Kansas City Cop Read online

  “Yeah, but you’re the toughest.”

  “Jinxing, remember?” Gina crossed her fingers and kissed her knuckles before touching them to her heart, a throwback from her childhood to cootie shots and negating bad karma. “We all have our talents.”

  “I’m just repeating what Cutler said at the last training meeting. McBride scored the highest at the shooting range. And you, my kickass little partner, are the one he said he’d least like to face one-on-one in a fight. Take the compliment.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Derek that she wasn’t his little anything, but she was dealing with enough conflict already today. “You’re doing well, too, or you’d have been eliminated already. Captain Cutler announces things like that so we stay competitive.”

  “Hey, I’m not quittin’ anything until those new promotions are posted. I only have to be fifth best and I’ll still make the team.”

  “Fifth best?” Gina laughed. “Way to aim high, Johnson.”

  “It’s too bad about Cho, though. He’s been acing all the written tests and procedure evaluations.”

  Gina agreed. Colin Cho was a fellow SWAT candidate who’d suffered three cracked ribs when he’d been shot twice while directing traffic around a stalled car on the North Broadway Freeway in the middle of the night two weeks ago. Only his body armor had prevented the incident from becoming a fatality. “Any idea how he’s doing?”

  “I heard he’s up and around, but he won’t be running any races soon. He’s restricted to desk duty for the time being. I wonder if they’ll replace him on the candidate list or just shorten it to nine potential SWAT officers.”

  “Cho’s too good an officer to remove from contention,” Gina reasoned, hitting the phone icon on the screen to connect the call.

  “But there is a deadline,” Derek reminded her. “If he can’t pass the physical...”

  The number rang several times before her sister finally picked up. “Sylvie Galvan’s phone,” a man answered.

  Not her sister but that slimy lothario who struck Gina as a mobster wannabe—if he wasn’t already running errands and doing small jobs for some of the bigger criminals in town. Gina swallowed the curse on her tongue. She needed to keep this civil if she wanted to get her great-aunt and -uncle the help they needed. “Bobby, put Sylvie on.”

  “It’s your wicked big sister,” he announced. The sounds of horns honking and traffic moving in the background told her they were in his car. Hopefully, in the front seat and not stretched out together in the back. “What will you give me to hand you this phone?”

  That teasing request was for her sister.

  Gina cringed at the high-pitched sound of her sister’s giggles. She groaned at the wet, smacking sound of a kiss. Or two. So much for keeping it civil. “Bobby Estes, you keep your hands off my sister or I will—”

  “Blah, blah, blah.” Sylvie was on the line now. Finally. She could live without the breathless gasps and giggles and the picture the noises created of a practically grown man making out with her innocent sister. “What do you want?”

  “You forgot Tio Papi’s doctor’s appointment.” Better to stick to the purpose of the phone call than to get into another lecture about the bad choices Sylvie was making. “You promised me you would drive him today.”

  “Javi can do it.”

  “He’s at work. Besides, it was your responsibility.” Her fingers curled into a fist at the sound of her sister’s gasp. Really? Bobby couldn’t keep his hands to himself for the ten seconds it would take to finish this call? “Do you want me to treat you like a grown-up or not?”

  “I just got home from school.”

  “A half hour ago. I was counting on you. This isn’t about me. It’s about helping Rollo and Lupe. Do you want to explain to them why you’ve forgotten them?”

  Bobby purred against her sister’s mouth, and the offensive noise crawled over Gina’s skin. “Is big sis being a downer again? You know she’s jealous of us. Hang up, baby.”

  “Bobby, stop.” Sylvie sounded a little irritated with her boyfriend. For once. The shuffling noises and protests made her think Sylvie was pushing him away. Gina suppressed a cheer. “When is the appointment?”

  “Four forty-five. Can you do it?”

  “Yeah. I can help.” Thank goodness Sylvie still had enough little girl in her to idolize her pseudo grandparents. She’d do for them what she wouldn’t do for Gina. Or herself, unfortunately. Her tone shifted to Bobby. “I need to go home.”

