Читать книгу Tactical Advantage - Julie Miller - Страница 11

Chapter One

“Happy New Year!”

The shouts and whistles and horn blasts from the apartment across the hall drowned out the television program KCPD criminologist Annie Hermann was watching.

As the party from her neighbor’s gathering cranked up several more decibels, she twirled her finger in a sarcastic whoop-dee-do and watched the lighted ball drop above Times Square. The music leading up to the countdown to the New Year had been entertaining enough, and the pomp and pageantry half a country away had always been a celebration she’d like to see in person one day. But not on her own. And right now, on her own seemed like the only option available.

Nothing said “Here’s to the promise of a new year” like a twenty-eight-year-old woman sitting at home by herself watching television with her cats while the rest of Kansas City—while the rest of the world—partied together.

She scratched behind the velvety ears of the Siamese cat nestled in her lap. Her gaze settled on the bare space on the third finger of her left hand. Had it already been two years since the New Year’s Eve when Adam had proposed to her? That had been a celebration for the ages. Then she’d spent last year’s holiday crying her eyes out because Adam had dumped her. He’d needed to move on, he said—to a new job in a private law firm instead of the public defender’s office, to a new life that was more practical and less idealistic than the one they’d envisioned together. He’d claimed he was doing her a favor by leaving her and not forcing her to change into some sort of party-planning, connection-making trophy wife who could be a helpmate for his new ambitions.

Some favor. So what if ending the engagement wasn’t her fault? Dumped was dumped.

Feverish tears burned in the corners of her eyes. But she suspected they were more about the sting on her ego than any lingering heartbreak at this point. Or, perhaps, she was indulging in a little pity party because she’d grown far too used to being alone on holidays like this one. And even being part of a mismatch like she and Adam had been was better than a solo celebration of these landmark events.

She stroked the Siamese’s warm, seal-brown ears again. At least cats stayed.

“Happy New Year, Reitzie.” Blinking away her tears, Annie tucked a curly tendril of chin-length hair that was equally dark behind her own ear and called out through her empty apartment. “Happy New Year to you, too, G.B.” But there was no answering meow or rustle of movement. She petted the cat in her lap again and let her gaze wander to all of G.B.’s usual hangouts—the snow boots by the front door, behind the drapes in the second-story bay window, on top of the armoire that housed the TV. “So where is your brother hiding this time?”

Her visual search stopped when her gaze reached the fireplace mantel. Annie smiled. She had no excuse for crying tonight. The framed photograph of a man, a woman and a dark-haired little girl from a Royals baseball game reminded her of happier celebrations from her childhood. Her parents’ image smiled back at her. Both of them were gone now, and their time together had been far too short. But it had been the grandest, most loving adventure to be Steve and Amaryllis Hermann’s child for eighteen years. “Happy New Year, Mom and Dad.”

So maybe she had no family, no fiancé, no date. She had two rescue pets and wonderful memories. She had friends from work and in the neighborhood. Heck, she’d had an invitation to Roy Carvello’s party across the hall if she’d really been interested. It wasn’t as though she was truly alone.

That was the lie she told herself every time this feeling of isolation from the rest of the world pricked at her spirit.

The rapid gunfire of illegal firecrackers exploding in the courtyard area below her window startled the cat sitting in her lap, spilling both the bowl of popcorn and the glass of wine she’d just poured before she could catch either one.

“Reitzie! Oh, man.”

A flurry of shouts and applause followed quickly after as Annie jumped to her feet to right the goblet and dash to the kitchen to grab a handful of paper towels. Like she had time to feel sorry for herself.

While the strains of “Auld Lang Syne” filtered up from the courtyard, a door thumped open across the hall. Annie dropped to her knees, mopping up the spilled drink from the hardwood floor and area rug to the sounds of laughter and mumbled words. The breathy smacks of sound could mean only that someone was out there kissing. Then there was a soft crash against her door that made the pictures on the mantel rattle before the giggling and laughter and smacking noises retreated.

Correction. Someone was out there making out.

“Party on, dude.” Annie lifted her glass in a wry toast and drank the last swallow of merlot before pushing to her feet and carrying the goblet and the wet paper towels to the kitchen sink.

