Kansas City Cop Read online

  She could count the individual holes in the target before it stopped in front of them, and some of her excitement waned. “I’m not six for six, anymore, am I?”

  There was one hole right through the heart, the ultimate target for stopping a perp when cops fired their weapons. There were two more holes in the stomach area, two more in the left thigh and one completely off the map beneath the target’s elbow. But the goal was to stop the assailant when threatened, not just to slow him down or give him a bellyache.

  “At least they’re all on the paper, and you didn’t put a bullet in me or you.” His humor eased some of her disappointment.

  “You’re right. Seven weeks ago, I couldn’t even hold that gun.” She tilted her gaze to Mike’s clear blue eyes, his optimism feeding her own. “I am getting better. I just have to be patient.”

  “Patient? I didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary.”

  “Ha. Ha. After all my hard work—our hard work—” she admitted, “I feel like celebrating.”

  “Celebrating?”

  Gina reached up to stroke her fingertips along the chiseled line of his jaw, her hormones enjoying the perfect blend of ticklish stubble and warm skin. His eyes darkened to a deep cobalt at her touch. “Catnip.” He shook his head slightly, his lips thinning into a smile. But before that smile fully formed, Gina’s fingers were there, tracing the supple, masculine arc of his mouth. She heard a low-pitched rumble in his throat. Or maybe that visceral sound was coming from her. “Thank you.”

  She was stretching up on tiptoe as his mouth was coming down to meet hers. His lips closed over hers, and Gina slipped her left hand behind his neck, holding on as they dueled for control of the kiss. She delighted in the rasp of his beard against her softer skin as his mouth traveled leisurely across hers, pausing to nip at her bottom lip. When she mewed at the tingling stab of heat warming her blood, he grazed his tongue across the sensitive spot, soothing the sting of the gentle assault. But leisurely was frustrating, and gentle only made her hungry for something more.

  When his tongue teased the curve of her mouth again, Gina parted her lips and thrust her tongue out to meet and dance with his. She slipped her right hand up around his neck as well, her sensitive thumb and finger learning the crisp edge of his short hair. When his fingers tunneled into her hair to press against her scalp and angle her mouth more fully against his, she didn’t protest. When her hips hit the countertop and Mike’s thighs trapped her there, she reveled in the feel of him surrounding her, consuming her. He tasted of rich coffee and man and desire, and Gina demanded the liberty to explore his mouth and learn his textures and delight in the chemistry firing between them.

  “I like the way you celebrate,” Mike growled against her lips before slipping his hands beneath her denim jacket to skim the length of her back and the curve of each hip through the cotton of her blouse. When his thumbs spanned her rib cage to catch beneath her breasts and tease the subtle swell there, she moaned in a mix of pleasure and frustration. What would it be like to feel his hands on her bare skin? To eliminate the barriers of clothing that kept her from touching him?

  But even as she clutched at his shoulders, relishing the rare satisfaction of feeling warmth in every part of her body, from her taut, aching breasts to the tips of her toes, she knew this was a mistake. This kiss was moving too fast. Moving them in the wrong direction. Changing their relationship and jeopardizing every goal on her life list. “Mike...”

  She made a token effort to push him away and ended up curling her fingers into the front of his polo shirt, latching on to the skin and muscle underneath.

  “Tell me what catnip means.” He reclaimed her mouth.

  She helplessly answered his kiss.

  “Hey, G. You in here?” A familiar voice shouted from the doorway, followed by the noise of heavy boots and other voices.

  Gina shoved Mike back, abruptly ending the kiss. Even as his hands closed around her hips to steady her, she was twisting from his grasp.

  “Gina?” Although he must hear the footsteps approaching, too, Mike’s hoarse, throaty whisper demanded an explanation. Did he want an apology for cutting short that ill-advised make-out session? A reassurance that she had no regrets the kiss had happened? She wasn’t sure what her honest answer would be. He tugged her jacket back into place and smoothed the wrinkles she’d made in the front of his shirt. “I get that the timing sucks, but we need to talk about this.”

