Suspect Passions (7 page)

Regan couldn’t believe her bad luck. Finally, she had an opportunity to redeem herself, at least in her own eyes, with this case. She couldn’t allow herself to be steered off course. She had to win, and once fully centered on her mission, she felt confident that she’d be able to handle her annoying distraction with the officer.

Syd stalked out of the municipal building mumbling under her breath, “…and by the way, you’re back on administrative leave. Call in with Regan and be available.”

That was just freaking great. The woman hated her guts at first sight, and now Syd had to report to her daily. To make matters worse, Regan Desanto was in charge of representing her in the most important case of her life. The meeting hadn’t gone at all like she’d imagined. What else could go wrong?

“Hey, Syd, wait up.” Gil’s deep Southern voice echoed from across the street.

If she just kept walking maybe he’d go away. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to stories about his day. It was bad enough that she’d been sidelined again, but hearing about somebody else’s hot calls would be rubbing her face in it.

“Syd,” he caught up to her at the corner as she turned toward home, “didn’t you hear me?” He was the epitome of a soldier: tall, athletic, and good-looking even with a shaved head. In his blue jeans, T-shirt, and deep tan, he seemed too young to be a police officer. Meeting her eyes, he backed away. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing.” Syd wanted to rip something apart with her bare hands. All the frustration of the past eight months surged through her anew like a vile, flesh-eating disease.

“You’ve got that I-want-to-hurt-somebody look.”

“I’m back on desk duty.” Syd wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Why? I thought you’d already been cleared.”

“Civil suit.”

“Holy shit, I’m sorry, Syd. This calls for a drink. Want to meet me at the Cop Out?”

“Gil, I’m not sure—”

“Don’t even think about trying to blow me off. Go home and get changed since you’re off the clock. I’ll go ahead and grab us a table. If you’re not there in twenty minutes, I’ll be forced to initiate an extraction.”

She really didn’t want to spend time alone stewing over how Regan Desanto was going to make her life hell for the next two weeks. What she needed was to find an attractive, available, out-of-town visitor, bury herself between her legs, and forget this day ever happened. But Gil was trying to help. She could vent with him for a few minutes and check out the possible candidates while enjoying a much-needed drink.

“All right, I’ll see you there shortly. Order me a dirty goose.”

Syd made it home in record time and changed into a pair of black jeans and a crisply ironed cotton blouse in teal that highlighted her eyes and usually made women claim they were drowning in her stare. When she walked into the club, Gil was waiting and Jesse was just bringing their drinks to the table.

Syd scooped the martini up and downed a sip before taking a seat. “Thanks, girl, I needed that.” She introduced Gil, adding, “Jesse is the proprietor of this fine establishment and my best friend.”

The two shook hands and Jesse said, “I’ll talk to you later, Syd. The furniture market has got us hopping.”

As she walked away, Gil entwined his fingers around the frosty Miller bottle. His manner was relaxed, but Syd was uncomfortable. She stabbed at the olives in her glass with a red plastic toothpick. She wanted to be angry with somebody, to shout and proclaim the injustice of it all. But Gil’s patience touched her with its unassuming sincerity. This mess wasn’t his fault and lashing out at him wouldn’t be fair.

“What?” she finally muttered.

“I’m just waiting for you to settle down. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you don’t, it’s fine by me. I’m just happy to be in a safe place and have somebody to share a drink with.”

She punctured one of the jalapeno-filled olives in her drink, popped it into her mouth, and sucked out the liquor. “I thought it was over. I’m not sure I can take another round of this.”

“I really hate that. I know how it feels to be on that skewer again.”

“It was like being in a tear-gas chamber when they told me. Everything got foggy, my eyes burned, and I couldn’t catch a breath. And then to have this condescending woman tell me the plaintiff’s attorney could be rifling through my Internal Affairs files. That was the kicker.” Syd’s tone had risen steadily and was starting to draw attention from nearby tables. “
And
I’m back riding a desk and have to report to
her
every day.”

