Save Me

by Margaret Watson

  Quinn shook his head. "Too bad Cilla didn't educate you."

  He was trying to lighten things up. She appreciated that. But Livvy couldn’t tear her gaze away from the car behind them.

  They turned onto a busier street, and she lost sight of their tail. Quinn glanced in the rear view mirror too often as he drove. When he eased into the traffic on Lake Shore Drive, Livvy loosened her grip on the armrest. "Is he still following us?"

  "Can't see him, but he could be behind us. Hard to tell with this much traffic." He glanced at Livvy out of the corner of his eye. "You said you needed to talk to three guys. We'll bring the next one into the closest station."

  "Connor said he'd go with me tomorrow." Her gaze darted to the side mirror. The black car wasn't there.

  "Trust me, Livvy. Connor isn't taking you to the next guy's house. Not after I tell him about our visit today."

  "Maybe it was a coincidence. That the guy pulled out at the same time we did."

  "Yeah. Maybe it was. Maybe not." He glanced at her. "I'm calling everyone else. No one's taking you to the next guy's house, Livvy. Deal with it."

  She was crazy about the Donovans, but this was the downside of the close knit family. They stuck together like burrs on a shoelace. If Quinn told them not to take her on more visits, not one of them would do it.

  She didn't want to need them. She hated feeling weak. Not in control. After today, though, she knew she couldn't go alone. And Quinn was probably right. Going to the next guy's house, even with an escort, might not be the smartest move.

  She turned in her seat and studied the traffic behind her. Far behind them, she caught a glimpse of a black car with the same matte finish on the hood as the car that followed them from Freddie Sampson's.

  "He's still behind us."

  "He's not going to follow us into the station, Liv," Quinn said, focusing on the traffic ahead of them. "No way for him to figure out who you are. But I'll make sure I lose him before we get there."

  Quinn cut across traffic suddenly and veered onto an exit ramp. Livvy turned and watched behind them for a long time, but she didn't see the black car again.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. Yeah, maybe she wouldn't argue with Connor about bringing the next guy into the station tomorrow.

  * * *

  Ryan sprawled on his couch, his feet up on the ottoman, as he read through another case file. After meeting Marini, he'd spent the rest of the day with the files, and was about half-way through them.

  He swallowed the last bite of pizza and took a gulp of Goose 312 as he jotted down a note on his yellow pad. A lot of people he and Bates had talked to in the past year hadn't made it into the reports. Why hadn't he caught that?

  Because he'd been blinded by his trust for the man who'd become the closest thing he'd had to a father figure.

  Bates had seen that need in him. Used it to camouflage his crimes.

  God damn it, Anson. Why didn't I see what a bastard you were?

  What had he been thinking? How could he have missed all the signs? Yeah, Anson was careful, but Ryan had been pretty damn sloppy.

  He hadn't checked the reports after Anson wrote them up. Why would he? Anson was older than Ryan, had more experience. He knew how to write a report.

  He'd believed Bates' explanation when they'd gone somewhere unexpected, or followed a different trail in an investigation. Ryan had trusted Bates completely.

  Ryan had had his head up his ass.

  No more. He'd made a big mistake, but he was going to help fix it. He'd make sure Marini checked all the people who'd been left out of his reports. It would keep them busy.

  Working together.

  The wind had lifted strands of her hair off her shoulders that morning, as they sat on the patio at Garfield Park Conservatory. She'd tucked them behind her ear absent-mindedly as they'd talked, and his fingers had itched to do it for her. To slide his fingers through those wavy strands, see if they were as soft as they looked.

  See if her mouth was as soft as it looked.

  He was out of his mind.

  He didn't even like Marini.

  Right?

  He reached for his phone without thinking and pressed her contact. It rang three times before she answered. "Marini."

  "It's me. Ryan Ward," he added, feeling like an idiot. It's me was the kind of thing you said to your girlfriend. Or a close buddy. Someone who'd recognize your voice.

  "Hey, Ward," she said. She sounded breathless.

  "Did I interrupt something?" he asked, his mind going places it shouldn't.

