Julie Miller - Kansas City Cop

Mike glared down at his friend for a moment before laughter shook through his chest. “More like a day and a half.”

“Dude, no wonder she said no.”

The shared laughter carried them through the rest of putting away the equipment they’d used and prepping for their first—and, as far as Mike knew, their only—appointment of the morning. But even Troy’s mood had sobered by the time they headed toward the door leading into the entry area and hallway that led to a row of offices and locker rooms. “You’re a smart guy, Mikey. You’ll figure out a way to keep us solvent.”

“Without losing your apartment or my house?”

“I’d be happy to go out and recruit us more female clientele. It’s Ladies’ Night at the Shamrock tonight. I can pour on some of that legendary Anthony charm.”

“Creeper.”

“You got a better plan?”

“Not at the moment.”

“You’re thinkin’ too hard on this, Mike. We haven’t even been open a year. We’ll get more paying customers soon. I feel it in my bones.” He held up a fist and waited for Mike to absorb some of his positive thinking.

Trusting his friend’s outlook more than his own, Mike bumped his fist against Troy’s. “I just have to be patient, right?”

“Nobody waits out trouble better than you.”

Mike shook his head. “Is that supposed to be a compli—?” The door opened before they reached it, and the center’s office manager, Frannie Mesner, stepped into the gym. “Good morning.”

“Hey, Sun...shine.” Troy’s effusive greeting fell flat when they saw the puffy, red-rimmed eyes behind Frannie’s glasses. He rolled his chair over to get a box of tissues off the supply cart and take them to her. She sniffed back a sob as she took the box.

Was she hurt? Had she gotten some bad news? Mike moved in beside her and dropped a comforting arm around her trembling shoulders. “Frannie?”

The flush of distress on Frannie’s pale cheeks made her freckles disappear. She pulled out a handful of tissues and dabbed her eyes before blowing her nose. “Leo gets released on parole today.”

Her ex. She wasn’t hurt. But definitely bad news.

“Has he contacted you?” Mike asked.

“He’s not supposed to.”

“Has he contacted you?” he repeated, articulating the protective concern in his voice. Frannie shook her head, stirring short wisps of copper hair over her damp cheeks.

Troy set the tissue box in his lap. “Is the restraining order still in effect?”

Mike watched the confidence she’d built over the past few months disappear in the span of a few heartbeats.

When she didn’t answer, Mike pulled away to face her. “Take a few minutes to call your attorney and make sure it is. If not, make an appointment to get it reinstated. Troy or I can go with you, if you want.”

Troy slid Frannie a worried glance before spinning away from the conversation to return the box to its shelf. “Yeah. I can do that. We’d have to take my van, though. If you don’t mind riding shotgun. And you trust my driving.”

What happened to that legendary Anthony charm? The Troy he knew was all mouth and swagger 99 percent of the time. Except when it came to the office manager Mike had hired for their fledgling physical therapy center. Frannie had been their first client. But more than rebuilding her physical strength after a beatdown from her ex that had cost her the sight in one eye, she had needed a job, and Mike and Troy had provided it. He suspected she also appreciated the office’s predictable routine and the haven of a well-built workplace run by the son of a cop and a paraplegic, whose friends were also cops.

Mike might not carry a gun but, because of his dad and friends at KCPD, he knew how to keep a woman safe. Avoiding dangerous situations in the first place was rule one. “You know we’ll give you the time off for personal business like that. Make sure that protection order is in place. Beyond that, Troy or I will escort you to your car and follow you home. You notify the police if he calls or you see his face anywhere close to you.”

“I can swing by your place and double check the locks on the windows and door,” Troy offered.

Mike nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“My building isn’t handicapped accessible.” Frannie sniffed away the last of her tears and dabbed at the pink tip of her nose. “I’m sorry.”

Troy shrugged, then reached for her hand. There was definitely something going on with him where Frannie was concerned. “Don’t you apologize for that.”

Mike wasn’t sure how to help his friend, other than alleviate his concern about Frannie. “I’ll stop by after work, then.”

At least she felt safe here at the clinic. She tucked the used tissues into the pocket of her khaki slacks and dredged up a shy smile. “You guys are the best bosses ever. Thank you.” Although she’d started the job with no secretarial experience, Frannie had eventually found her feet and her own system of organization that worked—for her. And, when she wasn’t afraid for her life like she was this morning, she was a friendly, quiet presence who made their patients feel welcome at the clinic. She wound her arm around Mike’s waist and squeezed him in a shy hug. “Thanks.” She turned toward Troy with her arms outstretched and leaned over to give him a hug, too. “Thank you.”

Troy turned his nose into her hair, breathing deeply. “No sweat, Sunshine.”

Either sensing Troy’s interest or feeling a similar longing herself, Frannie quickly pulled away and tipped her face to Mike. “Your eight o’clock appointment is here. He’s already changing in the locker room.”

Chaz Kelly, a retired firefighter with a new knee, opened the door behind Frannie, startling her. “Hey, pretty lady. You weren’t at your desk to greet me this morning when I checked in.” Bald and blustery, his gaze darted over to Troy and Mike. “Morning, boys. Ready to put this fat old man through his paces?”

Frannie’s body visibly contracted away from Chaz’s pat on her shoulder. Uh-huh. So much for feeling safe. She scooted closer to Troy’s chair and didn’t look any more comfortable there. “Your dad is here, too, Mike.”

“Here?” It was rarely a good thing for the supervisor of KCPD’s SWAT teams to make a surprise visit. Mike’s concern instantly went to his stepmother and much younger half brother. “Is everything okay? Jillian? Will?”

“He didn’t say. But I think it’s work related. He’s in uniform. There’s someone with him. I put them in your office. I’ll go start a pot of coffee.” Her hand went self-consciously to one tear-stained cheek. “And wash my face.”

As Frannie left, Mike pulled his phone from his pocket, wondering if he’d missed a text or call during the basketball game. The lack of messages altered his concern into curiosity.

Troy tapped his fist against Mike’s arm and pointed at the door. “I got this. Better not keep the captain waiting.” Troy spun his chair around toward the door on the far side of the half gym that led to the equipment room and treatment tables. “Come on, Chaz. Let’s get you on the treadmill and get you warmed up. Did you stick to that diet we gave you?”

Their conversation faded as Mike hurried down the outer hallway to his office. “Dad?” Michael Cutler Sr. was on his feet to greet him with a handshake and a hug when Mike rounded the corner into his office. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Not to worry. I’m fine. The family’s fine.”

Both standing at six-four, father and son looked each other in the eye as Mike pulled away. “What’s up?” His eyes widened when he saw the petite woman waiting behind his father. “Officer Galvan.”

Her dark eyes shared his surprise. “Catnip...” Mike arched his brows at her stunned whisper. She blinked away the revelation of emotion. “It was you.”