by Kylie Brant
“That looks like him coming,” she said quietly.
Cruz stared hard in the direction of her gaze. Valdez was sauntering down the sidewalk toward the pool hall they had just vacated. They waited a few seconds until he got closer, then Cruz said, “Jose Valdez?”
The man froze. His eyes darted between Cruz and Madeline. And when they started toward him, he turned and fled.
Cruz and Madeline took off in quick pursuit, but it was apparent that the man was familiar with the neighborhood. He dodged people and obstacles with ease and then darted down an alley.
Cruz reached the alley seconds later, Madeline slightly behind him. The narrow passageway was shadowy, and strewn with litter and boxes. Large Dumpsters hampered their view. Valdez could be hiding anywhere in the area, and Cruz felt a skitter of unease skate down his spine.
Suddenly he heard a loud report, and he reacted without thinking. “Get down!” he shouted to Madeline. Without further thinking, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the ground. He dropped down after her, covering her body with his own.
Another report sounded, and then another. But the echoes hadn’t faded before Cruz realized his mistake. Those noises weren’t coming from the alley, and they weren’t gunshots. A nearby car backfired once more before it continued on its way. His instincts had had him reacting to the danger of the situation, without stopping to think. He heard the sounds of footsteps running away and knew they belonged to Valdez. Without another word he picked himself up, hauled Madeline up by one elbow, then drew his gun and sprinted after Valdez.
She couldn’t have followed him if she’d wanted to. When he’d landed on top of her the wind had gone out of her with a suddenness that had left her, quite literally, breathless. She staggered over to the wall of a nearby building and gasped for air. Cruz was back before her lungs had drunk their fill. He reholstered his gun.
“Well, we lost him,” he said disgustedly. “And he knows we’re looking for him. Probably guessed we’re cops. Are you okay?” he asked, seeing Madeline was still having some difficulty breathing. He brushed at her camel-colored slacks, which were marked from her fall.
She pulled away and glared at him. “Would you mind telling me,” she demanded, her words interspersed with pauses to take deep breaths, “just what the hell… you thought you were doing?”
Chapter 7
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what was the point… of your big macho act a minute ago?”
He stared hard at her, noticing the flare of color across her cheeks. She hadn’t quite recovered from being hit with a hundred-eighty pound tackle, but from what he could discern, her flush was due more to anger than breathlessness.
“I’m sorry. I heard the car backfire, and it was so close…” He shrugged. “I reacted without thinking. I thought it was a gunshot.”
She glared at him. “So did I, at first, but that doesn’t answer my question. What the hell were you doing on top of me?”
He opened his mouth to answer, and then found that he couldn’t. His jaws snapped shut. Finally he muttered, “I don’t suppose you’d believe I tripped?”
Her gaze pierced him like a rapier. He studied the ground, feeling remarkably similar to how he’d felt when Sister Mary Joseph had caught him in some prank.
“No.” Her voice dripped with disdain, “I would not believe that you tripped. Admit it, Martinez, you were trying to protect me.”
It was obvious that she thought she was accusing him of the most heinous crime in the world. He knew there was no way he could weasel out of this one, so he raised his eyes and looked straight into hers. When in doubt, try bluffing. “Yeah, maybe. So what?”
She looked as though she was going to explode. “So what? I’m a trained police officer, Martinez, a detective with ten years’ experience on the force. I’m not in need of protection, not from you or from anybody else.”
“Look, I apologize, all right? I didn’t plan it, it just happened. Blame it on instincts.”
His words didn’t appear to mollify her. If anything, she became even more incensed. “Instincts? Well, I’m here to tell you, buddy, your instincts suck.”
Cruz felt his usually even temper begin to simmer. “Look, Madeline, why don’t we wait until you cool down before we do this, okay?”
She moved forward to stab him in the chest with one long, tapered finger. “No, not okay. We’re going to do this now. If you have a problem working with a woman, that’s tough. I’m not going to let you make it my problem, you got that?”
His eyes narrowed. “I do not,” he said with precise enunciation, “have a problem working with a woman. Your being a woman has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, no?” Disbelief colored her voice. “Tell me something. When you were partners with McLain, how many times did you dive on top of him when you thought you heard a gunshot?”
Silence reigned for a minute. Madeline saw the truth of her words written on his face, but he remained stubbornly quiet. “Look,” she continued, a little calmer, “you can’t do your job if you’re worried about me. And neither of us can do our jobs if you don’t trust my ability out here on the street. If that’s going to be a problem for you, you’d better let me know now.”
“It’s not,” he said finally.
She could feel most of her ire fade away. It was hard to maintain a resounding fury when the other person refused to argue. She became aware of how close they were standing to each other, and she took an unconscious step backward. “Well, good. As long as you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Because the next time we’re in danger, you have to think of me as your partner first. I don’t want your instincts turning me into a woman.”
“Forgive me for believing it could be possible,” he muttered, half turning away.
“What?” she demanded.
He turned back to her and said with exaggerated care, “I said that would be impossible, because I won’t let it happen again. Now, why don’t we get back to work and see if we can track down Valdez?”
