The Peyton Brooks' Mysteries Box Set, page 101
“Emotionally involved? I don’t think I get emotionally involved.”
“Really?”
Peyton knew she’d entered a dangerous topic, but she didn’t know how to deflect it. “I have never received a complaint about my work ethic.”
He lifted a few pages on his tablet and reviewed some notes he’d scribbled there. “Let’s see.” He shifted a few more pages, then looked up at her. “Currently, you have a murder suspect renting a room in your house. Not only that, but you got him a job.”
“Well…”
“You allowed a prostitute to come into your home and take a shower. Later on she betrayed you.”
“That was…”
“And in your last case, instead of turning over an open and shut case to the D.A., you stonewalled him and continued working it past all reason, even against the advice of your partner.”
Peyton leaned forward. “If I hadn’t kept working that last case, we would have sent an innocent man to prison. As for Jake Ryder, he was also innocent.”
“And the prostitute?”
Peyton stopped. Flattening her hand on the table, she drew a deep breath. “I was trying to save her.”
“Here’s what I think. Your father is dead, your mother is estranged, and you have no siblings, so you fill that void with the people around you, making them into your ersatz family.”
“Most people would feel that’s healthy.”
He flipped a few more pages. “Most people wouldn’t bring a murder suspect into their house. Not only that, but you have a failed romantic relationship with the assistant district attorney, call the medical examiner your best friend, and then there’s your relationship with your partner.”
Peyton slumped back in her seat. “What does that mean?”
“Do you deny that you are exceptionally close to your partner?”
“That happens when you trust your life to someone every day for eight years. You can’t possibly understand that sort of a bond.”
“Relax, Inspector Brooks. My job is counseling cops. I understand that relationship quite well.”
“So what are you implying?”
“You were badly shaken yesterday after the shooting. Your captain ordered you to be seen by a medical professional who deemed it necessary to give you a tranquilizer.”
“Yeah, someone shot at me, damn near hit me.” She pointed to the cuts on her cheek.
“Is that really why you were shaken up, Inspector Brooks?”
“Of course it was.”
“And yet the last time you were shot at, you didn’t need any medical assistance. In fact, a man was shot right next to you and you continued working the case as if nothing had happened. What changed this time?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“Well, I don’t. Maybe it was because it’s happened so much lately. Maybe it was the environment.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Well, I don’t know then.”
“I really think you do, but you’re afraid to admit it to yourself.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Why was this time different?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t. It just was.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Peyton slammed her hand down on the table. “Because I should have been the one to shoot. It should have been me, not Marco. I should have killed him.”
Closing her eyes, she lowered her head.
Doctor Ferguson picked up his pen and wrote something on his pad. She could hear the scratch of the tip across the paper. Forcing herself to breathe in and out, she calmed herself. This had to be a bad thing. There was no way that much writing indicated anything other than disaster.
“I suppose you want my gun now.”
“Not at all.”
Peyton opened her eyes and looked at him. “What?”
“We’re finally getting somewhere.”
“And where is that?”
He smiled. His face didn’t soften much as a result, but he was a little less intimidating. “Were you and Inspector D’Angelo always close?”
Peyton gave a bark of laughter. The question was so unexpected. “No, he hated me at first.”
“Why?”
Peyton allowed herself to lean back in the chair. “I guess I can be a little overbearing at times and he was uptight.”
“Overbearing how?”
Peyton smiled in memory. “I told his date one time that I was his wife.”
Ferguson gave her an amused look. “You did what?”
Peyton remembered Defino’s warning about telling silly stories. “It’s nothing.”
“I disagree. It lets me get to the heart of this situation, lets me understand the dynamics of your relationship. It bears directly on why you feel you should have taken the shot when everyone else indicates he had the better angle.”
“I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”
“What is this dissembling really about, Inspector Brooks?”
“Captain Defino told me not to waste your time with anecdotes and silly stories.”
“I see.”
“She told me to answer your questions and nothing more.”
“You mean she didn’t want you to do to me what you did to the other psychologist you saw?”
“Exactly.”
“Tell me the story, Inspector Brooks. I’ll deal with your captain myself.”
