The Rookie: A Romantic Suspense Standalone (The Intelligence Unit Book 1) Page 10

  And right there, in the dark of his bedroom with Tara’s arms around him, for the first time ever, he did.

  Tara’s stomach let out a growl that could’ve roused a dead man. She folded both hands over her belly in an effort to hush the thing—hello, body betrayal—but Xander was a cop. Sharp. Intuitive. Trained to notice every detail.

  Her cover was totally blown.

  “Hungry?” Xander asked, looking up from his spot at the other end of his couch, where he’d been watching security footage on a closed-circuit loop on his laptop.

  “No, I…well, maybe,” she admitted, because he knew her well enough by now to know when she was bending the truth, and she knew him well enough to know he’d totally call her on it. “I kind of skipped lunch. But we’re less than two weeks from the trial now, and we still haven’t found the guy who attacked Amour.”

  “It is frustrating that we can’t pin down the asshole who hurt her, and it also sucks that we can’t tie Sansone to the attack yet,” Xander agreed. “But they’re both lying low. That’s not entirely bad. The longer they’re quiet, the safer Amour is.”

  “Unless Sansone is just biding his time, looking for a way to hurt her,” Tara said, worry twisting in her chest.

  “He’s not going to find one,” Xander said. “Amour is as safe as we can possibly make her.” He lifted his laptop as proof. “We’re monitoring the building with video and in-person surveillance. She’s got a panic button with her at all times, and a tracking monitor that will make an unholy racket if she gets more than four feet from the threshold of the apartment. Capelli’s keeping tabs on her cell, her email, even her place in North Point. If anyone tries to hurt her, they’re going to get caught before they even get close.”

  Tara blew out a breath. “I know. You’re absolutely right. I just can’t help but feel like there isn’t so much as another shoe that’s going to drop as a two-ton boulder.”

  “No boulders,” Xander said, putting his laptop aside and leaning in to kiss her. “Anyway, you’ve been working even harder than we have over in Intelligence. There’s no way Sansone isn’t going down for murder, and we’re still working the case as hard as ever on our side. We’ll find the guy who hurt her.”

  Tara looked at the various legal pads and files scattered over the coffee table by her own laptop, and okay, he wasn’t wrong about her channeling pretty much all of her waking time into this case over the past week. “I hope you’re right.”

  Her stomach chose that moment to sound off again, and Xander stood, reaching for her hands. “Okay, that’s it. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, although she placed her hands in his and let him pull her to her feet without pause.

  “You’ve been working non-stop. Yes, it’s for the best reason,” he added, as if he’d anticipated she’d argue (which, okay, she’d planned to). “But you still need to take a break and eat, and I just so happen to know a great place nearby.”

  Returning her stare to the pile of work on the coffee table, Tara hesitated. But her temples throbbed and her eyes burned from alternating between the glare of her laptop and the Mount Everest of notes she’d taken. Plus, Xander was right. She did have to eat eventually, no matter how badly she wanted to catch a break in this case.

  “Sounds great.”

  They made their way from his apartment to the street, which was finally cool enough to make the two-block walk to his car comfortable. Tara’s nerves unwound with each passing second they walked hand in hand, although her mind still swam with thoughts of the trial. The short trip into downtown Remington had barely registered before it was behind them, and Xander pulled up in front of a brightly lit bar and grille.

  “You ready for the best onion rings of your life, fresh out of the fryer?” he asked, and Tara’s gut panged behind her jeans. God, had she really been distracted enough by this case not to realize he’d take her to his sister’s restaurant?

  “Are you sure about this?” she asked, eyeing the bustling dining room through the large front windows. “I mean, your sister and her husband and, like, everybody is all in there, right?”

  “Probably.” He nodded. “The crew at Station Seventeen isn’t on shift tonight, and it is Friday. Everyone from the Thirty-Third is bound to be here, too. One big, happy family.”

