by Lara Lacombe
Nate turned back to the stove with a muffled oath, moving quickly to tend to the contents of the pan. Fiona grabbed two glasses and filled them with juice, then returned the carton to the fridge. She moved to the table and shooed Slinky off. “You know you’re not supposed to sit on tables,” she chided. He merely blinked at her and sauntered into the living room, no doubt heading for the couch and his morning nap.
Moving quickly, she wiped off the table and set out dishes and the juice. Nate walked over a moment later, the hot pan in one hand and a plate of toast in the other. He slid the omelets onto their plates with a flourish, and she had to admit they looked delicious.
They tasted even better. The eggs were fluffy and soft and practically melted in her mouth. Somehow, he had scrounged up ham, tomatoes and onion, and the ingredients all combined with the melted cheese to create a wonderful concoction that made her stomach celebrate.
“These are so good,” she practically moaned. Nate merely grinned, but she could tell he appreciated the compliment. “I had no idea you could cook.”
He shrugged. “This is nothing,” he said, managing to sound modest. “My real specialty is chicken parmesan.”
“I can’t wait to try it.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think twice, and she immediately wished them back. Way to make things awkward.
Nate didn’t respond, lending further support to her conclusion that last night had been an anomaly. Time to change the subject.
“Should we look at those papers today?”
He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” He forked another bite into his mouth and chewed, his gaze serious. “It’s the only thing I can come up with that explains why you were targeted yesterday.”
Fiona shook her head, the omelet turning to ash in her mouth. “I just can’t believe Ben would do that to me.”
“I hate to say it, but people will do almost anything in the interest of self-preservation.” Nate swallowed his last bite and leaned back in the chair. “You’d be amazed at how quickly we can get criminals to flip on their buddies if we offer a reduced sentence or some other carrot.”
“I suppose you’re right. And it’s not that I know Ben well at all—I only talk to him at work. We’re definitely not friends. But I still assumed he had a basic level of decency, you know?”
Nate’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “And that’s your first mistake.”
Fiona studied him for a moment, chewing a bite of toast. “You sound burned-out.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe a little bit. In my job, I see the worst of people day in and day out. It’s hard not to become jaded with that regular parade of heartbreak.”
“But you keep doing it.”
“Well, yeah.” He sounded surprised, as though there was no other option. “I feel I still make a difference. I’m not going to quit when I can help people.”
His answer made sense, and she recognized his attitude. It was the same one her father had had, a belief that he was doing good work and changing lives. And Nate was—she was living proof of that. After all, if he hadn’t been in the store two nights ago, the attempted robbery would have gone very differently.
But she couldn’t help wondering what this job cost Nate. Helping people was great, but he was paying a high price for his dedication. From what she could tell, Nate’s relationship with his family was strained at best. Did he even realize what he was sacrificing? Or did he just not care? Either way, his dedication to the job at the expense of his family was troubling.
Fiona swallowed the last bite of toast. “Why don’t you hop in the shower while I clean up here?”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. You cooked, so it’s the least I can do.”
He thanked her with a smile and left. She busied herself clearing the table and washing the dishes, trying to push thoughts of Nate and his family out of her mind. It really wasn’t any of her business what kind of relationship he had with his parents and sister. For all she knew, they had been physically or emotionally abusive, and he’d cut them out of his life for a good reason. But, based on what he’d told her about his childhood, that didn’t sound right.
Still, just because she would give anything for a family didn’t mean he felt the same way. Maybe he was comfortable maintaining an emotional distance from his parents—not everyone needed to have a close relationship with their loved ones to feel happy. Her mom had been her best friend, but it was probably different for sons.
Probably.
She grabbed a towel and began to dry the pots and pans he’d used. She was likely getting ahead of herself, but Nate’s disconnect with his family was enough to cool her feelings for him somewhat. Oh, sure, he was still handsome, and she was still physically attracted to him. But she’d always imagined herself with someone who valued family and who wanted to build a family with her. Not a man who spent so much time working that he had no energy left for the people closest to him.
“Doesn’t matter,” she told herself. “We’re not there yet.”
“We’re not where?” Nate asked, stepping into the room as he rubbed his hair with a towel. He smelled like soap and fabric softener, and Fiona inhaled appreciatively. He removed the towel from his head to reveal his hair, still damp and a little bit spiky after the vigorous drying. It made him look younger, and she couldn’t help but smile.
He reached up and brushed his hair into its normal style, then looked at her expectantly. She realized with a start that he’d asked her a question. “Uh, we’re not at the station yet,” she managed. “So that means you haven’t heard any more about the robber from last night.” It was true, and it sounded vaguely plausible.
Fortunately, Nate seemed to buy it. “We’ll head in after you take a look at those papers.” He stepped back into the living room and returned a second later with the stack, which he placed on the kitchen table. “Ready to get to it?”
Fiona pulled out a chair and sat with a sigh. “Sure thing.”
