Trusting the Enemy, page 24
A gunshot rang out.
She looked up. Solera. Hiding on the roof. She aimed and squeezed her trigger before ducking back down.
Her father stood and returned fire. Two more shots sounded.
Trice heard a groan from her dad. He went down. He’d been hit.
* * *
AS CALLAHAN DROVE into the parking lot of Trice’s condo, Monroe heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots. He saw a black Mercedes limo, Lomonosoff’s vehicle of choice, but not Trice. He hoped she’d taken cover.
He prayed she hadn’t taken a bullet.
Where the hell was Gandy? When Monroe had called back to inform him why he’d miss their 6:00 a.m. meet, the major hadn’t been happy but promised to provide backup.
“We’re too late,” Callahan said. “It’s already started.”
We can’t be.
“You want a microphone?” Callahan asked.
“This vehicle has a speaker?”
Callahan reached under the dash, flipped a switch and handed Monroe a square microphone. “I used to do volunteer patrols in my baby. I needed a speaker.”
“Stay down,” Monroe ordered.
Callahan lowered his bucket seat to a prone position.
Monroe opened the passenger door, placed one foot outside and stayed low. The door wouldn’t provide cover from bullets, but the engine block would. He held his weapon in his right hand and the mic in his left. Awkward, but every patrol officer had assumed this position on a call.
“Miami-Dade Police,” Monroe announced over the speaker. “Drop your weapons.”
* * *
“DAD,” TRICE SHOUTED as she crawled toward her father.
Bright right red blood stained the shirt on his right shoulder. He’d been hit outside the vest, but not an artery. Not a life-threatening wound if he got quick medical treatment. But they were pinned down. He could still bleed out.
“Sorry, kid,” he said. “I’m no good to you now.”
Trice grabbed her father’s left hand and pressed it against his wound. “Keep applying direct pressure,” she instructed.
Trice flipped to her back and analyzed her situation. How fitting that Solera would hide somewhere. Such a coward. But Lomonosoff would send his other goons after them.
She was a trained police officer. She knew what to do. She remembered Monroe’s voice from the academy: If you’ve accepted the risk and the op goes south, be flexible and adapt.
Damn right she’d adapt. She reached for the shotgun. She wouldn’t go out easy. She’d take Serge and his unnamed buddy with her.
“Miami-Dade Police,” sounded over a tinny loudspeaker. “Drop your weapons.”
“Monroe?” She sucked in a breath.
She looked at her father. “That’s Monroe.”
“Took him long enough,” her father gritted out, in obvious pain.
“You knew he was coming?”
“Bastard made me come.”
And then Trice heard the most welcome sound of her life: the wail of a police siren.
She closed her eyes.
Multiple sirens. Monroe had brought backup.
* * *
MONROE BREATHED A sigh of relief when he heard the sirens.
“Cavalry has arrived,” Callahan muttered. “About damn time.”
“Go after the bitch,” Lomonosoff yelled at his men. He either didn’t hear the warning sirens or was too far gone to care. “Bring her to me.”
The two bodyguards exchanged a look. They didn’t move.
Lomonosoff slapped the smaller man across the cheek, grabbed his weapon and moved toward a rusted dumpster. He raised his arm and fired as he advanced. Bullets ricocheted off the metal.
Trice must be hidden inside or behind.
“Drop your weapon,” Monroe ordered.
The Russian kept firing.
Monroe took aim at his right leg. A risky shot, easy to miss, but he wouldn’t shoot a man in the back. Not even this one.
A shot slammed into Lomonosoff’s back. He went down, his gun skittering away on the asphalt.
Monroe looked up but saw no one. What the hell?
Seeing his boss down, the big guy dropped his weapon and raised his arms in surrender. The little one crouched with his arms over his head.
They were done. Were there others?
Who had shot Lomo?
“Trice,” Monroe yelled. “Where are you?”
Her head emerged from behind the dumpster. Her gaze focused on Lomonosoff where he lay still. Then she stood, holding her weapon in a two-handed grip, barrel facing down.
Their eyes met across the parking lot.
Monroe stood. He wanted to go to her, to hold her.
But police units were everywhere.
* * *
TRICE WAITED FOR Monroe on her screened front porch, her favorite place during a heavy rain. Safe from the storm, she’d curled up on her sofa to watch the wind whip the palm fronds in every direction.
Like her life used to be. But not anymore.
The heavens had finally opened. Most of the state of Florida was now blessed with these sheets of driving rain. Her parched brown grass morphed to green as she watched. Of course the rain also meant the moving van parked in Eleanor’s driveway couldn’t be loaded for her trip to Oregon.
But another rainy season had finally begun. I thought this one would never arrive.
But of course the rains always came. There were some things in life one could rely on. She smiled.
