by Beverly Bird
They stood and shook hands. Ricky hesitated. “Good luck,” he said finally. “I can’t say I understand what you’ve done—you had it all, bro, without having to get your hands dirty. But if this is the way you want it, then good luck. Just keep some obvious space between yourself and Officer Molly. You don’t need to be alarming anybody, making them worry about your pillow talk.”
Danny stepped back and watched his old friend saunter out of the Café. Ricky paused to take the Carson girl’s hand, and it made her light up like a Christmas candle. He really did have a way with women, Danny thought. The air of danger he wore like a cloak was irresistible.
Danny sat again slowly. You’re falling in love with her.
He gave a hoarse laugh. He wasn’t. For one thing, he didn’t have it in him. For another, it just wasn’t an option. He couldn’t let it happen, so he wouldn’t. Whatever that tantalizing little thing was that had been dancing between them all week, it was just as over now as his friendship with Ricky was.
One way or the other, Molly French was now another official Mercado casualty in his life.
What he knew about relationships he could fit on his thumb-nail, Danny thought, rubbing his jaw. From Judy Maldonado all the way down to pretty Molly with her startling green eyes, he’d never had one that had lasted more than a few weeks. Before he’d turned away from the mob, it had been safer that way. He couldn’t risk ticking Carmine off—or one of the others—and have them aim for a loved one, just as they would do now if they thought he was stepping over a line.
He knew nothing about relationships, he thought again, but he was starting to know Molly pretty well. He knew her integrity, her honesty, her spunk.
He could never again speak to her of something that was a huge part of his past. And she would never ask. So there would always be that unspoken chasm of secrecy between them. And that was something that would tear a woman like Molly apart, day after day until she could stand it no more, until she hated the sight of him because of it.
It made Danny sick.
Chapter 6
Molly wasn’t sure when her nerves changed to fear. At first they were just a humming sensation beneath her skin that started when she made a quick trip to the police station. She wanted to try to get clearance on the personnel records from Chief Stone, and she didn’t want to be at the rec center knowing Danny was at a meeting that was so very wrong and so horrifyingly necessary. So she decided to kill two birds with one stone.
Luck was running her way for once. She didn’t have to beg and plead with Stone’s secretary to get past her into his inner sanctum. She met up with the chief in the parking lot.
“Just the man I wanted to see.” Molly grinned winsomely and moved quickly to intercept him before he reached his white city-issue Explorer.
“Officer French.” She thought he might have groaned. “I’ve already given you everything I can possibly give you without the consensus of city council. What do you want now?”
Molly had to shield her eyes against the sun to look up at him. He was tall, and the silver threaded through his hair caught the light and seemed to glint. He really wasn’t an unattractive man. It was just that she had the unique ability to turn his blue eyes to flint.
She dropped her hand and resigned herself to addressing his shirt front. “Evie Castelano—in personnel—doesn’t have my name on the task-force list. I need to check something but I can’t get past her without your okay.”
“Why on earth would you need to check with personnel?”
Molly frowned. If he had cleared the other task force members, then why should he be surprised that she wanted access, as well? Her nerves starting thrumming.
“You were a late appointee,” Stone added.
Molly shrugged carefully. “I figured that was it. So now I’m just asking you to push the paperwork along a little so I can have the same access to the investigation that everyone else has.”
“Molly.” He said it wearily. “There is absolutely no chance you’re going to get your gold shield out of this. You’ve got to relax before you drive us all crazy.”
She felt a cold, hard fist grab hold of her backbone. “I fail to see why not.”
“Because there are others with more seniority ahead of you. You know how it goes. The twenty-five-year guys retire, they make space at the top, then you young pups can move on up. But there are other guys who get to move first and they all want that same shield.”
“Did they earn it?”
His eyes crinkled shut at the corners, telling Molly that she’d done it again. She’d opened her mouth and ticked him off. She backpedaled quickly. “Chief, this really isn’t about my shield—although we all know that I want it. I’m just trying to figure out who planted that bomb at the country club. I don’t see why it should matter to you if it’s me or Joe Gannon or anyone else who does it, for that matter, just as long as we apprehend the people responsible.”
“Of course it doesn’t matter to me,” he said stiffly.
“Then I need my name on Evie Castelano’s list. And on whatever other lists are out there.”
“What do you need from Personnel?” he asked again.
“I want to know who was working desk duty the day Ed Bancroft hung himself.”
“You were there that day,” he said, clearly exasperated. “You found Bancroft yourself. Who signed you in?”
“That’s just it—no one did. The book was there on the desk, I signed it and went past to the holding-cell area. As it turns out, I’m the only person who signed in all day. My name is the only one on that sheet, and I want to know why. Somebody gave him that belt.”
Stone’s expression changed as though he was just remembering something. “Beau Maguire was on duty that day. He left his post. He’s already been written up and reprimanded for it, which is why he is now on your four-to-midnight shift.” He beeped the remote to unlock his Explorer door and finally stepped around her to get into the vehicle. “I have no more time for this, Molly. I’m sorry. I really have to go.” He shut the door hard enough to make her wince.
