“That’s different. She loves you,” Briana said.
“Here’s hoping you’re right,” Stef countered with a raised glass and wide eyes. “I wonder sometimes.”
“You wonder if she loves you?”
“Yeah.” Stef looked out the window as she spoke. “I wonder if I’m enough for her. She can be so hard to read,” she said. “It doesn’t help that she’s been a little distant lately. I know work is crazy. Believe me, I understand that. But I’d be less paranoid if some law fellow named Kara wasn’t blowing up her phone all the time.”
Kara Kennedy. Oofa.
Briana knew she was supposed to fill in the blanks. Ease Stef’s nerves. Tell her she was crazy—everything was fine. The problem was she didn’t have a clue if there was something going on between JJ and Kara. She was too busy trying to keep her head above water to notice anything else. All she knew was Kara had accompanied her and JJ to Miami weeks ago. At the time Briana had been too focused on the case during the day and too interested in talking to Dylan at night to even hang out beyond dinner.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Stef,” she said. “Kara’s nice. But she doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
“Is she pretty?”
Briana winced. Kara was attractive and smart but young enough to be impressionable. She probably thought JJ was the shit. “She’s not you. She’s a kid.”
“And my girlfriend is a silver fox with an insatiable sex drive and a massive ego.” Stef waved her comment away, pretending it was no big deal. “You’re right. I’m sure I have nothing to worry about,” she said with a laugh.
“Insatiable sex drive. Hey-o.” Briana tried to spin the convo into less thorny terrain. “Spill,” she said, settling farther into the couch. “Spare no details. Remember I’m living vicariously through you these days.”
“I’m sorry for making this whole conversation about me.” Stef rubbed her knee. “We were talking about Dylan.”
“It’s okay. There’s really nothing to say.” It was the truth. In the month since their random ball court breakup, Briana had called and texted Dylan a fair amount, if she was being honest. But other than a few bland text responses, Dylan had iced her out.
“We were trying to come up with ways to win her back.”
“But that’s just it.” The situation ate away at her, but she shrugged it off for the moment, knowing there was nothing more she could really do. “Why should I have to make another overture? I gave up my career for our relationship. And she flushed it down the toilet.” Briana snapped her fingers. “Over. Just like that.”
“Still makes zero sense to me.”
Briana felt exactly the same way. Every night she told herself she was done trying to understand it, but then she lay awake in bed wondering what she could have done that might have made a difference. She hated that Dylan still took up so much space in her mind and heart. But at the same time, she wasn’t ready to let her go. Not in any capacity. No matter how much she dissected it, the timing of their breakup seemed arbitrary. Dylan’s reasoning, paper-thin. There was just no making sense of it.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.
“Come out with us tonight,” Stef said with enthusiasm. “Me and JJ will be your wing-people. We’re staying local. Just heading up to Connolly’s for a few drinks.”
Connolly’s. Ugh.
The very location she’d shared her first solo drink with Dylan. Even all those months ago, there’d been a part of her that knew she was going to go for it. Despite the initial protest and the cat-and-mouse game that followed, Briana had always known what her heart wanted. Dylan had captivated her from the very start. The thought of going to Connolly’s now, without her—there was no way she had the strength for that tonight.
“Nah.” Briana swallowed her heartache. “I’m just going to stay here. This bottle of wine is my wingman.”
“That’s a healthy plan.” Stef nodded in jest before her expression turned slightly serious. “Bri, maybe if you come out, you’ll see Dylan. I honestly think if she sees you—”
“Nope.” She knew she was being severe. But she didn’t have the faith that Stef seemed to be holding on to. And she was barely staying afloat as it was. If she saw Dylan out, talking to someone, flirting, knowing she was going to take them home…no way. That was a reality she simply could not handle. “You guys go. Have fun. I’m going to order sushi and find something ridiculous on TV.”
“No sappy romances,” Stef ordered.
“No worries,” she responded.
