KCPD Protector Read online

  The only men in her life were her father and her poodle mix, Spike, and neither one was the flower-sending type. Her mother was the one to remember special events, but nothing was happening in Elise’s life today, or even this week. She hadn’t completed the renovations on the Victorian home she was restoring, so any celebration of that was premature. Successfully housebreaking the dog hardly merited all these flowers. And the last man she’d gone out with certainly had no reason to send such a gift. Although they’d once shared a college romance, she’d made it clear to James this past weekend that she was only interested in friendship now that he was back in town after spending several years working abroad.

  After her disastrous track record of unrequited love and getting involved with the wrong men, she wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship.

  Elise startled at the warm hand on her arm and looked up into George’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She jumped again when the telephone rang. Shaking off his touch and any further speculation about the roses, she leaned across her desk and picked up the receiver. “Deputy Commissioner Madigan’s office. This is Elise speaking.”

  There was a long pause on the line, and then she heard, “Did you get them?”

  The hushed, breathy voice was barely audible.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I got them special. Just for you.”

  Suddenly feeling too shaky to stand, Elise sank onto the edge of the cherrywood desk and turned her head toward the mysterious bouquet. “Who is this?”

  The phone was pried from her grip by a stronger hand. “This is Deputy Commissioner Madigan of KCPD. Who—?”

  The click of the call disconnecting was loud enough for Elise to hear. When she jerked her head back toward the sound, her gaze was filled with George’s paisley tie and broad chest. That chest came even closer, almost folded around her, as he reached behind her to hang up the phone.

  Elise pushed to her feet, curling her toes inside her pumps to steady herself, when she realized she’d nearly turned her nose into the inviting haven of the older man’s crisp shirt and body heat.

  But George didn’t move. He stood there, feet planted like tree trunks to the floor, watching her reaction. “What’s going on?”

  Rubbing at the goose bumps revealed by her sleeveless dress, Elise shrugged off her confusion about the flowers as well as that sudden and inexplicable urge to take shelter against her boss’s chest. “I have no idea.”

  George tossed the file onto her desk and quickly inspected the bouquet. “You don’t know who these are from?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “Did you recognize the caller on the phone?”

  Elise shook her head. “I think it was a man’s voice, but he was whispering. I could barely hear him. I would have thought it was a wrong number, but he...asked about the flowers. At least, I think that’s what he meant. He didn’t actually say ‘flowers.’”

  “I didn’t catch a company logo on the deliveryman’s shirt. Did you?” George was already headed for the hallway before she realized his intent. “I’ll check with Shane at the front desk to see if he remembers the uniform. He should have logged him in, so we can at least get a name and who he works for. Then we can call and find out who ordered them.”

  Elise hurried after George, stopping him with a hand on his arm before he got out the door. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “Clearly, not knowing where these came from has upset you.” He turned to face her. “I may spend my days balancing numbers and taking meetings, but I’m still a cop. I know when something doesn’t smell right, and I remember how to track down a lead.”

  “But there’s no crime here, Commissioner. And it’s not your job to take care of me.” As easy as it would be to let him find answers for her, Elise knew he had more important things to worry about than her self-conscious paranoia about mysterious romantic gestures. “If anything, I’m supposed to take care of you. I’ll talk to Shane before I leave this evening.” She nodded toward his office. “Besides, you’re keeping the councilman and precinct chiefs waiting, and with this weather crisis, tempers are already shorter than usual. You need to return to your meeting.”

  “You’re sure?” He glanced down at the spot where her pale fingers still clung to his tanned, muscular forearm.

  Feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment, Elise snatched her fingers away from the lingering contact and went back to her desk. “These could have been delivered to me by mistake. I’m probably just making trouble for myself by worrying about it.”

  It was a flimsy excuse, and George wasn’t buying it. “The price of that bouquet is an awfully expensive mistake to make. Plus, the deliveryman called you by name.”

  This wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to deal with an unwanted suitor or suffer the repercussions of a relationship mistake. She didn’t have a good track record with men. But she certainly didn’t want the boss she respected, and whose opinion of her she valued, to find out what a failure she was in her personal life. Whether this was someone’s pathetic attempt to worm his way back into her good graces, a poorly timed coincidence or just a bad joke—she didn’t want her problems to ever become a concern for George or the deputy commissioner’s office.

  Elise’s gaze landed on the stack of pink message papers on her blotter. She circled the desk to pick them up and hand them to him. “You have three messages to handle when your meeting is done. Denton Hale has phoned twice. He wants a private meeting without the other union reps regarding possible staff cuts.” Running interference between her boss and disgruntled officers and citizens was part of her job, and Elise had no problem doing it. Still, she felt a pang of sympathy, knowing how difficult a police officer’s job could be without having to worry about money. “If we don’t get extra funding from the city, some of the officers and support staff are going to be laid off, right?”

  “It’s a possibility,” he answered honestly. “The city is pouring a lot of money into their infrastructure right now. I hope we can keep the personnel budget in check through attrition and simply not hire replacements for this year’s retirees. I pray that’s enough to avoid a strike. Hale isn’t the only police officer worried about his job.”

