New York's Finest Rebel

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New York's Finest Rebel Page 4

by Trish Wylie


  ‘No, we won’t.’

  As her door opened he saw her shoulders slump as if she’d been putting considerable effort into disguising how exhausted she was and the proximity to home allowed her to relax. Most folks were the same at the end of a long day but Daniel knew it was more than that. If he hadn’t, he would have got it when she glanced over her shoulder.

  Long lashes lifted and for a split second what he could see in her eyes made him frown. He recognized it because he’d seen it in the eyes of men in combat and guys who’d been on the job as a cop for too long. Given no other choice he might have admitted he had been avoiding looking for it in his own eyes in the mirror of late.

  If a person’s eyes were really the windows to the soul, part of hers was close to giving up the fight.

  He took a step forward before he realized he was doing it, compelled by the need to say something, but unable to find the words. With the men he had worked with they were never needed. There was a silent understanding, an empathy born from shared experiences. A nod of acknowledgement could say as much as a hundred words. Cracking jokes or discussing something inane was more welcome. But someone as full of life as Jo shouldn’t—

  When her door closed with a low click, Daniel made a snap decision. It wasn’t as if he had much choice. If she was in trouble and his family knew he hadn’t done something, they would make the roasting he got from his captain look like a weekend barbecue. Taking a long breath, he stepped back and closed the door. In order to prepare for battle he was going to need a few more hours of—hopefully uninterrupted—sleep.

  Come daylight he was venturing into enemy territory.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘We all know a new outfit can lift our spirits. But how often do we look at the person wearing one and wonder if it’s a hint of something bigger happening inside?’

  ‘COME on, Jack, pick up.’

  Jo rubbed her fingertips across her forehead to ease the first indications of a massive headache. Touching the screen to turn the phone off, she set it down on the table beside her computer. She was going to have to go over there. It was the only way she could be certain where he was.

  Sighing heavily, she reached for her coffee cup only to frown at how light it was. If she was going to get a day’s work done in half the time she was going to need a constant supply of caffeine.

  ‘That his name, is it?’

  The sound of a familiar deep voice snapped her gaze to another coffee cup being held out towards her. She blinked at the large hand holding it. ‘Eavesdrop much?’

  ‘Let’s call it an occupational hazard.’ Daniel rocked his hand a little. ‘You want this or not?’

  Her gaze lifted, lingering for a moment on his chest when she remembered what it had looked like naked: taut tanned skin over muscle and a six-pack to make a girl drool. Frowning at the memory, she moved further up until she was looking into too-blue eyes and asked, ‘Why are you buying me coffee?’

  ‘You looked like you could do with it,’ he replied.

  ‘You don’t even know how I take it.’

  ‘Since you’re a regular, I surmised the guy behind the counter would. Turns out I was right.’

  Jo’s gaze lowered to the temptation as she weighed up the risk involved with accepting it. Not that he would wait for an invitation to join her, but apart from the fact she wasn’t in the mood to get into a verbal sparring match with him—

  ‘Your loss.’ He shrugged. Setting it down on the opposite side of the table, he pulled out the empty chair and sat down.

  ‘There are other tables in here, you know.’

  Daniel didn’t say anything, his steady gaze fixed on hers as he took the lid off his cup.

  ‘We’re not picking up where we left off last night, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she said.

  ‘Technically it was this morning.’

  ‘I’ve stayed out of your business.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘How about you return the favour and stay out of mine?’ She smiled sweetly, determined not to look at the abandoned coffee on the table in front of him.

  Daniel brought his cup to his face and took a deep breath. ‘Nothing quite like a cup of Joe to kick-start the morning …’

  While her eyes narrowed at the innuendo, he lifted his other arm and tapped the lid of the abandoned coffee cup with a long forefinger. ‘Sure you don’t want this? Seems a shame for it to go to waste …’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Suspicious, aren’t we?’

  ‘I’ve met you.’

  ‘And still not a morning person.’ He inclined his head towards the cup. ‘Another shot of caffeine might help.’

  Jo fought the need to growl. She wanted that coffee so badly she could taste it on her tongue. Despite her strong-willed determination to stop it happening, her gaze lowered to watch the tip of his forefinger trace an almost absent-minded circle around the edge of the plastic lid. It was one of the most sensual things she had ever seen, adding a new dimension to the temptation, which had nothing to do with caffeine. For a moment her imagination even wondered what the movement would feel like against her skin …

  Reaching out, she waggled her fingers. ‘Give.’

  His hand moved, fingers curling around the cup to draw it back towards him. ‘How much trouble are you in?’

  Her gaze snapped up again. ‘What?’

  ‘Answer the question.’

  ‘Why would you even care if I was in trouble?’ She arched a brow. ‘I’d have thought the idea of my body lying in an alley somewhere would have made your day.’

  ‘Is there a chance that might happen?’

  ‘Not like it would be the first time.’

  ‘That’s not funny.’

  ‘No, but I have dozens of jokes from that period of my life if you need them.’ Angling her chin, she pulled one at random from the air. ‘You know the best part about dating a homeless chick? You can drop her off wherever you want.’