But despite her best intentions, she landed on a movie whose plot was part suspense, part love story, and by the end she was barely keeping tabs on the murder mystery as she sighed at every sweet thing the main characters did for each other, inadvertently reminiscing over the good times with Dylan.
Just after midnight, she was sleepily aware of Stef and JJ laughing and talking in the kitchen. Even though she was still sad for herself, it made her happy to hear them getting along. If she’d had any energy, she would have joined them for a late-night snack, but in her heart she knew it would only be to find out if there’d been a Dylan sighting. And honestly, whether the answer was yes or no didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t here.
* * *
Every minute of Monday was accounted for.
It was nearly eleven, and Briana had already ironed out the nuances of the Hyde settlement. Next on her agenda was reviewing the brief JJ asked her to look over before the noon interview she was sitting in on with Kara. Honestly, she loved being booked solid. It kept her from thinking about Dylan non-freaking-stop. As a bonus, today she’d get one-on-one time with Kara. Fingers crossed the personal connection would give her enough info to put Stef’s fears to bed.
“Nose to the grindstone. As usual.” JJ’s voice echoed in her doorway. “It almost makes me feel bad that I make more money than you.”
Briana smiled at the twisted compliment. “You are the boss,” she said without looking up. “Shouldn’t you be off golfing away your billable hours?”
“Eh, too rainy.” JJ smirked at the good-natured jab and took a seat in the chair opposite her desk. “I was hoping you could spare a minute for me.”
“Like I have a choice.” Briana crinkled her nose, so JJ would know she was kidding. “Of course I have time for you. What’s up?”
JJ’s face was so serious that she almost wondered if she was in trouble. What if this was an informal performance review? Despite JJ’s remarks to the contrary, she was dragging a little. Hopefully JJ knew her best work was still to come.
“I have it on fairly good authority that they’re taking your case down soon.”
“My case?” she asked, immediately thinking about Dennis Hyde. “I just finessed the settlement.”
“No.” JJ leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Your drug case with the US Attorney’s Office.”
Her head started to spin. How did JJ know those details? Why was she sharing them with her? Did this mean Dylan would be in danger? So often drug takedowns involved a sting, and with Dylan’s undercover role, she might be exposed. Her pulse raced, but she tried to stay cool.
“How did you come upon that information?”
“I think they’re looking at the end of the week,” JJ said, not bothering to address her question.
Briana was keenly aware of her heartbeat. “I’m serious. How do you know this?”
JJ kept her poker face as she selected a business card from Briana’s desk and ran a finger over the embossed lettering. “Let’s just say a little birdie told me.”
“Well that sounds highly unethical.”
“Before you go reporting me to the bar association, this hunch is based on being able to read between the lines, not leaked information.” She returned the card and folded her hands precisely. “Anyway, I can be trusted.”
“You’re literally in here telling me.”
“Sharing a hypothesis with you,” she corrected. “With good reason
.”
“Which would be?”
“Briana.” JJ looked her dead in the eye, her expression somber. “Call your girlfriend. Your ex. Dylan,” she said. “Tell her to be safe. To come home in one piece. Let her know you’re thinking about her. Because you are.”
“Even if I was inclined to reach out, once I do that, she’d know you know.”
“I can handle Junior,” she said with a smug laugh.
Lord knew she wanted to tell Dylan to be careful, to wear every last piece of protective gear she owned, to come home unharmed and ready to give them another chance. But she’d played these cards already.
“Honestly, JJ”—Briana tossed her pen on the desk in surrender—“I did the heavy lifting here. I left my job.” She shook her head still in awe over the way it had all unfolded. “The NYPD has hundreds of diversified units. Robbery, Homicide, Special Victims. Christ, if you want to ride a horse and be a cop, you can. She didn’t put in for a transfer. She didn’t ask to go back to Vice. No.” With two fingers, she pounded her own chest. “I did the hard part. I gave up my dream.”
“I’m pretty sure Dylan doesn’t even want to ride a horse.”