  Elise nodded her understanding. “But he seems to be more worried than any of the others. He’s pretty chatty on the phone. I said I’d have to discuss it with you before I scheduled it.”

  “Elise. What’s wrong with the flowers?”

  Without answering, she moved on to the next message. “Cliff Brandt from the city power district says his people have received more threats in response to the brownouts and power outages. He wants to know the result of this meeting as soon as you do. He’s reluctant to let his people go out on calls unprotected, especially at night. And Mrs. Madigan said it was urgent that you return her call by five.”

  George was smart enough to see her diversionary tactic for what it was. But he played along, respecting her unspoken request to let the mystery of the flowers drop. “Don’t stick my nose into your business, right?” Familiar lines bracketed his mouth again as he sorted through the messages. “Schedule Hale for tomorrow. Get Brandt on the phone for me in thirty minutes—it’ll help me wrap up this meeting.” He tucked the notes into his shirt pocket. “And Courtney’s my ex-wife, not Mrs. Madigan. She gave up the right to use my name a decade ago when she said she couldn’t be married to a street cop anymore. Any clue what she wants this time?”

  Elise’s attention shifted from the troublesome flowers to the weary sigh in George’s tone. “A street cop?”

  “I know. Hard to imagine, isn’t it? I keep my sidearm locked in my desk and carry home budget reports instead of case files.” He buttoned his collar and straightened the knot of his tie, although he didn’t touch the rolled-up sleeves. “But I did my time in Vice and Narcotics once I made detective. I got into administrat
ion because I thought the desk job would make her happy. Turned out I had a knack for paper pushing and bottom lines so I stayed with it, even after she left.”

  Elise frowned, surprised to hear faint echoes of resignation and regret in his voice. “You still wear a badge. You’re still KCPD. A lot of people in the department count on you to do your job—even if your ex-wife doesn’t appreciate that.”

  George nodded at her show of support, even as he dismissed it. “There was more than my job wrong with our marriage.” He picked up the folder he’d set down without elaborating any further. “When Court calls back, and she will—since she dropped Madigan, she must want something pretty badly—you can refer to her as Ms. Reiter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Commissioner Madigan?” Henry Johnson’s voice was shrill and impatient, calling from his office.

  George’s chest expanded with a deep breath. He checked his watch. “It’s almost four o’clock. Why don’t you close up shop out here. As soon as I wrap up this meeting and connect with Cliff Brandt, you can head home early. I’ll lock up.”

  Although Elise appreciated the kind gesture, and knew she needed to go home to let Spike out into the backyard for a romp, the otherwise empty expanses of her torn-up house with its two overworked window air conditioners didn’t seem particularly inviting right now. What if that phone call hadn’t been a mistake and exactly twenty-three roses were meant for her? What if that ghostly voice was leaving a message on her personal answering machine or voice mail right now?

  Even the unlucky coincidence of these flowers coming from James or some other old boyfriend wasn’t exactly comforting. That meant her “no thanks” on a relationship hadn’t registered, and that she had another long conversation, if not an outright confrontation, to look forward to this evening.

  Right now, work—and the confines of her nicely appointed, if slightly humid, office—seemed more of a solace than the paint cans, phone calls or potential surprise visits that might be waiting for her at home.

  “If it’s all right, I’d like to stay here—I need to type up the notes for your speech at the annual officers’ retirement luncheon.”

  George groaned. “That damned speech. If Commissioner Cartwright-Masterson wasn’t expecting her first grandchild...”

  Elise smiled and shooed him toward his office. “The commissioner wouldn’t have asked you to take her place on the podium if she didn’t trust you to represent her and the department in stellar fashion.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to stay late just to make me sound good at the banquet. I’ll work on it. You get out of here and enjoy the AC someplace where you actually have to put on a sweater because it’s so cold.”

  Instead of laughing at what she assumed was a joke, she offered him a half-truth. “Sounds tempting, but...I’m getting out of an unwanted date tonight with an old friend. The excuse I gave for not meeting him for dinner was that I had to work late. Do you mind?”

  George arched one of his dark brows in a skeptical frown. “Maybe that unwanted date is who sent the flowers. Could be he’s trying to change your mind.”

  “It won’t.”

  “You should still ask him.”

  Elise considered the possibility. Maybe she would give James a call. But later, so he wouldn’t think she’d changed her mind about his dinner invitation. “I’ll check with Shane first and call the desk downstairs if he doesn’t have the florist’s name.”

  Shaking his head, George headed for his office. “Fine. I’ll alibi you out. Tell Mr. Unwanted that your boss is an old curmudgeon who works your fingers until they bleed and doesn’t allow you a personal life.”

  Elise smiled at the self-effacing comment and watched him walk away, idly noting that there was nothing old or curmudgeonly about the way his shirt hugged his powerful build. And though she knew he was more than a dozen years her senior, the lines beside his eyes and salt-and-pepper hair only added to the air of seasoned authority and masculinity he wore like a second skin. There was no mistaking George Madigan for a boyish college sweetheart or a duplicitous charmer who’d prey on her vulnerable feelings to get what he wanted from her. He was an old-school, straightforward, get-the-job-done man’s man.