  “I said I was taking you out to dinner. I was gonna show you my friend’s club,” he whined. “Just because Gina’s a cop, she doesn’t make the rules. She sure as hell isn’t in charge of what I do.”

  “Don’t get mad, Bobby. Just drive me home.” Sylvie was doing some purring of her own. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Ooh, I like it when you do that, baby.”

  Gina wished she could reach through the phone and yank her sister out of Bobby’s car before she got into the kind of trouble that even a big sister with a badge couldn’t help her with. “Sylvie?”

  “I’ll call Tia Mami and tell her we’re on our way.”

  “Bobby doesn’t need to go with you.” A powerful car engine revved in the background. “Seeing him will only upset—”

  “Bye.”

  Bobby shouted an unwanted goodbye. “Bye-bye, big sis.”

  She groaned when her sister’s phone went silent. Gina cursed. “Have I ever mentioned how much I want to use Bobby Estes as one of the dummies in our fight-training classes?”

  Derek laughed as he put away his phone. “Once or twice.” He opened his door, and Gina shivered at the blast of wintry wind. “I keep telling you that I’d be happy to help run him in.”

  At least the chill helped some of her temper dissipate, as did Derek’s unflinching support. “Bobby’s too squeaky clean for that. He does just enough to annoy me, but not enough that I can prove he’s committing any kind of crime. And Sylvie isn’t about to rat him out.”

  “Just say the word, and I’m there for you, G.” He turned to climb out. “I’ll leave the car running so you stay warm.”

  But the dispatch radio beeped, and he settled back behind the wheel to listen to the details of the all-call. “So much for coffee.”

  Derek closed the door as the dispatch repeated. “Attention all units in the Westport area. We have a 10-52 reported. Repeat, domestic dispute report. Approach with caution. Suspect believed to be armed with a knife.”

  “That’s the Bismarck place.” Derek frowned as he shifted the cruiser into Drive and pulled out onto the street. “I thought Vicki Bismarck took out a restraining order against her ex.”

  “She did.” This wasn’t the first time they’d answered a call at the Bismarcks’ home. The address was just a couple of blocks from their location. Gina picked up the radio while Derek flipped on the siren and raced through the beginnings of rush-hour traffic. “Unit 4-13 responding.”

  Her family troubles were forgotten as she pulled up the suspect’s name on the laptop mounted on the dashboard. Domestic-disturbance calls were her least favorite kind of call. The situations were unpredictable, and there were usually innocent parties involved. This one was no different.

  “Gordon Bismarck. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce very well.” Gina let out a low whistle. “He’s got so many D&Ds and domestic-violence calls the list goes on to a second page. No outstanding warrants, though, so we can’t just run him in.” She glanced over at Derek as they careened around a corner. “Looks like he’s not afraid to hurt somebody. You ready for this?”

  “I know you’ve got my back. And I’ve got yours.”

  She hoped he meant it because when they pulled up in front of the Bismarck house, they weren’t alone. And the men belonging to a trio of motorcycles and a beat-up van didn’t look like curiosity seekers who’d gathered to see what all the shouting coming from inside the bungalow was about.

  Derek turned off the engine and swore. “How many thugs does it take to terrorize one woman? I hope Vicki’s okay. Should I call for reinforcements?”

  “Not yet.” Gina tracked the men as they put out cigarettes and split up to block the end of the driveway and the sidewalk leading to the front door. Middle-aged. A couple with potbellies. One had prison tats on his neck. Another took a leisurely drink from a flask before tucking it inside the sheepskin-lined jacket he wore. Their bikes were in better shape than they were. But any one of them could be armed. And she could guess that the guy with the flask wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking. Judging by what she’d read on the cruiser’s computer screen, these were friends, if not former cell mates, of Gordon Bismarck’s. Gina’s blood boiled in her veins at the lopsided odds. She reached for the door handle. “But keep your radio at the ready.”

  Gina pushed open the cruiser door and climbed out. “Gentlemen.” She rested her hand on the butt of her holstered Glock. “I need you to disperse.”