  The thought should overwhelm her, she knew. Such a big, tightly knit group of friends, all of them caring for each other—honestly, it should scare the hell out of her. Yet somehow, with Xander sitting right there beside her, it didn’t.

  Nothing did.

  But this was Xander, guarded and tough, so she said, “Yeah, but they’re your big, happy family. I know you like to keep your personal stuff close to the vest, so if you think—”

  “I think,” he said, pulling her close for a kiss that hushed her words in the best possible way, “that you are my personal stuff. Unless the thought of meeting everybody makes you uncomfortable.”

  His eyes flickered with concern, but Tara shook her head. “No. I’d actually really like that.”

  “Good. Me, too.”

  They got out of the car and headed through the front door. The wait for familiar faces was short, a chorus of voices bursting up from a table by the front window.

  “Hey!” Isabella stood, her eyes twinkling in welcome as she tugged first Xander, then Tara, into a pair of hugs. “We were hoping you two would show up tonight.”

  “Oh.” Tara blinked. “Well, we were working on the case, but decided to take a break.”

  Isabella squeezed Tara’s arm. “I’m glad. Everyone needs a breather. While we’re in here, there is no case.”

  “Damn, babe. You’ve come a long way,” came a male voice from beside Isabella, and she rolled her eyes playfully even though she put a healthy swat to the guy’s not-small biceps.

  “Mmm. Tara, have you met my smartass husband?” Isabella asked, and the dark-haired guy flashed Tara a killer smile.

  “Kellan Walker. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “You, too,” Tara said, her smile in return practically involuntary at his kind welcome.

  “These guys have said great things about you.” Kellan extended one hand in greeting as he used the other to thumb a gesture toward the group at the table behind him, where Garza and Hollister sat with Capelli and a woman with a light brown ponytail and a curious-as-hell stare.

  “They’re all true,” Xander put in, and Kellan turned toward him with a laugh.

  “I don’t doubt it. But I was not saying nice things about you the other night when you were kicking my ass up and down the basketball court. You dick.”

  The handshake/half-embrace/back-slap that followed took all the heat out of the words, and Xander answered just as easily. “You know I’m going to do it again next week, don’t you?”

  “We’ll see, hotshot. We’ll see.”

  “Oh, my God, stop drowning this poor woman in testosterone,” the other woman at the table said, shaking her head apologetically at Tara. “We can’t take them anywhere, really. Shae McCullough.” She stood and extended her hand warmly. “It really is great to meet you, all chest thumping aside.”

  “Oh, you’re the adrenaline junkie,” Tara blurted, clamping down on her lip a millisecond too late.

  But everyone at the table just laughed, Shae the loudest. “I see the rookie’s been doing me justice. I knew I liked you,” she said, ruffling Xander’s hair.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you live to rappel down six-story buildings and elevator shafts,” Xander pointed out, returning Shae’s hello hug with a grin.

  “You really did do her justice. She’ll jump off of nearly anything as long as her gear will hold,” Capelli said, a rare smile on his serious face that probably had everything to do with the way the female firefighter had just leaned in to kiss him.

  “Come on, honey. What else are buildings for if not to scale them?”

  Oh, Tara liked her.

  The group made room for her and Xander to sit down, a
nd a passing server took their order for a much-needed dinner. The conversation flowed back and forth with ease, sometimes between the entire group, and other times among smaller side discussions. Quinn and Luke Slater wandered over from the group of firefighters hanging out in the alcove by the pool table to say hello and ask how Amour was doing, both of them seeming genuinely glad to hear of her full recovery. The pair said their goodbyes not long after, though, and Tara sat back to soak in the happy chatter around her.

  “You fit right in,” Garza said from the seat next to her, his voice low enough to keep the observation between them in the din of the restaurant.

  “Doesn’t seem too hard with this group,” Tara replied. Everyone had been so nice, welcoming her into the fold with their questions and stories and jokes. She was still a little nervous to meet Kennedy, who Xander had gone to say a quick hello to but was currently working her way through the last throes of the dinner rush. Other than that, Tara had felt shockingly right at home.

