Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(5)

Ah, impeccable timing as usual, sis.

Not quite suppressing his triumphant smile, Derek answered her rhetorical question. “I’d have to agree with you, Ginger. I’m not feeling the least bit neighborly toward you.”

“Well then, sugar, I’d say our association ends here.”

“I doubt that.”

“You can doubt anything if you think about it long enough. And I am done thinking about this. Good-bye, Derek. Can’t say it was a pleasure, but it was definitely an experience.”

Ginger spun around on the heel of her boot with the intention of storming into her apartment, leaving him staring after her, hopefully slack-jawed and regretful. Instead, she ran smack into the dining room table still blocking the hallway, effectively knocking the wind out of her stomach and her sails. Fighting the need to simultaneously suck in deep gulps of air and karate chop the table, Ginger straightened and skirted the table silently, refusing to turn around and gauge his reaction to her embarrassing mishap.

As she closed the apartment door behind her, she heard Derek call to her. “Aren’t Gingers usually redheads?”

“Go to hell!”

In spite of the masculine laughter passing by her door, she heard Willa approach. “Well, Ginger, looks like we finally found the one man unwilling to grovel at your feet.”

Guess they’d just have to see about that, wouldn’t they?





Chapter Four


“All right, Alvarez. Lean harder on your informant. We need to know if anyone has been in contact with the head of the Modesto crew since Monday.”

As the detective jumped up and left the briefing room, Derek addressed the remaining assembled detectives and officers. “The streets are too quiet. I think we all know that’s when they’re most dangerous. We need a heavy presence on the South Side, especially in Back of the Yards. Continue to canvass for witnesses who aren’t too scared to talk. Shop owners who’ve been made victims themselves are probably our best bet. Leave no one out.”

He turned his attention to his former partner, who had remained a detective when Derek was promoted to lieutenant two years prior. “Kenny, take Barker and pay another visit to Hector Modesto’s girlfriend. She knows where he is—it’s just a matter of getting her to talk. Find motivation and use it.”

Derek glanced at the giant whiteboard containing mug shots and surveillance photos of the major players and victims of Chicago’s latest gang war. His gut told him they’d be adding more photos to the victim side if his department failed to bring in Modesto soon.

He clapped his hands together once. “Get to work.”

Immediately, chairs scraped back and the men began speaking, strategizing. He pushed through the glass door and entered his office. Barker, a rookie, followed him in. Cocky and outspoken, Barker had yet to learn anything about boundaries.

“Lieutenant Tyler.”

“Help you, Barker?”

“You going to the charity event Saturday night?”

Fuck. He’d completely forgotten, and rightly so. Being in the middle of a turf war between two powerful gangs had kept him working brutal hours for weeks. Politicians, however, organized parties and charity events at their convenience, and as head of the department, his attendance was usually expected. This particular event, raising money for an after-school program in Chicago’s worst neighborhood, would be completely different, thanks to Barker. His uncle sat on the city council, which had bought the entire homicide division invitations. They’d all get to dress up in monkey suits and eat shrimp cocktail when they should be working.

“Don’t have much of a choice. Why?”

“Just checking. My uncle wants to bend your ear a little.”

“Great. Is that all?”

“Yeah.” But for once the young officer looked uncomfortable. “I hate to bother you with this trivial bullshit, but no one in my uncle’s office has been able to get you on the phone.”

Barker had fallen silent. “I’m waiting.”

“You RSVP’d for two.” Derek turned his eyes to the ceiling and Barker rushed on. “My uncle had no problem paying for the extra plate since a lot of the guys are bringing dates…but the men say you usually fly solo…”

True. Mixing work and his personal life wasn’t something he typically allowed. Introducing a woman to his closest colleagues tended to give her false hope that the relationship would move forward, when it rarely did. Women wanted him to play the hero after hours, but once he clocked out for the evening, he had little interest in being nice. In the end, the women he dated usually found his tastes too intense for their liking.

Derek vaguely recalled handing the invitation to Patty, the department’s soon-to-be-retired dispatch operator and unofficial personal assistant, asking her to respond on his behalf. She’d either put him down to bring a date on accident, or she was playing one of her notorious pranks on him. Derek supposed he could show up on his own, blaming Patty for the mistake. Then again, these charity dinners charged upward of one thousand dollars per plate. He couldn’t very well let a councilman foot the bill for nothing. Keeping politicians happy, annoying as it happened to be, remained in his best interest.

“Tell them I’m bringing someone.”

“What’s her name?”