Geri Krotow - Reunion Under Fire

“The receptionist says you showed her your badge?” He needed to make a copy of it.

“Yes, here.” She opened a leather case and showed her NYPD credentials. They looked like a badge but were in effect identification cards for her assignment as a law-enforcement psychological expert.

“So you’re a shrink to the cops?” He fought against the incredulity that bubbled deep in his chest. Because if he let her see his surprise, he had the distinct impression that Annie would clock him. Or else turn and leave with no explanation. And he couldn’t handle that, not when he’d just got her back again.

Wait, where had that come from? He’d never really had her, had he? And he wasn’t looking to “get her back.”

“I’m sorry, Annie. ‘Shrink’ is inappropriate.”

“Yes, it is. But it doesn’t surprise me that you have that kind of attitude. A lot of officers are threatened by psychology.”

He snorted. He wasn’t threatened by anything except for the real-deal feelings toward Annie that were surfacing from parts unknown. From his heart. All at once he wanted to know if she felt the heat between them, if his erection was one-sided. As he watched her, she licked her lips and softly chewed on her full, pink glossed lower lip. Yeah, he was pretty darn sure she felt it, too. Like if they didn’t crawl into bed this instant he’d spontaneously combust in the Silver Valley PD office.

How had he forgotten, shoved the memory of her to the far recesses of his mind? How had he sloughed it all off, thinking that what he’d had with her as a teen was just that, an adolescent crush? Because the fact remained that they were twelve years older, full adults, and yet Annie Fiero was the only woman he’d ever known who could make him feel like this.

* * *

Annie watched Josh’s attention shift from being totally on her to someplace over her shoulder. As much as his intense scrutiny had been flattering, it was also a relief to be able to breathe. This man was the same Josh she’d known, had the same smile, but he was far more potent. Heart-lethal, because she was already imagining what it’d be like to kiss him, and she didn’t even know if he was available. The brief thought of him involved with someone else made her inexplicably sad. Crap .

“Josh? You okay?”

His eyes were sexier than she’d remembered, shrewder, but had glazed over a bit. As if he didn’t believe her professional choice, didn’t accept the damn proof in front of him in the form of her IDs. Was it that crazy to think she’d become a police psychologist? And since when did she get so aroused by talking to a guy? Her hormones had been conducting rapid-fire drills since the instant she’d seen him across the office bay. Since before she realized it was the same Josh Avery who hadn’t been able to get the condom on after prom, giving her time to back out of their plan to lose their virginity with one another and thus ending their planned night of passion. An awkward end to an otherwise emotionally intimate relationship. He’d been the first boy she’d ever loved.

Maybe the only man, but he’d been so young. Not like he was now, all sexy muscle and deep voice conversation meant to make a woman drip with want.

“I’m great, Annie. Just thinking. You look a little peaked, though, if you ask me.” Wham. Without warning he turned the tables back on her. This was a new skill of Josh’s, because the teen she’d known was too sweet, too kind to play mind games. She shook her head.

“I’m fine. I came in here—”

“On a suspected domestic violence. Who’s hurt you?” His last word ended on what sounded like a feral growl.

“Not me . A woman who came into my grandmother’s shop.” She forced herself to calm down and stick to her purpose. “I know what signs to look for.” She didn’t have to remind him it was her job, did she?

“She told you she’s being abused?”

She recognized the practiced neutral expression, knew it intimately. He was used to people throwing accusations around, claims that if true could be lifesaving. If false, they could ruin a person’s reputation and potentially waste police time and, worse, risk an officer’s life.

“Of course she didn’t. If she’d be willing to tell me, she’d be willing to come to the police, right?” She leaned back in the chair and shoved off her thin, summer-weight sweater. It’d kept the chill of the AC off her shoulders but no air-conditioning unit could keep up with the heat wave. She rubbed her shoulders, trying to undo the myriad knots that had sprung up at the top of her back. “I do this for a living, Josh. I know you have no reason to believe me, other than you knew me a long time ago, which is why I’ve brought these.” She took out her credentials for the second time in ten minutes and handed them to him. “Feel free to call it in and talk to my boss. I’m the real deal. I see this all the time. And I saw finger marks on her throat. She’d covered them with makeup and was wearing a turtleneck. It’s ninety degrees out, Josh. No one wears heavy clothes in this heat unless they have a reason. I only got a glimpse of the bruises because of the way she leaned over. But I also saw some higher, on her jaw. Probably older ones.”

“You’re sure?” His direct look was focused, his demeanor professional. Unlike her reaction to his nearness, which was chaotic as heat rushed to her face and her nipples tightened under her lightweight T-shirt. If his gaze moved lower, he’d see her physical reaction to him, and it wasn’t from the air-conditioning.

“I’m sure.” She paused, not wanting to tell him how to do his job but needing to know Kit would get the help she needed.

“I hear you.” He nodded. “But she’s not reporting it. So even if you have her name—”

“Kit Valensky.”

“I need more information. I prefer to talk to her directly if at all possible and—wait, what did you say her name was? Valensky?”

“That’s right. You know her?”

“Not personally.” His mouth was a straight line; his fingers drummed his desktop.

“But?” She’d wait him out. He knew something he didn’t want to tell her. Or maybe couldn’t, if it was a confidential police case. She was privy to whatever she needed to do her job in New York, but Silver Valley wasn’t the jurisdiction she was assigned. Josh didn’t have to tell her anything.

“But.” He blew out a breath and looked up from his desk, his eyes back on her. “She may be related to another Valensky in town. One we keep an eye on but never seem to have enough on, if you get my drift.”

“Maybe if I could talk to one of your detectives...” She looked at his badge, his uniform. She thought Ezzie had mentioned he’d been promoted, but maybe he didn’t like detective work.

“I am your detective, Annie. All of our officers and detectives are overcommitted right now, working a big case that’s spilled over from Harrisburg and Carlisle. Silver Valley’s caught in the middle of an ROC op.”

“Ouch. That’s a lot of work for a small force.” She knew what ROC meant. They had more than their share of it at NYPD. Organized crime of any type weighed down the caseload, pushed the officers to their limits as they fought not only to keep the streets of Silver Valley clean but human trafficking, the inflow of heroin and countless other ROC-related crimes. She looked around the station. “What do you have, thirty, maybe forty officers?”

He nodded. “Thirty-seven officers, three detectives. Four when I work as one.”

“I wondered about that—I was pretty certain Grandma Ezzie had told me that you were a detective. Why aren’t you now?” She waved at his uniform.

“Personal reasons. I needed the more regular hours for the short term.” His tone was tinged with regret. Based on the energy that vibrated off him, she suspected he liked to be in the middle of a case, solving it.