Peyton sighed, but she was relieved. This seemed a hell of a lot safer than talking about the shooting. There was absolutely nothing Doctor Ferguson could get out of her first meeting with Marco.
* * *
Peyton opened the door to the precinct and stepped into the lobby. A counter lay in front of her and beyond that was an unmanned desk. The door to the left opened on a conference room and the door to the right was closed. Peyton moved to the counter and leaned over, trying to peer into the rest of the building, but she couldn’t see anything beyond a couple of brown partitions.
The outer door opened and a huge man stepped through. He was at least six four, massive shoulders, and had one of the handsomest faces she’d ever seen. He had wide cheekbones, a square chin, and broad forehead. His nose cut a straight slash in the middle of a Patrician face. With his dark black hair pulled back in a ponytail and heavily lashed blue eyes, he was gorgeous.
He eyed her up and down. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she returned.
Behind her she heard heels on the tiled floor. A young Hispanic woman with an hour-glass figure came around the corner and approached the desk. She spotted Peyton first and her nose crinkled up as if she smelled something bad, then her gaze lifted to the young god behind her. A smile bloomed across her lips, lighting up her eyes.
“Hello. I’m Maria Sanchez.” She checked an appointment book on her desk. “And you must be…”
“Peyton Brooks.” She held out her hand over the counter.
Maria ignored it and went to the half-door on the left side and pulled it open. “This way.”
Peyton pulled her hand back and eased around the counter into the inner sanctum of the precinct, but once on the other side she wasn’t sure where to go. She turned back to Maria, but the woman was fixated on the man.
“And you must be Marco D’Angelo.” Her eyes tracked him up and down and Peyton thought she thrust her chest out just a bit.
“You’ve got me,” he said in a deep rumble, holding out his hand. He gave her a lazy smile.
She beamed at him and took his hand, sliding her palm along his until her fingers touched his wrist. Peyton wanted to make a gagging motion, but she was afraid it wouldn’t look professional.
“I have a meeting with Captain Defino this morning,” she suggested.
Maria looked over at her and made the same crinkling motion with her nose. “This way.” She pointed to the closed office door and led the way. Knocking at the door, she turned the handle and leaned inside. “Your nine o’clock is here.”
“Send them in,” came a feminine voice.
Peyton frowned. For some reason she’d expected Captain Defino to be a man.
Maria held the door open. “Go right in.”
Peyton went first, stepping into a dark office whose blinds were closed against the sunlight. She glanced back over her shoulder and watched D’Angelo enter. He had to turn sideways to get beyond Maria and she gave him a sultry look as he passed.
Peyton rolled her eyes, then faced forward again. A stocky woman of medium height rose from behind a glass desk and motioned them forward. She had short brown hair and a business pants suit that looked stiff and proper. Across from her sat a middle aged Caucasian man with a barrel chest and enormous hands and next to him was an Asian man who shifted in his seat with quick, sharp movements.
“Officers Brooks and D’Angelo?”
“Brooks, ma’am,” said Peyton.
D’Angelo just nodded.
“I guess I should correct myself. Inspectors Brooks and D’Angelo, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She motioned to the two men at her desk. “This is Inspector Bill Simons and Inspector Nathan Cho.” She gave a slight smile. “These young people are our two latest hotshots. Both graduated at the top of their class.”
Simons gave a grunt, but he didn’t seem impressed. Cho rose quickly and held out his hand to Peyton.
“Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you,” she said, watching as he moved to D’Angelo and also shook his hand.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the captain, motioning to the door. “That will be all. I need to debrief our young detectives now.”
Simons lumbered to his feet, forcing Peyton to back up nearly into D’Angelo. She felt tiny between the two massive men. “Good luck,” said Simons and followed Cho from the room.
Defino motioned to the vacated chairs. “Have a seat.”
Peyton hurried to the one on the right and sank into it. She clasped her hands in her lap and plastered an uncomfortable smile on her face. She was excited about this new opportunity, but she was also nervous. Most detectives rose through the ranks after a long career as street cops. She really wasn’t sure she was ready for this advancement, but her previous captain had encouraged her. They were short on detectives and he felt it would be a great opportunity for her. She hadn’t actually believed she’d pass the tests, then to test out as one of the highest in her class…it was all happening so fast.
