Kansas City Cop Read online

  “I’ll go back to the bar and round the Bismarcks up for questioning.”

  Gina waved off the offer and kept walking. “Already taken care of. If they’re not long gone.”

  “Did you want me to take care of them? Or take care of you?”

  Gina whirled around on him. “I don’t need to be taken care of. I need you to do your job.”

  He thumped his chest. “I’m the one still wearing a uniform.”

  Gina shoved her fingers through her hair, muttering a curse, before inhaling a deep breath so she could speak calmly. “Well then, Mr. Uniform, notify the auto-theft team that that place next door to Sin City may be housing stolen vehicle parts. If Denny and his gang haven’t cleared them out already.”

  “Stop giving me orders, G. Look, it’s not like we were chasing some piece-of-junk Chevy.”

  “Why would we—?”

  “You were after a guy on a motorcycle. A wild-goose chase that steps on the toes of some other department’s investigation. You’ve got me running errands and filing reports on KCPD time, when I’m supposed to be doing my job at the Precinct.” He gestured to the empty belt at her waist. “You’re not even cleared to wear your gun, much less run your own investigation. I’m the one trying to cover your backside so you don’t get in trouble with the brass.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Haven’t you heard? My dad talked to a lawyer about suing you and the department for allowing me to get shot.”

  “Allowing...?” She’d suspected as much. Didn’t stop her temper from flaring. “He has no case. There is only one person responsible for you and me and Frank and Colin getting shot. I’m doing everything I can to find this guy before he shoots someone else—before he kills one of us. I thought that was what you wanted, too.” She turned toward the truck, then faced Derek one last time. “And why would you say ‘piece-of-junk Chevy’? Are you remembering something from the shooting? Did you see the shooter’s vehicle?”

  That seemed to genuinely take him aback, knocking the anger out of his voice and posture. “What? I don’t think so. It’s just a figure of speech.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She was aware that Mike had followed them and spoken briefly to the officers in the first police cruiser to arrive on the scene. It wasn’t the hole ripped into the knee of his jeans or the unidentifiable glop of food staining the sleeve of his shirt or even the subtle limp she detected in his stride that proved he’d gone above and beyond to protect her and help track down the man who might hold the key to the truth. Now he circled to his side of the truck, giving her some space to deal with her partner. But his watchful blue eyes never left her. He was ready to intervene if she needed him—and willing to step back if she didn’t. That was the kind of backup she expected from anyone she called partner.

  But Derek just didn’t get it. He didn’t understand fire and dedication and getting the job done the way she did. “G, you’re a little obsessed. Maybe we’re never going to catch the guy who shot us. Maybe we just need to move on. I can handle my dad. You need to go home and heal. We need to focus on keeping our noses clean and making SWAT.”

  She shrugged off his placating touch and climbed in beside Mike. “You quit if you want, Derek. I never will.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Here’s a clean shirt from my locker, son.” Mike caught the black KCPD polo his father tossed to him and straightened away from the wall outside the Fourth Precinct’s third-floor conference room as several more officers, both uniformed and plainclothes, filed out of the room behind him and moved on down the hallway to their various work stations. Michael Sr. wrinkled his nose at the stain on Mike’s shoulder, which could be the remnants of spoiled pasta sauce or a really old tomato. “You’re a little fragrant.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Ignoring the protest from joints that weren’t used to duking it out with armed bullies or tackling a man off a concrete loading dock, Mike unbuttoned his soiled shirt and shrugged into the clean one. “What’s the verdict?”

  Although the captain was just Dad to Mike, Gina hurried over from pacing up and down the hallway and practically snapped to attention. “What can you tell us, sir? Did Gordy Bismarck say anything else after lawyering up? No one else was hurt during that chase, were they? What about Denny Bismarck? Did we find him?”