  Daniel didn’t laugh. ‘Do you owe him money?’

  ‘Owe who money?’

  ‘Jack.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what’s going on?’

  A short burst of laughter left her lips. ‘I’m supposed to confide in you because you bought me a cup of coffee?’

  ‘If you’re in some kind of trouble, tell me now and—’

  ‘You’ll help?’ The words came out more sharply than she intended and, when they did, she felt a need to soften them by adding, ‘You can’t, and even if you could you’d be the last person I’d go to for help.’

  Great, now he was never going to leave it alone.

  She might as well have dangled a scented cloth under the nose of a bloodhound.

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Then why are you doing this?’

  When she thought about it, she realized it was simply what he did. All she was to him was another citizen of the city of New York. One he probably felt pressured to help because of her connection to his family. She shook her head. She didn’t need this, least of all from him.

  ‘Tell me what’s going on.’

  The tone of his deep voice inflicted more damage than anything he’d said or done in five and a half years to get to her and she hated him for it. Mostly because the rough rumble was accompanied by a softening of the blue in his eyes, which made it feel as if he understood. As always when there was the slightest danger someone might see through one of her masks, Jo fought fire with fire. ‘I’ll tell you what’s going on when you tell me why it is you can’t sleep.’

  To his credit he disguised his reaction better than he had before. But the second the softer hue of his eyes became an ice-cold blue, Jo regretted what she’d said. She shouldn’t have thrown it in his face. Not to get at him. It was low.

  ‘What makes you think I’m not sleeping?’

  Jo wavered on an indecisive tightrope between familiar ground and freefalling into the unknown. ‘You were awake in the
middle of the night. And you still look tired.’

  ‘I work shifts. And it’s not always easy to adjust,’ he replied without missing a beat. Stretching a long arm across the table, he set the coffee beside her computer. ‘Your turn.’

  It would have been if he’d told her the truth.

  ‘You’ve been a cop for, what, eight years now?’

  ‘More or less.’ He nodded. ‘And can have your every move reported back to me if I have to. Your point?’

  ‘How long does it take to adjust?’

  ‘I was overseas seven months. I’ve been back one.’

  ‘What happened when you were over there?’

  ‘We got shot at.’ Lifting his cup to his mouth, he took a drink without breaking eye contact. ‘Avoid the subject all you want, but we both know if I want to find out what you’re hiding I can do it without your co-operation. I’ll start with Liv.’

  It was an empty threat. Jo reached for the coffee he had given her. ‘Your sister won’t tell you anything.’

  ‘Meaning she knows what it is.’

  ‘Meaning she wouldn’t betray a confidence.’

  A corner of his mouth tugged upwards. ‘You know my family. They’ll organize an intervention if they think something is wrong. If you’ve never been on the receiving end of one I can tell you they’re a barrel of laughs. Nothing beats a little quality family time when it’s five against one. And I did say I’d start with Liv …’

  ‘What makes you think you’re not the only one who doesn’t know?’ she asked.

  ‘If I am you’ve just made it easier for me.’

  The message blood was thicker than water was clear. But she wasn’t so far removed they wouldn’t rally to her aid if she needed help. Jo had known that for years. They were all cut from a cloth threaded with loyalty, honour, integrity and at least a dozen other positive attributes she’d had absolutely no experience of in a family until she met the Brannigans. To Jo, they were everything a family should be. It was part of the reason she’d never understood why Daniel didn’t appreciate them more. But the comment he made about family interventions explained a lot. It was an insight into why he was fighting his demons alone.

  She lifted the coffee cup to her lips. ‘When you speak to them you should mention the problems you’re having adjusting to shift patterns. Your brothers might be able to offer some words of advice.’

  ‘Maybe you should just tell me what’s going on before this starts to get ugly,’ he smirked in reply.

  ‘We could do this all day.’

  ‘Next round’s on you. I take mine black.’

  She sighed. ‘You’re not going to back down, are you?’

  ‘Not my thing.’

  ‘Which brings us back to why you need to know. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’ve answered that yet.’

  When he didn’t reply, she set her coffee down and went back to work, answering some of the comments on her blog while he reached across to the next table and lifted an abandoned newspaper. They sat in silence for a while until Jo could feel a tingle along the back of her neck. Without lifting her chin, she looked up from beneath her fringe to discover him studying her intently.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were the glasses a fashion accessory?’

  She focused on the screen again. ‘I get headaches if I work at the computer for too long.’

  ‘So where are they?’

  ‘I left them in the apartment.’

  ‘Other things on your mind …’ he surmised.

  ‘I can make the print bigger on the screen if you’re so concerned about my eyesight.’

  There was another moment of silence, then ‘Just out of curiosity, what look is it you’re aiming for today?’

  ‘It’s called Gothic chic.’

  At least that was what the magazine had called it. Of all the outfits she had worn during the challenge it was the most outlandish. But since she’d awoken with a need to face the world with a little more bravado and it was the kind of outfit that required confidence to carry it off …

  ‘Might want to remember vampires aren’t supposed to walk in direct sunlight before you step outside,’ he said.

