II didnt mean to
You dont have to worry, Wright. Its not contagious, Conor muttered.
Im not worried about me. Youve been waiting for an assignment in homicide for two years and there are only two slots open. Youre a good detective, sir. You deserve one of those slots.
Conor shook his head. Im not sure Im even interested anymore.
Why not?
Hed been mulling over that question for weeks now, but Conor hadnt been able to come up with an answer, at least one that made sense. Ive been trying to make this city safe for more years than Id care to count. I honestly thought I could make a difference and I havent even made a dent. For every hooker and bookie and scam artist I put behind bars, theres another one right behind. What makes me think I could do better with murderers?
Because you will, Danny reasoned in his own guileless way.
Hell, Im sick of playing it safe. Its time I started living my life. I want to get up in the morning and look forward to the day. Look at my brother Brendan. He chooses what he writes, when he writes, if he writes. Hes living life on his own terms. And Dylan. What he does makes a difference. He saves lives. Real lives.
So what are you going to do? Youre a cop. Youve always been a cop.
Maybe thats the problem. I went from taking care of my family to taking care of this city. I was nineteen when I went into the academy, Wright. I had responsibilities at home, I needed a steady job. Maybe I would have chosen differently. I certainly would have enjoyed going to college rather that taking years of night courses to get a degree.
Danny gave him a sideways glance. Youll feel better when the lieutenant lets you out of the doghouse, he said. He cant stay mad forever.
So what kind of scut work does he have for us this evening? Conor asked. He took a long sip of his soda, then wiped his hand across his mouth.
Actually, its pretty interesting, sir, Danny said. Were protecting a witness in the Red Keenan case. Weve got to transport the guy out to a safe house on Cape Cod and then keep watch for a few days. Kind of an odd place for a safe house, dont you think?
Conor shook his head. I guess they figure they can monitor everyone coming and going this time of year. One highway, one airport. Easier to spot suspicious characters.
Conor pushed back from the bar and started toward the door, Wright dogging his heels. He gave Sean a wave, then called out a farewell to his brothers. When he reached the street, he pulled up the collar of his leather jacket and turned his face into the wind. He smelled the ocean on the stiff, damp breeze and he knew a storm was on the way. For a moment, he worried about Brendan, almost two days late on a return trip from the Grand Banks where hed had a last run with the swordfishermen before they started to work their way south. Why hed decided to write a book about swordfishing, Conor would never understand.
Hell, swordfishing had been the ruin of their family life, the reason their mother had walked out, the reason their father had left the parenting to Conor. He sighed and cursed softly. Brendan could handle a storm at seahed spent many a summer vacation making runs with their father. And Dylan could handle a fire out of control. It was Conor who was having trouble handling his life of late, making sense of it all.
His head bent to the wind, hands shoved into his pockets, Conor strode down the rain-slicked street toward his car, Danny hard on his heels. He glanced up when he heard footsteps coming his way, his instincts automatically on alert. A slender woman with short, dark hair passed, nearly running into him in the process. Their eyes met for only a moment. He glanced over his shoulder, thinking he recognized her. Bunko artist? Hooker? Undercover cop?
He watched as she slowly stopped in front of Quinns, then peered through the plate-glass window. A few seconds later, she started up the steps, then paused and hurried back down, disappearing into the darkness. Conor shook his head. Was he so jaded that he now saw criminal intent in a perfectly innocent stranger? Maybe a few days of solitude on Cape Cod would put everything back in perspective.
The District Four station house was buzzing with activity when Conor and Danny arrived in the unmarked sedan. Conor was used to working the day shift, but days and nights would mean nothing now that hed been assigned to protect a witness. Just endless hours of boredom, bad takeout, and what amounted to nothing more than baby-sitting.
According to Danny, the witness had been transported earlier that evening from the downtown station house. The lieutenant had been vague on the particulars of the case, preferring to speak to Danny and Conor in person about their new assignmentno doubt to use the meeting as a lesson for an unruly detective.
But when they strode into the squad room, the lieutenants office door was closed. Conor checked for messages, grabbed a cup of coffee, then searched the mess on his desk for his pocket pad, the leather bound notepad that each detective carried for witness interviews. He remembered that hed had it last in the observation room while he watched an interrogation through the one-way window.
