Shed been on patrol that afternoon with her veteran partner. Theyd been dispatched to a downtown alley after a witness had spotted a man with a gun. She and her partner had separated at the entranceway. Shed taken the rear approach.
To this day, Romana could still feel the adrenaline that had pumped through her system when shed spotted Warren Critch. According to Critch, Jacob had pushed Belinda to have an affair. When shed refused, Jacob had threatened to kill her.
Critch had been raving, oblivious to everything except the man in front of him. Anyone could have crept up from behind, it just happened to be Romana. With the barrel of her Glock pressed against his neck, Critchs mind had begun to function. Hed backed down and finally dropped his gun.
Two days later, his wife had been murdered.
Romana sighed as the memory dissolved. I dont think I saved Jacobs life, Fitz, so much as I talked Critch into seeing reason.
The consensus in the lab is that Warren Critch would have pulled the trigger, Jacob Knight would have died, and instead of being a free man today, Critch would be facing life without parole for killing a cop. Point being, I think Knights dangerous, Ro. Gorgeous but dangerous.
A feeling of inevitability crept in. Fitz, Jacobs
Tall, dark and sexy as hell. Like a rock star. Or maybe a bad boy grown up.
Hes not James Dean.
No, hes way better, and Im betting a whole lot badder.
A picture flitted through Romanas head of an enigmatic face, slightly haunted, slightly hunted, narrow-featured and, yes, gorgeous. The collar of his leather jacket was turned up in her vision so his dark hair fell over it and skimmed his shoulders. Steely eyes stared at her, and his mouth-well, she didnt want to linger too long on that feature.
She felt Fitz tap her arm, noted her cousins contrite expression and struggled with a laugh. Let me guess, youre sorry. Again.
Lets rewind to sitting on Santas knee, and top it off with a trip upstairs for coffee and a Danish pastry. The Garden Rooms been transformed into a Russian ice palace for the rest of December, and I gotta tell you, Ro, if ever anyone looked like a Russian ice princess, itd be you.
Ill try and take that as a compliment. Romana separated two bottles from the montage in front of her. Tatiana perfume for my mother, the newly promoted radio station manager, and Opium for me.
Former ice princess cop-really did mean it as a compli-ment-and current avant garde professor of criminology at the University of Cincinnati.
With a determined shove, the black cloud that had been hovering on the edge of Romanas mind dispersed.
Warren Critch was out of prison, that was a fact. The parole board felt hed served sufficient time for his crime. True, hed sent her a Christmas card every year of his incarceration, but the messages inside hadnt actually amounted to threats. Shed gone over them several times. So had a number of her police friends.
Critch was bitter-perfectly understandable. Didnt mean hed jeopardize his newfound freedom by seeking revenge. Hed been blowing off steam in his prison cell. Romana taught the subject; she knew how the criminal mind worked. Or should.
Wow. Fitz winced as the saleswoman held out a pretty blue bag and a short bill. Thats some hefty total. Guess coffees on me.
Romana reached into her purse, felt the envelope that hadnt been there an hour ago and, without looking, let her head fall back.
Then again, she said to the reindeer suspended from the stores ceiling, maybe no one really knows how the criminal mind works.
Money, Ro. Fitz elbowed her. Unless youre thinking of developing sticky fingers yourself.
Romana ignored the telltale red envelope as she hunted for her credit card. Order me a cinnamon Danish, and a double-double coffee, okay? I need five minutes alone with my cell phone to call an oldfriend.
Is he as hunky as Patrick?
Is he as hunky as Patrick?
A chill, possibly borne of fear, or more likely of some weird anticipation, feathered along Romanas spine. Oh, hes hunky enough. She fingered the flap of the red envelope. Im just not sure how happy hell be to hear from me.
DECEMBER DARKNESS FELL EARLY over Cincinnati. Snowflakes from an approaching weather system fluttered and danced and added to the already festive feeling in the air. Jacob Knight sat in his converted loft with his feet propped on the radiator and watched as pockets of red, gold and green lights winked to life around him.
He could see some portion of Fountain Square and the silver-blue glow that surrounded it. Thanksgiving had come and gone; it was all about Christmas now. About family and friends for most, more about bad memories for him.
When the phone rang, he debated briefly, then picked up.
Knight.
Well, what dyou know, he exists. Ive talked to your voice mail so many times I was beginning to think youd skipped the country without telling anyone.
Jacob swallowed a mouthful of coffee, kept his eyes on the expanding Christmas glow. Im still waking up, OKeefe. Keep it short and simple.