  “What this? There is no this.” With the walls of the booth granting them a few precious seconds of privacy, Gina wiped her copper lip gloss from his mouth, regretting the defined line her hasty withdrawal had put there. She swiped her knuckles across her own mouth, willing the nerve endings that were still firing with the magnetic need to reconnect with his lips to be still. “You’re not my...” Boyfriend? Temptation? Best decision? He had to understand that she’d never meant her thank-you kiss to go that far. “I have to focus on me right now. On taking care of my family. I—”

  He cut her off with a tilt of his head, warning her that they were no longer alone.

  “There you are.” Derek appeared around the corner of the booth. His gaze glanced off Mike and landed on her, his eyes narrowed as if he suspected something more than firing a gun had happened here. “Everything okay?”

  “Of course,” she answered a little too quickly. Although she could feel Mike’s blue eyes drilling a hole through her, Derek seemed to buy it. She needed to change the subject before she admitted something she might never want to. “What are you doing here? Did you get things straightened out with your dad last week?”

  “Yeah. He had another harebrained scheme to make easy money. I told him to stick with restoring the junk he finds in the scrapyard. I talked some sense into him. Sorry that he was being such a jerk.” Grinning, he rattled on. “I heard you were down here, training with the captain’s son. Brought you a surprise.”

  “A surprise?” she echoed.

  Derek stepped aside to usher two other men, dressed in their distinct black SWAT uniforms, over to join them. “She’s here, guys.”

  Mike moved out of the booth as a compactly built man with black hair joined them. Alex Taylor, one of her SWAT team trainers, grinned. “Hey, Galvan, we heard you were on the premises. Thought we’d stop in and say hi, see how you’re doing.”

  As he stepped aside, another SWAT officer appeared. Despite the blond man’s intimidating facade, she knew Trip Jones was a gentle giant until he went into SWAT mode. And then he was all serious business. His big hand swallowed up hers in a light grip as he smiled. “Look what the cat dragged in. Good to see you without the sling and hospital gown.”

  “Good to be seen. Thanks.”

  By the time she’d stepped out of the booth to join the minireunion, Alex was shaking hands with Mike. “Michael Cutler Jr. How’d you get involved with this fireball?”

  “I’m her physical therapist.” Apparently, Mike did know everybody at KCPD. Although the tension from that kiss and the guilt she felt at ending it so quickly still vibrated through her, making it difficult to think of what to say to these men she hoped to serve with one day, Mike didn’t seem to have any problem joking with them as equals. “We’re getting her back into fighting form.”

  “Don’t do too good a job,” Alex teased, including Gina in his smile. He swatted the big man beside him. “Trip’s been practicing that takedown maneuver you used on him in training so you can’t knock him over again.”

  Trip gave the teasing right back. “I stumbled over her. Didn’t see her down there. Same problem I have when I’m sparring with you, Shrimp.”

  “You know I can take you out at the knees,” Alex challenged.

  Trip didn’t bat an eye. “You know I can take you out, period.”

  Mike and Derek laughed, although both responses seemed forced to her. Mike wasn’t in a laughing mood, and Derek was trying too hard to fit in as one of the team.

  Gina inhaled a deep breath, determined to be a part of this camaraderie the men all seemed to share. “How do you all know Mike? Captain Cutler’s summer barbecues?”

  Trip splayed his hands at his waist, considering the answer. “Well, let’s see. We first met when that creep had a bomb at Jillian’s clinic. SWAT Team One was deployed, and Mikey here got up out of his wheelchair to get us inside to defuse the situation.”

  “Bomb?” Derek asked.

  Gina looked up at Mike. “Wheelchair?”

  She felt the sharp dismissal of Mike’s blue eyes. He’d claimed she didn’t know him, that he’d chosen to embrace his nice-guy persona despite his background, not because of it. What had confined him to a wheelchair and put him in the middle of a Bravo-Tango, or bomb threat?