  The Precinct’s top brass and investigators from various departments had been called in for a briefing on everything that had happened between the confrontation at Gina’s home last night to the Sin City Bar and stopping Gordon Bismarck in a pile of trash near the river this morning. Michael Sr. splayed his fingers at the waist of his dark uniform, looking down at her with a boss-like seriousness. “Denny Bismarck has gone to ground, but there’s a citywide APB out on him. We’ve got unis checking their regular haunts. We’ve arrested Al Renken on trafficking stolen goods and Gordy on his parole violation and resisting arrest.”

  “Even though I was the officer in pursuit?” A worried frown marred Gina’s beautiful eyes. “Technically, I’m still on leave. The arrest is good? Am I going on report?”

  Mike felt the same paternal, perhaps reprimanding, glare fixed on him for a moment before his father answered Gina’s concern. “You’re still KCPD. You identified yourself with your badge—Bismarck said as much. Your instincts were good about the Bismarcks and their buddies hiding something. The auto-theft team wants to buy you a drink down at the Shamrock for breaking one of their investigations wide open. I think I’ve got some competition for recruiting you.”

  The compliment didn’t seem to register. “But I’m no closer to finding out who’s shooting cops.”

  “None of us are.” The grim pronouncement hung in the stuffy hallway air. “But there are a lot of officers in there who’d like to get Denny in an interrogation room. I’m confident we’ll figure this out.”

  Gina rubbed her shoulder through her denim jacket. Mike wondered if she was in pain, or if that was becoming a habit of the self-doubts and second-guessing that were new to her. “Hopefully, before anyone else gets hurt.”

  He agreed with a nod. “We’re all working this case, Gina. When you attack one cop, you attack all of us. You and Mike have given the detectives several leads to follow up on, including your buddy Bobby Estes. But you need to step back and let Detectives Grove and Kincaid take the lead on this. Go home. You’ve earned a good night’s rest. We’ll get this guy. I promise.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Michael’s face relaxed into a smile for Gina. “Mind if I borrow my son for a moment?”

  Gina’s dark gaze darted up to Mike’s. “I didn’t mean to get him into trouble, Captain. No one’s issuing Mike a reckless driving ticket, are they? If I’d been able to drive myself—”

  The captain raised a reassuring hand. “Mike’s a grown man. It’s kind of hard to reprimand him. But we decided not to issue any tickets since he was assisting a police officer.” It probably didn’t hurt that he was Michael Cutler’s son, either. “We do, however, have some things to discuss. Personal things.”

  But Mike could see his father’s explanation had only made Gina straighten to a more defensive posture. Defending him? Or worried that causing friction between father and son would further jeopardize her chances of making the new SWAT team?

  “This is nothing for you to stress over,” Mike assured her. “We’re just two guys having a conversation.”

  “I’ll give you some privacy then.” Gina reached over to brush her limp fingers against his knuckles before turning her hand into his and squeezing it. The gesture was shyly hesitant—if he could believe anything about this brave, direct woman could be shy—but it meant the world to Mike. Was that an apology for getting him into any kind of trouble? A thank-you? Maybe her only hesitation was that she was confirming the connection between them in front of his father. “I want to read over my statement again before I sign it. I’ll be downstairs in the lobby when you’re finished.”

  “I’ll find you there.”

  He watched her cross to her desk in the main room, pick up the printout of the statement she’d typed earlier and sit down to read it before his father nodded toward the break room. “Buy you a cup of coffee?”

  Mike followed his dad inside and closed the door, although he questioned the privacy of this conversation since the walls on either side of the door were glass windows with open blinds hanging in front of them. “Personal things?”

  When had his dad gone all touchy-feely?

  His father pulled out a couple of insulated paper cups and poured them both some hot coffee. “The auto-theft team impounded Denny Bismarck’s ’75 Bronco. They’d like you to look at it to see if you recognize it from that day at the shooting.”

  “Not a problem.” He took the cup from his dad. “Let’s hear the real reason you wanted to talk without Gina around. You think I’m getting in too deep with this. Too deep with her.”