Captain Defino sat down again and picked up a file in front of her. “Give me a minute to review this,” she said.
Peyton nodded and watched D’Angelo lever his long legs into the unforgiving melamine chair next to her. He wore a ribbed sweater and it pulled tight across his chest, outlining the muscles in his abdomen. Peyton looked away. She wasn’t immune to so much masculine beauty, but this guy was too much. There was no way that much muscle had also graduated top of his class.
While Defino continued to look through the file, Peyton fidgeted. She’d never been very good at waiting. The captain had a crystal stapler sitting on the edge of the desk closest to Peyton. She’d never seen anything like it before. The staples were visible in the carriage and she couldn’t help but wonder if you could actually see the sharp edges fold in when you pressed the top down.
Reaching out two fingers, she depressed the stapler. The mechanism moved down, advancing the staple, but as soon as it came in contact with the metal clip in the lower part, the staple disappeared from view. She leaned forward to see where it went, but suddenly realized Defino had stopped turning pages. She looked up to find the captain watching her. Defino reached out, taking the stapler from her and setting it to the side.
Peyton gave her a tight grin and leaned back only to catch the smug smile on D’Angelo’s finely sculpted lips. She shot him a glare and folded her hands again.
“Well, everything seems to be in order,” said Defino, closing the file and laying her hands on top. “Maria will show you to your desks and as soon as we get a case, I’ll hand it over to the two of you.”
Peyton lifted her head. “The two of us?”
Defino nodded.
Peyton pointed between her and D’Angelo. “The two of us?”
“Right. Is something wrong?”
Peyton shifted forward in her chair. “Do you mean I’m going to be working with…” She pointed her finger at the man sitting next to her. “…him?”
“Yes.”
“Him?”
The captain glared at her. “Inspector Brooks, is there a problem?”
“No, I just thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought I was going to be working with one of the inspectors who were in here earlier.”
“Simons and Cho?”
“Right.”
“Simons and Cho have been partners for years. I’m not breaking up a team like that.”
“But, Captain?” She held out a hand, indicating D’Angelo.
Defino folded her hands on the file. “What exactly is your problem with Inspector D’Angelo? He graduated with nearly the same scores you did.”
Peyton closed her mouth. No use making enemies the first day. “Nothing. I have no problems.”
“Good. Then please go out and have Maria get you some desks.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said D’Angelo, flashing her that lazy smile.
The captain’s stern façade vanished and she beamed at him. “You’re very welcome, Inspector D’Angelo.”
“Marco, please.”
“Of course, Marco.”
His smile dried as he glanced back at Peyton, then he went to the door and pulled it open. Peyton followed him out.
Marco, please, she mouthed.
Maria simpered with delight when he told her what Defino requested. She led them around the corner of the precinct and to a pair of desks which were arranged nose to nose, the front ends touching each other.
“Take your pick,” she said, but she leaned into D’Angelo and pointed to the one on the right. “That one is closest to the break-room and faces the front of the precinct.”
“Good call,” he said, winking at her.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way back to her desk.
D’Angelo walked over to the desk on the right and pulled out the chair.
“What makes you think that’s your desk?”
He glanced up at her. “If you want it, just say so.”
Peyton clenched her jaw, but she moved to the desk on the left. “I don’t really care. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your view of Maria’s cleavage.”
He moved toward her, taking a seat on the edge of the desks where they touched. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?”
“I don’t have a problem.” She rolled the chair back and forth.
“Yes, you do. Look, if this is going to work, we’ve got to be honest with each other. Is it me or do you hate all men?”
“I like men. I love men.” She caught herself and closed her eyes as that maddening smile bloomed across his mouth. Lifting her hand, she let it fall against the top of the chair. “It’s just I thought I’d get a seasoned partner, someone like Simons or Cho, not a…”
“Not a what?”
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. “Not a GQ underwear model.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you think I feel? They give me a pixie with three inch heels. Where’s Peter Pan, sweetheart?”
Peyton gave him a wry smile. “I can still kick your ass.”