  ‘Are you going to tell me to avoid holy water, garlic and crosses too?’

  He nodded. ‘And teenage cheerleaders with wooden stakes …’

  Turning in her chair, Jo stretched her legs and pouted. ‘You don’t like the boots?’ she asked as she looked at him. ‘They’re my favourite part.’

  Daniel leaned to the side to examine them, a small frown appearing between his brows. ‘You can walk in those things?’

  ‘Women don’t wear boots like these for comfort.’

  Bending forward, she reached down and ran her hands over the shining leather, tucking her thumbs under the edge at her thigh and tugging as she lifted her foot off the ground. Her hair fell over her shoulder as she turned her head and smiled the kind of small, meaningful smile she’d never aimed at him before. ‘Didn’t we talk about how people wear things because of the way they make them feel?’

  The glint of danger in his eyes was obviously intended to make her stop what she was doing before she was any deeper in trouble. Foolish man. He really didn’t know her at all.

  Daniel gritted his teeth together as she repeated the motion with her hands on her other leg and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she sat up. When she smiled across the room, his gaze followed her line of vision to the barista who was smiling back at her.

  The one who had known how she took her coffee.

  The second his gaze shifted, Daniel glared at him. But the guy who immediately went scurrying back to his coffee beans wasn’t the source of his annoyance. Neither was the fact his plan to purposefully avoid looking at her feet as he approached the table had backfired on him, though, with hindsight, forewarned might have been forearmed. What got to him was how well her diversionary tactic had worked.

  There wasn’t a male cell in his body that hadn’t reacted to those boots and the strip of bare skin below another sinful short skirt. He had spent every moment since he’d sat down with her consciously stopping himself from looking at the straining buttons on her black blouse and once again she’d got him with footwear. But if she thought it would distract him from his target for long, she was mistaken.

  He was a Marine, for crying out loud; the phrase ‘courage under fire’ was as good as tattooed on his ass.

  Watching with hooded eyes, he saw her slide her computer to one side before resting her elbow on the table. Setting her chin in her palm, she leaned forward, feigned innocence with a flutter of long lashes and asked, ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘You done?’ he questioned dryly.

  ‘Done with what?’ Amusement danced in her eyes. ‘You might need to elaborate.’

  If he didn’t know what she was doing, he might have been tempted to play along. But if he did, Daniel knew what would happen. He would play to win.

  ‘Tell me what’s going on.’

  When she rolled her eyes, he set his forearms on the table and leaned closer, his gaze locked on hers while he waited. Up close she did have pretty spectacular eyes. A little large for her face maybe, but they were so deep a brown it was difficult to tell where the irises began.

  He’d never noticed that before.

  After studying him for a long moment, she lowered her voice. ‘What if I told you it was private?’

  ‘I’d tell you I won’t share it with anyone else,’ he replied in the same low tone.

  ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘A man is nothing without his word.’

  ‘Tell me why you need to know.’

  He wondered when she thought he’d handed over control of the negotiation. Dragging his gaze from mesmerizing eyes, he considered what to tell her. She was right; they could do this all day. Until one of them bent a little nothing would ever change. Of course knowing that meant he had to ask himself if he wanted their relationship to change. But since it felt as if i
t already was …

  ‘I recognized what I saw in your eyes before you closed the door this morning.’ He looked into them again as he spoke. ‘I’ve seen it before.’

  ‘What did you see?’ she asked in a whisper, forcing him to lean closer to hear her.

  ‘Resignation.’

  She stared at him and then blinked as if trying to bring him into focus. ‘If you knew me as well as you like to think you do, you’d know …’

  ‘I’d know?’ he prompted as she frowned.

  ‘Why I don’t want to talk about it.’ Dropping her palm from her chin, she leaned back and swiped a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘People keep secrets for a reason.’

  When she reached for her computer, Daniel felt the lost opportunity as keenly as he sensed she wasn’t just talking about herself. But if she knew the reason he wasn’t sleeping, why hadn’t she pushed the advantage? Lifting his coffee cup, he looked out of the window and questioned what he would have done if their places had been switched. The exact same thing was the honest answer. It was what he was doing already. He knew there was something wrong and was giving her an opportunity to tell him. In turn, she was refusing to open up.

  Number four on his list: nothing in common.

  So much for that one …

  ‘You want another coffee?’ she asked.

  He looked at her cup from the corner of his eye. ‘What did you do, inhale it?’

  ‘Figured if you were planning on digging in, I may as well top up on supplies.’

  Since sitting still for any amount of time inevitably led to reminders of his sleep deprivation, Daniel shook his head. ‘Think I’ll head down to the station and look through mugshots for Jack before my shift starts.’

  Jo sighed heavily as he stood up. ‘Dig all you want. I’m telling you now there’s only one way you’ll find out and that avenue isn’t and never will be open to you.’

  ‘And there you go challenging me again …’

  Taking a step forward, he set his coffee cup hand on the table by her computer and the other on the back of her chair. As her chin lifted he leaned down, smiling the same kind of small, meaningful smile she’d aimed at him when she’d pulled her little stunt with the boots.

 

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