“Beau Maguire?” Molly murmured as she watched Stone drive out of the lot. “Well, why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?” Because, she answered herself, Beau was one of the good ol’ boys. And if he had been demoted, none of the other good ol’ boys were going to tell her that one of their own had been taken down a peg. Or maybe Stone really had forgotten the issue.
Molly went back to her car and kicked the tire in exasperation. She still wasn’t sure if she’d gotten access to Personnel or not. Stone had never really answered her request.
Her nerves were actually starting to twitch. “Twenty-four hours,” she promised herself. “If Evie doesn’t have my name by then, I’ll have to do something radical.”
With that decided, she made up her mind to stop by the drugstore and the bank before heading back to the rec center.
When she returned an hour and a half later, the yellow Dodge was still gone. Molly tucked her car quickly into Danny’s vacated space, but she couldn’t find it in herself to smile this time.
She felt nervous, as if ants were marching busily through her blood. Did he possibly think he could talk the mob out of hitting him? He held it against her that she was a cop, but because she was a cop Molly knew that what he was trying to do today was akin to hitting the moon with a BB gun.
She was scared for him, she admitted. She looked up and down the street where the yellow Dodge should have been hogging at least two parking spaces.
By two o’clock, her nerves gave up and fear took over. The ants receded and something cold and iron-like held her heart in its grip. He wasn’t coming back. They had killed him.
“Where’s Coach?” Fisk said, striding into Ron’s office with Jerome on his heels. Molly sat at the desk with the telephone book, trying to figure out which other cities had rec center basketball teams. She looked up at the boys.
“He had something to do.” When was she supposed to start
looking for his gun-toting, store-robbing jerk body? How much time should she let pass before she raised an alarm and got involved? She glanced at her watch and tried to put her mind back to the kids. Then she frowned. “What are you doing here? School’s not out yet.”
“Nope. But we are,” said Jerome.
Fed up, Molly threw her pen onto her desk with enough vehemence that it bounced off. “Damn it, you guys! I’m a cop. I could—and should—take you in for truancy!”
“Uh, okay.” Fisk eyed the fallen pen. “You okay, Molly?”
“I’m great. I’m fine. Never been better.”
Jerome backed out of the door again. “Hey, we’re just going to school now, okay?”
“Good. You do that.”
“Tell Coach we were here.”
Not in this lifetime, Molly thought, as they left again. He’d probably blame her for chasing them off one more time.
If he even came back alive.
She put her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands. Then she heard the rickety screen door clatter open again. “Don’t push your luck!” she shouted.
“If I can outsmart organized crime, I can sure as hell hold my own with a cop.”
Danny. Molly’s head snapped up. She almost came to her feet.
He was standing in the office door, and her tongue tried to cleave to the roof of her mouth at the sight of him. The suit fitted him as if it had been tailored just for him. It was charcoal gray. He wore a white shirt and his tie—was that lemon yellow? she wondered, choking—was undone and draped negligently around his neck. He held a paper bag in one hand. He had never looked so good…or so tired.
“You’re alive,” she croaked.
He grinned fast. “Ah, Molly, you really care.”
Temper sizzled into all the bones that fear had been holding captive just moments before. “Of course I care. You’re a human being. And what you did today was really stupid.”
His eyes darkened. “So’s dying for doing the right thing, at least in my book.”
“No!” She clapped her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to talk about this again!”
“Stop acting like an adolescent Pollyanna.”
“What?” She dropped her hands. “What did you just call me?”
“An adolescent Pollyanna. The world’s a nasty place, but I just held my own against a piece of it and I’m feeling pretty damned good about it, all things considered. So stop ticking me off and trying to ruin my mood.”
Molly clenched her hands in her lap and swivelled Ron’s chair so that she faced him. “You’re definitely alive and as unpleasant as ever. What do you have in that bag?”
“You know, you’ve got a real preoccupation with the things I carry in and out of here.”
“I hate mysteries.”
He seemed to sigh. “It’s a bottle of pinot noir. Are you going to bust me, Officer?”
“Bust you? What for?”
“Possession of an alcoholic beverage.”
“That’s not—oh.” He was on parole.
It was always there, she thought. They could never get past it. Where he came from…where she came from…their backgrounds were so similar, yet they’d taken such divergent paths. And because of that, they were each something the other despised.
Molly’s throat closed a little.
“What’s wrong?” He motioned at the phone book. “Is the money drying up?”
She shrugged. “No. I’ve gotten about sixteen hundred dollars so far. I’m just angry with myself because I spent two hours worrying about a gun-toting, store-robbing jerk.”
Something suddenly closed over his heart. The only other person who would care where he had gone today was his mother…which was why he hadn’t told her. Now both these women were under the eye of the mob.
He took a step backward out of the doorway. The best thing he could do for Molly French was leave her alone, he reminded himself. And now it went beyond the fact that she was a cop. Her life was in his ex-con hands. Even Ricky had warned him about that.