Without a word they walked back to the car. They made their rounds again, to Valdez’s apartment, to his usual haunts, but there was no sign of him. By mutual agreement they decided to quit for the day. Neither of them was anxious to prolong their time together.
They separated in the parking lot of the district headquarters, Madeline getting into her car and Cruz striding into the building. He wound his way through the maze of desks until he came to his own, and dropped into his chair wearily. Wiping his hands over his face, he stared out over the top of his fingers unseeingly. The room was a welter of activity, with officers leaving for the day, and others reporting for duty. But the noise didn’t filter through his deep introspection. He sat silently brooding, staring into space. He didn’t notice the man standing next to his desk until a voice in his ear said, “Forget her. She’s not worth it.”
His head snapped around. “Oh, hi,” he said without enthusiasm.
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Whoever she is, she must be something to turn you into such a zombie. How come you haven’t gone home yet?”
Cruz ignored the second question, and scowled at the first. “What makes you so sure I’m thinking of a woman?”
Connor clapped him on the shoulder. “Because, pal, I know you. You don’t have to think so hard when it’s only a case that’s bothering you.”
His friend didn’t crack a smile. “Well, you’re wrong. I wasn’t thinking about a woman.”
“Oh?”
“I was thinking about Madeline Casey.”
“Ah.”
Cruz frowned at Connor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Connor seated himself on the edge of the desk. “Nothing. Just ‘ah.’” He paused for a moment, then asked curiously, “Care to tell me why Detective Casey doesn’t qualify as a female?”
“Because she doesn’t care to qualify,” Cruz told him sourly. “She made it very clear this afternoon that I was to thi
nk of her as a cop only, and not as a woman. And let me tell you, there are times that isn’t very damn hard,” he added.
“Don’t tell me. You hit on her.”
“I didn’t hit on her,” Cruz denied. A moment later he added reluctantly, “I dove on top of her.”
Connor sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“It wasn’t like that.” Cruz explained the events of the afternoon after they’d sighted Valdez and the argument he’d had with Madeline. Then he sank into silence once more.
“Well, she’s right, you know,” Connor said, stifling a chuckle. He’d have given a week’s pay to see the scene Cruz had just described. “You gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘cover your partner.’” He lost the struggle and guffawed out loud.
“Oh, you’re very funny,” Cruz noted. “A real riot.” A reluctant grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. A moment later he joined in the laughter.
“Anyway,” he said when they’d both recovered, “she really let me have it. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how her mind works.”
“She was right,” Connor said. “You can’t afford to worry about her. You have to believe that your partner can take care of herself. Why is that so difficult for you?”
“Oh, right, and you’re telling me that you wouldn’t have done the same thing,” Cruz scoffed. “C’mon, I know you better than that. When danger strikes, instinct takes over.”
“And your instincts had you diving to protect Madeline Casey,” Connor said slowly, very serious now. “Sounds like the lady gave you some good advice. You can’t afford to let yourself get sidetracked on the street. Concentrate on the case. And try to keep your distance from Casey. You’ll both be better off.”
Cruz waved desultorily as Connor took his leave. He mulled over his friend’s words. Connor’s warning didn’t surprise him. His friend didn’t trust easily, especially not women. It must have been the hand of fate that had brought Michele and him together. She’d melted the icy reserve that Connor guarded himself with. He grinned slightly as he remembered some of the sparks that had flown between the two before Connor had finally forgotten about being noble and given in to what he’d really wanted, a lifetime with Michele.
But his friend was way off base on this one. Cruz’s protective instincts had nothing to do with Madeline personally. He’d react the same way to any woman who was in danger. His thoughts drifting again, he propped his booted feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair. What was it about Madeline that kept distracting him?
Madeline considered not answering the doorbell when it rang the first time. It had been a long, frustrating day, and she definitely didn’t feel up to Ariel’s brand of wacky humor. But when it rang a third time, followed by a loud knocking, she rose to her feet. It couldn’t be Ariel; she would never stand out there that long. She’d have gone back to her apartment and gotten her key.
Irritated, she went to the peephole and looked out. A miniature Cruz Martinez was in her view, leaning, of course, against her doorbell, with a sack of groceries in one arm.
“C’mon, Madeline, I know you’re in there. I saw your car outside. Open up.”
She stood frozen on the other side of the door. What on earth was he doing here? He was the last person she wanted to see right now. Today had been a grueling one, in more than the usual sense. The episode in the alley was still too vivid, and much too embarrassing. She’d meant every word she’d said to him, but at the same time she’d been berating herself. For despite her very real anger that he’d tried to protect her from the dangers of her job, there lingered a pervasive warmth for the same reason. She groaned silently. The feel of his lean body on top of hers had not been entirely unpleasant. In fact, she wondered uncomfortably how much of her breathlessness had been caused by his weight, and how much from the intimate position. She cringed at the thought. She couldn’t afford to complicate things with this awareness of him. She didn’t want to be aware of him at all, at least not as a man
The knocking continued. Ignoring him obviously wasn’t working.
“C’mon, Madeline, honey, open the door. Don’t be mad. I’ve reconsidered. You can have my baby after all. Now that I’m getting used to the idea, I kind of like the idea of six or seven little Martinez babies of our own. We’ll have as many as you like.”
