by Aliyah Burke
Caro blinked and stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“You love this man. It’s all over your expression when you talk about him, hell when you think about him. I see the love you have for him.”
She closed off her facial features, hiding her emotion and displaying what she knew would be an unreadable mask. Terri laughed then coughed to clear her throat. “Sweetie, you can shutter up all you want but I know the truth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied.
“Of course not,” Terri drolled. “What was I thinking? Hmm, if only I did something for a living that allowed me to see past people’s bullshit. What’s that? I do? Really?”
“You are such a bitch,” Caro said.
“You always say that when I’m right and you’re not.”
Caro snapped her mouth shut. The woman had the right of it. With a shrug she turned her head and stared at the fire.
“I’m not going away, Carolyn.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Fine. We don’t have to, won’t change any of the facts. But I’m not your doc. At least not right now. You keep denying yourself and you may be coming to see me.”
Caro peered at her friend. “You write prescriptions for batteries?”
Terri laughed. “Not for anyone but you, darling.”
The timer went off indicating their dinner was ready and they walked to the kitchen. Terri pulled out the salad while Caro grabbed the main course from the broiler. Her palm stung and she shook her head over the lingering pain from the burn. She hated feeling less than one hundred percent.
They ate their main then enjoyed some dessert, toasted coconut cake, which Terri had brought with her. Until late in the night, they chatted about anything and everything. When Terri left, Caro hugged her and watched her go across the hall to her apartment. A final wave and she locked her own door then walked back to the fire and sat before it. Unable to hold still, she moved to the large window that overlooked her city. Bracing against the wall next to it, she stared out as more snow blanketed the streets. They were having an unusually high snowfall this year. She didn’t mind.
“Only one thing could make this better.”
Declan.
She shook her head at her brain’s commentary and closed the curtains before making her way to her bedroom. After ensuring to set her alarm, Caro climbed between the sheets and shut off the light. Sleep eluded her for a while as she couldn’t find a way to get images of Declan McBride out of her mind.
Her rest had been fitful at best when she woke. She got ready for work and walked down with Terri beside her.
“Dinner out tonight?” Terri asked as they paused by their vehicles.
“I think that would be wonderful. Where do you want to meet?”
“Buck & Badger work?”
“Haven’t been there for a while, sounds good to me. It’ll be good to be back there.”
“About seven? Or don’t you think you’ll be done with work by then.”
“Shoot, for Buck & Badger I’ll be done by five if you want to meet then. When’s your last patient?”
“Five it is. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
She opened the door to her Outback and nodded. “See you then.”
“Bye, hon. Be good.” Terri waved and ducked into her BMW.
Adjusting her music, Caro followed her friend from their parking garage and waved as she went toward campus while her friend went in the other direction.
* * * *
Declan swore and punched the bag hanging before him with three more rapid strikes. He was in a mood. And not a pleasant one. After a few more punches he looked up to see his lieutenant crossing the gym floor. He wiped the back of his hand along his brow. The wrap around his hands was a bit scratchy but nothing major when it hit the lingering head injury.
Despite his desire to keep punching, he waited, well aware LT was coming over to him. He hitched up his low slung sweats and stood.
“McBride.”
“What’s up, LT?”
“Why is the ADA calling my office?”
He shrugged. “Beats me. Did you ask them?”
“Not in the mood, McBride.”
Neither was he, yet somehow he assumed that wouldn’t matter. He crossed his arms.
“That bitch, Ashcraft. Left me ten—got that—ten messages.” He paced. “Like I have nothing else to do but her bidding.”
Although he had an idea why, Declan still posed the question, “What does this have to do with me?”
“She wants you to talk to Jasmine Hoyer. Guess she’s not cooperating well.”
He shook his head. “Not my case, LT. I’ve got plenty of my own work stacked up on my plate.”
“I heard what happened. With the twin.”
He held his lieutenant’s gaze. “Point being?”
“Just I know it’s not easy being duped.”
Declan refused to go down that road. He’d shut the door and had no desire—no intention—of going back through it.
“Let me make this clear, LT. I’ve done my job. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m no longer married to her and I refuse to be pushed into doing work for her. She thinks uniforms are shit anyway and detectives are so damn special, like I told her, get them to do it.”
“You know the DA will step in.”
“Still not sure why that concerns me. DA isn’t my boss. Perhaps she should thaw out and be human.”
“Always have to make this personal, McBride?” LT played with his pack of cigarettes.
He looked over to see Jackie approaching, a familiar scowl upon her lips. Dismissing her without a word he picked up his towel and tossed it over his shoulder.
“Anything else, LT?”
“Nope.”
His lieutenant was good people. And he wasn’t any more of a Jackie fan than Declan.
“I’m trying to talk to you, McBride.” Her tone was icy.
“Sounds like you should be talking to your witness. I have to get ready for my shift.”
Declan walked away and into the men’s room. In the shower he swore as he washed his hair when he saw his ex-wife pause by the stall.
