by Lee Taylor
Sam smiled at the obvious lie and nodded, then turned to head to the showers.
Nate caught up with him.
“Not so fast, Sam. First off, thanks. I’m not used to having to reach inside—nice to have genuine competition. Tell me about yourself. Which branch are you?”
Sam didn’t ask him how he knew he was Special Forces, simply answered, “Delta. You Ranger?”
Nate nodded in confirmation. “Where did you train?”
“I was a master MAC trainer at Benning.”
Nate put up in hands in mock defeat. “Hell, no wonder you’ve got better technique than I’ve ever been up against. Shows in your discipline. Me, I couldn’t handle the regimen. Too much of a rule breaker. Plus I spent time in the Philippines which made me persona non grata in MAC training.”
Sam threw him an admiring glance. “Thought I recognized some Eskrima moves. Sure hate to meet you in an alley. What knife do you carry?”
Nate frowned, “The basics. Don’t go very many places without a balisong.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Although in a pinch I’ve resorted to box cutters, screwdrivers and on more than one occasion, a broken whisky bottle.”
At that moment Dan Coulter came around the corner, an anxious frown pinching his worried face.
“Damn, Nate. Been looking for you. Eric’s been trying to reach you. Thinks he’s found a savvy enough accountant to serve our purposes, and Doc’s pinned the time of death. And buddy, the Chief’s been poking his head in every office door. Said to tell Stryker to get his ass over to his office… PDQ.”
“Comin’, Dan. Give me five minutes in the shower and I’ll be right out. And if you see the Chief, tell him he’s third on my list. I’ll get there when I can.”
Nate turned to introduce Sam but the locker room door closed on the tall man’s back before he could. He shrugged. Strange guy. Obviously protective. Probably comes from being the only black guy in a lily white room. But shit, he must realize that being Delta Force allows you to be purple with green stripes, and two-hundred-pound men will go down on their knees and beg to kiss your ass in admiration.
Chapter 7
“Stryker!”
The Chief’s trademark bellow echoed down the hallway. Nate turned with a grin.
“Been looking for you, Chief.”
The tall man strode toward him, his stern expression and the deep furrow between his brows told him that as usual the Chief was hovering between annoyance and fury with him.
“The hell you have, Stryker. If you had been, you would have found me since I’ve been chasing you since 5:30 this morning. Don’t you ever answer your fucking phone?”
Nate winked at him. “Hell, Chief, that’s what caller I.D. is for.”
The Chief made an effort to suppress his smile but gave up.
“Damn, Nate, I need to talk to you. Privately.”
Nate frowned.
“Problem?”
Rather than responding, Chief Roberts glanced in the doorway of the conference room then motioned to Nate to follow him into the empty room.
“Let’s go in here, Nate.”
Nate followed his mentor into the conference room, knowing full well what he wanted to talk to him about. He’d listened to the Chief’s escalating messages and knew that a face to face was the only way to deal with the brusque man. Chief John Roberts was the single most important man in Nate’s life. As a young police detective, Roberts had kept a talented kid from falling off the ledge between good and bad. He’d turned the hooky playing, small-time thief and big-time hoodlum into a college all-star basketball player. It was the Chief who convinced him to join the U.S. Army, and the Chief who inspired Nate to follow his path into special operations. Nate more than surpassed his mentor’s aspirations when he became a Ranger team leader. Then to the Chief’s chagrin, Nate had insisted on coming back home to his job as a cop. He could have had a job anywhere in the country, but the draw of the harsh winters and glorious summers and falls drew Nate back to Northern Minnesota, and not incidentally to the police force that Chief Roberts headed. When the Chief insisted that Nate could be Chief on any force in the country, Nate just grinned his cocky smile and told him, someone needed to be groomed for the Chief’s job. May as well be him.
Closing the door behind them, neither man bothered to sit. The energy in the room was electric.
The Chief pinned Nate with a hard glare.
“Be straight with me, Nate. Are you okay?”