“What woman? I thought the city attorney was a guy.”

“It is but he’s handed my case off to an assistant. An uptight prude.”

Gil stretched his lanky legs out in front of him and took another long pull from his beer. “Yeah, she got to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m talking about being sued here and your mind is in your pants. Typical.”

But the truth was Regan Desanto had irritated and intrigued her, and she didn’t like either feeling. One minute this woman was a brick wall of unreadable calm and control and the next she was blushing because she’d gotten caught cruising Syd.

“I’m just saying the civil case is a pretty routine thing,” Gil said. “After all, you’ve been cleared by everybody but the pope. Give the woman a chance. She might actually be good at her job, like you. And if you don’t trust her, check her out. You’re a cop.”

She felt like Gil had just handed her the winning lottery ticket. That’s exactly what she’d do. She had friends in the Nashville Police Department. They’d know the scoop and wouldn’t be shy about sharing it. “You’re a genius. I could just kiss you.”

Gil held up his hands in mock surprise. “Oh, no. I’m a married man, remember?” The laughter in his blue-gray eyes vanished almost immediately. “At least I took the vows.”

The pained expression that invaded Gil’s face was sobering. “How are things going at home?”

“Your advice helped. I haven’t been pressuring her and we’re talking more. But we’re still not sleeping together. She said she’s having trouble adjusting to married life and coming back home from Iraq.”

Syd watched the gray in Gil’s eyes turn dark as his facial features changed from relaxed and happy to tense and uncertain. There was probably big trouble ahead in their marriage but she couldn’t bring herself to say so. It would break this gentle soul’s heart. He was such a Southern gentleman he couldn’t even talk about
sex.
He referred to it as sleeping together.

She made eye contact with a tall, dark-haired butch ordering a drink at the bar, licked her lips seductively, and filed her as a possible hookup later. The woman didn’t look familiar, which was a good thing. Maybe she was a furniture marketer out for a walk on the wild side. Well, Syd would be glad to help her with that little experiment and afterward wish her a safe trip home. Yeah, all her useful advice about relationships could fill a thimble.

“How did the two of you get along while you were in Iraq?”

“It’s different when you’re in country. You live each day like it’s your last. When you get a chance to relax, have a drink, or make love, you take it. And whenever you do, it’s great. Knowing you literally might not live to do it again puts you right on the edge.” Gil stopped and took the final sip of his beer. “Sorry, I sound like a recruiting commercial. Guess I better get going. Priscilla is due home in a few minutes and I want to cook dinner for her.”

Syd smiled at him. “You’re a good husband and a good friend. Thanks for listening.”

“Don’t sweat it. Check out your lawyer lady, keep your head in the game, and it’ll be fine.” He strode toward the exit, then called one last cliché over his shoulder. “And keep it in your pants.”

Syd waved him off and scanned the club for the butch she’d eyed earlier. One quick trip to the restroom and she’d be ready to play.

*

Regan was driving home after another ten-hour day when the flashing red-and-blue neon sign caught her attention. Cop Out glowed in alternating colors and caused a slight quickening of her pulse when she remembered her first visit. She slowed and surveyed the parking lot, which was overflowing, no doubt a hot spot with the market crowd. An irritated driver honked his horn from behind, and she realized she had stopped in the street. Waving and mouthing her apology in the rearview mirror, she turned into the parking lot and cut the engine.

“Mr. Impatience, I hope you’re happy.” As she said the words aloud, Regan laughed at their absurdity. She could hardly blame some nameless driver for her impulsive detour. But
what
was she doing here? She blushed and reached for the open Diet Coke in the Acura’s console cup holder. Her last visit should’ve cured her of this place forever.