  "Just out for a run." The wind howled through her phone, crackling and whistling. "What's up?"

  "I found more names omitted from reports," he said, shame closing his throat. He cleared it once. "I've gone back two years."

  The static-y noise stopped. She must have moved into a doorway. Or somewhere sheltered from the wind. Cupped her hand over her phone to hear him better. "You think this has gone on for a while?" Her voice was sharp. Excited. Like he'd just given her a gift.

  He hesitated, that instinct to protect a partner rising up again. Then he forced himself to continue. "Maybe. Probably." He looked down at the list of names he'd written. "Follows the same pattern as the first three. Drug cases. Low level guys. Maybe he was planning to recruit them? I have no idea, but it's a pattern."

  "I talked to Freddie Sampson today," she said. The wind began howling again. She must have started walking. "And before you ask, no. Not by myself. One of Brendan's brothers went with me."

  "Get any information?"

  There was a long pause. "Maybe." She cleared her throat. "Spooky neighborhood. Deserted. Sampson was home, though."

  He heard her swallow through the phone. Shot up in his chair. "What happened?" His voice was sharper than he'd intended. Because she'd been an idiot to go there. Not because he was scared for her.

  "Nothing happened." She swallowed again. "Quinn was with me. Sampson clammed up as soon as I mentioned Bates. We got nothing from him. But there was a guy in a car on the street."

  Thank God he'd made her take a cop with her. Her breath stuttered, and he gripped the phone more tightly. "Was it a silver car? Dirty?"

  "No, it was black." Her breath huffed out. "The hood had a matte finish. All I could tell about the driver was that he was male."

  "And?" There was more to the story. Or she wouldn't be breathing so hard. Swallowing so much.

  "He followed us. Onto the Drive. There was a lot of traffic. We didn't see him follow us off."

  'But he might have' hung in the air, taut as a bowstring. He could practically smell her fear wafting through the phone.

  "Where did Donovan drop you off?" he asked, careful to keep his voice casual.

  "At his station. I left my car there."

  Thank God. If the guy had followed them, seeing Donovan pull into a police lot should have scared him off.

  "Donovan brings the next guy into his station," he said, his voice gruff.

  "He already told me that. And I agreed." The wind began whistling through her phone. She'd started running again.

  "Okay. Maybe the Donovans are good for something after all." He heard the sound of feet hitting the pavement approaching Livvy, then fading away. "Where are you running?"

  "The lakefront path. Nice views, no traffic to worry about, people around."

  "That silver car I mentioned?" Ryan clenched his phone more tightly. "He followed me yesterday. After I left your office. You need to watch your six, Livvy.

  "And what kind of an idiot are you, anyway? Someone followed you today, and you're out running on the lakefront path?"

  Silence. "You're kind of freaking me out, Ward," she finally said. "It's only seven p.m., but it's dark as an elephant's butt hole out here."

  "Then maybe you should do your running at a gym." She'd be safer there than on a dark path along the lake.

  "Don't belong to one."

  "What?" Time to dial it down before he'd completely unnerved her. "
Can't afford it on the huge salary Swenson pays you?"

  "You got it." Her voice had lightened. "I spend that pile of money on fancy clothes and expensive shoes. Extravagant meals at swanky restaurants."

  "I can tell. I liked those fancy shoes you wore today." Were they flirting? God, no. He was trying to distract her.

  "Nothing like a good pair of Chucks." He heard her breathing. It was a little ragged. Rougher than usual.

  Because she was running, you jerk.

  "I'll take your word for it," he said, taking another pull from his beer. "I'm not into that hipster stuff."

  "Ha! Trying to shame me? Not going to work. I wore Chucks long before the hipsters claimed them."

  "That put me in my place." He swallowed. Yeah, they were flirting. So not a good idea. Even if he was just trying to take her mind off the black car that had followed her. "You carrying pepper spray?" he asked.

  "Of course. I always do."

  "How old is the canister you have?"

  "No idea. I've had it for a while. Never had to use it."