Briana rolled her eyes, annoyed that JJ was making a joke of her sacrifice.
“Look, Briana, we all know that you’re going to run the US Attorney’s Office someday. I don’t think there’s a single soul in the New York legal community who’d take that bet.” She held her arms to the side and looked around at the upscale office decor. “Your stint here is going to help you reach that pinnacle. The varied experience and exposure you’ll get, you haven’t even scratched the surface. Plus, you’ll make a healthy living. Win-win.”
No doubt JJ was making good points, but her hard sell seemed to ignore the main hurdle. As if JJ could read her mind she said, “As far as Dylan is concerned, the kid’s tough as nails. On the outside.” She leaned forward and buffed out a scuff on her expensive shoes. “Thing is, Dylan’s not actually bulletproof. The Kevlar vest”—she waved one hand over her torso—“does nothing to protect the heart, I’m afraid. Not from breaking, anyway. She’s taken a fair amount of hits in that area, and I imagine the scar tissue built up from those wounds is impressive.”
Briana let JJ’s words sink in. Even though she put up a front, Briana knew Dylan felt a certain sense of abandonment where her parents were concerned. She’d even put up a wall in her friendship with JJ. Through this lens, she could see it now. Dylan’s perspective on things. Was she so afraid of losing her that she ended things first?
“She’s scared of looking weak,” JJ said seriously. “She’ll never ask for help. Or admit that she needs something. Or someone, in this case. She puts up all these defenses. Got that cock of the walk thing down pat.”
“Hmm, where’d she learn that, I wonder?”
“I don’t call her Junior for nothing.” JJ’s chuckle was filled with pride. “Deep down, though”—she shrugged—“she just wants to be loved.”
“Ugh. Women.” Fully frustrated, Briana closed her eyes. “So complicated.”
“I prefer complex.” JJ’s smile was just a touch slick. “It’s what keeps us interesting.”
“I did love her. I still do.”
“You have to tell her.”
“And I should do that how? She barely answers my messages,” she said remembering a cool 10-4 Dylan had shot back at her in a recent clipped exchange. “Am I to rent a skywriter? Take out a billboard?”
“That’s very dramatic,” JJ said, clearly pretending to take her seriously. “Involves a ton of logistics as well. I was thinking along the lines of something more conventional. Go to her apartment, perhaps. Wait for her after a Sunday basketball game. Something manageable but directed.” She clapped both hands on her knees and stood up. “You’ll figure it out.”
“And what if she rejects me? Again, I should say.”
“You give up this easy on cases?”
It wasn’t a question at all. It was a wake-up call to fight for what she wanted. For what she needed. For Dylan. For love. God, she could fucking hug JJ right now.
“JJ,” Briana called out just as her boss reached the door. She was planning on expressing her appreciation for the unexpected kick in the behind. It didn’t matter that she had no clue how to proceed—JJ’s roundabout pep talk fueled her drive. It felt like a vote of confidence for her, for Dylan, for their chance at reuniting. And for that she was thankful.
“Yeah?” JJ said.
“Are you screwing around on Stef?” she asked, surprising herself when the accusation trumped her moment of gratitude.
JJ hung her head, and a slow sly grin emerged. “I have to admit, I thought you were going to thank me.”
“I was. I just…I don’t know.” Briana wasn’t sure she even wanted to know the answer. “Thank you,” she said shifting gears again. “Your weird mini-lecture has me feeling…hopeful. And thank you for hiring me. I’m not sure I ever properly expressed my gratitude for the opportunity.”
“I know you don’t see it yet, but it’s going to be a good career move. Trust me.”
For some reason she did. “When did you get so wise?” she teased.
“Remember, I have a decade on you. I might have collected a few nuggets of wisdom along the way.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Briana straightened the file on her desk. “One more thing.” She looked right at JJ.
“What is it?”
“Do right by Stef,” she said, not willing to let her off the hook. “She deserves that much.”
