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15

WEST

I passed a glass of whiskey to an off-duty detective and glanced at the pub door as it swung open. Joanna entered, and my heart skipped a beat, but then fell. She was pale—almost pasty—and drawn. Had her case taken a turn? Perhaps she’d discovered something in Sasha’s notes that had upset her.

She approached the bar, and I grabbed onto the edge of the wood, determined not to make her uncomfortable by reaching for her the way I wanted to.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked her.

“Just water.” Her eyes were blank, absent any of the emotions I often saw flickering through them.

I filled her glass and handed it to her. “Want to talk? Bartenders are good at listening.”

She arched one elegant eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I shrugged. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

She didn’t smile, but the tension around her mouth eased, so I counted that as a win.

“Can’t talk about it here,” she murmured.

I looked around. Dean was making drinks, but there was no line, so he should be all right on his own for a few minutes.

“Out the back,” I said softly.

She nodded, gulped down her water, and pushed away from the bar. I met her at the end and led her through the Staff Only door and into Henry’s office. She shut the door.

“What’s up?” I asked.

She rubbed her temples. She looked so tired. I wished I could rub the knots out of her shoulders and make her feel better, but I wouldn’t touch her unless she wanted me to, and she was giving no impression of that at the moment.

“I’ve gotten through almost all of the diary.” She rested her ass on the edge of the desk and crossed her long legs at the ankles. “Including part that talks about the homicide detective, the one Portia mentioned.”

“The one you thought could be Hanson?” I whistled. “What did it say?”

She scowled. “That’s just it. There was nothing there that Portia hadn’t already told us, except that whoever he is, he was drunk when it happened. I’d just finished reading that part when Hanson interrupted. Gave me the fright of my life.”

I tensed. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“No.” She shot me a look. “But I had to do some fast-talking to avoid answering his questions. I think he realizes that there’s more going on here than he knows about. I’m sure he’s going to start demanding answers soon.”

“Shit. We need to come up with a reasonable explanation for why you’d be keeping things from him.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets. Better they be there than where they really wanted to be. “Do you think there’s a chance he might be involved? Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that you guys got this case rather than Neal?”

The fact she didn’t react negatively right away made me wonder if she’d already been considering the possibility herself.

She nibbled on her lower lip, obviously conflicted. “If you’d have asked me a few days ago, I’d have said no. Hanson isn’t the most sensitive guy around, but I would never have expected him to be dirty. Now… I’m not sure.”

I moved closer to her so we could speak quietly. I doubted anyone was listening, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “If he is the detective Portia and Sasha mentioned, and he was drunk when he went to the brothel, it’s possible he did something out of character. But by the time he’d sobered up, it was too late. Ortez would have had all the blackmail material he needed.”

She grimaced. “I know, and I can imagine him going to the strip club and thinking it was harmless. He likes people seeing him as a real man’s man. But the brothel… He must have known that would be different. Deborah would never forgive that.”

“Which could be reason enough for him to work for Ortez,” I pointed out, “to avoid her finding out.”

She winced, and I felt like an asshole. It’s not that I wanted Hanson to be dirty, but we had to seriously consider the possibility that he might be.

“Ugh.” Joanna buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“It’s okay.” I tried to make my tone soothing. “We can discuss it later, once you’ve had more time to think it over. Did he give you any reason to worry about going home alone tonight?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m pretty sure I threw him off the scent.”

“Good. Then I want you to go home, drink a glass of wine, and read a book. We can talk more after my shift.” I couldn’t help but wish that I’d be able to arrive home and crawl into bed wrapped around her lean body like I used to, but I was well aware that wasn’t an option, and I had no one to blame but myself.

She nodded, and I was a little surprised she didn’t protest me giving her directions. Perhaps she had too much on her mind to worry about her traitorous husband bossing her around.

“I’d better get back to work.” I held the office door open for her, and she preceded me down the hall and back into the pub.

Captain Thackery glanced up at us from a stool near the end of the bar. “West, will we be seeing you and Joanna at the police fundraising gala this weekend?”

“Fundraising gala?” I echoed, caught off guard.

Thackery snorted. “Of course. Joanna didn’t mention it to you, did she?”

“You know that’s not my scene, Captain,” she complained, narrowing her eyes at me as if daring me to contradict her.

Unfortunately, I might have to. A police fundraising gala would be the perfect opportunity for me to get close to some of the key players in our investigation.

Specifically, I was interested in Detective Neal and his cronies. I hadn’t shared my suspicions with Joanna, but I believed one of the names that regularly appeared in Sasha’s diary—Ortez’s police recruiter—may be none other than her overly territorial colleague.

His possessiveness over the area he considered his would make more sense if he was on Ortez’s payroll. The Ortez mansion was positioned on the lakefront and was their suspected base of operations. Neal would be best poised to protect them if everyone knew to steer clear of his “territory.”

“If you want a promotion, you’d best revise that opinion. It’s the perfect opportunity to mingle.” Thackery smirked. “And for me to show off my best detective.”

“We’ll be there,” I declared, loudly enough that there could be no doubt of Thackery hearing me.

He grinned. “Perfect.”

Joanna glared daggers at me. I looked at her meaningfully. Her glare didn’t lessen, but nor did she protest out loud. She wanted this investigation wrapped up as quickly as I did, even if our reasons for wanting it over with were completely different.

