by Joan Kilby
“That’s all good, but it’s too soon to call yourself cured,” Paula insisted. “I used to work with a cop who suffered from PTSD after being shot in the chest while on duty. He had good days and bad days but in the end he had to get treatment. Trauma victims don’t get better by themselves.”
“I agree,” John said. “Riley, if you want to play a role as backup to Paula in a sting operation, then you need to have a session with the police psychologist, Simone Richards.”
Riley wanted to protest more—he had no time for shrinks—but between the two of them, they had him boxed in. “Okay, I’ll see the psychologist. No big deal. I’ll have a chat with her and she’ll pronounce me sane.”
“Good.” John rose. “Paula, write up a proposal for your sting operation and we’ll set up a meeting with Frankston to keep them apprised of events.”
“Boss.” Paula stood, too, and cleared her throat. “If I’m going to lead this operation, I should have detective status.”
“We talked about that—”
“Temporarily. Make me Acting Detective.”
A grudging smile tugged at John’s mouth. “I guess the budget could stretch to a stint of Acting.”
“Thanks, boss. It’ll look good on my record.”
“I’ll put in a requisition.” John nodded to them both and left the Incident Room.
“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” Riley said.
“At least we’re off traffic patrol.” Paula led the way to the bull pen. She glanced at Riley. “Hope my being detective won’t put your nose out of joint.”
“I’m sure it will have no effect whatsoever on our working or personal relationships.” He just wished he’d thought of it first. But he hadn’t put in the time and he didn’t have the detecting chops that she had. He hoped all that authority wouldn’t go to her head.
“I’m glad you’re being mature about this.” She sat at a desk and brought the computer out of sleep mode.
Riley leaned against a neighboring desk. “Do shrinks really make you lie on a chaise longue and tell them about your childhood?”
“How should I know?” Paula opened a Word document to type up a draft before she put it into official format.
“I thought you would have had your head examined after sleeping with a hard-core criminal.” Riley rapped his knuckles on the desk and pushed off. He took a few steps and waited. What, no smart-aleck comeback? Was she already above their bicker-banter?
He glanced over his shoulder. She was giving him the finger. He started to grin, then sobered. She wasn’t laughing. And he got that. Something he held against her couldn’t be turned into a joke. Was it because she was officially his boss that he was trying so hard? Was he so small a man he could feel threatened?
He got coffee for both of them then pulled up a chair by her desk. “Sorry about the crack. That was out of line under the circumstances.” He paused. “But I didn’t appreciate you telling John about my panic attack.”
“Somebody needed to say it.”
“All right. We were both keeping things quiet that we didn’t want people to know about. But after last night we’re beyond sniping, don’t you think?”
She sighed and looked at him. “I want the best for you.”
“Same.” He got lost for a few seconds in her eyes.
Paula pulled herself together first. “You left your flannel shirt at my house, by the way. I put it in the wash.”
“The cuffs are frayed and it’s missing buttons. Just throw it out.”
“Sure? Because it’s no trouble to bring it in.”
“You’d be doing me a favor.” He sipped his coffee and grimaced. The stuff was foul. “If we’re going to do this sting, you need to tell me about Nick Moresco.”
Paula glanced around. There was no one within earshot. “What do you want to know?”
Why you slept with him.
“What he’s like. How your relationship evolved. How it all came down.”
“I told you already.”
“Tell me again, in more detail. You were undercover?”
She hit Save on the computer and leaned forward, twining her fingers together. “He had a shoulder injury from a bullet wound that hadn’t healed well. I posed as a massage therapist. I did a crash course, intensive one-on-one for six months and received a special dispensation to get my license. I got a job in the spa where he went for his daily massages. Eventually we worked out a deal where I would come to his home.”
Riley’s eyebrows went up.
“For therapeutic massages,” she added, her eyes flashing. “I was wired the whole time. Look, if you’re going to be like that, I’m not talking.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry.”
“This is strictly between you and me.” Color appeared high on her cheekbones and she couldn’t look at him. “Don’t even tell John, not as your sergeant or as your friend.”
She was ashamed. All her bluster and defiance was a front. Riley almost felt sorry for her except that mingled with his pity there was the niggling feeling that she was right to be ashamed. Or was she a victim? He didn’t know who was more conflicted over this, him or her. Keeping his expression neutral, he said, “I won’t.”
Paula narrowed her gaze at him as if trying to decide whether he could be trusted.
“I promise.” He held up three fingers next to his head. “Scout’s honor.”
She relaxed a fraction. “Gradually Nick got used to having me around. I could tell he liked me. He’d flirt with me. We’d talk.”
“What did you talk about?” What could she possibly have in common with scum like that?
“All sorts of things—art, music, European architecture. It doesn’t matter.” She dismissed that with a wave.
“The guy’s a real Renaissance man.”
Paula sat back. “Okay, that’s it.”
“I’ll stop.” He mimed zipping his lip.
