Полная версия
The Partner
“You can’t always believe your eyes—or an autopsy report, Risa. Dig deeper.”
“That’s good advice, but I have a feeling I can dig to China and I still won’t find the truth.”
“Well, you’d better find it,” her father warned. “Your life depends on it.”
He was right, of course, but suddenly the situation seemed overwhelming. She’d lost everything. The world felt upside down, with her father helping her and Grady kissing her. She couldn’t think straight, much less creatively.
Behind the garage the dog barked once then quickly fell silent, as if remembering where he was. She spoke quietly. “What happens if I can’t?”
“That’s not an option. You’re a Taylor and Taylors don’t fail.”
The connection Risa had felt between them shriveled. Her throat went tight as he stared sternly at her.
“Now, pull yourself together,” he ordered.
Dear Reader,
The Partner is the first in a series of six related Superromance books. Set in Houston, Texas, the stories center on the deep and abiding friendship of the heroines, a relationship that springs from their shared experiences at the Houston Police Academy. When tragedy strikes in the life of my heroine, Risa Taylor, their rare sisterhood, so precious and valuable, is thrust into jeopardy.
I’ve heard it said that friends are the family we pick for ourselves. That is certainly the case with me. I have a lot of acquaintances, but there are only a few people I think of as true friends, and as such I hold them very dear. They’re too hard to come by to be treated any other way.
As the perfect example, I’ll tell you about one of my closest friends. She’s a writer, too, and we met fifteen years ago through a writing organization. She was already published, but had stepped back from her career to care for her two babies. I was a wanna-be newbie. The common thread of reading and writing drew us together. Something deeper pulled us even closer. We see the world through a similar prism, and things that are important to me are also important to her. At the same time, we’re different enough to keep ourselves entertained. We started talking at that long-ago meeting…and we haven’t shut up since!
Losing any valued relationship is traumatic, but my heroine’s experiences go beyond that. In one irreversible moment she loses her partner, her friends and her career. Then she meets Grady Wilson. He seems determined to deepen her losses, yet in the end he does just the opposite. He fills the holes in her life and helps her recover. In the hidden parts of her heart, however, Risa continues to miss her friends. Can the rift ever be repaired? Will the six women regain their closeness?
I’m sure you’ll enjoy The Partner and the five stories that follow it, but in addition, I hope these books help us all realize the importance of our friends. Like the old saying goes, they double our joys and halve our sorrows. Treasure your relationships and work hard to keep them.
Kay David
The Partner
Kay David
This one is for Leroy. He was a great partner and a loyal friend who will stay in our hearts forever.
Thanks go to Sherry, Anna, Linda, Roz and K.N. for allowing me to join them in this project. It was a pleasure to work with such a wonderful group of professionals.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
“HAVE YOU BEEN DRINKING?” Risa Taylor glared at her partner, Luke Rowling, as they stood in the underground parking garage, the glow of a nearby light bathing them in orange.
They’d left headquarters only minutes before but Risa was already sweating, rivulets of moisture gathering between her shoulder blades and running down her back. August was not a good month for Houston and she’d started out the shift in a bad mood. She didn’t need Luke out of it, too. She had enough to handle tonight.
When he didn’t answer, she repeated her question. “I said, have you been drinking?”
“What’re you gonna do if the answer’s yes, Risa?” Leaning his elbows on the roof of their unmarked ride, a five-year-old Crown Victoria that had seen happier times, Luke gave her a lopsided grin. “Spank me for being a bad boy?”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at him.
When she’d joined the Sex Crimes Division at HPD, Risa had heard a lot of rumors about Luke Rowling and his successes. According to some, his promotions had come too fast and too easily. Risa had been so thrilled to get her assignment in the prestigious unit that she hadn’t cared, one way or the other.