Like Monroe DiSilva.
He said he was coming over. So he’d be here. No matter how much pain he was in.
Despite all the obstacles, they’d learned to trust each other.
A sudden gust misted Trice’s face. She welcomed the cool, damp feeling. She needed to be washed clean from the ugliness of the past few weeks.
From the horror show at her condo yesterday.
Lomonosoff was dead. Solera confessed to taking the shot, claiming he was doing his job. Yeah, right. He’d wanted to cover his own ass and rid himself of a witness.
With the display of police force brought by Gandy, Solera had no choice but to show himself and surrender. That scum was in jail—where he belonged—along with Medina and Tomlinson who’d been caught at the airport trying to get out of town. Medina had been the first to strike a deal and rat out her partners. All three would spend the rest of their miserable lives behind bars.
Trice hoped the news of her brother’s demise would get to Tasha so she could stop hiding.
The Russians’ money laundering at the airport had ended—for now. Until another bad guy picked up where Lomo had left off.
Her dad was in the hospital, but the physicians assured her he’d make a full recovery. She’d forgiven him. How could she not? She’d made plenty of mistakes herself. What might have happened to her if not for Monroe?
Oh, there’d be a board of inquiry in a few weeks, but she wasn’t worried. She knew she’d come out okay, even if IA didn’t approve of her plan to wrench a confession out of Lomonosoff. What had Gandy called it? A harebrained, amateur cluster... She shook her head. Expletive deleted.
But he’d looked damn satisfied about the outcome as he ripped her a new one.
And she had to admit in hindsight her idea seemed foolish. But it had worked. Kinda, sorta... Thanks to Monroe.
So, yeah, everything had come out good. The only remaining question was what would happen between her and Monroe.
And that was all she cared about.
Monroe had believed in her when no one else did. Because of him she’d gotten her life and her career back on track. He was that rare man who gave more than he got.
His trust had allowed her to trust herself again, to believe in herself.
She finally knew what love was, but did he love her? And if he did, could their love flourish and grow? Cops were notoriously bad at romance.
I am notoriously bad at romance.
She stood as a vehicle she didn’t recognize pulled into her driveway. Monroe sat behind the wheel. She shivered as she imagined what his old Crown Vic must look like. There was a lot she didn’t know.
Gandy had ordered them not to talk to each other until IA finished their interviews. Monroe had called her an hour ago to tell her that Gandy had given the okay and that he was on his way over. This would be the first opportunity they’d had to be alone since everything had gone down.
She held open the screen door as he dashed through the rain toward her. His shirt was soaked by the time he made it under the cover of the porch, but she didn’t care.
She threw her arms around him and pulled him close. He hugged her back, resting his cheek on her head. Safe in his arms, she felt as if she’d truly come home.
Before long, her blouse was as wet as his shirt.
She stepped back and met his gaze. He smiled and touched her cheek.
They had so much to talk about.
“How did you survive that crash? On the phone it sounded...” She trailed off, unable to voice how scary it had sounded.
He made a face. “Yeah, it was bad, but the air bag saved me. I’ve got a miserable headache from the concussion and I ache all over, but other than that I’m good.”
“And you’re drenched.”
She grabbed the towels she’d brought to the porch and tossed him one. Then they moved inside where the AC would dry them faster.
“Start from the beginning and tell me everything,” she said, gesturing toward the sofa.
When he’d finished, she asked, “Where’s Callahan now?”
“He met up with an old partner, and I suspect they’re reliving their glory days. He says he hasn’t had this much fun in years.”
“I’m glad someone is enjoying themselves. Do you know what happened to the original flash drive? Did forensics truly lose it?”
“Tomlinson has—had—a buddy at forensics who gave the drive to Solera.”
Trice shook her head. She hated the idea that there were dirty cops everywhere. “Was it hard to convince Gandy to provide backup?”
“Your buddy Rosa helped with that,” Monroe said.
“Rosa? How?”
“She called Gandy. Her report provided the confirmation he needed to act.”
“Wow. Good for her.”
“You were right to trust her. She was put in an impossible position.”
“I’m so relieved.”
“And now,” Monroe said, “we need to discuss the wisdom of your brilliant plan.”
Trice dropped the damp towel in her lap and held up both hands. “Okay, okay. Arranging a meet with Lomo was a bad idea.”
Monroe scowled. “A terrible idea. You could have been killed. It’s a miracle you weren’t.”
She folded her arms. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, I didn’t know that, did I?”
“You could have waited to find out.”
“And let Solera and Lomonosoff make their escape to some cushy tropical island the way Rudy had planned? No way. I wanted to take them down, make them pay.”
“A law enforcement officer should never act on the basis of revenge. You know that. What were you thinking?”
I was thinking that I would never see you again, that I’d never get the chance to tell you I love you.
