Lawman from Her Past
Page 20
Flask Man’s watery brown eyes never left Gina’s. “We ain’t doin’ nothing illegal here, querida. We’re just a bunch of pals hangin’ out at a friend’s place.”
“It’s Officer Galvan to you.” She had to bite down on the urge to tell him in two languages exactly what kind of man he was. But she wasn’t about to give this patronizing lowlife the satisfaction of losing her temper. She was a cop. Proud of it. And this guy was about to get a lesson in understanding exactly who was in charge here. “Mr. Bismarck isn’t going to need a ride.” Potbelly #1 slammed his door and started the van’s engine. Gina smiled at Flask Man and pulled out her handcuffs. “Denny, is it? I’ve got plenty of room in the backseat for both you and good ol’ Gordy.” She moved toward him, dangling the cuffs in a taunt to emphasize her words. “How do impeding an officer in the performance of her duty, aiding and abetting a known criminal, public intoxication and operating a vehicle under the influence sound to you?”
“You can’t arrest me for all that.”
“I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you.” Derek stepped out of the way of the van as it backed out of the driveway and sped after the two men on motorcycles. “Not with her.”
Gina was close enough to see Flask Man’s nostrils flaring with rage. “Handcuffs or goodbye?”
“I don’t like a woman telling me what to do,” he muttered, striding toward his bike. “Especially one like you.” Once he was astraddle, he revved the engine, yelling something at Derek that sounded a lot like a warning to keep his woman in check. The roar of the bike’s motor drowned out his last parting threat as he raced down the street, but Gina was pretty sure it had something to do with her parentage and how their next meeting would have a very different ending.
“Make sure they stay gone,” Gina said, hooking her cuffs back onto her belt and running to the front door. She opened the glass storm door and knocked against the inside door. “KCPD!” she announced. The woman screamed, and the man yelled all kinds of vile curses. “Vicki Bismarck, are you all right? This is the police, answering a call to this address. I’m coming inside.”
Twenty minutes later, Gina and Derek had Gordon Bismarck and his former wife, Vicki, separated into two rooms of their tiny, trashed home. Gina had bagged the box cutter Gordon had dropped when she’d pulled her gun and blinked her watery eyes at the stench of alcohol, vomit and sweat coming off Gordon’s body. Either Gordy and his buddies had been beefing up their courage for this confrontation or they’d partied hard and gotten stupid enough to think violating a restraining order was a good idea.
Although the slurred epithets were still flying from the living room where Derek had taken Gordon to put a winter coat on over his undershirt, and Vicki was bawling in the kitchen while Gina tried to assess the woman’s injuries, Gina was already wrapping up this case in her head. Even if Vicki refused to press charges, she could book Gordon on breaking and entering, violating his restraining order and public intoxication—all of which should keep him out of Vicki’s life long enough for her to get the help she needed. If she’d ask for it. Clearly, this wasn’t the Bismarcks’ first rodeo with KCPD. That probably explained why Gordon had brought his friends.
Although she hadn’t noted any stab wounds on Vicki, the woman was cradling her left arm as if it had been yanked or twisted hard enough to do some internal damage. Gina glanced around at the slashed curtains and overturned chairs in the kitchen, her gaze landing on the shattered cell phone in the corner that had been crushed beneath a boot or hurled across the room. Clearly, there’d been a substantial altercation here.
Gina righted one of the chairs and urged the skinny woman to sit. “Will you let me look at that arm?” Gina asked, tearing off a fresh paper towel for the woman to dab at her tears. When Vicki nodded, Gina knelt beside her. Bruise marks that fit the span of a man’s hand were already turning purple around her elbow. But there didn’t seem to be any apparent deformity suggesting a broken bone. Didn’t mean it hadn’t been twisted savagely, spraining muscles and tendons. Gina pushed to her feet and headed toward the refrigerator-freezer. “An ice pack should help with the swelling.”
She heard a crash from the living room and spun around as Derek cursed. “Gina—heads up!”
“Are you turnin’ me in, you bitch? My boys are gonna kill you!”
“Gordy!” Vicki screamed as Gordon charged into the kitchen.
Copyright © 2018 by Julie Miller
ISBN-13: 9781488033087
Lawman from Her Past
Copyright © 2018 by Delores Fossen
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