Blue Smoke (12 page)

F
ran's news and her own solid first day had Reena drinking a little more than was wise. But she enjoyed the buzz as she walked around to the back stairs leading to her apartment.

Gina and Steve were married now, nearly a year into it. There was no reason to keep up a two-bedroom apartment.

She knew her parents thought it was a little silly for her to live there, when her room was still kept at home. And they'd argued with her about paying rent. She'd had to remind them they'd raised her to be responsible, and make her own way.

She considered the apartment a first step. Eventually, she wanted a house of her own. But that was eventually. And there was something cozy and comforting living above the shop, and a stone's throw from her parents. A block from Fran and Jack.

When she reached the back, she saw the light was on in her living room. Instinctively she opened her coat so her weapon was in easy reach. In all her years on the force, she'd only had to draw it twice in the line. It always felt slightly foreign in her hand.

She started up the steps, going back over her routine. She'd left before dawn, maybe she forgot to turn off the light. But it was a habit, her mother was a bear about wasting electricity, and it had been drummed into her since birth.

One hand stayed on her weapon as she reached for the doorknob to check the lock. The door swung open, her weapon was half out. Then she shot it back into place with a huff of breath.

“Luke! How long have you been here?”

“Couple hours. I told you I might stop by tonight.”

True enough, she thought as her heart rate leveled. She'd forgotten. Pleased to see him, she came in out of the cold, offered her lips.

The kiss was brief, perfunctory and had her raising her brows. Normally he couldn't wait to get his hands on her. She felt the same. There was a sexy elegance about Luke Chambers, a tailored sensuality she found exciting. As she found his avid and romantic pursuit of her from the moment they'd met.

She'd enjoyed being pursued, being courted with flowers and phone calls, romantic dinners, long walks by the water.

She enjoyed, very much, being seen as completely female, and just a little delicate. A nice change of pace, she'd thought, from being considered sturdy and competent.

It was probably why it hadn't taken him long to get her into bed. But it had taken three months before she'd given him a key to her door.

“I stopped in downstairs to get some dinner, caught up with Fran.” She unwound her scarf, pulled off her hat, then did a little twirl. “I had the
best
day, Luke, and the best news when I—”

“Glad somebody did.” He moved away from her, turned off the TV he'd been watching, then slumped in a chair.

Okay, she thought. He was sexy and interesting and often sweetly romantic. But he was also a lot of work. She didn't mind that. In fact, being in what was largely a man's world most of her day helped her enjoy little bits of being softer, and more consolatory in a relationship.

“Rough one?” She peeled off her coat, her gloves, put everything away in the narrow closet.

“My assistant gave her two weeks' notice.”

“Oh?” Reena finger-combed her long curls, thought idly about trying a new style. Then felt guilty for not paying attention. “I'm sorry to hear that.” She bent to unlace her boots. “Why is she leaving?”

“Decided she wants to move back to Oregon, for God's sake. Just like that. Now I've got to set up interviews, get somebody in she can train before she leaves. This on top of three out-of-office meetings today. My head's killing me.”

“I'll get you some aspirin.” She walked over, leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He had such nice, silky hair, mink brown like his eyes.

As she straightened, he took her hand, gave her a tired smile. “Thanks. Last meeting ran late, and I just wanted to see you. Decompress.”

“You should've stopped in downstairs. Decompression's always on the menu at Sirico's.”

“So's noise,” he said as she moved into the bathroom. “I was hoping for a quiet evening.”

“It's quiet now.” She brought out the bottle, carried it into the little kitchen with its old workhorse of a stove and cheerful yellow counters. “I'll join you in a couple of aspirin. I had a lot of champagne down below. Major celebration.”

“Yeah, you looked to be having a hell of a time. I glanced in the window before I came around back.”

“Well, you should've at least poked your head in.” She handed him the aspirin, the water.

“I had a headache, Cat. And I didn't want to sit around in a noisy restaurant waiting for you to finish partying.”

And if you had a headache, she thought, why the hell didn't you get your own aspirin sooner? Men could be such babies. “I might've finished partying earlier if I'd known you were here. Fran's pregnant.”

“Hmm?”

“My sister Francesca. She and Jack found out they're going to have a baby. Her face could've lit up Baltimore when she told me.”

“Didn't they just get married?”

“It's been a couple years, and they've been trying almost since the get-go. We tend to head straight for the nursery in my family. Bella's already had three, and is making noises about having one more.”

“Four kids in this day and age. It's irresponsible.”

Easing down on the arm of the chair, she gave his shoulder a rub. “That's what you get with a big Italian Catholic family. And she and Vince can afford it.”

“You're not thinking about popping one out every couple years, are you?”

“Me?” She laughed, gulped down water. “Kids are way down the road for me. I'm just really getting started on my career. Speaking of which, I had my first major case today. Did you hear about that building on Broadway, untenanted apartment building, single victim?”

“I didn't have time for the news today. I put in twelve hours. And spent a lot of that tap-dancing for a potential client, a major one.”

“That's great, about the major account.”

“I don't have it yet, but I'm working on it.” His hand, long fingers, narrow palm, ran gently over her leg. “I've set up a dinner with him and his wife, Thursday night. Wear something special, will you?”

“Thursday? Luke, my parents are coming back from Italy on Thursday. We're having dinner at the house. I told you.”

“So, you can see them on Friday, or over the weekend. For God's sake you live right down the street. This is a major account, Cat.”

“Understood. And I'm sorry you won't be able to make it for the welcome back dinner.”

“Are you hearing me?” The hand on her leg clenched into a fist. “I need you with me. This is the kind of socializing I need to do to land this account. It's expected. It's already set up.”