He rose to his full, impressive height and moved a step closer until he towered over her. “You can’t reach my ass, honey.”
She glared him down, but he just gave her that slow smile and turned away.
“How ‘bout a cup of coffee?” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the break-room.
* * *
Marco lived on the second floor of a walk-up on the edge of the Sunset. She found the building and climbed the narrow staircase to his door. After knocking, she put her hands in her back pockets and rocked on her heels.
She could hear music and muted voices on the other side, so she knew he was home, but no one came to the door. She knocked again, louder this time. Someone fumbled with the chain on the other side and then the door swung inward.
Marco stood in the entrance with only a sheet wrapped around his waist. Peyton’s brows rose as she took in the naked planes of his chest, all hard angles and defined muscles, sweeping down to a washboard abdomen.
“What are you doing here?” he growled at her.
“We have a case.” Involuntarily, her eyes tracked lower over the sculpted lines of his belly.
“See something you like, Inspector Brooks.”
She lifted her gaze to his. Damn, but his face was every bit as gorgeous as the rest of him. “Yeah, unfortunately it doesn’t come with a brain.”
He gave her that lazy smile of his. “I suppose you won’t wait outside.”
“Not a chance.”
He threw back the door and she stepped in, glancing around. She’d always thought bachelor pads were the stuff of movies, but if so, Marco bought into it with conviction. A broken down couch, a massive recliner, two wine crates and a flat screen TV made up his living room. A galley kitchen with an enormous stainless steel refrigerator and a two burner stove occupied the right half of the room. An open bedroom door with a king size bed lay to the left. She guessed the bathroom had to be through the bedroom.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, heading toward the left.
She glanced after him as he disappeared around the door.
“I’ve gotta go,” he told someone.
“Who’s here?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve just gotta go.”
“What the hell do you mean you gotta go?”
Peyton wandered over to the couch and took a seat.
Suddenly a blond woman appeared in the bedroom doorway, glaring out at her. She had a blanket wrapped around her body. “Who the hell are you?”
Peyton flashed her a smile. “His wife,” she said mischievously.
“His wife!” She disappeared behind the door again. “She’s your wife!”
“Really?”
Peyton knew she’d entered a dangerous topic, but she didn’t know how to deflect it. “I have never received a complaint about my work ethic.”
He lifted a few pages on his tablet and reviewed some notes he’d scribbled there. “Let’s see.” He shifted a few more pages, then looked up at her. “Currently, you have a murder suspect renting a room in your house. Not only that, but you got him a job.”
“Well…”
“You allowed a prostitute to come into your home and take a shower. Later on she betrayed you.”
“That was…”
“And in your last case, instead of turning over an open and shut case to the D.A., you stonewalled him and continued working it past all reason, even against the advice of your partner.”
Peyton leaned forward. “If I hadn’t kept working that last case, we would have sent an innocent man to prison. As for Jake Ryder, he was also innocent.”
“And the prostitute?”
Peyton stopped. Flattening her hand on the table, she drew a deep breath. “I was trying to save her.”
“Here’s what I think. Your father is dead, your mother is estranged, and you have no siblings, so you fill that void with the people around you, making them into your ersatz family.”
“Most people would feel that’s healthy.”
He flipped a few more pages. “Most people wouldn’t bring a murder suspect into their house. Not only that, but you have a failed romantic relationship with the assistant district attorney, call the medical examiner your best friend, and then there’s your relationship with your partner.”
Peyton slumped back in her seat. “What does that mean?”
“Do you deny that you are exceptionally close to your partner?”
“That happens when you trust your life to someone every day for eight years. You can’t possibly understand that sort of a bond.”
“Relax, Inspector Brooks. My job is counseling cops. I understand that relationship quite well.”
“So what are you implying?”
“You were badly shaken yesterday after the shooting. Your captain ordered you to be seen by a medical professional who deemed it necessary to give you a tranquilizer.”
“Yeah, someone shot at me, damn near hit me.” She pointed to the cuts on her cheek.
“Is that really why you were shaken up, Inspector Brooks?”
“Of course it was.”