  “Yes and no.” Garza took a draw from the beer bottle between his fingers, his dark eyes surveying the group as they chatted away. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re good teammates. The best I’ve ever had, actually.”

  His pause lasted for a beat, but Tara waited it out patiently. This was definitely a side of the detective she’d never seen before—he was usually over and out in under seven syllables. She didn’t mind giving him space, though, and after another moment, he took it.

  “I guess it just depends on what baggage you bring to the table, you know? They’re quick to accept the people who have their backs, but…”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to let them?” Tara supplied, laughing softly when Garza’s dark brows lifted in surprise. “Yeah, I actually know a thing or two about that, as it turns out. But I’m slowly learning that it’s worth it to trust the right people.”

  One corner of Garza’s mouth kicked up into what Tara would bet was as close as he got to a smile. “Right people, or right person?”

  His gaze shot meaningfully to Xander, who was absorbed in conversation with Kellan and Isabella, and even though Tara’s cheeks heated, she didn’t shy away from the question.

  “The right person can change everything.” At Garza’s look of doubt, she added, “You don’t think so?”

  “No shade intended,” he said quietly, lifting his hands. “For you, it’s clearly true, and that’s cool. You and the rookie deserve to be happy.”

  “But not you,” she said.

  If Garza minded her forthright question, he didn’t show it. “For me, happy’s a little more complicated. I’m more of a ‘casual person’ kind of guy.”

  Well, that was hardly shocking. Objectively speaking, Garza was good-looking as hell, with that dark and broody thing going on that made most women want to fling their panties around. He probably had no shortage of people wanting to share his bed, even short-term.

  “I don’t think I ever would’ve believed the whole ‘one right person’ thing before now. I’m still trying to get my head around it, to be honest,” Tara admitted.

  “You look like you’re knocking it out of the park,” Garza said, taking a long draw from his beer. “Maybe you should just run with it.”

  Tara looked at Xander, his expression laid back and his smile growing wide as he met her gaze from across the table and held on tight.

  Yeah. It was too late to run with it. Her heart had already taken a huge head start, and being with Xander felt far too good not to let the rest of her follow.

  11

  Xander sat back in his seat at the Intelligence Unit’s usual table and felt like one lucky son of a bitch. He’d known bringing Tara here was a gamble—the guarded way she’d always listened to him talk about his big, loud found family spoke volumes about her hesitation to let anyone get too close. But she’d seemed so in need of support, of people who’d care that she’d had a shit week and do their level best to lift her spirits, and, God, Xander didn’t know any better group for the job.

  These people always had his back. And he wanted to always have Tara’s back. Bringing her here had just felt right.

  There was just one thing left to do.

  “I’m going to head to the bar and grab a drink,” he said to Tara, gesturing to the back of the restaurant. “Do you want to come with me and see if Kennedy can take a break?”

  God love her, she didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

  Tara said a quick goodbye to Garza, who she’d been quietly chatting up for a little while as Xander had hung out with the rest of the group. Reaching down low for her hand, Xander headed for the bar. His heart thumped out a reminder of Kennedy’s reservations about Tara, and even though the charges against him were ancient history now, he knew better than to mess with fate.

  “So, um, my sister can be a little…protective,” he said, selecting his words with care.

  Tara laughed. “She practically raised you, Xander. That’s hardly shocking.”

  “Right. It’s just that Kennedy can kind of take it to a whole new level from time to time, and you and I didn’t exactly have the smoothest start two years ago.”

  “Ah.” Tara stopped, turning toward him. “So, she’s worried I might hurt you.”

  Shit. “To be fair, she worries about a lot when it comes to me. But, yeah. That’s probably accurate.”

  “It’s totally okay if she’s tough on me,” Tara said, and wait…

  “What?”

