In The Line Of Fire

“Cia—”

“Forget Cia. This is about you.” Molly took a deep breath and plunged in. They hated it when she talked to them this way. “When they’re pawing you, most guys aren’t thinking about how special you are. Most guys are just thinking about themselves. If you sacrifice yourself—your life—to that, you’re only betraying yourself.” And because she knew Anita would probably do it, anyway, she’d bought the condoms. “There’s more to this than just pregnancy, Anita. There’s HIV and all kinds of other nasties out there. So try to make sure of who you’re with. Make sure of where he’s been and try to find out if he’s that one guy who knows you’re special. I promise you, he’s out there. And even then, even when you find him, promise me you’ll use what I put in that bag.”

Anita opened the top, peeked into it and groaned.

Molly cleared her throat. “I put a pregnancy test in there, too. Can you pull that off at home without anyone knowing, or do you want to spend the night at my place?”

The gratitude in the girl’s eyes wrenched Molly’s heart. “I can do it at home. My dad’s hardly ever there.” Molly knew Anita’s mother had died years ago of a drug overdose.

“Okay, then let me know. Whatever the result, we’ll take it from there. I’ll help you, Anita, all I can.”

“Thanks.” Anita started to turn away. Then she looked back over her shoulder. “I’m really scared, Molly.”

Molly couldn’t tell her not to be. She just nodded. Then, when Anita was several strides down the street, she stopped her again. “By the way, where’d the new gym shoes come from?”

Anita turned to walk backward, looking down at her feet. “Coach,” she said, glancing up again.

Coach? He’d been here twenty-four hours, Molly thought, as something tried to choke her, and already he was Coach? “The rec center doesn’t have that kind of money!”

“He paid for them his own self. He robbed a bank, you know.”

“He did not! It was a convenience store!” What had he told these impressionable kids, anyway? Molly felt herself moving, taking a step back toward the center, ready to take another strip off his hide. Then she realized that Anita was laughing.

“I knew that,” the girl said. “I just wanted to find out if you did.”

Molly let out her breath and slumped back against her car.

She really, really hated him.

Molly dragged herself home at 12:20 in the morning, bone tired. She tossed her uniform cap on her bed, dragged the scrunchie from her hair and dug her fingers into her curls. When her hair sprang free in her hands, she blew it out of her eyes.

The small of her back hurt from where a teenage behemoth—not one of her rec center kids, thank heaven—had gouged her with his knee as she had wrestled with him on a very hard sidewalk. He’d been higher than a kite. He was in a holding cell now. It broke her heart. But even worse was the fact that suddenly she was getting all the dangerous and waste-of-time calls thrown her way—and she didn’t even have a partner on this shift yet. She had to wonder if it was her comeuppance for having squeezed her way onto the task force.

She undressed and found a T-shirt in her drawer, this one sporting the logo of the Dallas Cowboys. She hadn’t worn her Texas A & M shirt since Danny had turned up in an almost identical one. Danny again. She shook her head. Why couldn’t she get him off her mind? Because he was an enigma, she decided, going into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Because—damn it—he wasn’t what an ex-con was supposed to be.

She’d known her share. She’d put in her time and she’d met the best and the worst the world had to offer. Danny just didn’t have that same sly glide to his eyes.

Didn’t mean a thing, she told herself, staring at her reflection in the glass. There were exceptions to every rule.

Why was he coming on to her? she wondered with her next breath. Because he definitely was.

Molly took a step back from the glass, eyeing herself critically. Okay, she was cute. Curly brown hair, big green eyes—they were good, but not dazzling—and that dusting of freckles over her nose. But there was nothing especially worth coming on to there, at least not for an ex-mobster who had probably had more than his fair share of exotic, olive-skinned women with come-hither eyes over the years.

Okay, she admitted, so that bothered her. Danny Gates was a hero-type hunk and if his past was any indication, he’d probably been around with the best womankind had to offer. It went with the territory. She couldn’t compete with that. She shouldn’t even want to. And she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. But for some reason, it made her feel so sad.

Molly went back to her bed. Beside her uniform cap, which she picked up and placed on her dresser, was the file she had gotten out of records hours ago. She went to the kitchen for a can of soda pop, then came back and curled up in bed with the file. She told herself again that she owed it to her kids to know exactly what Danny had done—and to convince Ron Glover to let him go if need be. If he posed any danger whatsoever—outside of the bad influence that Ron Glover had obviously already overlooked—she’d drag him off that gym floor bodily.

She read, and twenty minutes later she had enough of a headache to get up again and go looking for some aspirin.