Okay, so maybe she was absolutely and utterly alone on New Year’s Eve. But she took heart in knowing it was

better than being with the wrong person. She might still be with Adam, fighting to make something that wasn’t meant to be work. He’d still be trying to fix her and she’d still be coming up short if they’d gone ahead with their marriage plans. So what if she was a little eccentric, a little unsuitable for his well-connected family? Her summa cum laudes and her fellowships had gotten their attention, but ultimately, it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. Her lack of a pedigreed reputation and her desire to work for the crime lab instead of a revered research facility had trumped love. Adam Matuszak had left her.

Just like every other boyfriend of any duration had left her. Just as her parents had left. She was alone. She was really, truly, freaking, horribly—

The chirping ring of her telephone from the kitchen wall thankfully interrupted the negative spiral of her thoughts. Holidays were always the worst for her. Three-hundred-fifty-some-odd days of the year she coped just fine on her own. But on Independence Day and Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s, she longed to be a part of something—a part of someone else’s life without feeling like a charity case or an imposition.

She tossed the wadded-up towels in the trash beneath the sink and picked up the portable phone from its wall-mounted cradle and answering machine.

Recognizing the number of the KCPD task force commander she worked for, Annie took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and tamp down on the nervous spark of anticipation that made her stand up as straight and tall as five feet two inches of height allowed. She inhaled a second time before pushing the talk button and answering. “Happy New Year, Detective Montgomery.”

“What? Oh, right. Happy New Year.” The veteran detective offered the greeting without altering his no-nonsense tone. “Am I catching you in the middle of a big party?”

The amorous couple bumped against her door again. A quick glance across her quiet apartment revealed one cat creeping out from his hiding place to sample the spilled popcorn, and the other staring daggers at her as though she’d been the one to light those firecrackers outside. Some party.

“No, sir. I’m...enjoying a quiet evening at home.” She shooed G.B. away from the free food and stooped down to toss the kernels back into the bowl. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, a favor.”

Annie checked the big-faced watch on her wrist. At 12:03 a.m. on New Year’s Day?

That spark of anticipation fired through her blood again with a sense of purpose this time, chasing away her nerves. Something bad had happened. Something that made her regret her little pity party. The only favors a senior detective would ask of her would involve her science and someone else’s tragedy.

Annie left the popcorn where it had fallen and hurried back to her messenger-style purse on the counter to retrieve her case notebook. She flipped open the pink paisley flap and dug through the catch-all of contents, seeking an elusive pen. “What is it, sir?”

“I know most of the crime lab has the holiday off, but I have a crime scene I need processed ASAP—before the weather gets any worse and destroys what little evidence we might find.”

Annie’s purse was upside down, the contents tumbling across the quartz countertop when the import of what he was asking registered. “There’s been another rape?”

Detective Spencer Montgomery led a group of investigators, public-safety specialists, criminal profilers and uniformed officers in a task force dedicated to solving a string of violent abductions and sexual assaults that had been terrorizing the professional women of Kansas City for several months now. Priority one for the team was to identify and apprehend the unknown subject, or unsub.

“Yes,” Spencer Montgomery answered. “Partygoers taking a shortcut through the alley over by the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop found her in the snow.” The wind created static over the connection, giving her a better picture of how the elements were deteriorating outside. But the detective’s grim pronouncement came through loud and clear. “It’s our man. The Rose Red Rapist has struck again.”

Annie was the CSI from the crime lab assigned to the elite task force. Although she still did work on other cases, the bulk of her time in the lab was now dedicated to this investigation. She grabbed her boots from beneath the coatrack beside the front door and pulled them on over her jeans.

With a renewed sense of urgency that drove away any lingering mope to her attitude, Annie snatched a pen from the pocket of her coat and jotted down the particulars with one hand while she zipped up her boots with the other. “What hospital did they take her to? I’ve got a spare kit in my car. I can leave right now and process her.”

The ominous crackle of wind stilled her frantic multitasking. “We’re taking her to the morgue, Annie.”

Her phone tumbled from between her jaw and shoulder. She caught it and set it firmly against her ear. “He’s a rapist, not a killer. We determined his last victim had been killed by a jealous boyfriend, not our unsub. Are you sure it’s the same guy?”

“The rose I’m looking at says yes.”