  Tara’s smile was so wide-open and beautiful, Xander nearly lost his fucking breath. “First of all, I face people who are tough on me every time I go to court. It’s literally what I do for a living. But, more importantly, if Kennedy needs me to earn her trust, I’m okay with that. She’s wary because she loves you, and I’m more than happy to show her I care about you, too.”

  For a heartbeat, Xander was stuck in place, trying like hell to name the feeling flying through his chest. But Tara was right here in front of him, and suddenly that was all that mattered.

  “Okay,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her even though they were in the middle of a crowded bar full of his family and friends. “Then let’s go.”

  They finished the trip to the bar in less than a dozen steps, heading toward the spot at the bend in the L-shaped bar, where Gamble always—yep, there he was, the big bruiser—parked himself whenever he was in the house. Kennedy was on the business end of the bar, popping the caps off a pair of beers for a couple of the guys on Station Seventeen’s Rescue Squad, and she met his gaze with a smile as he approached.

  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your way back here,” she said, because, of course, it was her birthright to give him shit whenever possible. “Although I guess now that you’re part of the Intelligence crew, hanging at their table is going to be your new normal.”

  “It’s one case, Ken,” Xander murmured, even though he couldn’t help but like the idea of being part of the Intelligence Unit one day. “And we’re not talking about it, remember?”

  She lifted her hands in apology. “Nope. It seems we have other things to talk about.”

  Her eyes landed on Tara, and yeah, that was his cue to just rip off the Band-Aid. “Kennedy, this is Tara Kingston. Tara, meet my sister, Kennedy, and her husband, Ian.”

  Gamble was closer, so he extended a hand first. “Gamble,” he said. “No one really calls me Ian unless they’re serving me with a summons or something.”

  “You’re safe with me on that end, for sure,” Tara said with a smile. Turning toward Kennedy, she said, “It’s really nice to officially meet you. I’ve been enjoying carry-out from this place for weeks now, and I have to say, the food is every bit as good as Xander brags.”

  Kennedy’s dark brows winged up, but only for a second before her expression softened at the words. “We do our best. It’s good to see you under better circumstances than last time.”

  Xander’s pulse sped up at the reference to the case two years ago, but Tara didn’t blink. “I’m dedicated to my job,
just like I know you’re dedicated to your brother. I’m really glad it all worked out for the best. The RPD is certainly the better for it with Xander in their ranks.”

  “That’s the truth,” Gamble said, eyeing Kennedy, who—thank fuck—nodded.

  “I’m still not wild about you potentially being in harm’s way, but if I can be married to a guy who runs into burning buildings”—she cracked what Xander would bet was an involuntary smile as she looked over the bar at Gamble—“I guess I can figure out how to deal with it.”

  “So, how did you two meet, anyway?” Tara asked, and Kennedy’s smile became a full-on laugh.

  “Would you believe he hauled me out of here when the bar was on fire?”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I met this guy while trying to prosecute him,” Tara said, tilting her head in Xander’s direction. “So, yep. I would absolutely believe that’s how you met.”

  Tara took a seat at the bar with Xander beside her on one side and Gamble on the other as Kennedy launched into the story. He knew it by heart, of course—for Chrissake, he’d been there, at least for the PG-13 parts of it. But listening to his sister tell the story, with Gamble popping in a few well-placed flourishes and reminders (“I’d like the record to show that I made it out of that building without a scratch. Not one, and she was still mad.”) made Xander realize once again how perfectly suited for each other they were. With each genuine question Tara asked and each moment she listened, Kennedy softened further. The conversation swung around to Tara and Xander, and even though they couldn’t really talk about the case they were working, they still had plenty to say (“did you know he calmed me down with a story about 28,000 rubber ducks?” Tara had asked, only to have Kennedy laugh and reply, “That sounds like something he’d do.”). Sitting there with Tara beside him felt like the most natural thing in the world, to the point that Xander would’ve laughed at the reminder that he’d been so wary of being with her in the first place.