before. It told her this man didn’t have a particularly high opinion of women. Midnight hoped she could change his mind.

  Walking into the room, Midnight immediately realized there were a lot more people at this meeting than she had expected.

  “I’m sorry,” said a handsome older man, who had stood as she entered. “We, ah, ended up with a few other interested parties. Please let me introduce you. First of all, I’m John Davies, Chief of the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement, and…” He continued around the table, naming each person. There were three police chiefs from local agencies, and two sheriffs as well as an undersheriff. From BNE was the head of their aviation unit—a classic Red Baron type—a Special Agent Supervisor from a local task force, and the Special Agent in Charge of the Violence Suppression unit. There were also two members of the Bureau of Investigation, the chief and his assistant chief. Midnight was the only woman in the whole group, but she was used to that.

  The meeting began with Midnight telling the men what her unit was about.

  “So you actually employ gang members?” the SAC of the Violence Suppression unit asked.

  “Yes, and a lot of times leaders too.”
/>
  “How do you know that they’re straight?” asked the BI chief.

  “We check them out, and most of the time we don’t recruit anyone we don’t know.”

  “Do you give these people badges?” Mike Green asked, his voice betraying his lack of respect for her accomplishments.

  “No,” Midnight said, looking the man square in the eye. “I’m a cop, not an idiot.” Her stare said, “Unlike you.” She caught Griff’s eye, and he nodded imperceptibly, his eyes twinkling. “Sometimes,” she continued, looking around the table, “I recommend members for the academy, but if they’re accepted they go through extensive backgrounds first.”

  The men nodded, murmuring to each other. Griff raised his eyebrows at Midnight, his lips twisting in a grin.

  “So what are you looking for in this?” the VSU SAC asked.

  “Well,” Midnight said, leaning back in her chair, “I need some local support from your San Diego office, as well as some aviation support from your air wing.”

  “And what do we get out of the deal?” Mike Green put in, not willing to be one-upped by a woman.

  “House on the beach?” Midnight said, keeping a totally straight face. There was silence for a moment, then she smiled and the rest of the room started to laugh. Some of the men even applauded. “Seriously, gentlemen, I can offer you my vast resources of information on your run-of-the-mill gang member, usually leading to a ring of anything from drug dealers to arms salesmen, who usually just happen to be on parole.” Her expression was very serious. “Basically covers most of you.”

  “What about personnel resources?” the BI AC asked.

  “I can provide you with some of the best-trained CIs you’ll ever need. My people can get you just about any information on any local gang. You can also trust them to handle any buy or reverse you want to try.”

  Again they all nodded to each other. The door to the conference room opened and the Attorney General himself stepped in. All of the men as well as Midnight stood. He immediately gestured for them to sit down, then walked over to Midnight with an outstretched hand. Midnight shook it.