Tori Carrington - You Only Love Once

“Later.”

“Goodbye.” She started to get up and nearly tripped over where Kojak was licking a jelly stain from the wood floor.

“Hold up a second, Kell.” Her father’s voice stopped her from hitting the disconnect button. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

She absently watched the muted images slide across the television screen. Stories of murder and corruption, all against the background of the most powerful capital of the world. Never a dull moment. “What is it?”

“How did it go yesterday?”

Kelli paused, wondering at the neutral sound of her father’s voice. She decided to play it as vaguely as he was. “It went well. Really well.” Liar. Although she was sure her dad would approve of her trouble with David even less than the idea of her putting on a uniform every morning.

“You meet your new partner yet?” he asked.

She slowly reached out and switched the television off. “Yes.”

“Are you getting on well?”

Kelli crossed her free arm over her chest. “Yes.”

Her father’s sigh burst over the line. “Come on, girl, this isn’t an official interrogation. You can give more than a yes or no answer. Do you like the guy or don’t you? Do you want me to have you assigned somewhere else? Another district station, maybe?”

“Like out in Arlington where the most serious crime is loitering? No, Dad, but thanks just the same.” She rubbed her forehead. So much for avoidance measures. “And my partner’s name’s McCoy. He’s a pigheaded, male chauvinist who needs an ego adjustment, but I can handle him.” At least she hoped she could.

There was a heartbeat of a pause. Kelli fought the desire to ask him if he was still there.

“McCoy?” he finally said gruffly.

“Yeah. David. Do you know him?”

“Of him. I know his father.”

“That’s nice, Dad. Maybe you and he can get together and plot how to scare your kids off the force over a beer sometime. Look, I’ve—”

“If Sean McCoy and I ever end up in the same room together where there’s beer, I’d just as soon crack a bottle over his head,” her father said vehemently.

Kelli’s mouth dropped open. She’d never heard him say such a thing about another person. Yes, he was quite adamant on where he stood on her decisions, but that was different. In almost every other aspect of his life he was as open-minded as they came. “Dad…I don’t quite know what to say. I’m…shocked.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be if you knew the guy. They don’t make them any cockier than Sean McCoy.”

He hadn’t met David yet. “When’s the last time you spoke to this…Sean?”

He mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?”

“Twenty years.”

Kelli smacked her hand against her forehead. “Gee, and here I thought it was something a little more recent. Like yesterday.”

“It was. I might not speak to the old geezer, but I see him just about every day on the job.”

“Wait, don’t tell me. He’s on the force, too. What is he? Regional Assistant Chief for the West or something?”

“Chief?” Garth nearly shouted. “Hell, Kelli, aren’t you getting the drift of anything I’m saying? The guy’s a damn beat cop. Always has been, always will be.”

“So?” she said carefully. “Look, Dad, call me slow, but I’m not getting this. What is this, a modern day replaying of the old Hatfields and McCoys thing?” She glanced at her watch and nearly gasped. “I gotta run, Dad. We can talk about this later, okay?”

She pressed the disconnect button while he was still blathering on. She cringed. No doubt she would hear about that later, as well.

DAVID STARED at his watch for the third time, although no more than a minute had passed since the last time he’d looked. The briefing room was already filled to capacity. Which wasn’t abnormal in and of itself, except the collection of plainclothes at the front of the room had ignited gossip among the officers surrounding him.

Where is she?

“What do you think’s up?” Jones, next to him, asked.

David shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Harris thinks it’s the Degenerate case.”

He grimaced. “All this attention for a sexual deviant? Seems a little excessive.”

“Where you been, man? The guy’s been promoted. He’s chalked up his first killing. Body was found this morning, though they think she’s been dead a couple of days.”

David recalled the case. “Damn.”

Jones chuckled. “You got that right.”

“Did I miss anything?”

David looked to his left where Kelli had claimed the seat he’d been saving for her. She looked far too fresh, too alert, for first thing in the morning. And far too enticing. It was all he could do not to pant all over her like a Chihuahua, bug eyes and all.

“You’re late,” he said, unhappy with the simile. A Chihuahua? He should be something more manly, like a German shepherd at least.

And Kelli was one hundred percent groomed white poodle, pink bow and all.

She smiled. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?”

It took David a full second to realize she was referring to her lateness, not to his mental comparison.

She shifted her weight so that she could slip his notepad out from under her curved bottom. “This yours?”

David snatched it away, telling himself the paper couldn’t possibly be warm after so brief a contact.

“Did I miss anything?” she asked again.

David crossed his arms, tempted to ignore her. After her dumping maneuvers yesterday after they kicked off work, he’d spent the entire night at his father’s place glowering…and watching Pop glower, too. Not a fun way to pass the time. “It’s about the Degenerate case.”

Her eyes lit up. “You mean the D.C. Executioner case now, don’t you?”

“You know?”

“Of course I know. Don’t you watch the news, McCoy?”

He wanted to tell her that no, he got enough of real life on the job, but he didn’t think it would reflect well on him. So instead he said nothing, because to imply that he usually did watch the news, but had missed it now, might hint at a break in his routine. Which might then lead to her assumption that she was the cause for this disruption. He wouldn’t in a million years let her think that. No matter how on the mark the assumption would be.

Instead, he grinned. “I, um, had other things to do last night.”

The light extinguished. “The news came through this morning.”

David shrugged. “Same difference.”

Kelli sat back in her seat and sighed. “Please, do spare me the details.”

He leaned in a little closer, eyeing the clean stretch of flesh just below her ear. “Oh, I don’t know. I was hoping you and I could, um, go over them blow-by-blow. Say tonight? Over dinner?”

He never saw her fist coming, but he had no doubt that’s what hit him in the arm. “Ow,” he said, rubbing the sore spot.

“Come on to me again on the job and you’ll be hurting a lot worse than that, McCoy. Now stop your whining. They’re about to start.”

And start they did. But David only listened with half an ear about the formation of a special task force headed up by homicide in cooperation with the Sex Crimes unit. They were looking for a few good men and women to go undercover. SC already had three detectives working undercover at three different sex shops across the city that the earlier victims may have frequented. They needed another.

David couldn’t care less. His academy test scores had all basically come up with “does not play well with others.” It was exactly the reason he’d been through three partners in less than seven years. Even if he had a mind to apply for a position on the task force—and he didn’t—they’d probably laugh him out of the interview.