She rolled her shoulders and took a sip of coffee. “One rainy winter day I went to his apartment. His shoulder was aching badly. It always got bad during the wet weather. But that day he couldn’t relax enough for me to massage. I asked him what was bothering him. He wouldn’t answer. He was edgy, almost nervous which was unusual for him. Usually he was cool and in control. I gave up trying to massage him. We had a drink together instead. Finally he told me he was meeting an important business associate that evening. Right then I knew this was the mega deal we’d been waiting for.”
“What deal?” Riley asked.
“Our investigations so far had revealed he was negotiating a partnership with a local biker gang who were cooking crystal meth. He didn’t trust bikers, thought they were thugs. But he figured if he provided them with the facilities to expand their production then he could expand his distribution.”
“Don’t the biker gangs have their own turf?”
“Nick wasn’t interested in their turf. He had his sights on national and international trade. Like I said, he saw himself as a businessman.”
Riley swirled his coffee and downed the dregs. He was going to have heartburn for sure. “So where did you come into all of this?”
“He wanted me to stick around to act as his hostess during the dinner meeting.”
“And you agreed?”
“Of course. It was the break I’d been waiting for.”
“Go on. Who was there?”
“In our camp was Nick, myself and Nick’s right-hand man, Bruno. The guests were Al, the leader of the bikies, and his main man, a brick shithouse named Tony.”
Our camp. Interesting that she’d aligned herself with the drug dealer. It was ridiculous to feel a twinge of jealousy. But he did. Art, music, European architecture… Could he converse intelligently on those subjects? Music, maybe—
�
�Hello, Riley.” Paula snapped her fingers inches from his nose. “You asked about this. Are you listening?”
“Yep.” He set his cup on the desk. “What happened next?”
“Nothing.” She threw up her hands. “We ate a catered dinner, nothing too fancy. The guys played pool. They started drinking heavily. Then Al brought out a pipe and they all had a hit of crystal meth.”
“Did you?”
“No.” Paula was very firm on that. “I’d told Nick early on I had asthma so I couldn’t take anything into my lungs. Plus I told him I had a phobia about needles so that let out shooting up. He was fine with that. He didn’t do drugs himself. Bruno did the sampling for quality control.”
The entrance from the parking lot opened. Jackson and Crucek entered, accompanied by a boy of about seventeen wearing the local private school uniform.
“In here.” Jackson ushered the teen into an interview room.
Crucek headed for the coffee room, passing Paula and Riley. “He was spotted on the security camera, kicking in the liquor store window. He was going to a party and his parents refused to buy booze for him.”
Paula mimed playing the world’s smallest violin, eliciting a chuckle from Crucek.
As he left, Delinsky came through the door from reception. Patty followed, also looking for coffee.
“It’s like Grand Central Station around here,” Riley said. “Let’s grab something from the deli and have an early lunch away from the station.”
“I have to finish my proposal,” Paula protested.
“I happen to know that John’s got meetings all afternoon with divisional station heads. He won’t be asking for it till tomorrow, earliest. Come on.”
Riley rose and led the way to the parking lot. He held out his hand for the keys.
“Where are we going?” she said, handing them over.
No argument for once. “You’ll see.”
They bought a couple of sandwiches and some decent coffee to take away. Riley drove through the winding leafy streets to a small gravel parking lot atop the cliff overlooking the bay.
A single wisp of cloud rode high in a crystal blue sky. White sailing dinghies bobbed on the sparkling water.
Riley cut the engine. Theirs was the only car in the lot. He checked the rearview mirror for dog walkers. The street was clear. Houses on the opposite side of the road had their blinds closed against the afternoon sun.
He twisted in his seat and leaned over, sliding his hand into Paula’s hair to gently drag her head closer.
“Hey…” She resisted, her gaze darting wildly.
“There’s no one around. All through the briefing this morning I was thinking about you.” He punctuated his comments with kisses either side of her lips. “Imagining you naked.”
“Riley—”
He captured her mouth in a bold kiss, plunging his tongue between her parted lips. She returned the kiss, one hand on his shoulder, then the other, straining to get near.
Abruptly she pushed away and touched her glistening mouth with the back of her hand. “This isn’t a good idea. I’ve got an opportunity to be Acting Detective. I don’t want to screw things up. You brought me out here just to kiss me, didn’t you?”
“So sue me.” He grinned. “Better still, bite me.” Whatever she said, she couldn’t hide the fact that she’d kissed him back, with interest.
“I mean it, Riley. Last night was a one-off.”
“I know. I’m cool with that.”
“But you just admitted…” She flounced back into her seat. “It’s not easy pretending nothing’s going on. I look at you and I—”
“You what?” he asked, interested. “You want me all over again?”
Paula eyed him. “Is this where you brought girls in high school to make out?”
“One of several spots. I could give you a tour.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you want to hear the rest of my story, or not?”
“Yes, I do, tough girl.” Riley passed her a brown bag and opened his own, taking out a foil package. He opened it, releasing the aroma of hot corned beef and melted Swiss cheese on rye bread. “Start talking.”