My heart squeezed at the idea of her leaving me without a backward glance. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Nice to see you, Captain,” Joanna said, tipping her head toward him. “I’m going home before my husband can sign me up for anything else.”

She turned, her dark ponytail swishing down her back as she stalked away.

Thackery whistled. “You’re in trouble.”

“I know.” For some reason, that excited me. Joanna’s anger was better than her indifference.

I returned behind the bar and got busy serving patrons. Thackery left soon after, and I didn’t see any more of Joanna’s closer colleagues. As the evening was winding down, a pretty brunette approached.

She rested her forearms on the wood and leaned toward me, a smile quirking her lips. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hello. What can I get you?” I didn’t return the compliment. Not because she wasn’t beautiful but because I refused to flirt with anyone who wasn’t Joanna. Especially for a job that was really only a cover.

“How about your number?” she asked quietly, glancing left and right. Ah. Her previous confidence had been feigned.

I flashed my wedding ring at her. Whether or not our marriage was legal, it was real to me.

“Just my luck.” She rocked back onto her heels. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all. Can I get you a drink instead?”

She sighed. “I suppose a wine will have to do.”

I fixed her drink and by then, another woman was waiting behind her.

The flow of customers slowed ten minutes later, and I closed up soon after. Dean locked the front on his way out, and I exited through the rear, making sure no one could get in before making my way to the car.

Inside, I flicked the locks and called Adam.

“I have some news,” I said when he answered. I ran him through everything we’d found out from Portia and Sasha’s diary as well as my suspicions about Detective Neal. Then, after a long hesitation, and with a healthy dose of guilt, I mentioned the possible connection to Joanna’s partner. I didn’t want to throw him under the bus, but if there was a possibility he was on Ortez’s payroll, I had to say something.

“Is this Detective Hanson going to the fundraiser?” Adam asked thoughtfully.

“I don’t know.” I doubted it—Hanson seemed no more the sort to hobnob than Joanna was—but I couldn’t rule it out.

“Find out, and if he is, I want you to keep an eye on him while you’re there.”

“I can do that.” Surely, Joanna would know whether Hanson intended to be there.

“He’s not the only one I want you keeping close to,” Adam continued. “Detective Clancy Neal from Homicide was already on my shortlist of suspects in your district, as are Detectives Ireland and Hernandez from Narcotics, and Officers Greene and Warhol.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a De Luca on your list?” I asked.

“No.” Adam sounded confused. “Should there be?”

I sighed. “Probably not.” But it would be good for my ego to be able to arrest that flirty fucker. “I doubt I’ll be able to cozy up to all your suspects during the gala. I doubt the officers will even be in attendance. Who do you want me to focus on?”

“Neal and Hanson.” There was no hesitation. “Neal is the top priority if there’s even the slightest chance he’s our recruiter, but Hanson’s proximity to Joanna makes him a danger to your cover, so keep a close eye on him too.”

“Got it.”

We ended the call, and I gazed out through the windshield into the dark, lost in thought.

Then I frowned.

I could have sworn I’d seen movement in the shadows by the edge of the building, but no one should be here this late. I grabbed my sidearm, opened the door as quietly as possible, and darted toward the building, keeping low so I’d present a smaller target. Unfortunately, when I reached the wall, whoever had been there was gone.

A shiver rippled down my spine. I was confident they wouldn’t have been able to hear my phone call from all the way over here, but the fact someone had been lurking at all made me nervous.

I returned to the car, double checking that the back seat and the trunk were empty before I got in.

I headed to our apartment building, parked, and took the stairs up. I checked the door and was glad to find it locked. I let myself in, then came to an abrupt halt. Joanna lay passed out on the sofa, only the glow of the silent TV screen illuminating her features. Her dark eyelashes cast shadows over her cheeks, and her lips were softly parted.

My gut clenched with an overwhelming sense of rightness. This was what I should find when I got home. I’d walked in on similar scenes many times over the past few months, and I’d always paused to appreciate how lovely she looked in sleep, but now I cherished the moment even more because it might be the last.

I couldn’t count on her always being there for me to come home to. Unless I did something about it, she’d be gone soon. Sorrow clawed at my chest. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

Joanna stirred in her sleep, her arm moving as if reaching for a blanket, but she didn’t open her eyes. I waited for her to still and then slipped off my shoes and padded over to her. I touched the back of my fingers to her forehead. She was warm, but not as much as she ought to be.

I knelt and slid my arms beneath her back and her knees, then lifted her and held her against my chest. I carried her to the spare bedroom, even though my heart screamed at me to tuck her into our bed, where she belonged.

I reached for the door handle, but at that moment, she stiffened in my arms.

“What’s going on?” she asked sleepily.

“Shh. I’m just taking you to bed.”

But a crease formed between her eyebrows. “Put me down.”

Heart sinking, I did as she said, lowering her feet to the floor and supporting her until she was steady. She walked to the bed on her own, crawled beneath the covers and pulled them up to her chin.

My throat constricted. Would she ever let me hold her again, or was this the last time I’d feel her weight tucked safely against me, where I so badly wanted her to belong?

I turned and left, closing the door behind me. She had every right to stay away from me, and she deserved me respecting her enough to honor her wishes and keep my distance.

I brushed my teeth and dragged myself into the bed we used to share. It felt cold and empty without her. Hell, my whole life would soon be that way if I couldn’t change things.

I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. As I drifted off to sleep, my father’s face flashed through my mind. Then, I could have sworn I heard a shot.