  "You need a new one." His mind flooded with images of her trying to use outdated pepper spray on an attacker. Some pissed-off guy would knock it away from her. Then knock…"I'll get one for you. I know the reliable brands."

  "I can pick it up myself," she said. "Just tell me what to get."

  He'd bet a million bucks she wouldn't get a new one. "No. I'm going to put it into your hand so I know you have it. I'll meet you at your office tomorrow."

  "I won't be there," she said. The wind wasn't blowing as hard through her phone. "I'm out of the office. Investigating. Maybe the next guy on the list will have something to say."

  You can investigate the hell out of me.

  She grunted once, as if she'd bent over.

  "You okay, Marini?"

  "Yeah. Just got home. Stretching."

  Thank God he'd kept her on the phone long enough to make sure she was safe. "Where are you meeting your Donovan escort tomorrow?"

  "Connor's station. The twenty-third."

  "What time are you supposed to be there?"

  "Ten."

  "I'll meet you there at nine-thirty with the pepper spray." He'd slide in and out before any confrontations with a Donovan.

  She paused for a split second. "Fine. See you tomorrow, Ward."

  His phone went dead. Maybe she was having second thoughts about the flirting, too.

  He set the phone down on the table next to the couch and took another drink of beer. He should be kicking himself for starting the flirting.

  Instead, anticipation rolled through him in a heavy wave. He tried to tamp it down, but it lingered as he finished his beer.

  Hung around long after he'd fallen asleep, in the form of sexy dreams about Livvy Marini.

  Chapter 5

  Livvy wrapped her fingers around the paper coffee cup and let it warm her fingers as she stepped into the twenty-third district station. It was cold for November in Chicago, and she'd forgotten her gloves. She'd been too focused on getting here. On meeting Connor and finding Jerry Williams.

  She rolled her eyes. Yeah, she wanted to talk to Williams, but that's not why she'd run out the door like her pants were on fire. She wanted to see Ryan. Ward. Get the pepper spray, and talk about what else he'd found.

  Recognizing her from yesterday, the desk sergeant looked up as cold air rushed into the warm lobby. He nodded. "Detective Donovan isn't here yet. Have a seat." He jerked his head toward the uncomfortable plastic chairs that lined the wall.

  "I'm meeting Detective Ward first," she said. "From the twenty-second district. Is there somewhere private we could talk?"

  The desk sergeant studied her for an uncomfortably long moment. Did he think it was more than a business meeting? Squaring her shoulders, she stared back at him. She didn't care what he thought.

  "Conference room upstairs," the sergeant finally said. "You can use that."

  As she lowered herself into the slippery, rigid chair, Ward's telephone conversation from the night before replayed itself in her head.

  Not for the first time.

  She thought he'd been flirting with her. Had she been flirting back?

  She didn't even like Ryan Ward. She was pretty sure he didn't like her. But their conversation last night? She sighed. If it walked like a duck and squawked like a duck…yeah. They'd been flirting.

  She'd be all business today.

  The door opened with another whoosh of cold air, and she looked up to see Ward walk into the station, coffee cup in his hand. Light blue. Letter D that looked like the @ symbol. He'd gotten his coffee from Della's. Just like she did.

  "Hey, Sarge," he said with a smile to the man behind the desk. "I'm Ryan Ward. From the twenty-second."

  Livvy was shocked at the way Ryan's smile transformed his face. That smile made him…approachable. Likeable. Damn attractive. The kind of guy a single woman might want to get to know better.

  "Right," the sergeant said. "Someone here for you. Behind you," he added, nodding at Livvy. "Told her you could use the conference room upstairs."

  "Thanks, Sarge," Ward said. He turned around and spotted her. "Hey, Marini."

  Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before Livvy could interpret it.

  He hadn't smiled at her, though.

  Calling herself every kind of fool, Livvy stood up and tried to look in control. Unaffected by his smile. "Hey yourself, Ward."

  She must not have succeeded. Ward's shoulders relaxed, his mouth softening. "Let's go upstairs."

  Livvy felt his gaze on her back as she walked up the stairs. It sent a shiver down her spine that she tried to ignore.

