Kansas City Cover-Up

by Julie Miller

  Olivia raised up on her elbow as his strong hands that had saved her more than once today framed her cheeks and jaw. She was ensnared by cobalt eyes that studied her face, then widened, as if he’d discovered her real secret.

  Not so tough, Mr. Knight. Olivia brushed her fingers over the dark stubble above his mouth, wiping away the soot that clung there. She hadn’t been held for a long time. She hadn’t wanted a man to hold her since Marcus. That this man who should be her enemy could make her want like this, could make her feel a little less like a cop and a little more like a woman...

  As if hearing her unspoken thoughts, Gabe raised his head and touched his lips to hers in a tentative kiss. It was a simple meeting of one mouth touching another, testing the welcome, getting acquainted.

  The second kiss was a little less gentle, a little more potent, a lot more purposeful in the way his fingertips tightened against her scalp and his tongue slipped between the seam of her lips to demand and find a response. A moan of something like satisfaction echoed in Gabe’s chest and resonated within her own.

  Olivia curled her grubby fingers into his collar and held on, matching each foray of his tongue, each caress of that hard, sensuous mouth. This kiss was a mix of hooray, we made it, and that undercurrent of electricity that had been buzzing between her and Gabe from the moment they’d met. She’d expected him to taste like the dark, hearty coffee she’d seen him drink, and that flavor of richness was there in the background. But his mouth was ashy from the smoke, hot from exertion and so leisurely thorough and gentle on her lips and tongue that Olivia was at once grateful for his patience and frustrated by the very same. She stretched herself against Gabe’s muscled chest, urging him to deepen this exploratory kiss and unleash the desire she could sense he was holding back.

  But this unplanned meeting of two wary hearts, exposed by the challenge of their very survival, didn’t last.

  The roar of a powerful engine revving up to speed tore Olivia’s attention from the soulful heat of Gabe’s embrace. The noise was a jarring reentry into the real world of bad guys and danger and knowing the handful of people she trusted in this world didn’t include the man on the sidewalk beneath her. Olivia raised her eyes to the street in front of the warehouse and pushed away, her cop’s training reacting when her own self-defense mechanism had shorted out.

  Gabe, too, rolled to his hands and knees as she scrambled to her feet and ran toward the screech of rubber spinning across the pavement, screaming for traction as the vehicle made a sharp turn.

  But the chase was short-lived. By the time Olivia reached the front of the burning warehouse, there was no adrenaline left to call on. Her legs wobbled with exhaustion, she was winded and that all-too-familiar car was nothing more than a black shadow disappearing around the corner. Olivia bent forward, bracing her hands on her knees as another coughing fit wracked her sore body. “Who are you, you son of a bitch?”

  She could hear the sirens now, over the pulse hammering in her ears, and knew that help was on the way.

  “Did you see that?” she asked Gabe, certain that was the same car that had followed her that morning. She hated that she’d missed getting a look at the driver again—hated that a stranger had the advantage of that kind of knowledge over her.

  A blur of brown tweed and denim moved past her. “Black car. I only caught the taillights. He probably stopped to gawk at the fire.”

  “Did you get a license?” He gave no response, so she assumed that was a no. “Me, neither.”

  “Olivia.”

  She straightened at the grim tone of Gabe’s voice and turned toward the warehouse. His attention had moved on to something besides a speeding car and an untimely kiss, as though neither of them mattered, and she forced herself to do the same.

  Flakes of ash floated along with the glowing bits of wood and debris in the air like some devilish version of snowfall. Olivia raised her arm in front of her face to shield herself from the burning heat emanating from the building, and walked toward Gabe. He was standing in front of the double iron doors again. Well, as close as he could get with the ovenlike temperature coming off the warping metal. He snapped a picture with his phone.

  “What is it?”

  They both jumped at the loud crash inside as the heavy winch fell. The concrete shook beneath their feet. Flames shot through the roof. Windows shattered against their barricades and joined the debris raining down around them. Gabe backed them both across the street to stand behind her SUV, away from the fire. “I think somebody’s trying to make a point.”

