The Rookie: A Romantic Suspense Standalone (The Intelligence Unit Book 1) Page 5

  Telling Sinclair no would be the most permanent sort of career suicide. Dade would probably murder him with her thumbs alone if he passed this up, and that was only if his sister didn’t do it first. Plus, the whole reason he’d signed on to be a cop in the first place was to help people who needed it, just like he had two years ago.

  So he opened his mouth and said, “Not at all, sir. I’m happy to be on the team.”

  So much for keeping his head down and his ass far, far away from Tara Kingston.

  “Alexander Trenton Matthews, get your ass to the back of this bar right this instant!”

  Xander winced, swinging a gaze through The Crooked Angel’s dining room as he made his way to the bar per his sister’s demand. “A little louder, Ken. There are a few people in the next county who didn’t quite catch my middle name.”

  His brother-in-law looked up from his usual spot at the end of the bar and shook his head. “I wouldn’t fuck with her right now,” Gamble murmured quietly, turning to give Xander a handshake and a slap on the shoulder.

  “I can hear you, you know,” Kennedy said, although Xander noticed her expression went way soft as she let her gaze flicker over her husband.

  “I know, baby.” One corner of Gamble’s mouth kicked up into a smile. “But you love me and my smart mouth, remember?”

  Annnnd welcome to the awkward portion of the evening. “I can hear you, you know,” Xander offered up, and Kennedy leveled him with a glare.

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Xander. Why did I have to hear that you’re working a high-profile case with the Intelligence Unit from my girlfriends five days after the fact, instead of getting that ginormous piece of information straight from the horse’s mouth, hmm?”

  Damn it. He should’ve figured both Isabella and Quinn would mention this case to his sister, at least tangentially. “Because I’m not supposed to talk about the details?” Thank God it was still early enough for the bar to be mostly empty.

  Kennedy didn’t budge by as much as a millimeter. “And I know better than to ask for them. Still, a little ‘oh, by the way, I’m working a case with the most elite unit in the city’ wouldn’t have killed you, would it?”

  “It is kind of a big deal, dude,” Gamble chimed in. “Sinclair doesn’t let just anybody run assists with that unit. You must have done something pretty badass to earn your way in. Even temporarily.”

  Yeah, it was time to knock this conversation down a peg or ten. “Honestly, I was just doing my job. Which is why I’m here, actually. Can I place an order for carry out?”

  Amour might not be able to leave the one-bedroom apartment six doors down from his, but she could at least have a decent comfort meal. Xander had mostly been on surveillance and security detail this week, keeping her safe from a distance while she was in protective custody. The apartment—with the exception of the bathroom—was wired to the nines thanks to Capelli’s handiwork, but Sinclair wasn’t one to fuck around. Having Xander keep an eye on the block from various vantage points at different times of the day and night ensured that they had a handle on anyone suspicious lingering around.

  So far, Xander’s job had been chock-full of a whole lot of nothing-to-see-here. Which would be great…if the investigation wasn’t also yielding the same brand of results.

  Never one not to feed him, Kennedy sighed and wrote down his order. “So, you can’t tell me any details. Which I guess I get,” she added grudgingly. “But can you at least tell me how working with Tara Kingston is going? She’s not giving you a hard time, is she?”

  More like a hard-on. Not that Xander was going to let that little nugget of truth fly, least of all to his sister. “Nope. I haven’t really seen her much since we set this up.”

  Specifically, he’d seen her three times for a total of seven minutes, and she’d looked gorgeous enough to knock the breath out of him each time.

  Not that he was counting.

  “So, you two didn’t have a moment?” Kennedy pressed, and shit, he knew that look.

  “I have no idea what that means,” Xander said, but his sister had never once let him off the hook for something like this. Of course she wasn’t going to choose today to go all new leaf.

  “Isabella said that when she and Garza showed up to do an interview, you and Tara were standing toe to toe, looking all ‘intense’.”