“Did you think walking into a bathroom would stop me?”
He groaned. Can’t this woman just leave me alone?
“What are you doing?”
He rolled his eyes. “Jacking off and trying to tune you out. What the fuck do you think I’m doing in the shower before my shift?” Declan tipped his head down and rinsed. “Leave, Jackie. I’m not doing your job.”
“It’s Jacquelyn. What about the officer that died?”
“What about him? You know who killed him?”
“No, but we’re sure it’s—”
“The Kazakova family. I know. But you don’t know who actually did the killing so why are you trying to use that?”
“Damn it! Can’t you just help out?”
He shut off the shower and used his towel before wrapping it around his waist. Then he left the stall.
Jackie ran a critical gaze over him but he felt nothing. Hand on the towel he walked to his locker. A few other officers in there stared unabashedly between him and the woman trailing behind him.
“You have an obligation, McBride.”
He faced her. “My obligation? My job is not yours to control. You aren’t my chief, deputy chief, or my LT. Do not tell me what my obligations are. You want Caro, go find her yourself. Talk to your witness—perhaps she knows where her twin is. Either way, leave me out of it.”
Declan opened the door and withdrew his uniform. Tilting his head in her direction, he raised an eyebrow. “Staying for a show?”
“I’ve already seen it, remember? I walked away.”
Chuckles and snickers came from the others. He didn’t mind. She’d long since been able to embarrass him.
“Staying now. Looking for a refresher?” He faced her fully. “I charge for shows and despite our history that goes even for you.”<
br />
She glared then whirled around on her expensive heels before she stomped away. At the door, she paused to glare once more at him before departing the locker room.
Declan ignored the ribbing and dressed. Hooking on his duty belt, he laughed along with some of the raunchy jokes being told. He double-checked his boots then grabbed his cap and left to attend his briefing.
* * * *
“Stop! Police!” Declan yelled as he ran after his suspect.
Feet pounding, he called in his position as they ran into an alley. Ahead, the young man scrambled up the chain link fence. Cursing, Declan turned on his speed and yanked him down to the ground.
“I’m innocent!”
“Shut up,” he barked.
He rolled him over and cuffed him.
“What did I do, man?”
Declan read him his rights and hauled him to his feet. “Why’d you run if you didn’t do anything?” If the man wasn’t going to be quiet, he may as well ask questions.
“You’re a cop and were chasing me.”
“Hadn’t thought that running would make you even more guilty-looking?”
“Dude, look at me. You’re a white cop. I’m Mexican.”
He rolled his eyes. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Why wouldn’t I run?”
They left the alley and turned back up toward his squad car.
“Because, according to you, you’re claiming innocence. Running makes you look guilty.”
“I am innocent, man.”
“Sure you are.” He reached in the man’s pocket and pulled out the wallet then flipped it open. “According to this, you’re a black woman named Karley.”
“My girlfriend.”
He grunted. “Uh-huh. That’s why when you took it she was screaming you were a thief.” He pushed him forward and called in the collar.
After he had gotten him into the back of his squad car, Declan filled out an incident report and gave his card with the case number on it to the woman. Another car rolled up and he passed the perp over, finished what he needed to and got back to it.
By the end of his shift he was sore. It had been a day chock full of chases and tackles. Uncommon typically but today had been odd all the way around starting with Jackie coming into the locker room. Like most days he’d been working full and long days, even accepting extra shifts. Bottom line he was keeping himself too busy to think of anything but the job. How he wanted it. He had picked to work in the downtown area of the city for a reason. If all he had were jaywalkers, he wouldn’t feel as if he made any real contribution.
He became a cop to make a difference. He would go anywhere in this city, if needed. He had a rep, hard but fair.
Back at the station, he hefted his bag and walked inside. At his desk he sat to do his paperwork. He hurried through it, wanting to get home and do something other than obsess over the woman he’d not see again.
So I could have handled it better when I found out she’d lied. Sue me. I’m human. I tend to react harshly for some things.
Declan finished up and nodded to some of the officers just coming on shift. He stood and put his bag on his desk. Rooting around in it, he found what he was looking for then zipped it back up when his phone rang.
Shit. He was off duty. Shaking his head, he reached for it. “Officer McBride.”
“We need to talk.”
Jackie. “Nope. I’m off the clock. Night, Jackie.” He hung up and walked out before she could get another word in edgewise.
Declan walked to his truck and, after opening the door, tossed the bag across the front seat. Following it in, he started the engine and with a wave to a few others, he pulled out and headed home.
Once there, he showered, then changed and stood in the kitchen waiting for his microwave dinner to finish heating up. That in hand, he went to settle in and watch a bit of Sportscenter.
That was his routine for the next week. One night he dozed on the couch and the phone woke him. With a yawn he checked the clock. Midnight. Reaching for the receiver he sat up.
“Hello?”
“McBride? It’s Dawson down at dispatch.”
“What’s up, man?”
“Sorry to bother you but a woman’s been calling for you. A Terri Mosse.”
