Dana Nussio - Strength Under Fire

Yes, he still wanted to help Delia Morgan better assimilate into the post family. It was the right thing to do for the team, after all. But if he couldn’t put his plan into action without crossing that firm line, then he needed to back away for his own good...and hers.

* * *

THE EIGHT PCS positioned around the squad room were deserted, except for the one where Delia sat typing information into the blanks of an electronic arrest report form. She would have been just coming off patrol herself soon if not for a routine traffic stop earlier that ended in an arrest. That stop had changed when her Law Enforcement Information Network database search had shown an outstanding arrest warrant.

Sensing that she was no longer alone, she lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder. Not hoping it would be anyone in particular. Just curious. Sure enough, Lieutenant Peterson leaned casually against the door frame. His pose and the way he startled, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, had to be the reasons for the tickle that skittered up the back of her neck.

She cleared her throat. “May I help you?”

He smiled then, and Delia’s tummy did an unfortunate jig the way it had so many times around him lately. She tightened her jaw and crossed her arms over her stomach to still those dancing feet. Why couldn’t she just get past these inappropriate reactions to him?

Sure, Ben Peterson had never been invisible to her. Far from it, no matter how hard she’d tried not to see him. But everything was magnified since his shining moment last week.

Since she’d noticed him staring back.

She’d probably imagined that, too, so it was downright annoying that the sparks she felt around him continued to crackle and pop.

“I just wanted to get a good look at the trooper who arrested Mary Poppins in there.” Ben pointed with his thumb toward the door to the cinder-block holding cell where Delia’s suspect sat awaiting transfer to Livingston County Jail.

Frowning, she spun her office chair to fully face him. “I would expect that a lieutenant would take an arrest seriously. Any arrest.”

“Seriously? Even this one?”

As much as she wanted to hold on to her stern expression—this was their job after all—she didn’t stand a chance when facing off with Ben’s silly smirk. He had a point. It was pretty funny. “Why are you so interested in this arrest, anyway? Are you a closeted Poppins fan?”

“So what if I am?” He pursed his lips. “Er...was.”

She finally gave in and grinned over his joke about him giving away his secret. “‘Practically perfect’ and all of that?”

He grinned again. “You know it.”

It was amazing how easily she bantered with Ben now, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. As often as he’d struck up conversations with her during her shifts in the past week, how could she not have become more comfortable around him? She shouldn’t make too much out of it, though. Ben was friendly with everyone at the post, from the commander to the lady at the front desk. But he’d focused on Delia lately, seeming determined to roll past that awkwardness between them and to really become her friend.

Strange how she wanted to give in on both things. Having someone to talk to at work certainly hadn’t been all bad. She’d found herself looking forward to the moments he would stop by, curious what interesting thing he would say next. Even if he’d probably only made the effort to further his plan for making her team-worthy. Of course he had an agenda. Everyone did. People didn’t do things without a motivation of some sort. Even Ben. She should know better than to believe he was doing it just to be nice.

He stepped closer to her desk and glanced at the report over her shoulder. “This has to be a good story. Tell me how you broke this case.”

Immediately, she stiffened again, a reflex when anyone moved too close to her, but she forced a smile and continued typing. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

“Okay, I’ll admit I didn’t expect to find anything on LEIN when I pulled over a white-haired lady for driving thirty-two in a seventy.”

Whether he shifted to the next PC to ensure that the machine was working or to signal that he’d noticed her discomfort, Delia couldn’t tell.

“Usually a good bet,” he said finally.

Delia swallowed, sliding a glance his way. Though he could have been answering either her comment about senior suspects or the thoughts she’d kept to herself, she chose the safety of the earlier topic. “But then doesn’t that make me guilty of profiling? Or un-profiling?”

“Probably just of being human. No one wants to think of anyone’s grandma as a suspect.”

“Don’t let me off the hook so easily.”

He pointed to the closed door. “Come on, Delia. That woman in there is proof that looks can be deceiving. She looks more like an escapee from a library convention than a suspect with an outstanding warrant for failure to appear on an impressive list of check-fraud charges.”

“Maybe it was just a clever disguise.”

After another look at the holding cell, he shook his head. “No. I bet she always looks like that. Sensible shoes and all.”

“Then clever career choice?”

He gestured toward the arrest report on her screen. “If that isn’t a pink slip for that particular job, I don’t know what is.”

“No unemployment line for that one, either.”

“After an arrest like that, taking down a wanted fugitive and all, you’ll be the next one to make the local news.” He paused, chuckling. “Viewers will be relieved to see your pretty face after having to look at mine for so long.”

Pretty face? A startled laugh escaped before she could stop it. Was Ben Peterson flirting with her? Would she like it if he were? Of course he wasn’t, and no, she wouldn’t. He was only joking with her the way all of the officers did with each other, and she was making too much out of it. Again.

“In my interview, I’ll give credit to the team like—” Delia stopped herself, glancing over at him. She hoped he didn’t think she was making fun of him over the banking incident. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, nobody makes the news for bringing down Mary Poppins. Or maybe Mrs. Doubtfire, who—”

“Wasn’t who she seemed to be,” they both said at the same time and then laughed.

“A senior-citizen fugitive or big bad bank-robbery suspects.” She held out both hands, palms up, weighing the two options in an imaginary scale. “Those two arrests don’t compare on the if-it-bleeds-it-leads scale for TV news.”

He tilted his head back and forth, considering her words. “Guess not, but they should.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, there was no blood in either of those arrests,” he pointed out.

“Which is a good thing.”

Ben shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the turn in their conversation. He hadn’t spoken about the incident at the bank at all other than the details he’d listed in the report. Was there more about the case that he hadn’t disclosed? Something critical that he’d left out of the report?

But he spoke up again before she had time to ask. “We were both just doing our jobs.”

She had returned to her own report, but now she couldn’t help but to look back at him, waiting for answers.

“Some cases get more attention than others—” he paused, shrugging “—but all of our work is important as we serve and protect the people of southeast Michigan.”

The words were out of her mouth before she had time to edit them. “I was wrong about you.”

His eyes widened behind his glasses. “You mean you no longer think I’ll forget about the team now that I’ve made the six o’clock news?”