  “She’s getting her grip back?”

  He wasn’t surprised that his dad had noticed the way Gina had reached for his hand. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be one hundred percent, probably not steady enough to hold a sniper rifle. But I still wouldn’t count her out in a fight. She’s already good enough to pass her competency exam on the shooting range.”

  “Have you told her that?” His dad arched a questioning brow. “I need better than competent for SWAT.”

  Mike took a sip of the steaming brew, thinking the bitter sludge beat Frannie’s coffee but wasn’t anywhere near the smooth delight Lupe Molina’s coffee had been. But he knew this conversation wasn’t about father-son bonding or evaluating caffeinated drinks. This was Captain Michael Cutler, KCPD,
asking for a report on the recovery of a wounded police officer he wanted to recruit. “She’s still a good cop. You haven’t seen her out in the field, Dad. She’s fearless. Gina knows how to handle herself in an interview. She’s got good instincts about protecting people. And she’s kind and strong and inspiring with the victims I’ve seen her talk to.”

  “She wants to be SWAT. Not a victim’s advocate.”

  “She wants to be a cop.”

  His father nodded, considering the update on Gina’s progress. He took a drink before changing the subject. “How do you figure into all this? Are you looking to be a cop now, too?”

  Mike chuckled, hearing the fatherly concern about risking his life, yet knowing exactly from what gene pool he’d inherited this strong urge to help others and protect the people he cared about. “That’s your calling, Dad. Not mine. Business has been slow at the clinic, so I’ve had time on my hands. Gina’s going to chase this guy down whether or not she has anyone watching her back. I prefer she not take on the whole world alone and aggravate her injury before she’s completely healed.” He shrugged, instantly regretting the twinge through the stretching muscles of his back. “I help out where I can.”

  “Driving eighty miles an hour through downtown Kansas City is your idea of helping out? I didn’t know your big dream was to drive for NASCAR one day.”

  Nah. His big dream was to find the man who’d shot Gina so that she’d give up this crazy investigation and give them a chance at being a couple. “I couldn’t lose that guy, Dad. He knows something that could help her. For all we know, he’s the key to stopping whoever is targeting cops. Or who might be targeting Gina specifically. That’s a theory we’re working on.”

  “A theory?” Those observant blue eyes, so like his own, narrowed, no doubt suspecting the pain he was in. “You look a little beat-up yourself. Fractured nerves and steel pins doing okay?”

  Mike admitted to the electric shocks sparking intermittently through his lower back and the ache in his right leg that had been numb when they’d left the crime scene earlier. “I’ve had better days. Some ibuprofen and a hot shower ought to take care of it.”

  “I wanted you to help Gina get fit enough to come back to KCPD—not for you to get caught in the cross fire. I nearly lost you once.” He wandered over to peer through the blinds beside Mike. “Trip and Alex told me about the run-in at Gina’s place last night. Your truck never left the driveway. Just how serious has it gotten between you two?”

  “We’ve become friends.” Standing beside his father and fingering the visitor’s badge hanging around his neck, Mike studied the main room. More accurately, he studied the dark-haired woman at the far end of the sea of desks between them. Gina methodically read through the printout, making notations. “I was giving her a break from having to be responsible for her family, her neighborhood, this whole city for one night. She’s such a tiny thing, and yet she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders.” Mike grinned, trying to make light of the truth his father was no doubt reading between the lines. “And her great-aunt Lupe sure can cook. Her coffee’s a damn sight better than this stuff.”

  The joke didn’t work. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. “You are never going to be so old that I won’t worry about you. If she’s using you to get into SWAT—”

  “Gina wouldn’t know how.” Mike pulled away from his father’s hand and poured out the last of his coffee into the sink before dropping the cup into the trash. “She’s honest to a fault, Dad. Good, bad or ugly. She says what she means, and anything she gets she wants to earn on her own merit.”