Her eyes flew open and her mouth dropped, aghast. His purposely loud voice was sure to carry up and down the hallway. Certainly she was having no trouble hearing him.
She unlocked the door and threw it open. “Will you please be quiet?” she implored in a loud whisper. “Are you trying to humiliate me?”
Cruz leaned against her doorjamb. “Hi.” His smile was lazy. “I didn’t think you were ever going to let me in.”
“You were right. I’m not. I just wanted to tell you to leave. Now.”
Before he could answer, Ariel’s door opened. Madeline’s heart plummeted.
“I was in the bathtub, or I’d have been out sooner. I couldn’t figure out what all the racket was, and-well, well, well.” She stopped her litany and walked slowly around Cruz, looking him up and down. She fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “What do we have here?”
Madeline looked wildly about for the floor to open up and swallow her. No such luck. Ariel was eying Cruz like a starving lioness at fresh prey, and he, darn him, was enjoying it. He grinned at her.
“I’ve got all my own teeth, too.”
“I’ll just bet you have,” Ariel cooed. “I’m Madeline’s friend Ariel. Maybe she’s told you, I’m very interested in natural herbs and their healing powers. I’d love to have you tell me about the wonder treatment you must have used to shed thirty pounds, shoot up a foot and grow hair.”
Cruz looked puzzled, Madeline desperate. She should have known that she would have to pay for telling Ariel those whoppers about her new partner. The need to shut her friend up won out over the need to get rid of Cruz. She grasped his arm and pulled him into her apartment. “Goodbye, Ariel,” she said as she swung the door closed.
“Nice meeting you, Ariel,” Cruz called with amusement.
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Martinez.”
He turned to look at Madeline. “Seems a little weird, but nice. How’d she know my name?”
“Thanks to your performance in the hallway, the entire apartment complex knows your name,” Madeline retorted. “You’ve been here only five minutes and already you’ve managed to disrupt my neighbors, ruin my reputation and embarrass me in front of my friend.” She glared at him. “Get a new hobby.”
His mouth quirked. “Gee, and I wasn’t even trying. Imagine what I could do if I really set my mind to it.”
“I shudder to think of it. You have to leave. Now.”
“Can’t,” he said cheerfully over his shoulder as he strode to her small kitchen and set the bag on the counter. “I came over tonight to fix you dinner, to apologize for this afternoon.”
“I already ate,” she fibbed.
“What did you have?” he shot back.
Madeline blinked. “Um, I had…” Her mind went blank. “Chicken,” she finished lamely.
“Liar.” He chuckled, unpacking the groceries and setting them about. “Now if you’d said something dripping in grease and full of cholesterol, I might have believed you.”
She gave up. “So I haven’t eaten, but I’m not going to eat with you. This isn’t necessary. Cruz!”
He was ignoring her as he opened packages, but looked up at his name. “Do you like stir fry?”
“I hate it.”
“You’ll like mine,” he said surely. He began opening cupboard doors. “Where do you keep your pans?”
Common sense said she needed to get this man out of her apartment. Self-preservation demanded that she put a great distance, preferably miles, between them. But from the looks of him, it would take an earthquake to move him. Madeline mentally calculated the chance of that particular natural disaster coming to her aid now. The odds didn’t look good.
She si
ghed and capitulated. “Pans are beneath the stove, silverware is in the top drawer and the fire extinguisher is on the wall.”
His eyebrows rose. “Why, Ms. Casey. That sounded very much like a sexist remark to me. Are you saying you doubt that I can cook?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
“I’ll have you know,” he said, his voice muffled as he squatted and rummaged through her cupboard, “that my culinary reputation is legendary.”
She could certainly imagine that something about his reputation was legendary, but somehow doubted that it had anything to do with his cooking ability. However, she wisely refrained from telling him that. She stood there, ill at ease watching as he deftly began to chop ingredients on her cutting board. Stubbornness warred with years of good manners. Manners won. “Would you like any help?”
He stifled a smile. Her tone belied the helpful words. She sounded decidedly out of sorts. Obviously she wasn’t used to finding herself on the sidelines while someone else barged in and took over. And that was exactly what he’d had to do, he admitted to himself cheerfully, to get into her apartment. He cast a glance at her. He much preferred to work alone when preparing a masterpiece, but from the looks of her, he’d be better off giving her something useful to do. Maybe it would improve her mood.
“There’s a bottle of wine in the sack. Why don’t you pour us a couple of glasses?”
That sounded like something she could handle. She obeyed, retrieving the bottle and reading the label curiously. Her eyebrows rose. Another example of his expensive taste, she noted. However, it raised her spirits somewhat. She loved that brand of white wine.
She removed the cork easily and poured some for each of them. She even went so far as to get a small wedge of cheese and a box of crackers from her cupboard and put them on a plate on the counter. If he was intent on coming into her apartment and feeding her, the least she could do was to be hospitable, she reasoned. Besides, she added silently as she sat on a stool across the counter from Cruz, the cheese and crackers might be the only edible items on the menu tonight.