Annie scooted the cats aside and sank down into her chair. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling shock or sorrow or frustration that after three different attacks, they were no closer to being able to identify the rapist than they’d been eight months ago. They’d figured out what type of woman he preyed on. They knew the neighborhood where the Rose Red Rapist chose those women. They knew he abducted them from one location and assaulted them in another, and that he sterilized the victims afterward to remove any trace of DNA. But thus far, the man himself had proved untraceable. “It’s bad enough that he’s hurting those women, but now he’s killing them?”

“Looks that way.” She heard the slam of a car door and the windy static on the line suddenly cleared. She didn’t have to be a scientist to deduce that the detective had gotten inside his vehicle. “I’m calling all the task force members who are still in town for the holidays. Can you come?”

“Of course.” Annie was on her feet again, crossing to the kitchen and tossing everything back into her purse. Work was one place where the loneliness didn’t get to her—probably because her science demanded facts, not intuition. Plus, most of the cold, hard truths she dealt with required her to be able to turn off her emotions, whether they stemmed from her lack of a personal life or her empathy for the victims she processed. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’m leaving a couple of uniformed officers here with a tarp,” Detective Montgomery went on. “I’m going to follow the body to the morgue to see if I can get a preliminary report from the M.E.’s office.”

Annie hooked the flap of her bag shut and carried it to the coatrack beside her door. The giggles and smooches from the couple on the landing had faded to inconsequential white noise. Her focus now was solely on the task at hand. “Have the M.E. check for trace as soon as possible and send it upstairs to my office at the lab. The cold air should preserve anything that’s on the victim, but once she gets inside and the snow on her starts to melt, the water could wash away or compromise anything useful.”

“Will do. I’ll send Nick over to the crime scene with you until I can get back.”

“Nick?” The scarf she was wrapping around her neck suddenly strangled like a vise. She hoped her mental groan hadn’t been audible. “Nick Fensom?”

Detective Montgomery’s partner and fellow task force member, Nick Fensom, was the sour to Annie’s sweet, the oil to her water, the four-wheel-drive Jeep in her energy-efficient green car of a world. Nick Fensom got under her skin like no other man since Adam had—and not necessarily in a good way.

He thought he was funny. He teased, he taunted, he spoke his mind the way most people breathed air—without thinking. And even after working with him on the task force for several months now, Annie still had no clue how to tell when the man was being serious and when he was making a joke. Either way, for some reason, it usually felt like the laugh was on her.

She knew his dark brown hair, deep blue eyes and what was probably supposed to be streetwise charm captivated some women. But she didn’t see it. He was probably compensating for his relatively short height—maybe five-nine if he was lucky. Okay, so she had no room to fault him there; he still towered over her petite height.

But Annie felt no empathy. She clung to whatever predictability and balance she could hold on to in her life, or else she’d sink into those lost little funks like the one she’d been in at the stroke of midnight. She didn’t understand Nick Fensom. She had to be on guard against the chaos he brought to her world. And that made him more of a distraction than a teammate, even if they did both work for KCPD and the task force.

“Is there a problem, Annie?” Detective Montgomery reminded her that she’d been silent for too long.

“Um, no.” Not nearly as snappy a comeback as Nick Fensom would have come up with. She could do better. She would not let the man get to her, especially when he wasn’t even here. “I can manage the scene by myself, sir. You don’t need to bother anyone else from the task force. I’m sure Detective Fensom is out on a date tonight.”

“He won’t be,” her commander assured her, much to Annie’s chagrin. “Holidays mean family for Nick. Besides, I need as many good eyes here as possible. The snow is coming down harder, and my crime scene is disappearing as we speak.”

Fine. For the investigation, for Detective Montgomery and the sake of tonight’s unfortunate victim, she’d find a way to make spending time with the irritating, muscles-for-brains detective work.

Bracing herself for the battle of wits and wills where she never quite felt like she was winning, Annie plucked the royal blue stocking cap from her coat pocket and pulled it on over her head. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet Detective Fensom there.”

Annie had hung up the phone and bundled up in everything but her gloves when the couple in the hallway crashed against her door again. Clearly they were drunk and having a marvelous time getting intimately acquainted. But she had a crime scene to get to. She held her breath and turned the knob, praying she wouldn’t see anything too intimate.

As soon as she peeked out, music and conversation blasted her from the open apartment across the landing. Annie shook her head and stepped out, locking her door behind her. “What are you doing, Roy?”