  “I thought as much. But I had to ask.”

  Mike headed to the door, thinking this tête-à-tête was over. But before he turned the knob, he saw Derek Johnson perch on the corner of Gina’s desk. She tipped her head up to her partner as they chatted, then pushed to her feet as the conversation grew heated. Derek pointed toward the break room, and Mike had to wonder if the disagreement had to do with him or his father. But whatever they were arguing about ended quickly. Gina tucked her report into a file folder and carried it over to Kevin Grove and Atticus Kincaid, the detectives leading the investigation, and dropped it on Grove’s desk. Mike glanced back to her desk to see Derek watching her, too. When she excused herself and headed to the elevators, Derek sank into his chair, slumping like a pouting boy. He wasn’t thrilled with whatever she’d said or written. Gina had disappeared around the last cubicle wall by the time he sat forward and picked up the phone on his desk, punching in a number as if an idea had suddenly entered his head.

  Mike was about to overstep a line with his father, taking advantage of his KCPD connections. “Dad, I know you’re not an investigator, but could you check out Derek Johnson for me?”

  “Gina’s partner?”

  Mike wondered how much of that argument he’d just witnessed had to do with the accusations she’d made that morning after the car chase through downtown. “I’ve seen rookies who make fewer dumb moves than that guy does. It’s almost like he’s sabotaging anything Gina tries to do. I wonder if he blames her for getting shot.”

  “That’s a serious accusation. Not every partnership works out,” his father conceded. “Maybe there is some tension between them—especially if someone was targeting her and he feels like collateral damage. Or vice versa. I heard about his fling with Bismarck’s wife. But his work history is clean. He came recommended to me for SWAT training, so I know he hasn’t been written up for anything.”

  “What kind of cop do you think he is?”

  Michael Sr. considered his answer before speaking. “He’s in the top half of every test I’ve given him. He takes orders. Does what I ask of him in training. He gets along with everybody on the team.”

  “What about his personal life?”

  “I don’t know him that well, but I can poke around. No one will question me looking more closely at any of the SWAT candidates. What am I looking for?”

  They both watched the animated phone call as Derek smacked the desktop and argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. “I’m not sure. I can’t put my finger on it. But something’s hinky with that guy. I don’t think Gina trusts him any more than I do. Maybe that’s one reason she’s so damn independent. She doesn’t believe Johnson’s got her back.”

  “But you do?” His father crumpled the empty coffee cup and tossed it into the trash. “Need I remind you, you don’t wear a uniform? You’ve got no responsibility here. Gina has a whole police department she can call on for help. Last I checked, putting your life on the line for a woman in trouble isn’t part of a physical therapist’s job description. You took on Leo Mesner when he was hitting Frannie. Caroline’s parents were controlling every aspect of her life until you...” He saw realization dawn in his father’s sharp blue eyes. “You’re in love with her. Mike, I wasn’t matchmaking when I asked you to help—”

  “This isn’t like Caroline or Frannie, Dad.” He didn’t need to be reminded of his past mistakes. “They needed a support system—someone who would put their needs first.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing for Gina?”

  “She won’t let me half the time.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “She was a fighter before I ever met her. Strong and confident. This injury is just a temporary setback until she figures out a new way to move forward. That spirit is still inside her. She doesn’t need me to hold her hand or build up her ego, she just...needs me. For how long, I don’t know yet, but—”

  “I like Gina well enough.” His father looked him straight in the eye, wanting him to really hear what he was saying. “Whatever you decide, you know I’ll back you all the way. But I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

  Yeah, the pattern of Mike’s woeful love life did seem to be repeating itself. Maybe he was the one who needed to be rescued from the mistakes he kept making. But not yet. He wasn’t giving up on Gina or his feelings for her. “She says she doesn’t have the time or space in her life for a relationship right now. But everything in me says that she’s the one. That we could be really good together if she’d give us a chance.”