  If it wasn’t made of brick or metal, it was burning now. The smoke and flames eating away at the building now made it difficult to see. But the picture on Gabe’s phone was clear.

  Sabotage.

  Olivia’s blood chilled despite the heat and she hugged her good arm over the one she had injured. Just as with the board Gabe had shown her inside, the charred black marks of an accelerant poured over the doors and sidewalk out front meant that this fire was no accident.

  And whoever set it—the driver of that black car, perhaps—hadn’t wanted them to come out alive.

  * * *

  GABE SAT ON the rear bumper of the ambulance, dutifully holding the oxygen mask to his nose and mouth while the paramedic cleaned and doctored the cuts on his hand. He’d sat here more than an hour now, watching the organized chaos of first responders and follow-up personnel.

  Three fire engines had been called to the scene, along with two ambulances and enough black-and-white and unmarked police vehicles to line the block and two side streets. Either there was some historical significance to the roofless shell that had once been Morton & Sons Tile Works he didn’t know about, Olivia was a relative or friend to half the department or they’d all come to see for themselves if KCPD Enemy #1, Gabriel Knight, had perished in the blaze.

  He’d seen the looks, caught some snippets of gossip about the trash-talking reporter who thought he could do their job better. And what the hell was Thomas Watson’s daughter doing with him, anyway?

  The fire had been contained. The scene was secure. He’d been questioned by an arson investigator with an artificial leg, and had given a statement to both a uniformed officer and a detective. He’d even chatted with some reporters and photographers he knew from the Journal and other media outlets. Night had fallen and various headlights and spotlights added brightness and created shadows. And while there seemed to be just as many spectators as there were professionals on the scene, his attention remained focused on the short-haired detective with her left arm in a sling and her beautiful eyes fixed in an expression of weary patience.

  He’d watched a buff, dark-haired cop pull up and try to start a conversation with Olivia. But her touch-me-not body language and the arrival of her father and two of her brothers had sent him away.

  Although she’d reassured her family enough to convince them to leave, the other members of her cold case team remained on the scene. Olivia was leaning against her car now, maybe twenty yards from his position, close enough that he could make out parts of their conversation through the noise around him. A big blond guy who needed a shave, and an even bigger, clean-cut guy who ought to be playing the offensive line for the Chiefs, each gave her a brotherly squeeze on her good shoulder before apologizing about a car they’d searched being “Clean as a whistle.” From the gist of the conversation, Gabe figured out that they were the ones who’d gone through Dani’s car, looking for any sign of the missing flash drive.

  A third detective in a suit and tie had brought his wife to the scene. Gabe’s guess was that they’d been on a date or to some function—but they cared enough about Dani’s murder—or the lead detective on the case, at any rate—to interrupt their evening and be here to check on Olivia and the new developments she’d found. And while his dark-haired wife waited at their pickup truck, chatting with friends she knew on the scene,
the blond detective bagged the gun Gabe had pulled from the hiding place Olivia had found inside the warehouse. Now the man was jotting notes while she talked.

  “I’m done, sir.” A voice from right beside him interrupted Gabe’s observations. Gabe pulled off his oxygen mask and the paramedic with the blue gloves handed him a card. “If you develop any of these secondary symptoms from smoke inhalation, get to an ER immediately. Otherwise, you’re already on antibiotics that’ll help these cuts, and your lungs and sinuses look clear. Just get some rest.”

  “Thanks.” Gabe handed off the gear, pocketed the card and picked up his smoke-filled jacket before making a beeline for Olivia. He didn’t like this distance between them, didn’t like not knowing all the details her team was discussing about Dani’s case, didn’t like the protective impulses firing inside him each time she rubbed her temple or reaffixed that “I’m okay” smile on her face.