Yes, there were some buttons undone, and the blonde woman’s long straight hair was definitely mussed. But her neighbor, Roy Carvello, and his girlfriend du jour had already imbibed too much alcohol to have much success with any personal fireworks tonight.

“Annie!” Roy draped one arm around the blonde and pushed himself upright against the wall with the other. “Happy New Year!”

He slurred the words and stumbled forward, bringing the tall blonde with him. Annie braced one foot behind her and caught him by the shoulders, pushing them both back against the wall. “Easy there, big guy. I don’t want either of you tumbling down the stairs.”

“You’re so nice.” Roy’s stale beer breath curled the hairs in Annie’s nose. He clamped a big hand around her arm and hugged the other woman closer. “S’isn’t she nice, Bets-shy?”

Extricating herself from the awkward embrace, Annie smiled up at the drunken couple. “I don’t want to see you behind the wheel of a car tonight, okay?” She included the taller blonde in the friendly warning. “You either, Betsy.”

“Un-uh,” the blonde promised, crossing her finger over the swell of a voluptuous breast.

“’Kay. Happy New Year.” Repeating himself, Roy leaned down and planted a stale kiss on Annie’s mouth.

Startled, Annie pushed him firmly away. “Oh, gee. You’ve still got some of those left to go around, hmm?”

“Hey,” Betsy protested. “I thought those lips were for me.”

“They are, baby.” When he turned to capture the other woman’s pouty mouth in a kiss, Annie used the directional momentum to guide them back across the landing. But her husky neighbor planted his feet in the open doorway, showing an unexpected bit of focus in his bleary eyes when he looked down at her. “Annie’s my friend. My good friend.” He flipped up the collar of her coat, tending to her as though he cared. “You headin’ out to a party? I wondered why you didn’t show up at mine.”

Possibly because drunk and loud weren’t her favorite things? Or maybe because the first Carvello party she’d gone to had ended up with Roy putting the same moves on her that he was putting on Blondie tonight? Only Annie had been too sober and not nearly as interested in exploring the possibilities as Betsy apparently was.

But he’d proven too nice a neighbor—when he wasn’t in party mode—for Annie to hurt his feelings. “Yeah, Roy. I’ve got someone waiting for me.” So maybe that someone was a detective she wasn’t really looking forward to seeing. But at least she wasn’t lying. “Be safe.” She nudged them both into Roy’s apartment. She even had a smile for Betsy. “You, too. Remember, no driving.”

“Not to worry,” Roy promised. “We’ll be spending the night right here. Together.”

“Oooh, Roy,” the woman cooed, sliding her fingers into Roy’s dusty-brown hair and pulling him into his apartment.

Feeling grossly uncomfortable, unwelcome and unnecessary as the giggles and kissing resumed, Annie shut the door and hurried down the stairs. After looping the pink strap of her bag over her neck and shoulder, she pushed open the outside door and the shock of the wintry night air nearly stole the breath from her lungs. She pulled on her gloves and waved to the neighbors who were now writing their names in the air with sparklers.

Hunching her shoulders against the bracing wind, she set out across the snow-dusted courtyard toward the fenced-in lot across the street where her car was parked.

She was alone and dateless on yet another holiday, babysitting the grown man next door. Now she could look forward to spending the next few hours with her nemesis, Nick Fensom, and a crime scene where a woman had been brutalized and killed, all while freezing her fingers and toes.

Happy New Year, indeed.

* * *

“HEY, GUYS—KEEP IT DOWN, okay?” Nick Fensom apologized for the loud piano music and fourth verse of “Auld Lang Syne” coming from the living room where his family was toasting the New Year with sparkling grape juice and prosecco. He moved down the hallway, farther away from the three generations of Fensoms and extended family who had gathered at his parents’ home to celebrate. “Yeah, Spencer, I know the address. Hell of a way for that woman’s family to ring in the new year.”

“Which is exactly why I’m not letting time or the weather get in the way of finding answers. I’m tired of that bastard staying one step ahead of us.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Spence.” The piano music stopped and the boisterous conversation among his father’s parents, his mom and dad, his mother’s younger brother and his own five younger brothers and sisters faded into the dining room and kitchen. Nick opened the coat closet off the foyer and pulled down the metal box where he stored his badge and sidearm whenever he visited the house where he’d grown up. “Let me say some goodbyes here and explain the situation, and I’ll be there in twenty, thirty minutes, tops.”