  Alex snapped his fingers. “No, wait. It was before that. We had to clear a building in No-Man’s Land. Remember? There were a couple of druggies, and we were off the clock, but the captain called us in.” Alex swatted Mike’s arm. “You and Troy were outside in Captain Cutler’s truck. Hey, how is Troy, anyway? The new business taking off for you two?”

  “We could use a few more patients,” Mike confessed, ignoring her silent questions. “As Gina pointed out to me—we didn’t exactly set up shop in the most profitable part of the city. But we’re making do. We’ll turn the corner soon.”

  While they chatted, Derek stepped into the booth to pick up the discarded target paper on the floor. He let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Whoa, G. Is this your score? Looks like you’re ready to come back to work.”

  “No. That’s Mike’s.” Swallowing her pride in front of her peers, she pointed to the mutilated paper still hanging in the firing lane. “That g
uy’s mine.”

  “Oh.” Derek was at a loss for words. Alex covered the awkward moment with a cough.

  Trip Jones, ever the practical one, stated the obvious. “You’re going to have to do better than that to make SWAT.”

  Mike interrupted before she could acknowledge that she knew that score probably wouldn’t qualify her to wear a sidearm for even regular duty. “Gina’s improving every day. This is only her second time on the shooting range. Give it a couple more weeks and she’ll be beating your scores.”

  “No doubt.” Alex smiled, and Gina’s spirits lifted a little. “This woman can do anything she puts her mind to.”

  Trip extended his hand to shake Mike’s, bringing the brief reunion to an end. “You do good work, Mikey.” He glanced down at Gina. “Heal fast,” Trip said with an encouraging smile. “We need more good cops like you.”

  The door to the shooting range swung open at the same time as the radios clipped to Alex’s and Trip’s shoulders crackled to life.

  “Taylor. Trip.” SWAT Team Captain Michael Cutler strode across the room, the clip of authority in his tone and demeanor making Gina snap to attention. “Time to roll. We need to clear a neighborhood. Armed suspect at large.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alex and Trip muted the same information coming over their radios, nodded their goodbyes and jogged from the room, heading toward the Precinct garage, where their SWAT van was located.

  “You’re the one I’ve been looking for, Johnson. Why aren’t you at your desk?”

  Derek pulled his shoulders back, too, at the direct address. “I was just heading up when I ran into Alex and Trip in the locker room.”

  “You’re up to do a trainee ride on this call. You want to join us?”

  “Definitely.”

  Gina’s hand fisted with the same anticipation charging through Derek’s posture.

  “Gear up on the van. We’re leaving as soon as I get there. This is an observation opportunity only,” the captain reminded him. “You stay behind the front lines unless I tell you otherwise. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Derek jogged off after the others, and the impulse to follow the action jolted through Gina’s legs.

  The older man backed toward the door. “Gina. Son.”

  Gina took half a step after him. “Any chance I’ll get the opportunity to ride on a call with you again, sir? Keep my tactics skills fresh?”

  Captain Cutler halted, his face lined with an apology. “I’m sorry, but you’re a liability right now. Until you’re declared fit for duty...”

  “I understand.” She nodded toward the door. “I’ll let you go.”

  Mike’s fingers curled around hers, down at her side between them. Holding her back from embarrassing herself? Or comforting her obvious disappointment over yet another reminder that right now she wasn’t good enough? “What’s up?” Mike asked.

  The captain’s pointed gaze landed on her, sending a silent message. “Somebody shot another cop. Frank McBride.”

  Gina’s blood ran cold. First Colin Cho was shot. Then she and Derek were hit. And now this? With each incident, the injuries had grown more severe. “Is Frank...?”

  “Ambulance is on the scene. No report yet.”

  “Go.” The urgency of Mike’s command matched her own sentiment. “Keep us posted. And be safe.”

  Captain Cutler’s expression was grim as he hurried out behind his men.