He grabbed a pen and backtracked, finding the door to the room open. But his search for the missing notepad was stopped short when he glanced through the one-way window into the box. The featureless interrogation room contained a single table with a chair on each side, a light above, and the mirrored window on one end, through which Conor now stared.
The sole occupant of the room was a woman, a slender figure with ash-blond hair, patrician features and an expensive wardrobe. He wasnt sure how he knew, but he was certain she wasnt a call girl or a drug dealer or a con artist. Hed be willing to bet his badge that she hadnt committed any crime. She lacked the hard edge to her features that most criminals acquired after working the streets. And she looked genuinely out of her element, a butterfly in the habitat ofcockroaches.
He stepped closer to the window and watched her for a long moment, noting the tremor in her delicate hand as she sipped at the paper cup filled with muddy coffee. Suddenly, she turned to look his way and he quickly stepped back into the shadows. Even though he knew she couldnt see him, he felt as if hed been caught looking.
God, she was beautiful, Conor mused. No woman had a right to be that beautiful. He found in her features sheer perfectiona high forehead, expressive eyes, cheekbones that wouldnt quit and a wide mouth made to be kissed. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, tumbling just to her shoulders. Conors hand twitched as he imagined how soft the strands might feel between his fingers, how her hair would slide over his skin like warm silk.
A soft oath slipped from his lips and he turned away from the window. Hell, what was he thinking, fantasizing over a complete stranger? For all he knew, she could just be a better class of call girl, or some drug-runners high-living girlfriend. Just because she was beautiful, didnt automatically make her pure.
Old habits did die hard. How many times had he looked at an attractive woman only to have his fathers voice nagging in his head? All those cautionary tales, hidden between the lines of Seamuss old Irish folk stories. A Quinn must never surrender his heart to a woman. Look beyond the beauty to the danger lurking beneath.
He turned back to the window in time to see her wrap her arms around herself. Her shoulders slumped and then she rocked forward, her body trembling. When she tipped her head back, he saw the tracks of her tears on her smooth complexion. Conors heart twisted in his chest at the fear and regret in her expression, the raw vulnerability of her appearance. She looked small and all alone.
He turned back to the window in time to see her wrap her arms around herself. Her shoulders slumped and then she rocked forward, her body trembling. When she tipped her head back, he saw the tracks of her tears on her smooth complexion. Conors heart twisted in his chest at the fear and regret in her expression, the raw vulnerability of her appearance. She looked small and all alone.
Had she been standing next to him, she might have crumpled into his arms, hiding her sobs against his shoulder. But the glass between them was like an impenetrable barrier and hed become nothing more than a voyeur. Hed never seen a woman cry before, except for the hookers hed arrested, but those tears were usually just for show.
She cried for a long time while Conor watched, memories of his mothers pain flooding his mind. He knew he should leave and allow her the privacy of her emotions, but he couldnt. He felt as if his feet were glued to the floor, his gaze caught by her beauty and her pain. The tears had opened her soul and for a moment, he could see inside. He fought the urge to pull open the door and go to her. Whoever she was, criminal or not, she deserved a shoulder to cry on.
Conor reached out to turn the doorknob so he could enter the box, but just as he was about to open the door, he saw Danny Wright stroll into the room, a grocery bag in his arms. Slowly, he drew his hand away, stunned by the unexpected change in the womans expression. The transformation was astounding. Almost instantly, the vulnerability vanished and her expression became cool and composed, almost icy. Surreptitiously, she brushed away all traces of her tears and glanced up at his partner, her lips pressed into a tight line.
Conor flipped the switch on the intercom, then braced his hands on the table beneath the window and listened to Dannys voice, crackling through the speaker.
Ms. Farrell, Im Detective Wright. My partner and I have been assigned to protect you until the trial. Im sorry youve been waiting so long, but weve been making arrangements to take you to a safe place.
Conor sucked in a sharp breath. This was his witness? This woman whod drawn him into her troubles with just a few tears and a stunningly beautiful face? Aw, damn it, he muttered, throwing his notepad onto the table. He figured hed be baby-sitting some wimpy little accountant or slimy two-faced informant. Considering his reaction to Ms. Farrell so far, spending the next two weeks in her company would be hell on earth.