Given that kind of success, though, she’d prepared herself for someone cocky and obnoxious, someone who’d be free with the constant teasing and sexual innuendo that were standard fare in the police department. She’d vowed ahead of time to dismiss any problems. Crap like that was part of working in a man’s world, and you handled it and went on. But Luke had surprised her. Rumors aside, he hadn’t come on to her even once, and more important, he’d turned out to be a much better cop than she’d ever expected.
Until lately.
Over the past few months, Risa had felt as if she were watching a car wreck in slow motion. The top-notch officer with the arrest record she’d envied had started to disappear, one piece at a time.
First, he’d come to work unprepared and confused, his clothing disheveled and his face unshaven. His hours had then become erratic and his behavior unpredictable. Last Friday, she’d thought she caught a whiff of alcohol when she brushed past him in the hall. This morning, when she smelled it again, she was sure.
“No, I’m not going to spank you.” Slamming her car door, Risa walked around the rear of the vehicle and came to where he stood. Up close, the fumes were really strong and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I’m not going to do anything with you, Rowling, including work. You’re a disaster waiting to happen.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned closer. She had to hold her breath. “It’s been a bad day, ’Isa. Gimme a break and I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
She looked into his red eyes, the refusal she’d been about to voice dying on her lips along with her anger. The sudden and unexpected hopelessness in his gaze shocked her, but Risa hid it.
“What’s up, Luke?” She spoke calmly, as if talking to an upset child. “What’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself for weeks.”
He laughed, but the sound had a hollowness to it. “I haven’t been myself?” he said. “What the hell is myself? Where am I? Who am I?” He was leaning so heavily on her that Risa had to brace her hip against the fender to maintain her balance. “Tell me how to be who I am, and I’ll be happy to act like I’m supposed to.”
The sound of voices echoed over the concrete and Risa looked up to see a group of uniformed officers spilling out of the elevator. She could feel their stares across the hot, steamy garage, and she tried to back away, but Luke held her fast. Someone snickered then laughter rang out.
“Tell me who I am, Risa.” His pleading voice held a quality she hadn’t heard before. “Tell me who I am ’cause I’m balancing on a thin line here, baby.”
Risa lifted his hands off her shoulders and dropped them, his rambling discourse too strange to understand. “Go home and sober up, Luke. I’ll call everyone and cancel tonight.” She started to walk away, but his answer stopped her.
“I can’t.”
She turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head slowly.
“You can’t what?” she asked.
“I can’t go home. Melinda says I’m a loser and a freak and she threw me out. I had to leave….” Looking as if he wanted to cry, he managed to choke back his tears at the very last moment.
“God, Luke…” Risa returned to where he stood, a wave of remorse for her callous attitude sweeping over her. “Shit, man, I’m really sorry.”
And she was. Risa knew all about families shattered by the stresses their job generated—she’d grown up in one.
Luke lifted his gaze and their eyes met again. He seldom mentioned his wife, but Risa had suspected trouble at home for that very reason. They had one child, a little boy named Jason. Most happily married men she knew never shut up about their wives and kids.
“I’m very sorry,” she repeated. “I had no idea things were that bad.”
He blinked. “I didn’t, either.”
They stood in silence beside the car, Luke in obvious misery, Risa imagining the rumors that were sure to come. As soon as they’d become partners, a betting pool had started to predict when they’d hook up. The whole thing had irritated her—especially when she’d found out Luke wasn’t bothering to deny the gossip—but over time, she’d been so grateful that he never hit on her she’d let it go. Apparently all he’d wanted were the bragging rights, so who cared? Now she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She sighed heavily.
“Give me the keys.” Holding out her hand, she gestured. “I’ll drive, and you can sleep in the car while I talk to Sun.”
His expression filled with gratitude, and he started to speak, but she held up her hand and stopped him. “Don’t say anything,” she demanded gruffly. “Just get a grip, okay? I can’t do my job and yours, too.”
He nodded and mumbled a thank-you, turning over the keys. A second later, she was behind the wheel and he was slumped over in the passenger seat. Before she could wind the big car down the ramp and out to Travis Street, he was asleep.