Nate sighed in mock dismay. “Hell, Chief, the last time I wasn’t straight with you I was fourteen years old and you made me clean your fucking brick sidewalk with a toothbrush. Damn, after living with you, Ranger training was a church picnic!”
The Chief’s eyes momentarily twinkled at the memory then his frown quickly deepened.
“Look, Nate. Let’s cut through the bullshit. Peterson’s murder is going to be the biggest fucking case we have in decades, if not centuries. I’ve already had calls from CNN for fuck’s sake, along with every Minnesota television station. They all want to interview me. When they find out that the golden boy, Nate Stryker, is leading the case, we’re gonna be overrun by reporters.”
Nate turned away running his hands distractedly through his hair, then huffed in disgust, “Don’t suppose those reporters were tipped off by a certain blonde former lingerie model? Or her press assistant?”
Chief Roberts gave an audible sigh.
“Nate, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the press or anything else on this case. I’m only concerned about you. I know how bad Laura hurt you and now to be thrown—”
Nate put up his hands stopping him.
“Chief, listen to me. As I said in my call to you at 3 a.m. this morning, I’m fine. It is the same thing I’ve said to Erin, to my worrying cousin, ConnorfuckingFreud, to Dan and everyone else who’s asked. I repeat, ‘I’m fine!’”
The Chief’s face darkened.
“You and I both know the potential damage that woman could cause. She’s vicious, Nate. Hell I wouldn’t put it past her to go after you again now that she’s got what she wanted from poor dumb Mike Peterson. She’d never believe that you aren’t secretly still in love with her.”
Remembering Laura throwing herself on him in the middle of her ‘hysteria,’ Nate turned to avoid the Chief’s probing gaze. Damn, Chief Roberts knew him better than anyone except Connor, his cousin Luke, and now Erin. But the Chief knew best how cut up Nate had been by his ex-wife’s betrayal. When the Chief brought Nate home after three months in a German hospital where he should have died, the brusque man had been the only one to breech Nate’s protective wall of anger and grief. It was the first and last time in his life that Nate had cried. And he’d shed those tears over Laura with the big man’s arm around his shoulders. Neither one of them ever spoke of the incident again. But the memory was real and they both could call it up at a moment’s notice.
Nate met the Chief’s troubled gaze.
“Honest to God, I’m okay. If I’m ever not, you will be the first to know. I promise you that.”
The Chief sighed and then grimaced. “I’ve got your back, Son. And don’t you forget it.”
Nate nodded. “Thanks, Chief. I know you do. And I appreciate it. And, Chief, so do Connor and Dan and others. And don’t forget, for some strange reason the most beautiful woman in the world—a good woman, Chief—is crazy in love with me. And no one, not even Laura, is gonna take that away from me.”
Relief flooded the older man’s face.
“You’re right about that, Nate. Erin is the difference this time around. Just make sure that Laura, the Demon’s spawn, doesn’t take after Erin when she finds out you are in love with another woman.”
Once again, Nate looked away, not wanting the Chief to see that he also was concerned about that very thing. To his relief, the Chief changed the subject.
“Nate, I have to ask you for a favor.”
Nate whirled around in disbelief.
“Damn. Since when did you as
k me for anything? It’s always been ‘Stryker, do this,’ ‘do that, or I’ll eat your ass.’ Don’t tell me you’re gonna start going soft on me, Chief? Hell, I wouldn’t know how to respond.”
The Chief grimaced again. “It’s like this, Nate. You know Roscoe James, the Police Commissioner in LA County. We go way back. Roscoe was with me and Halloran in ‘Nam. This is the first time in all these years he’s called on me for help.”
Nate frowned. “What’s it got to do with me?”
Roberts sighed. “Let me cut to the chase. They have a guy they’re grooming for a big role in the LAPD. Leadership. You know the gig, how it goes. Who you know counts a lot in those big departments. The guy is already a superstar in his own right. But Roscoe wanted to give him a sense of what it’s like to head up a smaller department.”
Nate groaned and interrupted. “Oh Christ, don’t tell me. Some Senator’s son wants to be police chief so all the lackeys in the department are pokin’ their asses in the air to show what suck-ups they can be. And now they want the precocious prick to see how the other half lives. What the poh-leese in the piss-poor towns do? Jesus, Chief!”