  Three assaults on police officers since the beginning of the year. Gina drew her hand away from Mike’s, pacing several steps toward the door, needing to do something more than accept his comfort. She should be out there, protecting her brethren on the police force.

  “Who’s shooting cops?” she wondered out loud.

  “I don’t know,” Mike answered. “But it sounds to me like KCPD is under attack.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Could these incidents be related?” Mike speculated on the phone with his father. “They’re all Kansas City cops.”

  His visit with Gina to the KCPD shooting range had stretched into the evening as they waited at headquarters for word on the injured officer. Once the news that Frank McBride had come out of surgery in fair condition, triggering a collective sigh around the Precinct offices, she’d agreed to let him drive her home. Troy would escort Frannie to her car and lock up the clinic, freeing Mike to stay with Gina. Now the city lights were coming on and streets were clogging with rush-hour traffic as the sun warmed into a glowing orange ball in the western sky. And though he hadn’t followed his father’s footsteps into the police force, Mike was just as eager as the woman sitting across from him in the cab of his truck to find out who the shooter might be and put a stop to these crimes against cops.

  Gina leaned against the center console, following his half of the conversation. “Not just KCPD,” she whispered. “The victims—Cho, Derek, McBride and me—we’re all candidates for the new SWAT team.”

  Michael Sr. continued. “It sure feels personal to me. Every person hit since the beginning of the year has been one of the candidates we’ve been training for the new SWAT team. Maybe he’s challenging himself to take down the best of the best.”

  “Gina was just mentioning that connection.”

  His dad’s voice hushed. “She’s with you now?”

  Mike slowed for a stoplight. “I’m giving her a ride home.”

  “Good. I’ve put my team on alert and am in the process of notifying all the candidates to keep their guards up. Keep an eye on her for me, will you, son? This guy might just be toying with us, taking potshots at random cops. But I’m guessing there’s something else at work here we don’t understand yet. I’d like to think he can’t bring himself to actually kill a cop. But more likely, he’s working up his nerve and fine-tuning his MO. Once he’s made one kill, he might decide he has a taste for it and come back to finish what he started.”

  The sunset warmed Gina’s cheeks as Mike glanced across the seat at her. He didn’t have to wonder at the twisting in his gut at the thought of the shooter making another attempt on her life. He had feelings for her. And her giving him the cold shoulder after that kiss wasn’t making them go away. “Thanks for the update, Dad. Give Frank and Mrs. McBride my best.”

  Mike disconnected the call and placed the phone in the cup holder in the center console. “Dad noticed the same thing you did. The victims aren’t just cops, they’re all SWAT contenders.”

  She sat back in her seat with a deep sigh, giving him a rare glimpse of fatigue. “That has to be a coincidence. We’re all uniformed officers. We haven’t earned our SWAT caps and vests yet, so there’s no way to distinguish us from anyone else at KCPD. How would this guy know?”

  Mike shrugged as the light changed. He could think of several possibilities. “What about the car you’ve seen following you? Could be he’s staked out the training center or Precinct headquarters. Maybe he’s in the crowd when you go on observation calls with SWAT Team One and has seen you in action. Or he’s hacked the KCPD computer system? There are a lot of ways he could get that information.”

  She grunted a sound that could have been a reluctant laugh. “You’re not making me feel better.”

  “I’m not trying to. You’re not the only one who wants to nail this guy and put a stop to the assaults on cops. It’s personal to me, too.”

  Reaching across the center console, she patted his arm, as if she thought he needed comforting. “Your dad is too high-profile of a police officer. A highly trained veteran, to boot. I’m sure the perp wouldn’t go after him.”

  Unless a high-profile officer like his father was the ultimate target, and Gina, Derek and the others were a diversion to make KCPD think the attacker was hunting cops, in general, and not a specific target. Mike captured her hand against the warmth of his thigh. “I hate to think of someone hurting you as simple target practice until he works up the nerve or the skill to make an actual kill shot.”