  Ah, hell. Isabella had some of the keenest eyes in Remington. Of course she’d picked up on all the hot-and-heavy that had been snapping between him and Tara like an electrical current when she and Garza had arrived. But it had just been an off moment, fueled by an overage of adrenaline and emotion. Over and done.

  “You’ve met Tara,” Xander said carefully. “Intense is probably her middle name. But it wasn’t a big deal.”

  Kennedy snapped a bar towel from the half-apron around her waist and swiped it over the bar. “It had better not be.”

  Before Xander could voice the surprise pinging through his system, Gamble intervened. “Kingston came at you pretty hard a couple years ago. We just want to be sure that’s all still in the rearview. Where it belongs.”

  The reminder stuck between Xander’s ribs, but at least he could use this to his advantage.

  He shrugged. “Oh, that. Yeah, everything between me and Tara is fine. We’re both pretty focused on working this case, so, you know. Can’t waste energy getting personal about business.”

  No matter how badly he still wanted to kiss her. Hard and fast and so fucking deep, he could taste every inch of her smart, sassy mouth.

  A flicker of something Xander couldn’t readily identify moved through Gamble’s stare. “You sure everything’s okay between you and Kingston?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” Xander said, dismissing all thoughts of Tara’s mouth as he tugged on a smile. A woman like that, with her high-class law degree and fancy car, wasn’t ever going to be for a guy like him. He needed to stop thinking about her, once and for all. “So, how have things been going here? Business good?”

  “Oh, ah. Yep,” Kennedy stammered, clearly thrown by the change in subject. “Business is, you know. Totally as usual. Absolutely nothing new.”

  She exchanged a look with Gamble, both of them pausing just long enough to make Xander’s bullshit detector explode.

  “You want to try again?” he asked, worry sinking into his chest. “What’s going on?”

  Kennedy looked at the ceiling, the slim platinum barbell in her eyebrow glinting in the bar lights. “I told you,” she whispered to Gamble, and wait…were those tears in his sister’s eyes? Hadn’t she just been cranky with him? And worried? And—news flash—she never, ever cried.

  Unless something was terribly, horribly wrong.

  “Okay, you’re starting to freak me out,” Xander said, standing up so he could meet her gaze head-on. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

  Gamble smiled, the sort of huge, ear-to-ear affair that Xander had seen on the guy maybe twice before in his life, and holy shit, this whole thing had officially gone Twilight Zone. “Babe, it’s okay. Just tell him.”

  “We’re not supposed to! Ugh, this whole thing is so stupid. They need to warn people it’s going to be like this,” Kennedy said, gesturing to the tears rolling down her face.

  Xander took a deep breath and did his best not to use it to scream. “Will one of you please tell me what’s going on? Are you sick or something?”

  “No. No one is sick,” Gamble said, looking at Kennedy, who finally put Xander out of his misery.

  “We’re having a baby.”

  Xander stopped. Rewound. Processed her words once, then again, before—

  “Oh, shit! Are you serious?” If anyone was cut out to be the world’s best mom, it was Kennedy. And Gamble as a dad? Hell, yes. “This is great. Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

  “There are, like, millions of websites that say you’re not supposed to tell anyone until after the first trimester,” Kennedy said. “But that’s a whole three weeks from now! My doctor sai
d the baby looks healthy, and I am obviously a fountain of fucking hormones over here”—she swiped at her face while Gamble nodded vigorously—“and you’re my brother and I love you and yes. I suck at keeping secrets from you. So, you’re going to be an uncle.”

  “Can I hug you?” Xander asked, teasing her with his smile. “Or are there, like, millions of websites that say you shouldn’t hug your brother after you share your happy news with him?”

  “You’re an asshole,” Kennedy said, starting to cry again. “Now, yes. Get over here and hug me, because I need it.”

  “Man, you weren’t kidding about the hormones, huh?” Xander asked from the side of his mouth, and Gamble shook his head.

  “You have no idea.”