“Sorry to tear you away.” Although their looks and personalities were as different as night and day, Nick and his partner for three years, Spencer Montgomery, had grown as close as Nick was to either of his brothers. “Did your grandmother make her tiramisu cake?”

Nick chuckled at the rare wistful softening in Spencer’s voice. “Stop by the house later today and I’ll make sure Grandma saves you a piece.”

“I’ll do that.” Just like that, the glimpse of the human being beneath his partner’s buttoned-up exterior vanished. “I’ll be at the morgue if you find anything useful. In the meantime, I want you and Annie to go over that alley with a fine-tooth comb. If there’s anything—or anyone—close by that makes you suspicious, check it out. And call me.”

“Does Pee Wee know I’m coming?”

“It’s CSI Hermann. Or Annie.” Spencer chided Nick’s inclination to tease the petite coworker with the wildly curly dark hair and apparent immunity to his charms. “And yes, she knows. So be on your best behavior. I need her to focus all those smarts on the crime scene—not on trading quips with you.”

“I’ll mind my manners if she does,” Nick promised. “I’m on my way.”

He snapped his phone shut and unhooked his belt to fasten on his holster and detective’s badge. Then he grabbed his insulated black leather jacket and gloves and headed toward the noise from the heart of the house.

Nick paused for a moment in the kitchen archway to watch his mother, grandmother and oldest sister, Natalie, cleaning up second and third helpings of meatballs and soup and homemade bread. His middle sister, Nadine, was dancing in front of the microwave to whatever tune was playing in her earbuds while she waited for a bag of popcorn to pop. His father got a playful smack on the knuckles and a shooing from the room when he sneaked a molasses cookie from the desserts still on the table. His two brothers, Noah and Nate, and Nell, the baby of the Fensom family, were probably back in the dining room, dealing out another hand of penny-ante poker with their grandfather and Uncle George.

Nick’s chest expanded in a sigh that revealed a mix of happiness and regret. His hand drifted down to the gun belted at his waist. He hated to leave the bustle and conversation, the good food and fun. But this was why he answered calls like Spencer’s in the middle of the night—to protect his city and the people he loved. The sooner he and the task force could put away the Rose Red Rapist, the sooner he’d stop worrying—a little less, at any rate—about his mother and grandmother and sisters being safe on Kansas City’s streets.

But his mother, Trudy Fensom, was equally worried about him once he explained Spencer’s phone call and the need to get some eyes on the crime scene ASAP. “That poor woman. But...tonight? It’s New Year’s.”

“Mom, I gotta go. The bad guys don’t celebrate the holidays the same way we do.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for breakfast.”

“Be careful, Nicky,” his grandmother, Connie, warned.

She got a kiss, too. “Always am.”

His dad, Clay, wrapped a sheltering arm around both women and hurried the goodbyes along so Nick could get going. “Keep an eye on the roads, son. Temps are dropping and with this snow there could be patches of black ice.”

“I’ll watch ’em.” Nick crossed into the dining room and gently squeezed his hands over the shoulders of the silver-haired grandfather whose name he shared. “I’ll be back for a rematch with you, card shark.”

“Everything okay?” George Madigan, a cop like Nick, who’d been on the force long enough to recently be promoted to deputy commissioner, pushed back his chair. Even though his uncle had been pushing papers at KCPD headquarters the past few years, the detective instincts were still there. “The department’s short-staffed tonight. You need backup?”

Nick urged his uncle back to his seat. “Just some task force business to take care of,” he answered, keeping the details vague for his younger siblings while dropping enough of a hint to let George know what he was up to. “I’ve got it covered.”

George’s steely gray eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir. Besides, somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this one.” He patted his grandfather’s shoulder and pointed a warning finger to his brothers and sisters sitting around the table. “You all keep him honest. He’s dealing off the bottom of the deck.”

Nicolas Fensom snorted at his grandson’s ribbing. “I am not. Fifty years of playing poker just makes me good.”

And then Nick realized the numbers around the table really didn’t add up. “Where’s Nell?”

“She got a text from—”

“Damn it, she’s seeing that boy—”

“What boy?”

“She’s in love, Grandpa.”

“She’s seventeen.”