“And yet the last time you were shot at, you didn’t need any medical assistance. In fact, a man was shot right next to you and you continued working the case as if nothing had happened. What changed this time?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“Well, I don’t. Maybe it was because it’s happened so much lately. Maybe it was the environment.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Well, I don’t know then.”
“I really think you do, but you’re afraid to admit it to yourself.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Why was this time different?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t. It just was.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Peyton slammed her hand down on the table. “Because I should have been the one to shoot. It should have been me, not Marco. I should have killed him.”
Closing her eyes, she lowered her head.
Doctor Ferguson picked up his pen and wrote something on his pad. She could hear the scratch of the tip across the paper. Forcing herself to breathe in and out, she calmed herself. This had to be a bad thing. There was no way that much writing indicated anything other than disaster.
“I suppose you want my gun now.”
“Not at all.”
Peyton opened her eyes and looked at him. “What?”
“We’re finally getting somewhere.”
“And where is that?”
He smiled. His face didn’t soften much as a result, but he was a little less intimidating. “Were you and Inspector D’Angelo always close?”
Peyton gave a bark of laughter. The question was so unexpected. “No, he hated me at first.”
“Why?”
Peyton allowed herself to lean back in the chair. “I guess I can be a little overbearing at times and he was uptight.”
“Overbearing how?”
Peyton smiled in memory. “I told his date one time that I was his wife.”
Ferguson gave her an amused look. “You did what?”
Peyton remembered Defino’s warning about telling silly stories. “It’s nothing.”
“I disagree. It lets me get to the heart of this situation, lets me understand the dynamics of your relationship. It bears directly on why you feel you should have taken the shot when everyone else indicates he had the better angle.”
“I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”
“What is this dissembling really about, Inspector Brooks?”
“Captain Defino told me not to waste your time with anecdotes and silly stories.”
“I see.”
“She told me to answer your questions and nothing more.”
“You mean she didn’t want you to do to me what you did to the other psychologist you saw?”
“Exactly.”
“Tell me the story, Inspector Brooks. I’ll deal with your captain myself.”
Peyton sighed, but she was relieved. This seemed a hell of a lot safer than talking about the shooting. There was absolutely nothing Doctor Ferguson could get out of her first meeting with Marco.
* * *
Peyton opened the door to the precinct and stepped into the lobby. A counter lay in front of her and beyond that was an unmanned desk. The door to the left opened on a conference room and the door to the right was closed. Peyton moved to the counter and leaned over, trying to peer into the rest of the building, but she couldn’t see anything beyond a couple of brown partitions.
The outer door opened and a huge man stepped through. He was at least six four, massive shoulders, and had one of the handsomest faces she’d ever seen. He had wide cheekbones, a square chin, and broad forehead. His nose cut a straight slash in the middle of a Patrician face. With his dark black hair pulled back in a ponytail and heavily lashed blue eyes, he was gorgeous.
He eyed her up and down. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she returned.
Behind her she heard heels on the tiled floor. A young Hispanic woman with an hour-glass figure came around the corner and approached the desk. She spotted Peyton first and her nose crinkled up as if she smelled something bad, then her gaze lifted to the young god behind her. A smile bloomed across her lips, lighting up her eyes.
“Hello. I’m Maria Sanchez.” She checked an appointment book on her desk. “And you must be…”
“Peyton Brooks.” She held out her hand over the counter.
Maria ignored it and went to the half-door on the left side and pulled it open. “This way.”
Peyton pulled her hand back and eased around the counter into the inner sanctum of the precinct, but once on the other side she wasn’t sure where to go. She turned back to Maria, but the woman was fixated on the man.
“And you must be Marco D’Angelo.” Her eyes tracked him up and down and Peyton thought she thrust her chest out just a bit.
“You’ve got me,” he said in a deep rumble, holding out his hand. He gave her a lazy smile.
She beamed at him and took his hand, sliding her palm along his until her fingers touched his wrist. Peyton wanted to make a gagging motion, but she was afraid it wouldn’t look professional.
“I have a meeting with Captain Defino this morning,” she suggested.
Maria looked over at her and made the same crinkling motion with her nose. “This way.” She pointed to the closed office door and led the way. Knocking at the door, she turned the handle and leaned inside. “Your nine o’clock is here.”