  He no longer had any doubts that Olivia Watson was good at her job. She was as dedicated and smart as he’d want any cop to be. But he wondered if anyone else was aware of her fatigue, her pain or those glimpses of frustration and vulnerability that cowed her posture or flattened her smile for a split second when no one was looking. Maybe it was just his eye for detail that noticed those tiny chinks in her armor and wanted to make sure that no one took advantage of them. She was his strongest ally in solving Dani’s murder, after all.

  Plus, he was seeing a painfully familiar parallel between the dangers Dani had faced during her investigation and the two life-threatening events he’d been through with Olivia. Someone in Leland Asher’s organization or on Senator McCoy’s team, or a third party they had yet to uncover, was working very hard to keep old secrets buried. They’d killed a naively ambitious young reporter, and now they seemed to be targeting the sexy lady detective.

  He had to finish Dani’s story. He had to find the truth.

  But he couldn’t go through the pain of losing someone he felt responsible for twice. Whatever he could do, whatever the task required of him, he would see that Olivia didn’t end up the same way Dani had.

  As he approached Olivia’s car, Gabe could make out more of the conversation with the cop in the suit. Olivia was giving him a vague description of the black car they’d seen speeding away after their escape. “I didn’t get a good look at it. I have no idea if it’s connected to the fire or even my investigation. But I’ve seen it before.”

  “Do you think the driver has been following you?”

  “Possibly,” she admitted. Gabe didn’t like the sound of that. Had he put her in more danger than he thought?

  “That’s not a lot to go on, but I’ll make it my first priority.”

  “Thanks, Jim.”

  The male detective put away his pen and paper. “You going to the hospital or home?”

  “Home. The medics cleared me. I just need a long, hot shower.”

  Really? An image of those long, lean curves naked and glistening under a spray of steam and water should not be the first thing that popped to mind, given the seriousness of the conversation and Gabe’s intent for joining them. The leap in his pulse and the interest stirring behind his zipper fought to keep hold of the wish he forced from his mind.

  “Good. I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything.” The blond picked up the paper bag with the gun they’d recovered off the hood of Olivia’s SUV. “I’ll get this over to the lab.” He waved an almost done to his wife before turning back to Olivia. “What about Knight? Have you had your fill of him? You want us to drive him home?”

  Olivia’s head turned, hearing Gabe’s footsteps as he joined them on the sidewalk.

  “Knight can take care of himself if Detective Watson needs to get home right away,” Gabe announced. He didn’t stop until he stood beside her, facing the male detective. “I saw the black car, too. Got a glimpse of it, anyway. It was a newer model. Six or eight cylinders under the hood, judging by the sound of the engine. Not manufacturer issue. Could have been a souped-up Charger or Challenger.”

  Olivia straightened away from the car, cradling her arm in the sling, or maybe just hugging a protective shield around herself. “Gabe, this is my partner, Jim Parker. Gabriel Knight. He’s a reporter with the Journal.”

  Detective Parker stepped forward to shake hands, his expression polite but wary. “I’ve read your articles.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Olivia? You want me to stay?” Her partner wasn’t budging until she gave him the all clear. Good. She wasn’t as alone against this chaos as he’d imagined her to be.

  She shook her head. “I got it. Keep me posted on anything the lab says. Thanks, Jim.”

  “See you in the morning at roll call?”

  Olivia nodded. Jim rejoined his wife in their pickup truck and drove away.

  “Come on, caveman.” Her gaze tipped up to his for a brief moment, revealing surprise, embarrassment and ultimately regret before she raised a placating hand and turned toward the car. “Sorry.”

  Okay, so it wasn’t the most flattering nickname a woman could give him. Yet Gabe liked the fact that Olivia Watson wasn’t afraid to say what she thought, right to his face instead of behind his back. He headed around the car while she fished her keys from the pocket of her soot-stained khakis. “It’s okay. Blame it on the long day and let’s get out of here.” He nodded toward the sling she wore around her left arm. “Unless you want me to drive?”

  “I don’t need a man to drive my car for me.”