I dont understand why I cant just disappear, she said, a sharp edge to her voice. I can go to Europe. I have business associates there who would be happy to
Ms. Farrell, well keep you safe. Theres nothing to worry
She brought her palms down on the table and shot out of her chair, the action causing Danny to jump. I dont need you to keep me safe, she cried, her voice suffused with anger and frustration. I can keep myself safe. I dont want your help.
Danny took a step back, caught offguard by the intensity of her outburst. Butbut we wont have any assurance that youll return to testify.
What if I dont testify? she demanded. Then youll have to let me go, right?
Keenan will find you eventually, Ms. Farrell. Because, if you dont testify, hell be out on the street and he wont leave any loose ends.
She gripped the back of the chair with a white-knuckled hand. Thats what I am? A loose end?
Danny blinked, then shook his head. Th-thats not what I meant. I was just telling you what Keenan would think. Listen, Im going to go find my partner and let him talk to you. Hes a good cop. He wont let anything happen to you, either.
Conor snatched up his notepad and stalked out of the observation room, straight through the squad room to his lieutenants office. He wanted a reassignment and he wanted one now. Hed even settle for desk duty if that got him out of watching over this woman. Conor rapped on the door, then closed his eyes as he waited for an answer.
Lieutenant went downtown, Rodriguez called. The commissioner is holding some big press conference on his Cops and Kids program. He talked to Danny a few minutes ago. I think your witness is in the box.
Conor turned on his heel and walked back through the squad room, muttering beneath his breath. He met Danny halfway down the hall.
There you are, his partner said. Are you ready to roll?
Lieutenants gonna have to find someone else for the job, Conor muttered. Ive got too many open cases to take time off. Besides, District One should be handling this witness. Its their case.
What? You cant bail on me now. I need you to talk to the witness. Her names Olivia Farrell. Red Keenans guys took a shot at her earlier this evening and shes pretty shook up. She doesnt want to testify. I dont know what to say to make her
So let her take her chances on the street, Conor muttered. If she doesnt want to testify, she doesnt have to.
Danny frowned. What are you saying? Weve got a chance here to nail Keenan. Besides murder and drug dealing, the guys been running us ragged in vice. You should want him off the street.
Conor raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. I do. But Im not going to talk to her. Shes your responsibility, Wright. Youre the point man on this one. You get her ready to go and you drive her out to Cape Cod. Ill be in the backup car watching your ass.
I gave her some clothes, Danny said. Lieutenant figured we should sneak her out of here in disguise, like a suspect transfer. Well drive past the South Boston station house on the way out of town, and if you dont see anyone on our tail, we wont stop until we get to the safe house.
Sounds like a plan, Conor muttered. Ill wait for you in the parking lot and follow you out.
Conor shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and started down the hall. Suddenly he needed fresh air, time to breathe. What had this woman done to him? With just one look, shed sapped his strength and sent him running for cover. If he didnt know better, hed have to believe his fathers warnings were true. But this was just a job and he could certainly maintain a professional demeanor if he had to. Besides, as with all women in his life, the fascination would soon fade.
Consumed by his own thoughts, his gaze fixed on the floor, he didnt notice the figure who stepped out of the doorway to the box. She slammed into him and he grabbed her as she bumped against the wall. With a soft curse, Conor looked into the most incredible green eyes hed ever seen.
Shed changed out of her designer clothes and was now dressed in a faded T-shirt, tattered chinos and a slouchy hat. An old camouflage jacket was clutched in her hands. If he didnt know her, he might mistake her for one of the vagrants who hung out down on the waterfront. Conor stepped to one side and, at the very moment, she made the same move. Twice more, they tried to get past each other, the two of them participating in some bizarre little tango right there in the hall.
Finally, he grabbed her arms and impatiently moved her against the wall. But the instant he touched her, his anger with her dissolved. Her skin was warm and so soft. A current shot up his arms, and as if hed been burned, he snatched his hands away. Sorry, he muttered.
Itits all right, she said. It was my fault. I wasnt watching where I was going.