Not much of the police report made sense. The store Danny had robbed had been way the heck north on Mission Creek Road, halfway to Lone Star Highway, actually beyond the city’s jurisdiction. That was the first odd thing. The sheriff had tossed the case to the Mission Creek boys but there was no record of why. Still, she could have lived with that, it was the only oddity.

What bothered her most was the fact that Danny had been picked up on the opposite end of Mission Creek Road—within the city limits—seventeen minutes after the 911 call had come in from the convenience store. Was it even possible to drive from the Mission Ridge area—which was just west of Mission Creek Road where the store had been held up—to a point south of Gulf Road inside of seventeen minutes? It was, she thought, if you had the pedal to the floor. And according to the police report Danny had been driving a spiffy, presumably horsepower-endowed Lexus at the time. But was it possible to drive that distance in seventeen minutes and add a small side trip even farther to the south and a jog to the west where his condo had been located? Because that was what he would have had to do to deposit the stolen money there. The 911 call had come in at 2:12 in the afternoon. He’d been picked up at 2:29. The stolen money was located almost simultaneously in his bottom dresser drawer by other investigative officers because, lo and behold, the convenience store owner had known Danny’s name and had bleated it out like a frightened lamb the minute the first cops had arrived on the scene. They’d dispatched another unit directly to Danny’s address, and that unit had discovered the money.

How neat. How convenient. Except…

For that to be possible, Danny would have had to leave the Mission Ridge area, drive all the way to his condo to dump the stash he’d taken, and then for some reason he would have headed north and east again before the cops had picked him up. Oh, and one other interesting thing, she thought. He would have had to make an inexplicable U-turn on Mission Creek Road in the process because by that time, when the cruiser had nabbed him, he’d been heading back home.

At least he’d said he’d been heading home. Maybe he’d lied. Cons did lie.

Why hadn’t he called for a lawyer? Maybe that just bothered her because Ed Bancroft hadn’t done it, either. An awful lot of guys these days were going down without a fight, Molly thought.

Why hadn’t anyone noted the discrepancy in the direction Danny had been traveling? Where had he really been heading home from—especially since he had presumably just left his condo after dropping the cash?

The Mercado compound was right off Mission Creek Road, she thought, between the convenience store and the location where Danny had been picked up. If Danny had been driving home from there, he would have been traveling in the correct direction.

Molly got back into bed and set the file carefully on her bedside table. Well, well, well, she thought as she turned her light off. Another smelly fish in the desert.

“I’ve figured it out. You were framed.”

Danny barely heard her. He was too transfixed by what he found when he came downstairs from his apartment and set foot in the gym on Wednesday afternoon.

First of all, there was an open library book on the floor in the middle of the court. The regular kids were standing back a way and watching Molly skeptically. Some of the newcomers had returned, as well. Four or five of them were lined up on the side of the court next to Bobby.

“What the hell are you doing?” Danny demanded.

“Playing basketball.”

“You’re not playing basketball. You’re bouncing around on your toes and occasionally looking down at that book. What’s that book?”

“You were framed. Either you’re too stupid to realize it or too stupid to care.”

“I cared.”

“You didn’t do anything about it.”

“I want to talk about basketball.”

“Well, I don’t.” She stopped bouncing and faced him, planting her hands on her hips.

Those hips, Danny thought. What he could see of them today left his mouth dry. She wore spandex leggings. There was a great deal of rolled-down sock at her ankles and…she wore new high tops. She also wore a black sports bra, and he liked it a whole lot better than Cia’s.

Every sweet curve of her was outlined in nice, tight black.

“You can’t learn basketball from a book,” he said stubbornly, trying to keep his mind off the way she looked. “That book is about basketball, isn’t it? Some sort of in-ten-easy-lessons kind of thing? Basketball for dummies?”

“It’s very informative.” Molly sniffed. “And I can learn anything from reading. For instance, I learned a great deal from reading your crime file.”

“You read my file? I told you to stop digging up dirt on me! Damn it, stop bouncing!” She was jiggling in place. Oh, yeah, she definitely jiggled.

“I just warmed up. I want to stay that way.” She thrust her chin toward him. “Warming up is important. The book says so. I want to stay loose.”

“You’re loose as a goose. And you don’t need to be. This is my basketball team.”

“Are you guys talking about his record or our game?” Cia called out from behind Molly.

“We’re talking about his record,” Molly said.

“We’re talking about her bouncing,” Danny said.

“Oh, man, I want to up my ante,” said Fisk.

Danny stalked over to the library book and snatched it up off the floor. “This is a joke.”