“Send them in,” came a feminine voice.
Peyton frowned. For some reason she’d expected Captain Defino to be a man.
Maria held the door open. “Go right in.”
Peyton went first, stepping into a dark office whose blinds were closed against the sunlight. She glanced back over her shoulder and watched D’Angelo enter. He had to turn sideways to get beyond Maria and she gave him a sultry look as he passed.
Peyton rolled her eyes, then faced forward again. A stocky woman of medium height rose from behind a glass desk and motioned them forward. She had short brown hair and a business pants suit that looked stiff and proper. Across from her sat a middle aged Caucasian man with a barrel chest and enormous hands and next to him was an Asian man who shifted in his seat with quick, sharp movements.
“Officers Brooks and D’Angelo?”
“Brooks, ma’am,” said Peyton.
D’Angelo just nodded.
“I guess I should correct myself. Inspectors Brooks and D’Angelo, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She motioned to the two men at her desk. “This is Inspector Bill Simons and Inspector Nathan Cho.” She gave a slight smile. “These young people are our two latest hotshots. Both graduated at the top of their class.”
Simons gave a grunt, but he didn’t seem impressed. Cho rose quickly and held out his hand to Peyton.
“Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you,” she said, watching as he moved to D’Angelo and also shook his hand.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the captain, motioning to the door. “That will be all. I need to debrief our young detectives now.”
Simons lumbered to his feet, forcing Peyton to back up nearly into D’Angelo. She felt tiny between the two massive men. “Good luck,” said Simons and followed Cho from the room.
Defino motioned to the vacated chairs. “Have a seat.”
Peyton hurried to the one on the right and sank into it. She clasped her hands in her lap and plastered an uncomfortable smile on her face. She was excited about this new opportunity, but she was also nervous. Most detectives rose through the ranks after a long career as street cops. She really wasn’t sure she was ready for this advancement, but her previous captain had encouraged her. They were short on detectives and he felt it would be a great opportunity for her. She hadn’t actually believed she’d pass the tests, then to test out as one of the highest in her class…it was all happening so fast.
Captain Defino sat down again and picked up a file in front of her. “Give me a minute to review this,” she said.
Peyton nodded and watched D’Angelo lever his long legs into the unforgiving melamine chair next to her. He wore a ribbed sweater and it pulled tight across his chest, outlining the muscles in his abdomen. Peyton looked away. She wasn’t immune to so much masculine beauty, but this guy was too much. There was no way that much muscle had also graduated top of his class.
While Defino continued to look through the file, Peyton fidgeted. She’d never been very good at waiting. The captain had a crystal stapler sitting on the edge of the desk closest to Peyton. She’d never seen anything like it before. The staples were visible in the carriage and she couldn’t help but wonder if you could actually see the sharp edges fold in when you pressed the top down.
Reaching out two fingers, she depressed the stapler. The mechanism moved down, advancing the staple, but as soon as it came in contact with the metal clip in the lower part, the staple disappeared from view. She leaned forward to see where it went, but suddenly realized Defino had stopped turning pages. She looked up to find the captain watching her. Defino reached out, taking the stapler from her and setting it to the side.
Peyton gave her a tight grin and leaned back only to catch the smug smile on D’Angelo’s finely sculpted lips. She shot him a glare and folded her hands again.
“Well, everything seems to be in order,” said Defino, closing the file and laying her hands on top. “Maria will show you to your desks and as soon as we get a case, I’ll hand it over to the two of you.”
Peyton lifted her head. “The two of us?”
Defino nodded.
Peyton pointed between her and D’Angelo. “The two of us?”
“Right. Is something wrong?”
Peyton shifted forward in her chair. “Do you mean I’m going to be working with…” She pointed her finger at the man sitting next to her. “…him?”
“Yes.”
“Him?”
The captain glared at her. “Inspector Brooks, is there a problem?”
“No, I just thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought I was going to be working with one of the inspectors who were in here earlier.”
“Simons and Cho?”
“Right.”
“Simons and Cho have been partners for years. I’m not breaking up a team like that.”