Chief Roberts shook his head. “You don’t have to believe it, Nate, but Roscoe wanted this guy to see you in action. To see what a real leader does in the field. You know damn well every department in the country is after you. Apparently this guy knows that and asked Roscoe if he could arrange a ‘sabbatical’ of sorts for him. To spend a couple of months working with you.”
Nate sighed and shook his head in disgust. “And now in the middle of what you just said is the biggest case we’re likely to have in a decade—no, the century—you want me to have a snot nosed little sycophant, follow me around to see how the men with the big dicks do it?”
Chief Roberts shrugged. “Roscoe asked me for a favor, and so I’m asking you. Besides, it’s only for two months and the guy seems genuine enough. Look Nate, he’s waiting for us in my office. If after an hour or so, you don’t think it’ll work, fine. I’ll tell Roscoe given everything else going on, this isn’t something we can do at this time. It’s your call.”
Nate snorted, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Right. Like I’ve ever NOT done what you asked me to do in twenty-two fucking years!”
The Chief barked in mock anger. “What the hell are you talking about, Nate? How many times have I told you to get your fucking hair cut?!”
Running his hands through his hair that brushed against his collar, Nate smiled at him and repeated his time honored response, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
~~~
Nate followed Chief Roberts into his office and saw the back of a tall man sitting in one of the chairs in front of the Chief’s desk, apparently texting on his smart phone. When he heard them come in the man uncoiled himself from the chair, turned and nodded to them.
Nate barked out a rough laugh and huffed, “You’ve gotta be kidding!”
At Chief Roberts’ frown, Nate shook his head. “Relax Chief, I’m not dissing the black guy. Sam and I have already met.”
Sam smiled at the Chief to reassure him.
“Detective Stryker is correct, Chief Roberts. We had an opportunity to meet earlier.”
Nate guffawed. “Yeah, and the fucker came as close as anyone has to schooling me in the ring. Fortunately for him, I didn’t have to bring out my Brazilian Jiu Jitsu or it’s likely he’d be asking for a return flight to LA.”
Sam merely shrugged and gave him a slight bow. “Perhaps we can discuss that later, Detective.”
Nate grinned, but his flashing green eyes indicated he was less than amused.
“Yeah, that’s who I am, Sam. Just as I introduced myself to you earlier. Now if you would be kind enough to return the favor. Who the hell are you? What do I call you? Captain? Commander? Son of the Virgin Mary? Batman?”
Sam replied quietly, “My current rank is Commander.”
Nate gave a derisive snort. “Impressive, Sam. A Commander? At what age? What are you 28, 30?”
“No, you and I are the same age, Nate. We’re both thirty-six.”
Nate raked his eyes over the tall distinguished man dressed in a casual suit that likely cost what Nate made in two month’s pay.
“I’m surprised you didn’t become a lawyer. You could have made a hell of a lot more money.”
Sam shrugged. “I did—become a lawyer that is.”
Nate huffed. “Then you decided that as a black man, even someone with your connections, you should hang out with the riff raff on occasion? Get some street cred? So you became a cop?”
The Chief audibly sighed in the background.
Sam replied calmly. “Yes to both of your insulting questions. And because, I wanted a job where I could carry a gun. To take out badasses, whether they’re in the gangs or in the upper ranks of the police force.”
Nate couldn’t suppress the chuckle that rose in his throat.
“Damn, Carter. You better watch your six. I could start likin’ you if you’re not careful.”
Nate stepped back and shoved his hands in his jeans. Holding Sam’s gaze, he gave him an ironic grin.
“By the way, which Senator?”
Sam frowned, “I beg your pardon?”
“Which senator is your father? Or your uncle? Or your long-lost godfather?”
Sam looked puzzled, then a flash of understanding crossed his face. He put up his hand in concession. “Neither my father nor any of my uncles is a senator.”
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“However, my father is the Chief Justice of the California Supreme Court.”