  It wasn’t until after Kennedy had hugged him and filled him in on all the details that were fit to share about the baby, then handed over his carryout order and hugged him one more time goodbye, that Xander realized the look on Gamble’s face when he’d said things were just business between him and Tara had been doubt.

  6

  Tara dropped her spoon into the empty bowl in front of her and frowned. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

  Amour looked up from the mostly full bowl of ice cream she’d been trailing her spoon through and shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.”

  Tara considered calling the younger woman out on the lie. She’d been here for an hour, catching Amour up on the investigation (condensed version: still no solid leads, but Intelligence was working the case from every angle) and making sure she was okay (news flash: she’d been assaulted and had her life threatened by someone who very much meant to kill her. Okay was a pipe dream). Amour might be safe, but she’d been pretty listless for the duration of Tara’s visit. She wasn’t good, but she was tough. Pushing now would only make her retreat.

  Tara reached across the tiny café table in the rented kitchen and squeezed Amour’s too-thin forearm. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. Just give me a minute to put the rest of these groceries away.”

  Amour glanced at the multiple brown paper bags from the upscale organic market across from the building where Tara worked. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You’re not supposed to exert yourself,” Tara tried gently, but Amour got up anyway.

  “It’s groceries. Believe me, I’ve handled way worse.”

  The reality of her words sank into Tara’s bones. “How about we split it?” she asked, because screaming at the injustice seemed like a bad option. She’d already put all of the perishables in the fridge when she’d first arrived, anyway.

  Amour shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Taking on the heavy lifting, Tara pulled the last of the eight grocery bags she’d brought with her to the counter with a thunk. Her muscles had given her what-for as she’d loaded the bags onto the rolling cart she’d brought to transport everything to Amour’s apartment in one go, then done an encore as she’d done the car to lobby to elevator to doorstep route. She’d had to take a very specific, somewhat circuitous path to make sure the building’s security cameras caught her (and anyone who might follow her) every step of the way, but if it kept Amour safe, it would be worth it.

  Speaking of which.

  “I’m really glad you decided to stick with testifying against Sansone,” she said, pulling a can of soup from the bag in front of her and sliding it into a cupboard.

  “I don’t want to,” Amour replied flatly. “But if I don’t and the case gets dismissed, he’ll probably kill me anyway. He’s not the kind of guy who leaves loose ends, you know? The best shot I have at not ending up dead is to testify. Even if I have to stay holed up until then.”

  Not one to mince words, Tara said, “You’re probably right that it’s the best way to stay safe in the long run, even though it seems counter-intuitive to testify after what he did. But he threatened you because he’s scared of you. He only wants you to think he’s got the control.”

  A dismissive noise crossed Amour’s lips. “His guy seemed pretty in control when he did all this.”

  She gestured to her temple, where the mass of gauze had been reduced to a large adhesive bandage covering her wound. But oh, no. No. Thoughts like this were going to submarine Amour’s strength, and she was going to need all of it to prep for this trial.

  “You’re still stronger than him.”

  “You know Detective Garza brought me groceries like, the day I got here, right?” Amour asked, and even though Tara noticed the about-face in subject, she didn’t call it out.

  “Well, yes, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared with a little extra.” Pointing to the bowl Amour had left on the table, she took aim at a grin. “Plus, I bet he didn’t bring you any Double Belgian Chocolate Chip.”

  That got a smile out of her, albeit a small one. “He didn’t.”

  “Okay, then. Now you have all the bases covered.” Tara unloaded the rest of the contents from the bag in front of her before saying, “I guess the extra snacks are a little bit of a peace offering, too. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come out before now.”

  Although Tara had spoken to Amour daily thanks to the secure-line magic Capelli had worked on the phone in the apartment, Sinclair had wanted the dust to settle before he allowed in-person visits from anyone other than the detectives on the case. Even then, those had been limited.

  “It’s all good,” Amour said over a shrug. “I know you’re busy working on the trial.”

  “Yes, but part of that is making sure you’re okay, so…”

  She trailed off expectantly until Amour had no choice but to respond. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  Tara’s instincts gave up another hearty ping. But before she could put them to words, an oddly patterned knock sounded off on the door.