“Why didn’t you defend yourself when they brought you in for questioning?” she countered. “Why didn’t you call a lawyer?”

“It wouldn’t have done me a damned bit of good. Get off my court.”

“No. Not until you explain.” She grabbed the book back from his hand.

“What’s it to you?”

“Maybe I just want leverage to use against you.”

If it meant he could part ways with that spandex, then Danny thought it might be worth it. He couldn’t look at her like this. Couldn’t. She was a cop. “Come with me,” he said shortly.

“Where?”

“To Ron’s office.”

“Why?”

“Stop with the questions for once, will you? Follow me. You want to talk? Fine. We’ll do it in private.” He was damned if he was going to give the kids more of a show.

He was halfway across the court before he sensed rather than saw her fall into step behind him. He stalked angrily through the vestibule and waited by the office door. When she passed through it, he slammed it shut behind her and went to the other side of the desk to keep space between them.

“We have a serious power struggle going on here,” he said.

Molly leaned her back against the door. “I was here first.”

“You’re not going to get rid of me. I don’t care how many times you tow my car. Regardless of my parole terms, it was my decision to be here.”

Somewhere along the line, she had started to realize that, and it made Molly feel small.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said again, sitting in Ron’s chair. He laced his fingers behind his head. The muscles in his upper arms flexed. Molly felt her throat go a little tight. “They’re my kids,” she said finally.

“Well, now they’re mine, too.”

Okay, so he had bought half of them gym shoes. “Let’s just say I accept that…since I have no choice. What’s your point?”

“We had an opposite-ends-of-the-gym agreement. This did not include you bringing library books onto center court.”

She tossed the book on Ron’s desk. The cover said Learning The Basics of Basketball, pretty much as he had expected.

“Maybe I’m willing to concede that you have a point about getting these kids on school teams,” she said. “A weak point, but a point just the same.”

That surprised him. He didn’t want her to be open-minded. He especially didn’t want her to be open-minded for the sake of the kids. It made him like her too much. “Then let me handle it. I know basketball. You don’t. There are other areas where you can help.”

“Such as?”

Damn it, he thought. Double damn it. She had both her hands wrapped around the doorknob at her back. It made her breasts thrust toward him. “I’m thinking.”

“That might be a stretch for someone who allowed the police to frame him.”

“Shut it off, Molly. You know nothing about that.”

“I’m trying to.”

“To what? Shut your mouth down? Yeah, I can see where that might be difficult.”

“I’m trying to figure out why anyone would let themselves go to jail without a fight.”

“It’s none of your business!” he shouted. She had a way of seriously getting to him. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “All right, let’s calm down here.”

“I’m perfectly calm.”

“Yeah, well, you are unless I decide to move in on your space. You get pretty shaken up whenever I get too close.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

But he saw it happen again, that flush come to her skin. Today there was a lot more skin. There was all that pretty freckled expanse over the top of her sports bra and a stretch of midriff between the bottom of that and the top of her spandex leggings. She had a truly fantastic body.

He couldn’t think like this. She was a cop.

Danny decided that he had gone too long without a woman. That was his problem. He made a mental note to remedy that little problem this very night.

He cleared his throat. “We…uh…need money. We need uniforms. We need the other cities to agree to play against us.”

It took Molly a moment to bring her mind back to sports. Her heart was still thumping. She did not want to be affected by him this way—Mr. Mobster, Mr. Ex-Con. But, oh, there was something about him.

“What are you suggesting?” She rubbed goose bumps off her skin absently.

“That if you want to help, come in here tomorrow and get on the phone.” Get rid of the spandex, he thought. It would also keep her out of his gym, out of his sight…off his mind.

“I might be willing to do that.”

“You’d do anything to help these kids.” It came out before he’d thought it through. And he knew he was right.

“Okay.” She scraped curls off her forehead. “That takes care of your team. What about the fact that the cops framed you for armed robbery? Who really put that money in your condo?”

Now he understood why she’d given in so easily. She’d been placating him until she could turn the conversation back to where she wanted it to go. “Forget it,” he growled. “The cops didn’t do it. The mob did.”

“And you let them?”

“I’m not willing to talk about this.”

“I’ll wear you down. I have that way about me.”

“Tell me something I didn’t already know.”

She laughed. Then, for a moment, a deadly moment, they just grinned at each other. A little like…comrades.

Danny recovered first. He needed to fix that. Right now. He could shake her up, make her run, he reminded himself. Danny rose from the desk and closed the distance between them.

Molly tried to back up. With her back against the door, she had nowhere to go.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.