His former partner released a breath. Critch made parole two days ago.
Yeah, I heard.
He came across sweet as pie for the review board.
I guess he figured surly wouldnt cut it.
OKeefe grunted. Im worried about you, pal. Critch will want answers. If he decides to look for them, you know where thatll lead him.
Jacob finished his coffee, dropped his feet to the floor and pushed out of the chair. Critch wrote his own answers six years ago when he found Belinda dead in their home. If he comes after me, Ill deal with him.
Oh, hell come, his former partner assured. The question is how, when and where? Will he do it from the front where you can see him, or will he blindside you? Im betting on a blindside.
Its a good thing Im trained then, huh? Jacob glanced at his voice mail. Eleven messages, but the majority of them were probably from OKeefe.
You need a watchdog, my friend, or a mother. Better still, a wife. You also need to have some fun. Do you realize its been two years since weve gone to a Reds game? Hell, its been half as long since we even had a beer together.
Youre day shift, Im night. The citys jumping, and the departments short-staffed.
Yadda, yadda. Those are excuses. But pleasure aside, the fact remains, Critch is loose, and I dont think any shrink ever really got inside his head during those prison years.
Im a good cop, OKeefe.
Im worried about Romana, too, okay? Lie and tell me youve forgotten that incredible face.
Jacob slid his gaze to the window. No, I havent forgotten her face. Or anything else about her. He wont go after Romana, okay? Ill make sure of it.
Ah, finally, we arrive at the crux of it. Youll make sure he doesnt go for Romana by getting him to come after you.
With his eyes still on the windows and his lips curved in a smile, Jacob asked, Shouldnt you be heading home to your kid about now?
Nah, shes with her mom in Los Angeles. Indefinitely. Its one way to get custody, I suppose. Move to a place with sunshine, beaches and an excess of skater boys.
Jacob hunted for and located his keys and badge. Well have that beer before Christmas, Mick. And thanks for the heads-up on Critch.
Ill keep an eye on Romana.
Jacob ignored the tightening in his belly as he shouldered his holster. Im late. Tell Captain Harris Ill be working on the Parker case tonight.
Watch your back, Jacob.
His back, right. Except it hadnt been his back Warren Critch had been aiming at in that alley six years ago. And Jacob knew he hadnt done a damned thing to prevent the confrontation from taking place.
Shrugging into his lined leather jacket, he noted that the snow was falling more heavily now. He clipped his badge to the waistband of his jeans and headed for the stairs.
He didnt believe in signs or portents, but human tendencies and inherited traits were different matters. And while he might wish he could dismiss them, in six long years hed never quite been able to get past what might actually be.
What he might have done.
He raised his eyes skyward, realized where he was looking and let wry amusement rise. His father was dead, but there was no chance hed gone upward in the afterlife. If hell existed, his old man would burn there forever. Who knew, one day his only son might be joining him.
Because he didnt want to think about the night ahead- or anything or anyone else right then-Jacob concentrated on his neighbors music as he started down the stairs.
Seventy-eight-year-old Denny Leech had been blasting Rat Pack Christmas songs on her ancient stereo for the past two days. She claimed Frank, Dean and Sammy ignited her creative fire. Painters needed inspiration. The problem was, Denny was painting her entire lower loft with one very small roller and a brush shed found in the trash. In her case, creativity could take until Easter to play out.
She waved to him through her open door. Im doing a northern lights ceiling mural, Jacob. My granddaughters coming over Sunday to see it. You remember Penelope, dont you?
Yeah, shes very pretty.
Youd make a lovely couple. Shes growing her hair. Shes a blonde now
Humor kindled as he pushed on the rear door. Dennys voice followed him out. Shed talk for five more minutes before she realized he was gone.
Hed parked his black SUV in the alley early this morning. Had he alarmed it? A movement near the snow-covered hood suggested hed forgotten.
Punctual as always, Detective Knight. I love that quality in a man.
Romana Grey. Hed recognize that seductive purr anywhere. He also recognized the act she put on as she strolled around the fender.
She did it well, better than most people, but she had to be as uncertain of him now as she had been after Belinda Critch was found dead on her living room floor.
Jacob ran his gaze over her long white coat and black boots, then back up until he encountered her striking gray-blue eyes. You love too easily, Romana. Why are you here?
She leaned on the hood with her customary teasing grace. You didnt answer your phone this afternoon, Detective.
He felt the tightening in his groin and shifted position. I work the night shift. I sleep in the afternoon.