  “Are you expecting anybody?” Tara asked, her heart doing an aerial backflip against her sternum.

  “Oh, that’s just Xander,” Amour said, and funny, Tara’s pulse only moved faster.

  “How do you know?” And how was Amour already halfway to the door?

  “We have a secret knock. He lives, like, a few doors down, so sometimes he comes to say hey. Make sure everything’s cool over here. You know. Cop stuff.”

  Sooooo many things to unpack there. Tara went with safety first. “Let me double-check, just to be sure.” Leaning in, she looked through the peephole, and sure enough, Xander stood on the other side just as easy (and hot) as you please, wearing jeans and a snug gray T-shirt and a half-smile that made Tara’s libido go full tilt.

  “Told you,” Amour said. But she smiled as she said it, so Tara simply stepped back and let her open the door just wide enough to let Xander in, then shut it tight behind him.

  “Hey, you.” Xander lifted a brown paper bag as he greeted Amour. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought some—oh.” His smile did an insta-fade as his gaze landed on Tara and widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

  Amour rolled her eyes, although not meanly. “It’s okay, it’s just Tara. She brought me some groceries and stuff.”

  “Sinclair said it would be okay if I stopped by now that Amour has been here for a week,” Tara ventured. She’d seen Xander in passing at the Thirty-Third precinct over the last five days, but she hadn’t had a chance to speak to him one on one since that night at the hospital when he’d calmed her down.

  A.K.A, the night she’d stepped so close to him, they could’ve kissed.

  Oh, how she’d wanted that kiss.

  “Right,” Xander said, and Tara blinked her way back from Fantasy Island. “Well, I just stopped by to drop this off. It’s nothing fancy, just a Cuban sandwich.” His stare moved over the empty bags just visible in the kitchen thanks to the combination of open concept/small space in the apartment, taking in the gourmet grocery store logo with a frown. “But I see you’re already set, so I can just—”

  “Are there onion rings in there like last time?” Amour asked, her eyes lighting up as she reached for the bag.
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  Xander’s hesitation lasted for less than a second before he smiled. “Are you kidding me? Of course there are. The Crooked Angel’s onion rings are practically a religious experience.”

  Amour took the bag, popping it open and taking a long inhale. “You’re pretty cool for a cop. Just saying.”

  For the first time since before the assault, she looked like herself, her smile carefree and genuinely happy, and it hit Tara right in the center of her chest.

  She didn’t just look happy.

  She looked alive.

  “Thanks,” Xander said, lifting his chin toward the kitchen. “Go eat before it gets cold. I’ll check in on you again tomorrow, when I’m not intruding.”

  Tara’s mouth opened out of pure impulse. “Actually, I was just on my way out, but I’d like to have a word with you privately if I could, Xander? It won’t take long.”

  Surprise flashed through his light green eyes, but he covered it with a quick, “Sure. My place is right down the hall. If that works?”

  “Perfect.”

  They both said a quick goodbye to Amour and made sure she was securely locked in before Xander pulled his keys out of his pocket and led the way down the hall. He didn’t say anything, waiting until they’d crossed the threshold to his apartment—a replica of Amour’s in layout—to speak.

  “Sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” he said, looking at the half-empty water bottle and two days’ worth of mail on the coffee table and the pair of cross-trainers littering the floor by the couch. Before Tara could tell him it would take more than a little clutter to offend her, he continued. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

  He was so just-business that Tara nearly balked. But what she wanted to say was too important to dismiss, and anyway, she wasn’t really a back-down kind of woman. “I wanted to thank you for keeping such a close eye on Amour.”

  Xander’s brows lifted. “That’s my job.”

  “Maybe the surveillance part,” Tara conceded, although the partial was all he was going to get out of her. “But the check-ins and takeout food…I haven’t seen her brighten up like that since before the assault, and if her over-stocked pantry is anything to go by, you’re the only one getting her to eat. So, thank you.”