  After an unintentional betrayal that had nearly cost her former boss at Gallagher Security Systems and his family their lives, Elise knew she was lucky to have this job. And although Quinn Gallagher claimed he didn’t blame her for any of the mess that had nearly destroyed him, Elise knew she could have saved him a lot of trouble if she’d been thinking with her head instead of a broken heart. Turning in her resignation to the man she’d loved but could never have had been the right thing to do. But picking up the pieces of her life again hadn’t been easy.

  With that kind of personal and professional track record, Elise was grateful to have this well-paying, well-respected position doing meaningful work for the department and Kansas City. The deputy commissioner’s faith in her had done more to heal her self-esteem and rebuild her trust in men than any self-help book could. That’s all she should be focusing on. Noticing that George Madigan was an attractive man, noticing anything more than him as a fair leader and kind friend, could only lead to the sort of trouble she didn’t need in her life.

  So she ignored those little frissons of awareness that warmed her blood and sat down to work. “Thank you, sir.”

  He paused at the door, exhaling an audible sigh before glancing over his shoulder at her. “It’s ‘George’ when it’s just you and me talking. Okay? ‘Sir’ makes me feel like an old man.”

  Not a chance.

  But before Elise could do something foolish like tell him he was a fit man in his prime, Henry Johnson shouted from his office again. “Deputy Commissioner? Today?”

  With a smile that was part relief, part sympathy, Elise shooed him on his way. “You’d better not keep him waiting any longer. You want to win his support, remember?”

  George paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking as if he had something more to say. Instead of speaking to Elise, though, he opened the door. “I got the file I needed, Henry. Now let’s compare the costs of prevention strategies versus...”

  When the door closed behind him, Elise turned to her computer and pulled up the memos he’d sent her for distribution and started proofing and addressing them. With the discussion on the other side of George’s door now muted, she worked in relative silence for several minutes.

  But the bouquet was casting a shadow over her work space, drawing her attention away from her keyboard and screen. Maybe she should take the time now to walk down the hall to chat with Shane Wilkins, the floor officer. Or maybe she could spare a few minutes to call James. Or her parents. Do a little investigating on her own.

  Elise rose in a huff and picked up the heavy glass vase to move the roses out of sight on the counter behind her desk. “Or maybe I should just get my work done and deal with you later. I know a nice hospital where you’ll be very happy and greatly appreciated,” she said to the flowers as she set them down.

  With that much of a plan in mind, Elise sat down to finish the memos and save them for George’s final sign-off in the morning.

  Do you like my gift?

  The breathy whisper seeped into her thoughts to distract her again. Who else knew that her murdered mobster lover had sent her twenty-three roses, thanking her for the unintended pillow talk regarding her former employer, making a mockery of the way she’d given her heart and body to him? Or was this just an unfortunate coincidence that she was turning into something more sinister?

  Lots of people got roses every day. Red ones, pink ones, yellow ones—any color of the rainbow for any occasion or no reason at all. They didn’t mean anything other than “congratulations” or “get well” or “thinking of you.”

  So why did it feel as though someone was looking over her shoulder now?


  Elise spun her chair around and gazed at the hated gift. Then she picked it up and set the vase back on her desk.

  Better to keep the things that worried her in plain sight than to let them sneak up and nearly ruin her life again.

  Chapter Two

  “Sorry, Spikey.”

  Elise laughed at the furry black bullet that shot out from beneath her spirea bushes as the first spray of water from the sprinkler hit the tiny white flowers and dark green leaves. The dog was in her lap the moment she climbed up onto the new wood deck and stretched out on the chaise lounge, demanding a tummy rub and some kind words to make up for being splashed.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t bury your treats out there. If you’d chew them up when I give them to you, instead of hiding them in the yard, you wouldn’t risk taking an impromptu bath when I turn on the water.” Elise rubbed the dog’s soft, curly hair a few seconds longer, then kissed him on his head and set the miniature poodle/terrier mix on the deck beside her. “It’s still too hot for a cuddle, though, you brave little toodle face. You’d better scout out the perimeter before we turn in for the night.”

  With a soft tap to his rump, Spike scooted down the steps and followed his nose into the grass. Elise would be happy if the warm wind shifted and misted some of the water over her bare legs, shorts and paint shirt, but not the dog. She grinned, watching Spike circle along the fence, avoiding the spray while he reclaimed his rawhide chew from beneath the bushes.

  Truly relaxing for the first time today, Elise picked up the icy glass of tea on the table beside her and flicked away the condensation before taking a long drink. She touched her damp palm to the nape of her neck before leaning back to enjoy the peaceful retreat of her backyard at twilight. She figured the reprieve would last about five to ten minutes before the mosquitoes found her. But by then, she’d be heading back in to finish cleaning up from the evening’s renovation work.