  “You need us, querida?” Flask Man’s leer and air kisses weren’t even close to intimidating, and she certainly wasn’t his darling anything.

  Derek circled the cruiser, positioning himself closer to the two in the driveway while she faced off against the two on the sidewalk. “In case you don’t understand the big word, you need to get on your bikes and ride away.”

  “We gave Gordy a ride home,” Potbelly #1 said, thumbing over his shoulder just as something made of glass shattered inside the house.

  A woman’s voice cried out, “Gordon, stop it!”

  “I paid for th
is damn house. And I’ll—”

  Gina needed to get inside to help Vicki Bismarck. But she wasn’t going to leave these four aging gangbangers out here where they could surround the house or lie in wait for her and Derek to come back outside. “We’re not interested in you boys today,” she articulated in a sharp, authoritative tone. “But if you make me check the registrations on your bikes or van, or I get close enough to think any of you need a Breathalyzer test, then it will be about you.”

  Prison Tat Guy was the first to head toward his bike. “Hey, I can’t have my parole officer gettin’ wind of this.”

  Potbelly #2 quickly followed suit. “I’m out of here, man. Gordy doesn’t need us to handle Vic. My old lady’s already ticked that I stayed out all night.”

  Potbelly #1 clomped the snow off his boots before climbing inside the van. But he sat with the door open, looking toward the man with the flask. “What do you want me to do, Denny? I told Gordy I’d give him a ride back to his place.”

  Flask Man’s watery brown eyes never left Gina’s. “We ain’t doin’ nothing illegal here, querida. We’re just a bunch of pals hangin’ out at a friend’s place.”

  “It’s Officer Galvan to you.” She had to bite down on the urge to tell him in two languages exactly what kind of man he was. But she wasn’t about to give this patronizing lowlife the satisfaction of losing her temper. She was a cop. Proud of it. And this guy was about to get a lesson in understanding exactly who was in charge here. “Mr. Bismarck isn’t going to need a ride.” Potbelly #1 slammed his door and started the van’s engine. Gina smiled at Flask Man and pulled out her handcuffs. “Denny, is it? I’ve got plenty of room in the backseat for both you and good ol’ Gordy.” She moved toward him, dangling the cuffs in a taunt to emphasize her words. “How do impeding an officer in the performance of her duty, aiding and abetting a known criminal, public intoxication and operating a vehicle under the influence sound to you?”

  “You can’t arrest me for all that.”

  “I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you.” Derek stepped out of the way of the van as it backed out of the driveway and sped after the two men on motorcycles. “Not with her.”

  Gina was close enough to see Flask Man’s nostrils flaring with rage. “Handcuffs or goodbye?”

  “I don’t like a woman telling me what to do,” he muttered, striding toward his bike. “Especially one like you.” Once he was astraddle, he revved the engine, yelling something at Derek that sounded a lot like a warning to keep his woman in check. The roar of the bike’s motor drowned out his last parting threat as he raced down the street, but Gina was pretty sure it had something to do with her parentage and how their next meeting would have a very different ending.

  “Make sure they stay gone,” Gina said, hooking her cuffs back onto her belt and running to the front door. She opened the glass storm door and knocked against the inside door. “KCPD!” she announced. The woman screamed, and the man yelled all kinds of vile curses. “Vicki Bismarck, are you all right? This is the police, answering a call to this address. I’m coming inside.”

  Twenty minutes later, Gina and Derek had Gordon Bismarck and his former wife, Vicki, separated into two rooms of their tiny, trashed home. Gina had bagged the box cutter Gordon had dropped when she’d pulled her gun and blinked her watery eyes at the stench of alcohol, vomit and sweat coming off Gordon’s body. Either Gordy and his buddies had been beefing up their courage for this confrontation or they’d partied hard and gotten stupid enough to think violating a restraining order was a good idea.