  When they reached the conference room, he pulled out a chair for her. Waited for her to sit, then slid into the one on the end of the table. If she moved, her knees would brush against his.

  Taking a deep breath, Livvy allowed herself to study Ward. His eyes were more unguarded than yesterday. Or the day before.

  God! Had he seen something besides professional interest in her gaze? Had sappy, too-interested Livvy made an appearance in the few seconds before she'd managed to slap on her impenetrable lawyer face?

  "Give me a minute," he said, lifting his coffee and gulping the hot liquid. He closed his eyes, as if savoring every last molecule of caffeine.

  "Late night last night?" she asked, watching as he downed another mouthful.

  Oh, God. What was wrong with her?

  Had she really asked him, in a roundabout way, if he'd had a date?

  Setting the coffee carefully on the wooden table, he wrapped his fingers around the paper cup. As if, like her, he needed to warm his hands. "Yeah. It was. After we talked, I finished going through our old cases. All the way back to the beginning."

  "Anything more?" She leaned closer across the table, stupidly relieved he'd been working instead of...Yeah. Not going there.

  "Same stuff. Names omitted." He took a deep breath. "It went back three years. Before that? Nothing."

  "What was going on right before it started?" she asked, gripping the cardboard cup hard and trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. "Did something change in his personal life? His professional life?"

  Ward's mouth tightened. "Nothing that would turn him into a crook. There was no tragic story of his wife or kids getting sick. No elderly parents who needed expensive, specialized care. No urgent need for cash. At least that I knew of."

  "Would you have been able to tell if there was something? Even if he'd been trying to hide it?"

  His fingers curled into a fist. Her gaze dropped to his hand, and he slid it off the table. "Partners spend eight or nine hours a day together. Sometimes more." His voice was flat. As if he'd locked that part of himself so far inside that it would never see the light of day again. "When we're in the car, we talk. A lot of the guys I know? They're closer to their partners than their wives. So, yeah. Anson might not have told me if he had personal problems, but I think I would have known something was of
f."

  Livvy frowned. "How can a guy who was a good cop suddenly turn into a crook? There must have been a trigger."

  "Yeah. Seems like there should have been." He shoved his fingers through his hair, and her gaze followed its trail. "I've been thinking about it since he was arrested, but I can't come up with a damn thing."

  He scowled into his coffee cup, as if the answers could be found in the dark brown depths. "Maybe it was nothing more complicated than seeing the dealers making handfuls of money and wanting a piece of it. I don't know, Livvy. I have no idea what made him turn."

  He'd called her Livvy. Not Marini. She swallowed as warmth slid through her. "You must have noticed something different," she said softly.

  He looked up at her again, and the combination of anger and sadness in his eyes made her want to reach across the table to him. She pressed her fingers hard to the table instead. "I want to know as badly as you do. I want to know why I didn't see it coming. How I missed all the signs. Trust me. If I knew, I'd tell you."

  "I believe you," she said. "I do. I just hoped that…that…"

  "That an explanation might help us find more information," he finished. "Yeah. Not going to happen."

  She stared at white knuckles and relaxed her hands, then took a deep breath. "Okay. Then we'll work with what we have."

  "Right." He glanced at his watch and his mouth thinned. "I'll give you the names later. I'm gonna take off. Your Donovan buddy will be waiting for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of pepper spray. "This is brand new. Strongest available."

  He dropped it into her palm, and his fingers brushed her skin. The sensation raced up her arm.

  He leaned closer, his blue eyes intense. "It will disable any attacker. And if you're going to run alone, you might need it."

  "Are you trying to scare me?" She sat up straight, trying to hide her fear. She refused to show any weakness.

  "Absolutely. Did I succeed?"

  She swallowed once. Again. "I'd be an idiot if I said no," she muttered.

  "Thank God you're not an idiot." He studied her for a long moment. "That running you do along the lakefront? Don't do it alone anymore," he finally said. "Get someone to go with you. Your boyfriend. Another friend. Someone from your neighborhood. There are too many places to hide along that lake shore path."