“I'm sorry. My evening's already set up, and was before you booked Thursday night. If you want to reschedule, I'll—”

“Why should I reschedule?” He pushed out of the chair, threw out his arms. “This is business. This is a major opportunity for me. It could mean the promotion I've been working toward. You all but live with
your family as it is. What's the big freaking deal about eating some damn spaghetti, when you can do the same thing any other time?”

“Actually, we're having manicotti.” But she pushed down the spurt of irritation as she got to her feet. “My parents have been gone nearly three weeks. I promised I'd be there unless I got called out on a case. They're going to come home to the news that their oldest daughter is having her first child. This is major in my world, Luke.”

“So what I need doesn't register?”

“Of course it does. And if you'd asked me before making these plans, I'd have reminded you that I was already committed, and you could have suggested another night.”

“The client wants Thursday, the client gets Thursday.” He snapped it out as temper ruddied his cheeks. “That's how it works in
my
world. Do you have any idea, any conception, how competitive financial planning is? How much time and effort it takes to swing a multimillion-dollar account?”

“Not really.” And it was probably her lack that she couldn't care less. “But I know you work hard, and I know it's important to you.”

“Yeah, that shows.”

When he turned away, she rolled her eyes behind his back. But she stepped forward, prepared to soothe. “Look, I'm really sorry. If there's any way you can move it to another night, I'll—”

“I just told you.” He threw out his arms again as he spun around. And the back of his hand caught her sharply on the cheek.

She jerked back, her eyes going huge as she pressed her fingers to the sting.

“Oh God, oh my God, Cat. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—Did I hurt you? Oh Jesus.” He took her arms, and his face was as stunned as she imagined hers was. “It was an accident. I swear.”

“It's all right.”

“You just walked right into it. I didn't expect . . . I'm so fucking clumsy. God, let me see. Is there a bruise?”

“It was barely a tap.” True enough, she thought. More a shock than an actual hit.

“It's red,” he murmured and touched his fingers gently to her cheek. “I feel terrible. I feel like a monster. Your beautiful face.”

“It's nothing.” She found herself soothing him after all. “You didn't mean it, and I'm not fragile.”

“You are to me.” He drew her into his arms. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come by in such a lousy mood in the first place. I just wanted to see you. Then you were partying downstairs. I just wanted to be with you.”

He brushed his lips over her cheek. “Just needed to be with you.”

“I'm here now.” She touched his hair. “And I'm sorry I can't help you out on Thursday. Really.”

He eased back, smiled. “Maybe you can make it up to me.”

T
he sex was good. It was always good with Luke. And because of the spat, and the slap, he was particularly tender. Her body warmed under his, the muscles taxed by her own long day loosened. And while her system climbed to peak, her mind emptied.

Satisfied and sleepy, she curled against him.

“You ever going to get a bigger bed?” he asked.

She smiled in the dark. “One of these days.”

“Why don't you come to my place for the weekend? We can hit a couple of clubs Saturday night, do a late brunch Sunday morning.”

“Mmmm. Maybe. I may have to help out with the lunch shift downstairs on Saturday, but after. Maybe after.”

He was silent a moment, and she thought he'd drifted off to sleep. “You could deal with your parents earlier on Thursday, skip out of the dinner part and meet me at the restaurant at seven.”

“Luke, that's just not going to work for me.”

“Fine.” There was a sulk in his voice as he rolled away, got out of bed. “We'll just leave it all your way, as usual.”

“That's not fair, and you know it.”

“What's not fair,” he snapped back as he began to dress, “is your unwillingness to compromise on anything. The way you put everything ahead of me.”

The postcoital glow evaporated. “If you really feel that way, I don't know what you're doing with me.”

“At the moment, neither do I. You take more than you give, Cat.” He buttoned his shirt with short, sharp movements. “Before much longer, I'm going to be tapped out.”

“I'm giving you the best I've got.”

He shoved his feet into his shoes. “That's really sad for you.”

When he stalked out, she lay back.

Was she that selfish? she wondered. That emotionally stingy? She cared about Luke, but did she take a real interest in his work? Not so much, she admitted, not when she was so wrapped up in her own.

Maybe her best was sad.

She rolled over in the dark and searched a long time for sleep.

W
hen Reena walked into the squad room with O'Donnell after spending most of her shift knocking on doors and interviewing witnesses, getting statements from the owner of the building's ex-wife, former business partner, current girlfriend, there were three dozen long-stemmed white roses spread over the majority of her desk.

The flowers caused a lot of comments from other members of the unit, but the card made her smile.

Cat,

 

I'm sorry.

 

The Idiot.

Still, she didn't indulge in sniffing at them until she'd carried them into the break room to give her enough room on her desk to work.

She had reports to write. Though the identity of the body had yet to be confirmed, the owner was still among the missing.

With O'Donnell, she walked into their CO's office to update him.

“Waiting for the lab reports,” O'Donnell began. “Owner—James R. Harrison—was last seen knocking a few back in a place called Fan Dance, a strip club a few blocks from the scene. We got a credit card receipt cashing him out at twelve-forty. Ford truck registered to him's parked back of the building.”

He glanced at Reena, signaling her to take over.

“We found a toolbox under the debris on the first level, and a screwdriver with a blade that appears to match the punctures on the bottom of the gas can recovered from the scene. Harrison did a turn for fraud five years ago, so his prints are on file. They match ones we lifted from the toolbox, the screwdriver and the gas can. ME wasn't able to get prints off the body, so they're working on dental.”

“We should have that tomorrow,” O'Donnell added. “Talked to some of his associates. He had serious money problems. Liked the horses, and they didn't like him.”

Captain Brant nodded, sat back. His hair was ice white, his eyes a cold blue. There were pictures of his grandchildren on a desk he kept as tidy as her aunt Carmela's company parlor.