It didn’t take long to move through the papers. Routine store invoices and work orders weren’t the kind of thing people would commit violent robbery to possess, and she said as much to Nate. He nodded. “It was a bit of a long shot, but worth a try.”
She reached the end of the stack and grabbed the manila envelope that was left. That was unusual; she’d never known Ben to organize any of the store papers like that. She tore open the flap and dumped the contents onto the table, surprised to see a collection of color photographs tumble out rather than the expected receipts.
Nate reached out and grabbed a picture, turning it over and examining it with a frown. Fiona picked up a second photo.
It was a close-up of a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace. She didn’t recognize either of the people, but then again why should she?
She looked at another photo. The same couple, but this time he had his arm around her shoulders and they were walking side by side. He was an older man, his hair threaded with silver and a little extra weight around his midsection. But he carried himself well, with the kind of confidence that made people overlook physical flaws. The woman obviously adored him—she gazed up at him with her heart in her eyes, apparently hanging on his every word.
“Well,” she said, uncertain why Ben would have pictures like this in his possession. “This is unusual. I’ve never seen these before.”
“Hmm,” Nate replied, clearly lost in thought. He scrutinized each photo, and when he was finished, he lifted his head and met her gaze. “Your boss is blackmailing someone.”
“What makes you say that?” How did he come to that conclusion after looking at a few pictures?
“First of all, see how each shot uses a telephoto lens? You can see their faces and their bodies, but they clearly don’t know they’re being photographed. That tells me the photographer is being sneaky.”
“Sure.” She nodded, scanning the pictures again. He was correct—they were all taken from a
distance.
“And notice how each photo shows the couple in some kind of intimate position? They’re not seen having sex, but you can tell by the way they touch each other that they’re physically involved.” He lined them all up, showing the couple progressing from a hug to a walking embrace to kissing in the middle of the street, oblivious to passersby.
“Finally,” he said, tapping one picture, “see how he’s wearing a wedding ring? And she’s not?”
Fiona pulled the picture closer for a better look, no longer surprised that he was right. “How did you see all that from a glance?”
He offered her a small smile. “I’m a detective. It’s my job to notice details.”
“I’m going to start calling you Sherlock.”
That earned her a laugh. “Just keep it between us, okay? Owen would never let me hear the end of it.”
“I can do that.” She turned her attention back to the pictures. “Do you recognize these people?”
He tilted his head to the side. “He looks a little familiar, but I’m not sure where I’ve seen him before.”
“Do you have a book of mug shots we can look at? Maybe you’ve arrested him before or something.”
“Maybe,” Nate replied, sounding distracted. “But as for a book, I can do you one better. We’ll scan this in at the station, and there’s a program that will compare his face to the collection of images we have on file. If he’s in the system, we’ll find him.”
“Sounds good to me. Shall we get to it?”
Nate stood and held out his arm. “After you.”
* * *
Nate pushed away from the computer with a sigh. “Well, it’s done,” he said, turning to face Fiona. “I’m not sure how long it will take for the computer to locate a match, but we should probably find something else to do. Waiting on the program is a bit like watching paint dry.”
“So it’s not like they show in the movies?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice. “It only takes those cops a few minutes to find their man.”
“That’s because they’re just better at their jobs than I am,” he replied soberly before smiling back at her. It was nice to have her around. She didn’t seem to take him too seriously, and he enjoyed the banter that seemed to come so easily to them.
“So what should we do now?”
He glanced over at her, pleased that she looked stronger than she had yesterday. “We can stop by your house and you can pick up some clothes,” he suggested. Now that she’d had a good night’s sleep—after the nightmare, that is—she might not be so distressed by going back to the scene of the break-in. And this time she wouldn’t be going alone. He’d be there to make sure she felt safe.
Her face brightened. “That would be nice. Plus, I’d like to check and see if anything is missing.”
“That’s a good idea.” Normally after a break-in, the homeowner was present to tell the investigating officers if anything had been taken. But in Fiona’s case, she’d fled the scene and hadn’t been able to make a report. While Nate doubted the man had stolen anything, it would still be good to have her confirm it.
He stood and gestured for her to follow him. They found Owen in the break room, preparing a cup of coffee.
“Hey,” his partner said, looking up from stirring cream into his brew. “Did you get settled in at Hannah’s?”
“Yes,” Fiona replied, smiling at him. “And please thank her again—I really appreciate her letting me crash in her home.”
“It’s no problem. She’s happy to be able to help.” Owen’s face softened at the mention of Hannah, and Nate fleetingly wondered if he looked like that when he thought of Fiona. Surely not. They hadn’t known each other long enough for that, right?
“Did you get a chance to look through those papers yet?”
That was his cue, and Nate spoke up. “We did, and the only odd finding was an envelope of photos. It’s clear they’re being used for blackmail, and the male subject looks familiar.”
“You scan them in?”
Nate nodded. “Waiting on the program now.”
“Want some coffee?” Owen offered, looking at Fiona. Nate felt a small pang of embarrassment. He should have thought to offer her something to drink, but he’d been so distracted by the job at hand that it hadn’t occurred to him. It was further proof he had no business trying to be Fiona’s boyfriend.