Name didn’t ring a bell to him. “Did she say what it was in regards to?”
“Nope but she’s called five times looking for Officer McBride. She’s on hold now.”
“Patch her through. Thanks, Dawson.”
“Sure thing.”
“Officer McBride,” he said when the call clicked.
“Officer Declan McBride?”
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to call you late but I don’t know who else to try.”
“I’m not following.”
“Three Russians came in, kicked in her apartment door and took her.”
A slither skated up his spine. “Took who?”
“Caro. The one who posed as her twin, Jasmine. Look, I know you don’t know me from a hole in the ground. I’m her best friend, she told me about you when she got back. But tonight I heard a commotion and saw them take her.”
Ice filled his veins. “Where are you?”
“Wisconsin.”
Fuck! How’d they find her up there? Why didn’t you? his brain countered. He ignored that—now wasn’t the time he needed to have a crisis of conscience.
“How do you know they were Russians? Did you call the cops up there and what did they say?”
“I speak Russian, my boyfriend is from there. I did call them. They brushed me off. And those three who took her said something about holding her for leverage to get Kazakova out.”
He bolted upright and headed for the door before he had realized what he was doing. “Fuck.”
“Look, I don’t know much about you but she trusted you. The cops up here will look here but I’m guessing this has to do with what she went to Atlanta to help her crazy twin with. So that’s in your jurisdiction. Can you help me? Will you help me? Help me get her back.”
Chapter Thirteen
Caro stirred and tried to move. Nothing. She hurt. Much like she had after the car had gone over the side in the mountains. That kind of hurt. Flashes of what she’d endured smashed through her and she tried, unsuccessfully, to make sense of it all.
They’d broken into her apartment, shattering the door as though it’d been constructed from toothpicks. She hadn’t understood what they had yelled at her but she knew it was Russian. Terri’s long-time boyfriend spoke it all the time with Terri and his family.
Of the three men, the largest had backhanded her sending her careening over the end table and couch to hit the floor. She’d tried to run. Tried to scream. Nothing had worked. She’d been hit a few more times before they’d thrown a bag over her head and someone had carried her over their shoulder.
Now she sat tied to a chair. She couldn’t see anything because the bag remained. Her fears would be less if it could be off her head. Hopefully. She flexed her fingers wincing at the painful rush of blood surging through them. Her heart thundered and she tried to slow her breathing.
The rank interior of the bag brought tears to her eyes. Then again it could be the situation. Either way, I have to calm down. Panicking will get me nowhere. I can figure this out. Her little pep talk didn’t help much.
She heaved a heavy sigh. Her chest hurt along with her abdomen. And jaw. Everything hurts. Caro tried to move her legs only to discover she couldn’t do that either. The ropes cut into her ankles. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
What did they want from her? Why’d they taken her?
She heard—faintly—the door shut and footsteps near her location.
Swiping her tongue along her lips, hoping for moisture, she waited. It was a failed attempt for soothing the dryness. Her head wobbled when the bag was yanked away. She squinted against the harsh glare of lights. There, before her, stood a large figure—one she co
uldn’t make out.
He gripped her chin painfully and pushed her head back. She struggled to get away but it was impossible. Slowly, his face came into focus. Harsh features covered by short-cropped facial hair. His nose appeared to have been broken a few times in his past. Still a good-looking man.
He had blue eyes that…held no emotion. Dead eyes. More than anything, that scared her. A small bit of emotion would be better than none.
“Who are you?” She forced the question past her busted lip, ignoring its sting. It feels like I have some loose teeth as well.
His smile was disturbing on so many levels. She swallowed back the bile threatening to escape. Staring back at him she took in his nice slacks and shirt. Maybe I should hurl on him.
“I get you.” He gave a leering grin. “This will be fun for me. Not so much for you. No matter. It’s fun for me. That’s important.”
Fear spiked. “Y…you get me? What’s that mean?” Why am I asking this? I don’t think it’s in my best interest to know.
He leaned in close and flashed a perfect grin. “It means, lovely, when he gets what he wants, I get what I want.”
Words that only added to her fear instead of alleviating it. “He? Who’s he?”
Now his gaze grew dark with emotion—sadistic glee. Okay, so I was wrong when I wanted to see emotion in his gaze. I really, really don’t.
“Boss man.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“Mr Kazakova. You know him.”
It didn’t sound like a question to her but she decided to respond as if it were one. She shook her head. “No, afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
From the look on his face, she didn’t want to.
“No matter. I will keep you. We will have fun.”
Meaning him. “So you’ve said. What I don’t know is what you want with me?”
“Leverage.”
“I don’t understand. Leverage for what?” How come in the movies when people are captured and tied up like this they manage witty banter and look so calm? It’s official, I need to stop watching so many movies and get out more.
“Get him free.”
Shit. This is not good. Anyway I try to slice it, all I end up with is a piece of shit pie. Or you’ve been fucked cake. “And you think holding me will accomplish that?”