Kylie Brant - An Irresistible Man

Connor spoke then, interrupting his thoughts. “C’mon, Cruz, settle our argument. Michele still thinks of those little family discussions we get into at my parents as fights. Explain to her the dynamics of sibling conversation.”

“You’ll never understand,” Cruz told Michele patiently, “being an only child yourself. But there’s no such thing as arguing among brothers and sisters. It’s all the art of negotiation and compromise, and merely improves our communication abilities.” His eyes twinkled. “Surely you’ve read that in those child psychology texts of yours.”

“What I have read,” Michele replied dryly, “tells me that you two are full of it. You both just enjoy getting things stirred up and then sitting back to watch the fireworks.”

The men laughed. “I think she’s got your number,” Cruz told Connor, “although she’s completely wrong about me.”

“Yeah, right,” Connor retorted good-naturedly. “Can I get you another beer?”

Cruz shook his head and rose. “I think I’ll be heading home. I’ve got a new partner to break in tomorrow, remember?” He said goodbye to Michele and then Connor walked out to the porch with him.

“Don’t get too chummy with Madeline Casey,” his friend advised him. “Sounds like this could turn into a high-profile case. You don’t need any distractions.”

“Your concern is touching, but I can take care of myself,” Cruz responded. “Especially,” he added in a drawl, “where women are concerned.”

“Do not,” stressed Connor, staring hard at him, “start thinking of her as a woman. That would be your first mistake”

“Sorry, buddy.” Cruz slapped him on the shoulder and headed for the car. “But it would be impossible to think of her as anything else.”

Madeline hurriedly scraped her long wet tresses back from her face with a wide-tooth comb. She winced as she hit a snarl, and rapidly braided the mass, pinning it up off her neck. She walked quickly out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, checking the clock to see if she had time for coffee. She grimaced when she saw the hour. A phone call from her father had upset her daily routine, and now she had just barely enough time to get to work. She didn’t like to hurry, not in anything. And she detested being late. She picked up the blazer that matched her navy slacks and slipped it on over her white blouse. Scooping up her purse, she found her keys and headed out the door.

As she drove toward the Southwest District headquarters she reflected upon that phone call. Her father had called to summon her-there was no other word for it, she thought darkly-to his home for dinner. She looked forward to their monthly dinners with the same anticipation she reserved for root canals, and had valiantly attempted to come up with a legitimate excuse to cry off, to no avail. People didn’t say no to city councilman Geoffrey Casey often. He didn’t allow it.

After thirty years of practice, the man could make her feel guilty with a single word, or with one meaning-filled moment of silence. Even knowing she was being manipulated didn’t make it possible for her to turn those feelings off. It was easier to give in to the inevitable and try to prepare herself for the ordeal of spending an evening with him and get it over with.

Or that’s what she’d told herself. But after hanging up the phone she’d mentally berated herself for failing to stand up to him. Not for the first time she wished that she, like her older brother, had moved far away from Philadelphia. Not that Kevin had moved, exactly; fled would be a better word. If being Geoffrey Casey’s daughter was unpleasant, being his son was intolerable.

Madeline pushed aside thoughts of her family as she parked the car and strode toward the building that housed the Southwest District headquarters. She had left Martinez a message yesterday that she would meet him there. After inquiring about his whereabouts at the front desk, she made her way through the maze of desks and cabinets, and found him propped against the edge of his desk, talking to several other officers. One of the men noticed her first, and stopped in midsentence.

“Well, hello,” the officer greeted her in a drawl, his gaze sweeping her figure appreciatively. “Can I help you?”

Some women might enjoy having four men watch her approach with avid interest. Madeline wasn’t one of them. She ignored the look, and the suggestion in the man’s voice. “No.” She turned to look at Cruz. “Are you ready to go to work?”

“Sure,” he answered, a slight smile on his face. He noticed the other men’s curiosity and made introductions. “Madeline, meet Officers Brent, Nolan and Detective Ryan.” He indicated each man in turn. “Guys, this is Detective Sergeant Madeline Casey. She’s new to the district.” He allowed that to sink in before adding, “She’s also my new partner.”

“Yeah, right, partner in what, Martinez?” jeered Brent, the man who had greeted her. “This will be department business, won’t it, kids?”

Before Cruz could frame a reply Madeline did it for him. “I’m sure the department would greatly appreciate it if you men would attend to your jobs and let us do ours.” Her voice was even, but her no-nonsense manner had the three men backing off slowly.

“Yeah, sure,” muttered Nolan. He lifted a hand. “Talk to you later, Cruz.” He and Ryan sauntered off, and Brent trailed behind them.

Cruz cocked an eyebrow, his gaze slipping from her to the departing men, then back to Madeline. “That’s quite a gift. Did you have to take a special course to learn how to impress people like that?”

Madeline pulled up an extra chair to sit it next to his desk. “I wasn’t trying to impress them. I was trying to get rid of them.”

As she seated herself, Cruz walked around to his own chair. “Well, you certainly managed that.” He wondered if she was aware that giving men the cold shoulder like that would pique their interest, not dampen it. From the looks of the woman, she didn’t much care. The corner of his mouth lifted. This was getting more and more interesting. He sat down and picked up two file folders and handed them to her. “I copied everything I had so far on the drive-by shootings. Then I found what I could on the rash of other crimes lately involving AK-47s. Take some time and go through these.”

Madeline frowned slightly as she took the files from him. “I thought the drive-by shootings were being reassigned to someone else since we’re working on the supply angle.”

“They are. But we’re going to have to start somewhere. Our best chance of finding the supplier is through one of his customers.”

That made sense, so Madeline subsided and began reading through the first file. Cruz left for a short time and came back with two steaming cups of coffee and placed one of them in front of her. She reached out to take it, not looking up from her reading.

The files were thick and it took her more than an hour to go through them. When she finally finished, she rubbed the back of her neck, which ached from being bent over in her reading. She looked at Cruz, who was leaning back in his chair. His booted feet were crossed atop the desk, alarmingly close to his still half-full cup of coffee, and he was flipping through the pages of a report.

He glanced up, catching her gaze. “So, what do you think?” he asked.

“I think the sooner we nail the guy selling these guns, the sooner the streets will become a little bit safer,” she responded. At least for a while. Until the next crook came along, looking to get rich and not being too concerned about how he did it. She couldn’t help but be sickened by the reports of the bodies, mostly teens and young men, who had been shot by persons unknown. Persons wielding some of the most deadly weaponry available on this continent.