  But she was clearly exhausted. When she dropped her keys and muttered a curse, Gabe beat her to the curb to retrieve them from underneath the car. “Switch.”

  She arched an eyebrow at the order. “You do realize there’s not a cop on this block who isn’t watching us right now.”

  “I know. Does that bother you?”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “I call things as I see them. I understand there will be hard feelings with that kind of honesty.”

  With a reluctant sigh, she walked around to the passenger door. “Everything’s black and white with you, isn’t it? Right or wrong. Good or bad. That seems like a cold, lonely way to live.”

  She had no idea. “I’m not always right, Liv. I don’t get my facts wrong. But sometimes, I make mistakes about people. I made a mistake about you. I’m sorry I judged you against the standard of any other cop.”

  “Like my dad?”

  Ouch. So defending the family honor was working on her, too. Gabe absorbed the rightful pang of guilt and opened his door. But he didn’t get in. This needed to be said. “I thought your dad and Junkert should have solved the case. I didn’t know about his accident or how he felt about leaving the force with unfinished business. I’m coming at this from the victim’s side when I’ve criticized the department for dragging its feet on an investigation. Finding answers and hearing someone take responsibility for the wrong they’ve done is all we have to make up in some small way for the loss we’ve suffered.”

  “You think we don’t know that?”

  Gabe tapped his fist on top of the car, torn between his loyalty to one woman and his concern for another. “I’ve always believed that victims and their families need a voice. And I’m the SOB who’s going to stand up and be that voice.”

  Her eyes were a deep storm green in the shadows. “Most of the time, we do our job right. We get the bad guys off the street and the victims and their families thank us for it. Why don’t you print any of that?”

  Because he’d been eaten up by guilt and pain for so long that it was hard to put a positive, hopeful spin on things when he hadn’t felt much of that positivity and hope. Until now. Until Ron Kober’s murder offered them a lead. Until Olivia Watson took over the case. “I’m sure your dad tried to find Dani’s killer. If he’s got half the determination you do, I know he tried. I didn’t fully un
derstand how determined Leland Asher and Senator McCoy were about keeping their collusion a secret. But I do now. I’ll try to keep a more open mind about the department.”

  “You really do have a way with words, don’t you.” Why didn’t that sound like a compliment? Olivia tipped her chin up to a nearby streetlamp, stretching her long neck before meeting his gaze over the roof of the Explorer. “How do you feel about no words at all? I’ll trade ten minutes of not talking about the fire, not talking about the case, not talking about my family—not talking about anything—for that ride back to your car.”

  He braced his forearms on the door frame and leaned toward her. “Olivia, you know what we need to talk about.”

  That kiss. The way her hand felt in his. This unexpected emotional connection. The hungry urge simmering beneath the surface to kiss her again. To do it right this time—not on a concrete slab, not when they both reeked of smoke and fatigue. Not when she was locked down so tightly that he could see the muscle pulsing along her jaw.

  She was no dummy. The blush on her cheeks indicated that she knew exactly what he was referring to. But she shook her head adamantly and opened her door. “Ten minutes, Gabe. Please. I need some time to sort through things and regroup.”

  In ten minutes, she’d be dropping him off and driving away. “So we catalogue what happened between us with your phobia of small rodents? We keep it a secret, or else?”

  Her voice was an angry whisper over the roof of the car. “I won’t threaten to shoot you because you kissed me.”

  “You kissed me back.”

  “Ten minutes, Gabe.” Her temper dimmed as quickly as it had flared. “Or you’re walking. Deal?”

  He wasn’t going to add to her stress. As long as they solved Dani’s murder, it would be enough. It should be enough. But it didn’t feel like finishing a long-overdue job and then walking away could ever be enough with this woman.

  Still, he’d been driven and obsessed and shut off from his heart for so long, he wasn’t used to feeling anything but grief or guilt or anger. He’d be foolish to think whatever emotions he was feeling tonight meant anything to her—meant anything at all. Maybe he needed those ten minutes, too.