“No, thanks,” she replied. “I definitely don’t need any caffeine right now.”
“You’re obviously not a cop,” Owen joked, which made her laugh. “We live on this stuff.”
“Gotta keep your energy up to chase the bad guys,” Fiona said.
Owen nodded, pausing to take a sip. “True enough.”
“We’re going to check out her place, pick up some clothes and stuff,” Nate said. “Do you mind keeping an eye on the computer and calling me if a match comes up?”
Owen nodded. “No problem. Let me know if you need anything while you’re out.”
“Thanks, man.” Nate put his hand on Fiona’s back and guided her out of the station. It felt entirely too good to touch her, and he was quickly getting into the habit of resting his hand at the small of her back. It was a casual gesture, but any contact with her body made his heart thump double time. He flashed back to last night and the way she had touched him, her fingers simultaneously tentative and bold, as if she was hungry to explore his body but felt too shy to really let go. And, fortunately for him, she hadn’t. It had been hard enough stopping things before they went too far. If Fiona had truly pushed him, he would have surrendered to the moment. He was a strong man, but there wasn’t enough self-control in the world when it came to his reaction to her.
In the end, though, he’d done the right thing. While he wanted nothing more than to tear off her clothes and lose himself in her, he knew she deserved more than some fleeting moments of pleasure. Fiona was the kind of woman who was worth the effort of a relationship—the sacrifices, the time, the little gestures that told her she was important. All the things he couldn’t give her right now, thanks to his job and his family situation.
With a mental sigh, he pushed his disappointment to the side. He would have time to mope later. Now, he owed it to Fiona to keep her safe until he and Owen could figure out who was threatening her and why.
It didn’t take long to get to her house; for once, Houston traffic wasn’t horrible. “Probably a sign of the coming apocalypse,” Fiona joked, and he had to agree.
Her home looked a little sad in the light of day, especially with the yellow crime-scene tape bisecting her front door. “Is it okay for us to go inside?” she asked, frowning.
“Absolutely,” he assured her. “The evidence-response team gathered what they needed yesterday. They left the tape in place to discourage any nosy neighbors.”
“Speaking of neighbors,” she muttered. She glanced at the house across the street and winced. He followed her gaze to the jumbled pile of bricks that had once been her neighbor’s mailbox. “I really need to apologize to Mr. Huffnagel,” she said, sounding guilty. “I tore out of here so fast yesterday that I backed right into his mailbox.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Nate said. “We can stop by when you’re done here and explain the situation to him.”
“Sounds good,” she said. Nate killed the engine, and they climbed out of the car. Fiona eyed the door suspiciously. “So do I just break through the tape, or do I need to reapply it after we’re done?”
“You can break it,” he replied. “There’s no need to put it back up.” He took a step forward with her, but just then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dug it out and recognized Owen’s extension. “Go in and get started,” he said, waving her on. “I’ll talk to Owen and meet you inside in a minute.”
Fiona nodded and headed into the house. Nate took a step back and answered the phone. “That was fast,” he said, in lieu of a greeting.
“You’re not going to believe who came up as a match.” Owen sounded excited, and Nate
’s own adrenaline spiked in response.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” he said, his fingers starting to tingle the way they always did when he was on the verge of a big break.
“Big Sal.” Owen let the name hang in the air for a moment.
Nate combed his memory for the significance of the name. Then it hit him like a punch to the gut. “Big Sal, Houston’s gambling king? That Big Sal?”
“The one and only.” He could hear the smile in his partner’s voice and knew he was enjoying this.
Nate let out a low whistle. “That’s interesting.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
“And I take it the woman in the photos isn’t his wife?” Nate ventured.
“Definitely not,” Owen replied. “And here’s the kicker...even though he likes to think of himself as a tough guy, Big Sal is known far and wide for his devotion to his wife. If she saw these pictures, she’d go ballistic.”
“Hell hath no fury,” Nate said softly.
Owen laughed. “From what I’ve heard, Mrs. Big Sal is a force to be reckoned with. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Big Sal was afraid of her.”
“I wonder how Ben got those photos,” Nate mused, thinking out loud. “Do you think he hired someone specifically to follow Big Sal, or did he steal them?”
“That I don’t know,” Owen said. “But I’d sure like to talk to him about it. I think I’ll go pick him up, and when you get back to the station, we can have a little conversation with him.”
“Sounds good,” Nate said. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, partner.”
Nate hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Then he walked up the driveway, shaking his head. Somehow, Ben had gotten hold of incriminating photos of one of Houston’s most notorious criminals. And, unless he missed his guess, Ben was using those pictures to blackmail Big Sal, probably to get off the hook for a debt owed. The problem was, Big Sal had resources Ben could only dream about, and there was no way the man would take kindly to a little punk like Ben messing up his life.
“No wonder they’re coming after Fiona,” he said to himself. “If Big Sal thinks she has the photos, he’ll do anything to get them back.”