Amanda Stevens - Secret Admirer

The woman suddenly lunged forward, and David slung up his briefcase to shield her from Tony. Two uniforms came rushing over to restrain her, but they couldn’t shut her up.

“You’ll pay for what you did to my Franco! So help me, you will!”

A murmur rippled through the crowd on the street, and Tony shuddered inwardly. This wasn’t the first time Maria Mancini had accosted him. Her son had been fatally wounded a few weeks ago in a shootout after a robbery attempt had gone bad. Tony had been off duty and had just happened by the convenience store when the shooting erupted. Not taking the time to call for backup, he’d drawn the gunman’s fire while one of the wounded officers pulled the other to safety. Then Tony had taken out the shooter.

Franco Mancini had been transported to the same trauma unit at University Hospital as the two fallen officers, but by the time Franco’s mother had arrived, it was too late. He’d died in surgery.

Somehow Maria had found out that Tony was the one who had shot her son. She’d come at him in the hospital like a dark-haired wraith, and it had taken four cops that night to pull her off.

Tony winced, remembering the sting of her scarlet nails on his face. The bite of her words. The fierceness of her anger and grief, which hadn’t abated during the three weeks he’d been suspended pending an investigation by the Internal Affairs Division.

Fiona’s grip tightened on his arm as they headed down the street toward her car. The sun reflected blindingly off a nearby office building. “You did do the right thing that night, Tony. You saved those officers’ lives. Ask their wives and kids if they think you’re a murderer.”

Fiona always wanted to put things right. She hated unfairness of any kind, but now that she was a practicing attorney, she was likely to get a dose of real life. Tony knew better than anyone how rampant injustice was in this world. Why else had Ashley died so young?

He frowned, not wanting to think about Ashley at all, but lately he couldn’t seem to help it. The anniversary of her murder was coming up, and that date always brought out the worst in him.

It was hitting him even harder this year, probably because the suspension had given him too much time for brooding. He’d been drinking too much, hadn’t been sleeping. Hell, he thought, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the car window, no wonder the people on the street had bought Maria Mancini’s accusations.

David went around and opened the door for Fiona, then rested his arm on the top of her new Audi. “Why don’t I meet you two at Nellie’s? We can have a beer to celebrate.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m back on active duty, remember? Gotta go check in.”

“So how’s the new lieutenant working out?”

Another sore subject. Rather than going to bat for him with IAD, Clare Foxx had rolled over, agreeing to Tony’s suspension without so much as a lifted eyebrow.

“Think of it as a paid vacation,” she’d told him, but they both knew what a suspension, whether warranted or not, could do to a cop’s reputation. What little reputation Tony had left.

He suspected the sadistic part of Clare had enjoyed watching him being raked over the coals in the media, and he couldn’t help wondering what new torture she had in mind for him today.

There’d been a time when Tony had felt closer to Clare Foxx than anyone alive. She’d been his first partner after he’d made detective, and for a while, he’d thought she might actually be able to help him exorcise the ghosts that had haunted him since Ashley’s death.

But their relationship—both professional and otherwise—had ended badly. While time and promotions had passed Tony over, Clare had learned to play the game extremely well. She’d caught herself an angel somewhere along the way, and now she was his superior—literally had control over his destiny. A position she relished, Tony figured.

If there was ever a reason for not sleeping with your partner, he thought dryly, Clare Foxx was it.

“I HEARD THE NEWS,” Clare said a little while later, as Tony sat in her office at district headquarters. “Congratulations.”

She was dressed in a black suit with a trim jacket and above-the-knee skirt. As she came around the desk and perched on the edge, Tony caught a flash of thigh.

Damn, he thought, staring in spite of himself. Clare had been working out. Nearly ten years older than Tony, she’d held her age well at forty-one. Hell, she looked good for any age, and she damn well knew it, too.

Smiling, she tucked a wisp of long dark hair behind her ear, revealing a tiny diamond stud in her lobe. She wore a gold chain around her throat, and she played with the necklace as she talked, twisting it around her fingers.

She was a beautiful woman, but her eyes gave away her age and occupation. Dark, piercing, they were a little too hard and cynical, with deep crinkles at the corners that weren’t from laughing.

Clare was a good cop, had been a good partner until she and Tony had gone and made it personal. Until it went bad. Then she’d become like every other woman he’d ever known. She’d wanted a piece of him he wasn’t willing to give. Not anymore. Not since Ashley—

“So,” Clare said, giving him a slow once-over, “now that the review board has exonerated you, what does Dr. Metzer say? You ready for active duty?”

No matter what the rank, it was routine procedure for a cop who had been involved in a shooting to be checked out by a staff psychologist. “Sure. My head’s screwed back on straight. For the time being,” he couldn’t resist adding.

Clare glanced at him sharply. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You’ve been skirting the edge for so long, one of these days you’re going to go native on us. Even Dr. Metzer won’t be able to bring you back.”

“Don’t sell Metzer short. Look what he did for you.”

Her cheeks colored, not from embarrassment but from anger. “I don’t have to take that from you, Tony. I’m your commanding officer, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Not likely to forget that,” he muttered. “So what have you got for me?” Might as well plunge right back in, get his feet wet his first day back.

“It’s not going to be as easy as all that,” she said, heading back around her desk to sit. She picked up a report and studied it for a long, tense moment. Her glasses were lying on the desk but she ignored them. “Things are going to change around here, Tony.”

He stretched his legs in front of him. “Meaning?”

“Just because we were…partners in the past doesn’t mean you’re going to get a free ride.”

“I never thought I would.” He met her gaze.

She seemed momentarily flustered. Glancing back down at the report, she said, “Superintendent Dawson is putting pressure on all the bureaus to clean up their acts, but especially on Investigative Services. No more tune-ups, attitude adjustments, whatever euphemism you guys are calling it on the street these days.”

“You know me better. I’ve never gone in for that.” Although he wouldn’t be human if he hadn’t been tempted a time or two to work over a suspect, especially the ones who murdered children. He remembered the Betts case—then again, he didn’t want to remember the Betts case. He’d been the one to find the child’s body in the Dumpster behind an abandoned apartment building in Chinatown. The little girl’s battered face and staring eyes had haunted him for months, years. But the smirk on her old man’s face when Tony had gone to search his apartment had haunted him even longer.

Yeah, he could easily have done a little attitude adjustment on that psycho, but he hadn’t. He might not always play by the rules, but he knew the dangers in losing control. If he ever came that close again that would be the day he’d hang it up. Walk away. Spend the rest of his life scrubbing toilets or some damn thing if he had to.