She shook her head sadly. Risa had always wanted to be a cop, but the thing she hated most about the life was the way law-enforcement families suffered. Her mother had fled her cop-father before Risa had been out of diapers. The youngest in her family, and the only girl, she had three older brothers. They were all in the business, too, and between them, they had four ex-wives and one pending.
Luke’s fate was sealed. He and Melinda would divorce, the kid would get hauled like a sack of potatoes from one house to another, then they’d each find someone else and start over, making a new spouse as miserable as the previous one. Risa flinched at her cynicism, but the truth couldn’t be denied.
There was nothing she could do to change the situation, either. She turned her concentration to the job—where it belonged—and headed out, vowing, as she did every time she heard this story, that she’d never, ever end up with a cop herself.
She merged onto the Southwest Freeway, quickly hitting seventy. Traffic was light for a change, but then again, it was almost two in the morning. They’d wasted time talking down in the garage. Risa frowned. She hated to be late even though the woman she was meeting probably didn’t care, unless she was charging by the hour, instead of the act. The guys made fun of Risa’s obsession with time, but she didn’t give a damn. They didn’t make fun of her collars and she was getting close to topping every one of them.
If things went as planned tonight, Risa would be adding to that record, too. In the past six months, three hookers had turned up at Ben Taub Hospital with their faces pounded into bloody masks. Risa wanted the SOB behind the beatings so badly that she dreamed about making the arrest. After days of negotiating, she’d finally gotten one of the street hookers to agree to meet her and Luke. Sun, the friend of a friend of a friend of one of the girls who’d been injured, had sounded like a flake but who knew? Her information might help Risa find the slimeball.
Within minutes, Risa reached the part of Richmond Street known locally as “the Strip.” For several miles on either side, bars stood next to massage parlors, which stood next to strip joints, which stood next to bars. The cycle seemed to go on forever, the signs the only thing that changed as one place went out of business and another one opened. The people who haunted the area stayed the same and so did the level of trouble they generated. When the clubs closed and the heat got to everyone, they’d take to the streets and drag race. Any sane person stayed away after eleven o’clock at night.
Slowing the Crown Victoria, Risa eased into the right-hand lane to join the line of vehicles waiting to get into the parking lot of Tequila Jack’s. Luke was now snoring with his mouth open, his head propped up against the window.
A space of two—maybe three—feet opened up between her bumper and the car ahead of her, and immediately the Impala behind Risa honked. She glanced into her rearview mirror. A wildly colored low-rider was sitting on her tail, the two pachucos inside laughing and passing a bottle of something between them. She closed the gap then looked back again. Catching her glare, the driver raised his bottle in her direction as if to offer her a drink, then he made a kissing motion with his lips. She held his eyes until he looked away.
Fifteen minutes later she parked the Crown Vic, grabbed her bag and opened the car door. The air hit her like a soggy blanket, steamy and thick. She instantly broke into a sweat that dried into clamminess when she entered the air-conditioned club.
She felt eyes following her as she headed for the bar, but she was accustomed to the sensation. All her life men had watched her enter a room. In the past, they’d done so because of how she looked; they did it now because of how she acted. Obviously they didn’t know who she was or what she did, but they knew she was someone they probably wanted to avoid. She’d worked on the attitude since she’d been a rookie and she had it down pat.
Pushing through the crowd, she took one of the empty seats at the end of a long Formica counter, the music so loud she could hardly think, much less hear. Screaming her order for iced tea, she ignored the bartender’s arch expression. Lots of cops drank on the job, but not Risa. She did things by the book. A minute later, the aproned man came back with a glass of something amber-colored, a few listless ice cubes floating on top. The watery concoction tasted like used dishwater, but the glass was half-empty when she put it back down. In the meantime, the bar stool next to her had filled. She glanced to her right.
The girl who’d sat down didn’t look old enough to even be in the place legally, much less be a hooker named Sun.
“You’ll have to find another spot.” Risa turned back to her drink. “I’m saving that for a friend.”
