Kylie Brant: An Irresistible Man

Andersen’s head jerked around and stopped in midmotion. Valdez reacted more quickly. He threw the crate he’d been lifting in their direction and took off.

“I got him,” Cruz yelled, jumping over a stack of steel poles as he went off in pursuit.

“Drop it,” Madeline ordered Andersen. “And get your hands behind your head.”

The man seemed to recover some of his smoothness. “What’s the meaning of this, Detective? What are you doing here? This is private property.”

“Private property with a very lucrative sideline,” she answered while she trained her gun on him and quickly frisked him. Finding no weapon, she snapped a cuff on his wrist and led him over to the truck. The other cuff was snapped to the door handle. Quickly she went to the other side of the truck, opened the door and leaned over to remove the keys from the ignition. Then she proceeded to read him his rights.

“Guns?” he scoffed. “You’ve got quite an imagination, and absolutely no proof. You’d better think hard, Detective, before you bring me in on such a ridiculous charge. My family is well regarded in this town.”

“Somehow I think your family’s reputation is about to take a nosedive.”

The man blustered, “This is undoubtedly an illegal search, and my lawyer will have it thrown out of court. You and your partner will lose your jobs over this.”

Madeline tucked the warrant in his free hand. “I suggest you read that while you’re waiting.” She ran silently in the direction that Cruz had disappeared in. She heard the report of a shot, and then another. Heading in the direction of the sound, she saw a figure running toward the gate. She raised her gun and then hesitated. At this distance it was impossible to tell the identity of the runner. She started after him.

In front of her, another figure came flying out of the shadows and tackled the runner. They rolled over and over on the ground. As she drew closer she could make out Cruz on top of Valdez, drawing back a fist. Valdez reached up and grasped Cruz’s throat with both hands, and Cruz dropped his fist to pry at the other man’s fingers.

A movement in the darkness near the struggling pair attracted her attention. A figure stepped out, and when Madeline saw the gun aimed toward Cruz’s head, she reacted instinctively. She twirled and fired a shot. The force from the impact of the bullet swung the man around. He dropped his gun, clutching at his shoulder.

Cruz used the distraction to free himself from Valdez’s grasp, and after a few more moments the struggle was over. Valdez lay motionless on the ground.

Cruz got up and walked over, picking up the gun that had been dropped, as well as his own weapon. He tucked Valdez’s gun into the waistband of his jeans.

“Let’s see who we’ve got here,” he muttered, walking over to the wounded man.

“An old friend of yours, I believe,” she said shakily, her gun still aimed.

“So I see,” Cruz said, recognizing Detective Gerald Baker. The man glared at him, blood seeping from between his fingers. “Your partner’s as crazy as you are, Martinez,” Baker snarled. “You’ll both be laughed out of the department over this. I had this place staked out myself, and came to help when I heard shots.”

“Somehow I don’t think I could have afforded your help,” Cruz mocked. “If it hadn’t been for Maddy, I’d have been a chalk outline.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Somehow, his showing up here now seems a little too coincidental.”

She nodded, and stepped forward to frisk Baker quickly, using his own handcuffs on him.

“I need medical attention,” Baker told her. “It’s going to be up to you to get me some.” He jerked his head at Cruz. “He’d just as soon see me die.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Madeline corrected him grimly, searching his pockets for a handkerchief. Wadding it up, she applied it ungently to the wound. “I’m the one who’d like to see you in hell, bunking with the bad guys.”

“Yeah, I’d just as soon have you alive, Baker,” Cruz said. “So I can enjoy thinking of you in prison, with a guy you put away as your cell mate.” He addressed Madeline. “What did you do with Andersen, shoot him, too?”

“Not yet,” she answered unsteadily. The adrenaline high that had been pumping through her veins was leaving her in a rush. The image of Baker pointing a gun toward Cruz’s head was still agonizingly vivid.

Baker was protesting loudly. “Get me to the hospital, you fools. I’ll bleed to death here.”

“One can only hope, pal,” Cruz said unsympathetically. He went over to Valdez, who was showing signs of returning to consciousness. Rolling him over, he cuffed him and pulled him to his feet. He stopped then and looked at Madeline. He cocked a grin at her, a shadow of the one she used to see. “Good work, Maddy. We make a good team.”

Their eyes met, and held. “Yes,” she said softly. “We do.”

His face changed then as he interpreted her meaning. He turned away. “Let’s get these guys to the car and call for backup. Where’s Andersen?”

She bit her lip. She knew what she read in his sudden change of mood. “He’s not going anywhere.”

He nodded, turned and led Valdez away.

A week later Madeline was in her apartment, staring unexcitedly at the TV dinner she’d cooked. She’d forced herself to go to the gym and work out tonight more for something to do than because she any longer felt a burning desire to stay on schedule. As a matter of fact, she no longer felt a burning desire for much of anything in her life.

Returning to her desk at Internal Affairs should have made her feel as though her life were getting back to normal. Already she was being given more cases than she could possibly handle. Brewer was actually in a pleasant mood, basking in the attention brought by the conclusion of the high-profile case.

But nothing seemed normal these days. Each day dawned, a vacuum stretching interminably in front of her, to be filled with events to save her sanity. Each night closed with her inability to remember much of anything that had mattered that day.

Her cell rang then and she reached for it automatically. When she saw her father’s number on the screen, she set it back down without answering it. It was the third time in as many days that he’d called, and it was the third time she’d dismissed the call so summarily. She had nothing to say to him.

Her attention returned to her unappetizing meal. She’d fixed it because eating was one of those chores she’d tried to return to. She could ill afford to lose any more weight. But eating held about as much interest for her as talking to her father, and with a sigh she threw yet another meal into the trash.

Her doorbell rang, and she considered not answering it. When she finally realized that it was likely to be Ariel, and that she’d only use her key if Madeline didn’t come to the door, she got up and reached for the knob. She didn’t use the peephole, not because she didn’t think of it, but because she just could not summon up enough emotion to care whether it was Ariel on the other side or a serial killer.

It was neither. Cruz Martinez stood facing her when the door swung open. She stared at him, her eyes wide as they hungrily took in the sight of him that had been too long denied her.

“Could have gotten Ariel’s key, but thought I’d do the classy thing and give you a chance to invite me in,” he said cheekily. When she remained silent, he said more seriously, “Are you going to? Invite me in, I mean?”

She stepped away from the door, allowing him to enter. She closed the door and surreptitiously wiped her palms on her jeans. Just seeing Cruz had her dormant senses springing to life. Her pulse was racing; her heart was in her throat. The wonderful side effect of living her life as an automaton the past several days had been that the pain of losing Cruz had been held to a manageable level. Now it was back, full force.