  Although the slurred epithets were still flying from the living room where Derek had taken Gordon to put a winter coat on over his undershirt, and Vicki was bawling in the kitchen while Gina tried to assess the woman’s injuries, Gina was already wrapping up this case in her head. Even if Vicki refused to press charges, she could book Gordon on breaking and entering, violating his restraining order and public intoxication—all of which should keep him out of Vicki’s life long enough for her to get the help she needed. If she’d ask for it. Clearly, this wasn’t the Bismarcks’ first rodeo with KCPD. That probably explained why Gordon had brought his friends.

  Although she hadn’t noted any stab wounds on Vicki, the woman was cradling her left arm as if it had been yanked or twisted hard enough to do some internal damage. Gina glanced around at the slashed curtains and overturned chairs in the kitchen, her gaze landing on the shattered cell phone in the corner that had been crushed beneath a boot or hurled across the room. Clearly, there’d been a substantial altercation here.

  Gina righted one of the chairs and urged the skinny woman to sit. “Will you let me look at that arm?” Gina asked, tearing off a fresh paper towel for the woman to dab at her tears. When Vicki nodded, Gina knelt beside her. Bruise marks that fit the span of a man’s hand were already turning purple around her elbow. But there didn’t seem to be any apparent deformity suggesting a broken bone. Didn’t mean it hadn’t been twisted savagely, spraining muscles and tendons. Gina pushed to her feet and headed toward the refrigerator-freezer. “An ice pack should help with the swelling.”

  She heard a crash from the living room and spun around as Derek cursed. “Gina—heads up!”

  “Are you turnin’ me in, you bitch? My boys are gonna kill you!”

  “Gordy!” Vicki screamed as Gordon charged into the kitchen.

  Chapter Two

  Gina simply reacted, putting herself between the frightened woman and the red-faced man. There was no time to wonder how the drunk had gotten away from Derek. She ducked beneath the attacker’s fist, kicked out with her leg, tripped the big brute, then caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, following him down to the floor. Before his chin smacked the linoleum, she had her knee in his back, pinning him in place.

  “He’s too big for the damn cuffs,” Derek shouted, running in behind the perp. He knelt on the opposite side, catching the loose chain that was only connected to one wrist.

  Gordon Bismarck writhed beneath her, trying to wrestle himself free. His curses switched from Vicki to Gina to women in general. Locking her own handcuffs around his free arm, Gina twisted his wrist and arm another notch until he yelped. “Don’t make me mad, Mr. Bismarck. Your buddies outside already put me in a mood.”

  The mention of his friends sparked a new protest. “Denny! Al! Jim! I need—”

  “Uh-uh.” She pushed his cheek back to the floor. “They went bye-bye. Now you be a good boy while my partner walks you out to the squad car so you can sober up and chill that temper.”

  “My boys left?”

  “That’s right, Gordy.” Derek wiped a dribble of blood from beneath his nose while Gina locked the ends of both cuffs together, securing him. “You’re on your own.”

  “I don’t want him touchin’ me,” Gordy protested. “I don’t want him in my house.”

  “Not your choice.” Gina stayed on top of the captive, her muscles straining to subdue him until he gave up the fight. She glanced up at Derek, assessing his injury. Other than the carpet lint clinging to his dark uniform from a tussle of some kind, he wasn’t seriously hurt. Still, she kept her voice calm and firm, trying to reassure Vicki that they could keep her safe. “You got him okay?”

  “I got him. Thanks for the save. I didn’t realize the cuff wasn’t completely closed around his fat wrist, and I ended up with an elbow in my face.” Derek pulled the man to his feet, his bruised ego making him a little rough as he shoved Bismarck toward the front door. “Forget the coat. Now we can add assaulting a police officer to your charges. Come on, you lousy son of a...”

  The door banged shut as Derek muscled Bismarck outside. Gina inhaled several deep breaths, cooling her own adrenaline rush. She watched from the foyer until she saw her partner open the cruiser and unceremoniously dump the perp into the backseat. Only after Derek had closed the door and turned to lean his hip against the fender did she breathe a sigh of relief. The situation was finally secure.