“I am your friend.” The teen’s voice was high and sweet with a Hispanic lilt. Risa barely caught her words over the music and the girl had to lean in closer and repeat them. A tidal wave of cheap perfume came with her as she laid her fingers on Risa’s arm. Her nails were painted with silvery polish. “It’s cool…”
Risa looked down at the girl’s fingers. They felt bony and slight as Risa lifted them and placed them back on the bar. “I really am waiting for someone else,” she said firmly. “Why don’t you—”
“You’re waiting for me.” She met Risa’s eyes. “You’re Risa, right? I’m Sun.”
The image of the last beaten prostitute, Janie Seguaro, superimposed itself on the girl’s childlike features and Risa had to take a deep breath. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.
“You’re kinda young to hang out with Janie’s crowd, aren’t you?”
The teenager shrugged. “I guess. I dunno…” Reaching over, she took a deep pull from Risa’s drink then made a face and stared at the glass. “Yuck! What is that—”
“It’s iced tea—” A ripple of noise and then movement caught Risa’s attention and she swiveled her bar stool to get a better look. As she did so, one of the two men who’d been in the car behind the Crown Vic—the driver, she thought—charged past, glancing at her for a millisecond before he kept going.
She wanted to ignore whatever trouble was taking place, but Risa was a cop through and through. Something inside her wouldn’t let her stay where she was.
“Don’t leave,” she hollered to the girl above the noise. “I’ll be right back.”
Shaking her head, the girl frowned, her warning almost childlike in its naivete. “I wouldn’t mess with that guy if I was you—he looks crazy.”
“I’m used to crazy.” Waving off the teenager’s words, Risa pushed away from the bar and followed the pachuco. They were on the other side of the club when he came to a halt in front of a couple on the dance floor. Tightly twined around each other, the couple saw him a moment too late. The driver grabbed the second man, ripped him away from the woman and threw him to the parquet, screaming in Spanish as he did so.
Risa felt her pulse rate increase. She’d been off patrol for almost three years, and she hadn’t had to deal with this kind of stupidity in ages. She glanced around for the bouncer but he was nowhere in sight. Pulling out her cell phone, she speed-dialed Luke and prayed he wasn’t too far gone to wake up.
“Get in here,” she yelled above the music. “I’ve two drunks going at each other and I need some backup!”
Flipping the phone shut without waiting for his answer, she pulled back her jacket to show her shield and gun, then yelled, “Police,” striding to the men who were now tussling on the floor.
“Okay, that’s it, ladies,” she barked. “The cops are here. Stop right now and let’s all cool down.”
They paused long enough to look up at her then they resumed their drunken, ineffectual swings, missing their mark more often than not. Bending over with a curse, Risa jerked the nearest one to his feet and twisted his arm behind him. That’s when she realized the one on the floor was the second guy from the car. They’d come together to the club and now they were fighting. She rolled her eyes, then kicked at the boot of the one who was still down. “I’m Officer Taylor, HPD. Get up,” she commanded. “We’re taking this outside.”
To her surprise—and relief—he staggered upright. Yelling at the crowd to disperse, she pushed both men ahead of her. When they reached the door and tumbled outside, Risa wasn’t sure which was sweeter—the comparative silence of the nearby traffic or the muggy air she’d cussed before. After the bar, both offered a cleansing change.
Immediately the men went at each other again, wrestling and rolling around the steaming pavement like a couple of schoolboys, finally disappearing behind a nearby parked car. Risa considered leaving them to beat each other silly, then she changed her mind. She’d make Luke handle them. She yanked out her phone and dialed again. “Get over here, Luke!” she said angrily. “I need some help, dammit!”
He muttered something that sounded like assent and she hung up the phone, turning back to the two drunks.
One of them was gone.
The other one, now standing, held a gun.
Pointed straight at her.