She turned the ignition key and the car roared to life. Just as quickly, she shut off the motor again. This time it’s business, she told herself. Regan needed to get a better sense of what Sydney Cabot was really like. She wasn’t sure how Syd had coped after the shooting, other than having sex in public bathrooms—if that wasn’t the norm for her. But if the case in Nashville was any indication, her reactions probably ran the gamut. If she was as reckless and unpredictable as Regan thought, she might be prone to drinking and acting out when stressed, and today would’ve been a perfect trigger to tip her over the edge. If this place was one of her usual haunts, Regan should take a quick look in the door and make sure she wasn’t providing extra ammunition for a character assassination. It would be a nightmare for the city and for Syd. She wouldn’t let that happen. It was her job to see that it didn’t.

Regan took the final sip of her lukewarm Diet Coke, as if it could miraculously infuse her with the courage she wasn’t feeling at the moment, and headed toward the club. She told herself, not for the first time, that her desire to check up on Syd was driven by the case and had nothing to do with the attraction she felt in her presence.

She shook off the little warning voice in the back of her head and entered the club. As she approached the bar, a dark-haired woman with a welcoming smile and Northern accent greeted her.

“Welcome back. Diet Coke, not much ice, right?”

Regan looked behind her to see if anyone had followed her in.

“Sorry, too many years on the job. I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself when you were in on Friday. I’m Jesse.”

Regan wasn’t sure how she felt about being recognized by the bartender, but she nodded and tried to sound cordial. “Regan. Nice to meet you. Put my Coke on hold, will you? I’ll be back in a second.”

She weaved through the sea of bodies that mingled in the small space. Their heat closed in on her like a wave of tropical air. She felt vulnerable and slightly aroused as she made her way through the wall of strangers to the restroom.

When she opened the door, she came face-to-face with Sydney Cabot and stopped abruptly. Tight jeans and a teal blouse clung to Syd’s body and highlighted the curves of her tempting frame and the sparkle of her green eyes. Her skin shimmered with a light sheen of perspiration and her cheeks glowed with color. The scene from Friday night flashed through Regan’s mind.

“Counselor, back for a repeat performance?” Syd’s tone was seductively mocking. “You strike me as more of the hands-on type.”

How could she do this again? Didn’t she understand the possible ramifications of her actions or didn’t she care? “We have to talk about this.” Regan took hold of Syd’s arm and guided her from the restroom, past the inquisitive-looking bartender, and out the front door.

“See, I knew you’d need a more active role,” Syd taunted. “Lead on.”

Regan pulled Syd into an alley between the club and a closed bakery. The smells of beer and roasted peanuts were replaced by a combination of fresh-ground coffee and baker’s yeast. “
What
are you thinking? Or do I really want to know?”

Light from the street lamp on the opposite corner bathed Syd in a muted yellow haze. The color settled around her like a halo and illuminated her delicate features. In that light, Regan thought she appeared innocent yet rakishly alluring. Syd returned her stare and seemed to be considering how to respond. The gleam in her eyes said the answer would not be what Regan needed.

“I’m thinking if you wanted to go out with me all you had to do was ask. While I really like that Bogart thing you’ve got going on, it’s not necessary. Verbal assertiveness works just as well for me.”

Regan was increasingly aware that she still held Syd’s elbow, which brought their bodies too close for her to stay on point. She let go and stepped away. “You actually think I came back here for you?”

“Well, I have to admit, it could be Jesse’s drinks. She’s superb. But I’d bet on me.”

“Are you really that self-absorbed or is it just an elaborate ruse?” This woman’s audacity was surpassed only by her arrogance, or so she wanted everyone to think. But Regan had acquired the skill of reading body language and subtle shifts of expression at an early age. Her observation powers had helped her survive and keep peace in a home dominated by violence and upheaval. It was this ability to discern truth from fiction through the fine-spun nonverbal communications of others that drew her to the legal profession. The alternative had been psychology, and she couldn’t handle the emotions that other people’s suffering generated inside her. One thing was certain, Sydney Cabot’s act didn’t ring true. But this wasn’t the time to try to figure her out.