“If she snuck out again—”

“Easy, Dad.” Nick held up his hands to stop his father from charging through the house, and cool the collective concern in the dining room. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“She’s missed curfew more than once because of him. Taking calls at all hours—sending my texting bill through the roof. I don’t like him.”

The same sense of alarm had already energized Nick. For one night, for family night, she couldn’t give that rebellious streak of hers a rest?

Nadine jogged back down from a quick run upstairs. “She’s not in her bedroom. But her coat’s still here.”

Nick nodded to George to keep his brother-in-law in check and sprinted toward the front door. “I’ll find her.”

The blast of cold air was just what Nick needed when he stepped out onto the big wraparound porch and saw his baby sister leaning up against the fender of a souped-up Chevy Impala parked in front of the house. A young Latino man with his cap on sideways was leaning up against her with their lips locked together.

Ah, hell. Was that a number 7 inked into the back of his neck? He’d worked gangs before being partnered with Spencer and joining the task force. But he didn’t need that kind of training to recognize the signs of trouble for his youngest sister.

“Nell?” he shouted, taking the steps two at a time down to the front walk. His sharp voice, his bold stride or maybe the brass badge peeking out from the open front of his jacket, were motivation enough for the young Don Juan to take a step back from his sister.

“Oh, great,” she moaned, tucking her long brown hair behind her ears. “The cops are here. Did Dad call 9-1-1?”

“Where’s your coat?” Nick asked, ignoring the attitude. He glanced at the fluffy white flakes settling onto Nell’s blue sweater, and wished he had enough cause to do a pat-down on the black parka and baggy jeans on Romeo here. He glanced from Nell’s petulant blue eyes up to Romeo’s dark brown ones. The younger man might top him in height by a good six inches, but the parka and jeans were hanging on a wiry thin frame and Nick knew he could out-muscle the kid if he had to. “Are you going to introduce us, sis?”

“Nicky, we didn’t do anything wrong.” Her shoulders huffed in protest when she realized he wasn’t budging. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her fingertips and hugged them beneath her arms to keep them warm. “This is my oldest brother, Nick.”

“I’m Jordan Garza, Officer.” Good. So Romeo had seen the badge. Instead of shaking hands with Nick, though, he plunged his into the pockets of his coat and grinned. “Every girl deserves a kiss on New Year’s Eve. Especially my girl.”

He winked at Nell. She pursed her lips and blew him an air kiss.

When had Nick’s high-school-aged sister become such a flirt?

Opting to slide his gloves onto his chilling fingers instead of hauling her bodily back inside, Nick tamped down on a protective surge of temper. If this had been a routine stop of strangers in the street, he’d be thinking about their safety before his own irritation with the situation. “Get in the house before you freeze, Nell. Everybody’s waiting for you.”

“I’ve had enough party games and talking about the old days,” she protested, her words stuttering as she began to shiver. “I want to say good-night to Jordan.”

Nick waited for the alleged boyfriend to notice the pale cast to Nell’s cheeks and the way her jaw trembled with the cold. Chivalry was dead in the ’hood, apparently. Nick shrugged out of his own jacket and draped it around Nell’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you just invite him to the party instead of sneaking out?”

She shrugged off Nick’s coat and linked her arm through Jordan’s to snuggle up to him. She rolled her eyes up to the stern father and curious family members silhouetted at the front windows. “Like he’d be welcome here?”

“Have Mom and Dad even met him?” The bite of winter wind pierced the double layers of sweater and long-sleeved tee Nick wore, but he kept his jacket in his hand to warm up his sister the moment she’d let him. If she came to her senses anytime soon. “So, what? You were going to take off with this guy after midnight and go to his place?”

“There aren’t so many rules at my pad,” Garza bragged.

“Are there any parents? Any guardian in charge?”

“I’m the man of the house.” Jordan thumped his chest and unzipped his coat. Recognizing the movements that could signal a call for backup from other gang members, Nick dropped his jacket to rest his hand on his Glock and visually sweep the street for any signs of movement. “Easy, Officer.” Jordan’s hands were heading for the deep pockets of his jeans now. “I ain’t got no big brother buttin’ into my business.”

“Keep your hands where I can see them, Garza.” Nick altered his stance to face the potential threat head-on. He wrapped his fingers around Nell’s arm and pulled her away from the gangbanger. “I think you’d be smart to go home now.”

“Nicky—” She tugged against his grip.

“You threatening me, brother?”