“Imma mimma,” she mumbled, her mouth full of turkey and lettuce. She chewed and swallowed. “I’m starving. Didn’t realize how much.”
“Confessing is hungry work.”
“Who’s confessing?” she countered sharply. “I’m telling you how I busted Moresco.”
“Right. Carry on.”
“Where was I? Oh, yeah, the guys were getting wasted, fooling around playing pool. I was wondering, where was the big drug deal? Then Nick started…” She took another bite of her sandwich.
“Started what?” Doing the hokey pokey? Raping her?
“Playing romantic music. He asked me to slow dance.”
“While the biker thugs watched him grope you? Sounds very romantic.”
“We went into the living room.” Paula gazed out at the bay, her voice faraway. “He had a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Botanical Gardens and the lights of the city beyond. I asked him, didn’t he need to do business? He said there was no rush. He sent them all away, even Bruno, his own guy. He said something didn’t feel right. He had a sixth sense that someone was trying to pull a fast one on him.”
“You?”
She nodded with an expression of sick awareness. “I didn’t realize it at the time. I thought Nick meant Al, who was a really dodgy character. Or Bruno. He’d voiced concerns about his bodyguard’s loyalty before. Nick could be quite paranoid, understandably in his situation.”
She certainly identified with her criminal and his problems. There was a term for that, something long-term hostages felt for their captors. Then a thought occurred to Riley that almost made him open the car door and purge himself of his lunch. “After he’d gotten rid of everyone. Did he…hurt you?”
“No, just the opposite.” She laid her half-eaten sandwich on the paper in her lap. “He asked me to stay the night. Said I was the only one he trusted.” She glanced up. “I’d never done that before, gone that far with him. It felt like a test. Or a profound compliment. I’m not sure. In hindsight, I must have been pretty confused.”
“You were wired, you say?” Riley prompted.
She nodded, averting her gaze. “You don’t want to hear the details.”
No, he didn’t want to hear how Nick paid her compliments and she lapped them up. But he’d asked for it, and if he was going to be of real assistance in dealing with Moresco, he needed to know how the man operated. Riley had to forget that he’d made love to her last night and simply be a cop, assessing intel.
“I can handle it.” Even if it killed him. “Go on.”
“When he asked me to go into his bedroom, I told him I’d like to take a shower first.”
“He didn’t want to join you?” he asked, torturing himself.
“No, he was always good about letting me have space.” She took a breath. “He presented me with a negligee. He made it seem as if he’d planned to give it to me anyway, whether I stayed or not. Said his cousin had a boutique or some such thing. For all I know that’s true. Whatever. I showered and changed. When I came into the bedroom, he had champagne on ice and canapés. He must have seen I couldn’t eat much at dinner. He didn’t know I was a bundle of nerves, too.” She paused. “Or maybe he did.”
Romantic music, dancing, danger and compliments—she’d been seduced by a pro, Riley thought bitterly. He could imagine the bastard feeding her caviar, clinking glasses, all the clichéd romance moves.
“All I know is that he behaved like a gentleman.”
Riley had assumed she’d been coerced, made to feel she had to put out or she’d lose her place in his entourage. The notion made it easier to excuse her, to blame the circum
stances instead of her. Instead, what he was hearing was that she’d gone willingly, even eagerly, to Nick’s bed. For some reason that made him feel like a fool. For the thousandth time, how could he be falling for a woman who could sleep with the enemy?
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“No,” she said sharply. Her hands crumpled the paper holding her sandwich. “You are jealous.”
“Of a drug lord?” He snorted. “You’ve got to be joking.”
And yet, unbelievably, he was jealous.
The air in the patrol car was hot and thick with tension. Now he could see why they shouldn’t have slept together. How could he respect himself if he couldn’t respect her?
Except that he would do it all over again, given the chance. Maybe he was nuts.
Riley lowered his window and sucked in the fresh sea breeze tangy with salt. This was getting too intense. Needing a distraction he focused on the small figures walking along the curving strip of sand to his left. It worked for only a moment before his mind returned to chewing over his relationship with Paula. Whether he wanted to sleep with her again or not, was moot. She’d made it clear there was to be no repeat of last night. Maybe he should be happy about that.
“So what happened after you had sex with him?” he asked, wanting to cut to the chase.
“I slept for awhile, maybe an hour. It had been a long day and I was exhausted.” She frowned. “I wondered later if he’d put something in the champagne, something slow-acting.” She shrugged. “I woke up and he was gone.”
“What if he’d looked through your clothes while you were asleep? If he’d found the wire, things could have gotten ugly.”
“I hadn’t planned to sleep,” she said. “I’d tucked the wire in my evening bag and put that on the bedside table next to me. I took note of the exact position so I’d know whether it had been tampered with. It hadn’t.
“Anyway, I was lying there, wondering where he’d gone when I heard voices coming from the living room. I got up, wrapped a sheet around myself, and peeked out. Al had returned, by himself. He was shaking hands with Nick. The deal was done.” She dropped her gaze to the remains of her sandwich.