She shook her head. They were arguing. This wasn’t going the way she planned. Yeah, I suck at romance, and he’s not much better.
She took a deep breath, picked up his hand and interlaced their fingers. “Do you want to know what I was thinking?”
“Very much,” he said.
She raised her gaze from where their hands were joined and got lost in the intensity of his brilliant blue eyes. Tell him. Just say the words. Don’t be a coward like your father.
“I was thinking that you were the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He nodded. “I like that. Go on.”
She looked away. “And how I would never get to tell you how I felt.”
He used a gentle finger on her cheek to bring her face back to his. “You can tell me now,” he said, his voice as soft as a caress.
Trice wanted to crawl into his lap, to deflect the emotion of this moment. What if he didn’t love her back? She’d never put herself out there like this before. It was time.
“I finally figured out what love is,” she said. “It took me a while, but you’re the real deal.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you, Monroe. I’ve been gaga over you for years but was too stubborn to realize what a good man you are.”
He smiled, and his eyes burned into hers. But when he didn’t say or do anything for what seemed like a long time, Trice squeezed his hand. “Any chance you feel the same way?”
He slid her onto his lap. How did he know she longed to be there? She nestled her cheek against his chest. His heart hammered beneath her ear.
“I’ve been in love with you since the academy,” he said.
Yes! She closed her eyes and said, “And then I got mad at you.”
“I had to wait for you to realize you loved me, too.”
“Took me a long enough,” she muttered.
“Good things come to those who are patient,” he said.
“And you have the patience of a saint.” He made it all sound simple, and of course it wasn’t.
“I’m not having particularly saintly thoughts right now.”
His breath was soft on her cheek before his lips captured hers in a long kiss that made her want to pull him into her bedroom, which was a selfish idea with Monroe all beat up.
She fingered a button on his shirt. “Do you think we could make a life together? Two cops?”
“It’s been done before.”
Maybe, she thought. But for how long? “Even with one of them on rat squad?”
He sighed. “Yeah, your father hates me. That’s a problem.”
“I don’t care what my father thinks anymore.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She shrugged. “He’s still my dad, but he’s not my hero.” I have a new hero.
Or maybe I’m my own hero. Who needs a hero anyway?
“Besides,” she said, “Dad doesn’t hate you anymore.”
“Just intense dislike?”
She trailed a finger down his cheek. God, but she loved this man.
“He’s wrong about you and about IA. So was I.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Internal Affairs.”
* * *
HE RUBBED HIS CHIN, feeling impossibly tired. “What about it?”
“If Gandy hadn’t showed when he did...” She shook her head.
He squeezed her hand. “It’s behind us now, Trice.”
“Do you think Gandy would let me in?”
He blinked. “You want to join Internal Affairs?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“You’re serious.”
“IA provides a needed service, even if cops don’t want to admit it.”
Monroe considered the idea. “We couldn’t—shouldn’t—work together, but it’s a big county. You could go to the southern division.”
“IA needs better PR,” she said. “A new name might help.”
“What? You don’t like rat squad?”
She made a face, and he had to laugh. Then she crossed her arms. “Everyone makes mistakes, and sometimes we need someone to make us accept the truth.”
Monroe nodded as he stared into her now serious face. If he hadn’t had feelings for Trice, if it had been a different officer involved with McFadden, would he have looked so hard at the evidence?
“Yeah, digging beneath the surface can be hard,” he said. “I’m living proof of that.”
“You? What are you talking about?”
“You’ve taught me IA investigators need to keep an open mind.”
“All cops should do that all the time.”
“I need to remember everything isn’t always black and white,” he said.
Trice nodded, but a shadow crossed her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Todd talked about shades of gray.”
“He was a kid who reached for the stars and fell short.”
“Mistakes shouldn’t be so costly.” Her voice had gone soft. “If not for you...”
“You would have found your way.”
“Do you really think so?”
He cupped her cheek. “I’m certain of it.”
“Thanks for that.” She placed her palm on his hand. “Your faith in me is what allowed me to figure things out.”
He kissed her long and hard, loving the taste of her, the feel of her, never wanting this moment to end. He’d waited for Trice for so long.
“I love you,” she said when they pulled back.
“And I love you, too, Officer Skinner.”
“So you think we have a shot?” she asked.
“I do. If you want to join rat squad, anything is possible.”
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Nanny’s Family Wish by Helen Lacey.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.
Relate to finding comfort and strength in the support of loved ones and enjoy the journey no matter what life throws your way.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
The Nanny’s Family Wish
by Helen Lacey
Chapter One
Annie Jamison took a deep breath, clutching the resignation letter between her fingers. Quitting was never easy. And she knew her boss wouldn’t take it well. There would be questions. Demands. And annoyance and irritation, too.