“But, Captain?” She held out a hand, indicating D’Angelo.
Defino folded her hands on the file. “What exactly is your problem with Inspector D’Angelo? He graduated with nearly the same scores you did.”
Peyton closed her mouth. No use making enemies the first day. “Nothing. I have no problems.”
“Good. Then please go out and have Maria get you some desks.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said D’Angelo, flashing her that lazy smile.
The captain’s stern façade vanished and she beamed at him. “You’re very welcome, Inspector D’Angelo.”
“Marco, please.”
“Of course, Marco.”
His smile dried as he glanced back at Peyton, then he went to the door and pulled it open. Peyton followed him out.
Marco, please, she mouthed.
Maria simpered with delight when he told her what Defino requested. She led them around the corner of the precinct and to a pair of desks which were arranged nose to nose, the front ends touching each other.
“Take your pick,” she said, but she leaned into D’Angelo and pointed to the one on the right. “That one is closest to the break-room and faces the front of the precinct.”
“Good call,” he said, winking at her.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way back to her desk.
D’Angelo walked over to the desk on the right and pulled out the chair.
“What makes you think that’s your desk?”
He glanced up at her. “If you want it, just say so.”
Peyton clenched her jaw, but she moved to the desk on the left. “I don’t really care. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your view of Maria’s cleavage.”
He moved toward her, taking a seat on the edge of the desks where they touched. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?”
“I don’t have a problem.” She rolled the chair back and forth.
“Yes, you do. Look, if this is going to work, we’ve got to be honest with each other. Is it me or do you hate all men?”
“I like men. I love men.” She caught herself and closed her eyes as that maddening smile bloomed across his mouth. Lifting her hand, she let it fall against the top of the chair. “It’s just I thought I’d get a seasoned partner, someone like Simons or Cho, not a…”
“Not a what?”
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. “Not a GQ underwear model.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you think I feel? They give me a pixie with three inch heels. Where’s Peter Pan, sweetheart?”
Peyton gave him a wry smile. “I can still kick your ass.”
He rose to his full, impressive height and moved a step closer until he towered over her. “You can’t reach my ass, honey.”
She glared him down, but he just gave her that slow smile and turned away.
“How ‘bout a cup of coffee?” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the break-room.
* * *
Marco lived on the second floor of a walk-up on the edge of the Sunset. She found the building and climbed the narrow staircase to his door. After knocking, she put her hands in her back pockets and rocked on her heels.
She could hear music and muted voices on the other side, so she knew he was home, but no one came to the door. She knocked again, louder this time. Someone fumbled with the chain on the other side and then the door swung inward.
Marco stood in the entrance with only a sheet wrapped around his waist. Peyton’s brows rose as she took in the naked planes of his chest, all hard angles and defined muscles, sweeping down to a washboard abdomen.
“What are you doing here?” he growled at her.
“We have a case.” Involuntarily, her eyes tracked lower over the sculpted lines of his belly.
“See something you like, Inspector Brooks.”
She lifted her gaze to his. Damn, but his face was every bit as gorgeous as the rest of him. “Yeah, unfortunately it doesn’t come with a brain.”
He gave her that lazy smile of his. “I suppose you won’t wait outside.”
“Not a chance.”
He threw back the door and she stepped in, glancing around. She’d always thought bachelor pads were the stuff of movies, but if so, Marco bought into it with conviction. A broken down couch, a massive recliner, two wine crates and a flat screen TV made up his living room. A galley kitchen with an enormous stainless steel refrigerator and a two burner stove occupied the right half of the room. An open bedroom door with a king size bed lay to the left. She guessed the bathroom had to be through the bedroom.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, heading toward the left.
She glanced after him as he disappeared around the door.
“I’ve gotta go,” he told someone.
“Who’s here?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve just gotta go.”
“What the hell do you mean you gotta go?”
Peyton wandered over to the couch and took a seat.
Suddenly a blond woman appeared in the bedroom doorway, glaring out at her. She had a blanket wrapped around her body. “Who the hell are you?”
Peyton flashed her a smile. “His wife,” she said mischievously.
“His wife!” She disappeared behind the door again. “She’s your wife!”