Chapter 8
“Fuck! Is this what it’s been like all morning?”
Dan gave an aggrieved sigh. “It’s a fucking circus, Nate. Since 6 a.m. this morning. It’s a damn good thing we got the body out before the press vultures arrived. Hell, they probably would have insisted on seeing it and ripped it out of the body bag. Freedom of the press and all that shit! I had to put on a full contingent of officers just to maintain the perimeter.”
Nate turned to Sam Carter who was sitting in the back of Dan’s cruiser and shot him an ironic grin.
“So the big L.A. hotshot wants to see how the police work in small town USA? Welcome to ChicadiafuckingFalls, Sam.”
Sam grinned. “Have to say I’m impressed. We couldn’t turn out a crowd like this for Paris Hilton.”
Nate didn’t try to hide his disgust.
“This is about as close as you’re gonna get to Paris Hilton in our little burg—or all of Minnesota. I don’t think ‘His Royal Badness’ could generate this kind of attention. At least Prince pretends to be a reclusive. You’ll never meet a bigger camera whore than Laura Peterson. Even in L.A. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t try to use her husband’s death to get that movie contract she’s been after for the last five years.”
As Dan swerved to avoid the reporters and camera men huddled three deep at the entrance to the estate, Sam craned his head to see past the press trucks.
“Who is she? I don’t get it. And who notified the press?”
Nate groaned silently. How do you sum up Laura to someone who’s never met her? Christ, even knowing her as well as he did it was hard to describe the woman who’d turned his life to shit. He corrected himself. Who had once made his life hell. Before Erin. He kept his voice neutral, let Sam come to his own conclusions.
“She’s a former lingerie model. If you’re used to jacking off to their Christmas covers like 90% of the men in the world, you’ll probably recognize her.”
Sam whistled. “Don’t tell me, bro, that ‘Laura’ is the Laura Chambers. Damn, she’s known even in the big city of L.A.”
Nate sniffed and parked his Oakley polarized sunglasses on the top of his head. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. We know her as Laura Chumpter. She changed her name when she got the lingerie contract.”
Honking repeatedly to clear the entrance to the driveway, Dan added tentatively to the conversation. “
Not that Nate would mention it, but in these parts, he’s as much as a celebrity as Laura is.”
Nate shook his head and threw his partner a warning glance.
“Stuff it, Dan. Let our hotshot discover his own gossip. No need to perpetuate the crap that bored people use to liven up their lives.”
Dan ignored him and winked at Sam in the rearview mirror.
“Just so you know who you’re riding with Sam, Nate is known as the all-night wonder. Hell, he’s been known to take on as many as eight women at one wedding shower alone. And that’s in addition to his conviction rate. There isn’t a woman who isn’t chasing after him, and a perp who isn’t running away, scared shitless.”
Sam’s voice was tinged with suppressed laughter.
“I’m aware of the conviction rate. It’s all the news in police circles. But have to admit I hadn’t heard about your prolific work at wedding showers. I’m curious, Nate. How do you wrangle an invitation to a wedding shower? Or do you pop out of a cake or something?”
Nate didn’t hide his disgust. “Jesus Christ, Dan. If you’re gonna tell stories at least get your fucking numbers straight. It was eleven women and since you asked, Sam, they usually bring the party to me. What’s a guy supposed to do? Slam the door in the face of nubile women drunk out of their minds? And to end this conversation before it begins, Dan is referring to ancient history. Any of the things I may or may not have done in the past are ‘pre-Erin.’ Why the hell would I pig out on empty calories when I have access to the Feast of the Gods?”
Dan nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that, Nate. The stars went out in a lotta guys eyes when they learned that Erin fell for the big guy. But then, Nate, you always were the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever known.”
“Not always, Dan, by a long shot. But now? You’re damn right.”
Nate threw a hard glare at Sam. “And hotshot, the only thing you need to know about me and women is that I’m in love with the most beautiful woman alive and can’t believe my luck.”
He was silent for a minute then added with a shrug, “Oh yeah, and that once I was married to Laura Chumpter.”