“I chased more kids off a few minutes ago,” she said suddenly as he took a step away.
“What?” He stopped and looked back at her, registering her words. “That’s okay. I’m not up to coaching today.”
“Oh.” Something was wrong, she realized. What had happened in that meeting?
“Just don’t tell Ron. He’ll dock my pay and then I’ll have to file for bankruptcy.”
“Ha. I’ll cut you a portion of what he gives me.”
He gave that tight grin again and left the office.
“Wait!” Molly vaulted out of the chair and jogged into the vestibule, pushing open the double doors to the gym with both hands. “Are you sure everything worked out okay?” she called after him.
Danny paused. Had it? He’d put his insurance on the table, and Ricky’s ultimatum was there, too. The rules were plain as day, cold and concise on both sides. They understood each other. And that was about as good as it was going to get.
Danny decided there was no way to answer her question.
“I am going to take this bottle of wine upstairs and I am going to drink it,” he said slowly instead. “Wine has not touched my tongue in six years. I’m going to munch on some cheese and crackers and enjoy what I can out of life and—for the rest of the day, anyway—I’m going to forget about the future and the past. Excuse me.”
Something moved in the area of Molly’s chest. She didn’t want him to be a man who—on his first celebration after being released from prison—drank wine and ate cheese alone.
“Tortilla chips are better,” she said finally, lamely.
He grimaced. “I lived on tortilla chips when I was a kid.”
“So did I.”
“Those little bags were easy to steal out of convenience stores.”
“Easier than the cash register, at any rate.”
His face closed down. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Danny, wait. I didn’t mean—”
“Molly, you are always going to mean it.”
She covered her face with her hands. “It’s my tongue. Sometimes it just says things.”
He actually laughed, though he did it harshly. “I know. Can I go now? I’m beat. Contrary to popular opinion, holding a friend’s feet to the fire doesn’t sit well with me—no better than having my own feet held there in return.”
“Is that what happened? What did he say to you?” she asked quickly, then she added, “He’s not your friend, Danny.”
“Yes, Molly, he is. He’ll always be my friend. He just won’t be a part of my life any longer. I’m leaving now.”
But she didn’t want him to go. “Is it over?”
“Yeah, I’m out.” But you’re not.
He wasn’t prepared for the way she did it again, just sat down on the gym floor as though her legs had folded. “Thank God,” she murmured.
“Molly, this has nothing to do with you.” Which was a lie, he thought.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. Or to go back to jail.”
She made his heart shift with the simple, sincere words. He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let her get to him. “Yeah, then who would you irritate the hell out of?”
“Oh, plenty of people.”
He laughed again. It sneaked up on him and got out. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, then he headed toward the back of the gym.
“Where are you going now?” she called out.
“To Plank’s kitchen.” He found two paper cups and a knife and headed back to the gym.
“The way this is shaping up,” he said, “you’re not going to shut it off long enough for me to get upstairs, and I’m not willing to postpone this libation indefinitely.”
“You’re going to share the wine.” She sighed it. “I’m off tonight, too. Perfect timing.”
“You’d probably only follow me upstairs if I didn’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Maybe not. There’s a bed up there.”
Her breath caught and her eyes flew to his. “You’re doing it again,” she murmured. “I thought we were going to stop that stuff.”
“We can’t seem to stay away from it, though, can we, pretty Molly? Here.” He passed her the knife. “Cut the cheese.”
He’d bought a corkscrew as well. Danny set about uncorking the wine, watching her out of the corner of his eye. That flush was still on her skin, faintly pink, soft and sweet. She laid the cheese out, and he poured them each a paper cup full of wine.
She savored her first sip. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed it. It rocked something inside him…that she was a woman who could turn herself over to pleasure like that. When she finally swallowed, she opened her eyes and grinned at him. “Thanks. So what exactly happened today? How did you talk Ricky into letting you go this time?”
He’d been thinking about his mouth on her skin, if she would close her eyes then in just that way. He was sitting on a gym floor in an Armani suit drinking wine out of a paper cup, and somehow it felt right. It took him a moment to focus on what she had said. “Huh?”
“Ricky Mercado. How did you talk him into letting you out?”
“Damn it, Molly. Can’t you ever just let anything go?”
“No, not usually.”
He took the offensive. “You’re doing this to find out about the bombing, aren’t you? To find out if the mob is behind it? You’re being a cop again. Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you, and I don’t know.”
Hurt rained down her face, stealing first her eyes then her mouth. “That’s not true.”
He stretched his legs out in front of him. He knew it wasn’t and he always felt like hell when he tried to hurt her. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You really think the worst of me.”
“I have my moments. I just wish I could hold on to them all the time.”
Something snapped in her heart—one of the last tethers she had to hold it in place.
“Don’t do that,” he said sharply, glancing at her again.
She thought of the time they’d spent here in the gym last night, of how he had accused her of breathing hard. “I did not just breathe hard.”