“Hands, Garza.” Nick tightened his grip on his sister and pulled her behind him. “Get in your car and drive away.”

Jordan pulled his hands from his pockets and held them up in surrender despite his defiant tone. “I’ll see her at school.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t see her here. Not tonight. It’s too late for her to be out. Besides, this is family time.”

“You’re leaving,” Nell argued.

“I’m working,” Nick clarified.

Her shoulder sagged with a dramatic sigh. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s cool, babe. Relax. They ain’t comin’ between us.” Jordan reached out and Nick jerked Nell beyond his reach.

“Nicky, please.”

Relenting for one moment at the soft-voiced plea, Nick let her step forward. His eyes followed every movement as the younger man stroked a finger across Nell’s cheek.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jordan promised.

But Nick drew the line at letting his baby sister run into her boyfriend’s arms. “Good night, Garza.”

“Later, brother.”

Nick pulled his sister back from the curb as Jordan climbed in behind the wheel and revved the engine loud enough to wake any neighbors who might have turned in early. Only when the Impala was a block away and he was sure there were no other allies in cars watching after Garza or the house did Nick release his sister.

Nell wheeled around to face him, shivering with a mix of cold and anger. “That was rude.”

“You’re talking about him, right?”

“Are you done humiliating me now?”

“The kid’s got gang tats, Nell.” He scooped up his jacket off the ground and brushed away the clinging snow. This time she did let him drape it around her shoulders. “And you’re dating him?”

“Jordan’s gang life was years ago, when he was in middle school. He’s not like that anymore.”

“He’s still dressing and driving the part.” He rubbed his hands up and down the sleeves of his sweater, needing to find some warmth for himself.

“You know, you don’t live here anymore.” The blue eyes that matched his own tilted up with a soft expression that had always wrapped him around her little finger. Her voice softened, too. “You don’t even know Jordan.”

“And why is that?” He pulled the jacket collar together at her neck and switched the massaging warmth to her shoulders. “I can’t give him a chance if you don’t bring him around. Is there some reason you don’t want him to meet me?”

“Daddy’s already freaking out about him. I don’t need you breathing down my neck, too.” Her crooked smile reminded him of when she’d been a little girl and big brother could do no wrong. “I’m seventeen now. I don’t need every moment of my life chaperoned anymore.”

“How old is Jordan?”

She let go with a noisy sigh. “Why should I answer? You’re just gonna go look him up on your crime-fighting computer when you get to work. That isn’t fair.”

“Is he eighteen? If he’s of age and you two are...” Oh, man, he couldn’t think of his baby sister being with a guy yet. “If you two are serious, then he could be in some legal trouble.”

“I never asked his age.”

“Please tell me he at least goes to your school and doesn’t just show up afterward to pick you up.”

The attitude was returning. “He’s a senior.”

“Look, I don’t mean to be hard-nosed about this, but he’s not making a good first impression.”

“How could he? You practically pulled your gun on him.”

“He looked like he might have been armed.” Nick stepped closer. He could do the attitude thing, too. “In my job, you don’t get second chances if you let the bad guy get the drop on you. If he’s still tied to a gang, Mom and Dad are right to be concerned about this guy becoming a part of your life. I’m trying to protect you.”

She groaned on three different pitches before swinging off his jacket and shoving it into his chest. “I don’t know if it’s worse for you to be a cop or my big brother.” Nell stormed up the stairs onto the porch. “Jordan’s a good guy. I love him. But don’t worry, I’m not sleeping with him.” Thank God for small favors. “Yet.”

Nick swore. “Nellie Fensom!”

But she waltzed away into the house—beyond his words, beyond his reach, beyond his understanding. Nick’s heavy breath clouded the cold air around him. When it cleared, he exchanged a look with his father. He hated leaving with his sister mad at him and his father looking as helpless as he felt about keeping the headstrong teenager safe. Nick wanted to restore the harmony of the evening they’d all shared earlier.

But he had to leave. Spencer was counting on him to be his eyes and ears at the scene of another rape and murder. He wasn’t about to let his partner down. He wasn’t about to let the victim’s loved ones go without answers.

But he wasn’t used to leaving his family when they needed him, either.

Nick pulled on his jacket and zipped it against the cold as he headed for his Jeep. “One problem at a time,” he silently promised everyone who needed him tonight. “One problem at a time.”