Risa’s breath caught in her chest and she froze, her mind spinning. A thousand thoughts came and went in the space of a single second, but only one stood out: she held the highest rating the shooting range awarded but there was no way she would get to her .44 before he could fire. For the moment, she was stuck. She licked her lips and held up her hands, palms out.
“Look, buddy, this isn’t the time to do something stupid, okay? Drop the weapon and kick it away. My partner’s on his way.” Just to be sure, she repeated herself in Spanish. Her accent wasn’t perfect, but the message was clear.
He said something she didn’t catch, this time in English, then from the corner of her eye, Risa saw the other man rise from the pavement and start forward. She cursed under her breath—she thought he’d run off. Edging to her left, she stepped closer to the nearest car and away from the club’s door. She didn’t need any civilians getting popped, too. The one with the gun kept her in his sight, moving with her and spewing another rapid-fire burst of Spanish. She caught only bits and pieces, but it was enough to make her realize he wasn’t drunk. He was stone-cold sober and his hand was steady.
“Put the gun down,” she said evenly. “We don’t have to make this any harder that it already is.”
His face was slick in the neon light of the bar’s sign. He said nothing.
“I’ve called for backup,” she warned. “There’s going to be a hundred cops here any second and they’re not as patient as I am. They’re men. They like to shoot.”
His eyes widened, but he still didn’t answer. By this time, they’d almost traded places. She wondered for a second why he’d let her manipulate him, then she realized he’d wanted to get where he was—the car she’d been standing by was the low-rider.
Later that night, and for weeks afterward, Risa replayed the scene over and over inside her head. There had to have been something else she could have done, she agonized, some other path to take, but at the time her choice seemed like the only one.
Speaking in Spanish once more, the driver jerked his head at his friend, who suddenly appeared by his elbow. He now had a weapon, as well, Risa realized with growing panic.
As she debated her chances of trying to fire regardless, the men exchanged a glance, and that split second was all she needed. Ripping her weapon from the holster beneath her arm, she aimed and screamed. “Drop your guns! Drop them now!”
A second later, Luke rounded the corner.
The men hesitated, then they pivoted in unison toward Luke, shooting blindly as they turned.
CHAPTER TWO
RISA SHOT BACK.
When she stopped, three men lay on the sidewalk.
Down the street, sirens filled the silence, their wails growing louder as the police cars neared. With the part of her brain that wasn’t operating on automatic, Risa realized Luke had to have called for backup before he’d gotten out of the car.
The door of the club flew open and she swung her weapon toward it. Whoever was behind the door thought better of their actions and it instantly shut again, slamming against the frame so hard a piece of wood popped off.
The taste of fear filling her mouth, Risa approached the men with her gun extended. They weren’t moving, but Risa was a woman who didn’t take chances. She kicked their weapons under a nearby car, then bent down to the first man. He was slumped against the edge of the building and he sat in a spreading pool of blood.
He was dead.
The second one had a pulse but it was thready.
She reached Luke’s side, her pistol still pointed at the other two as she dropped to her knees on the dirty pavement. Pressing a finger against his neck, she searched for a rhythm. Her own heart was beating so fast all she could feel was the rush of blood inside her veins. She took a deep breath then held it, pushing her finger deeper into the side of his throat.
His eyelids fluttered open and she nearly passed out with relief.
“Hang on,” she said breathlessly. “Help’s coming, Luke. Hang on, okay?”
He smiled sweetly and said, “Okay.” Then his eyes rolled back and he went completely still.
GRADY WILSON HATED when the phone woke him up at four in the morning. The news was never good, he thought, fumbling for his glasses with one hand and for the lamp with his other. No one called that early in the morning to tell you you’d won a trip to Tahiti or that something had come up and your in-laws were not going to visit after all. Life didn’t work that way.
He picked up the receiver and answered. “Wilson here.”
“We’ve got trouble.” Stan Richards, Grady’s boss, sounded somewhat more awake than Grady but just barely.
“Imagine that.” Grady tested his theory. “I thought you might be calling to give me a raise.”