JJ’s serious expression said she was taking the advice to heart. “I’ll take your counsel under advisement,” she said, knocking twice on the doorframe before she began to back away. “I suggest you do the same.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Dylan cracked the window to let the crisp morning air filter through her car as she stared at Benji Rafferty’s house. This was it. The moment of truth and justice, the singular payoff for months of solid police work.
Good ol’ Goldenballs was about to get arrested.
She should be brimming with anticipation. Even a little pride. After all, if not for her random overhear and initial gut instinct, the team might not be where they were right now—ready to hit the doors on their suspects and take them into custody. Reveal themselves as cops and watch the faces drop. But instead of being exhilarated, Dylan felt hollow.
It was crazy. This was literally what she’d been waiting for, in a way, since the day she took the oath to protect and serve.
But everything was wrong.
Her personal life was a mess. In the precisely six weeks and three days since she’d called it quits with Briana, nothing seemed right. Or normal. Or good. Dylan barely left the house unless it was to go to work, which these days didn’t provide much solace. Even this takedown seemed all over the place. O’Rourke had moved it up in the eleventh hour just so he could include the arrest stats in some kind of quarterly assessment. It was complete nonsense and a stunt that Briana would never have pulled.
Briana. Dylan closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Everything she did, every last thought all came back to Briana. If time truly healed all wounds, why didn’t she feel any better at all?
“Five minutes out.” Trevor barked his ETA over the radio en route to apprehend Paul Rafferty at his residence in New Jersey. “Everyone else in place?”
“Copy,” she said, keying the mic. “We’re set up outside Benji’s.” She peered at the facade of the house, but it was dark inside. It seemed the whole neighborhood was still sleeping soundly.
“All quiet over here at Georgie-boy’s.” Ahmed and his crew were only a block away, and it was nice to know they were close enough to back each other up if needed.
“Great,” Trevor said. “I’ll give the signal when we’re ready to roll. Stand by.”
“10-4,” Dylan said.
The coordinated takedown was designed to play out in unison. Executing all three warrants at the same time mitigated the oppo
rtunity for collusion by the perps. Benji would have no clue what, if anything, might be happening to George or Paul. And the reverse was true as well. It was a nice dose of uncertainty that played to the strengths of the good guys. And with any luck, one of the targets might panic enough to turn government witness.
In the light breeze, a leaf fell on her windshield, and she remembered the time Briana told her that Carroll Gardens ranked high on a list of New York City neighborhoods with the most trees per square mile. It was such a random tidbit, but God, it made her so happy. Back then and now. But fuck, even at this critical moment, her mind was on Briana.
“All right, folks.” Trevor’s voice pulled her back to reality again. Thank freaking God. She needed to be sharp. Get her head on straight. “Everybody check in when you’re in the clear. Be safe. Let’s roll.”
Day was just beginning to break as Dylan exited her car and saw Shawn and the other members of her crew doing the same. They were an odd sight for sure—a pile of cops in ballistic vests and raid jackets descending upon the quiet suburban street. As wild as it was, the image was just enough to pump her up.
“You three go around back.” Dylan directed three loaner detectives from Team 4 to the rear of the house, just in case Benji tried to bolt. “You guys are with me,” she said, pointing a finger between Karrakas and Shawn as she approached the front door.
“You good, Dylan?” Shawn asked.
“Never better,” she said.
“Okay, kids. Let’s do this,” Karrakas offered with a deep breath as Dylan knocked on the door.
There was no answer for a solid thirty seconds, so she pressed the doorbell and knocked again. Finally, they heard movement from inside.
“Here he comes,” Shawn said.
Dylan kept her firearm holstered but gripped the handle of her Glock, ever ready if things went south.
But then Benji opened the door. He never asked who it was. She never even uttered the movie-famous Police, open up. The door swung open, and Benji Rafferty stood in front of them, a barely awake, rumpled mess in boxers and a T-shirt.
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