One Good Man. Julie Miller

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      “Yes, sir.” Merle set down his coffee and logged on to his computer.

      Mitch had watched criminals enter their holding cells with more enthusiasm. The father figure in him relented, just a smidge. “Ginny can help you when she’s done.”

      Merle and Ginny exchanged supportive glances over their paired-off desks. The rookie detective squared his shoulders and nodded. “I’ll get it on your desk ASAP.”

      “Good enough.”

      Mitch looped his coat through the crook of his arm and crossed to his lieutenant’s desk, confident the work he asked for would get done. “Joe. I put in a call to Commissioner Reed. Give it priority to my office when it comes through.”

      “Will do.”

      Joe Hendricks followed Mitch into his office and waited while he shed his jacket and loosened his tie. Mitch shuffled through the messages on his desk before sitting down. He stood up again, feeling too edgy to stay put for any length of time.

      “Here’s your coffee.” Joe handed him a mug of the steaming dark brew.

      A deep sigh drifted through Mitch’s barrel chest before he accepted the offer. “I’m that obvious?”

      The mahogany-skinned detective grinned and made himself at home in one of the chairs across from Mitch’s. “Drink before we talk.”

      “That sounds ominous.” Mitch inhaled the intoxicating aroma and took several sips before sitting again and staying put.

      “So what fly is buzzin’ around your head this morning?”

      Mitch cradled the mug in his hands and stared into its depths. The darkness reminded him of the previous night. It wasn’t the usual stresses of the job so much as that prickly princess locked away in the tower that made him more of a grizzly than a teddy bear that morning.

      She might very well sue him for his honest mistake. But that wasn’t what bothered him. He was ninety-nine percent certain she wouldn’t sue. In fact, he’d bet she wouldn’t have another thing to do with him.

      Or anyone from the outside.

      Why did he think of her as a prisoner? The leg, probably. Listening to Ginny’s and Merle’s accounts, she apparently had some kind of permanent handicap. But that wasn’t the impression that had stayed with him through the night and played havoc on his normal morning routine.

      It was her eyes. Smoky, dark and deep. He’d seen fear there.

      Fear of him.

      He downed a hasty swallow of coffee and nearly scalded his tongue. Hell, nobody should be afraid of him. Nobody except the bad guys.

      What did she have against cops? He’d worked damn hard for his badge and rank. He shouldn’t be bothered by implied insults from damsels in distress who didn’t want to be rescued.

      He shouldn’t be bothered by her at all.

      He compromised on his response to Joe. “The commissioner’s got me playing some cat-and-mouse game I haven’t figured out yet.”

      Joe thumbed over his shoulder toward the squad room behind him. “What does Judge Jack have to do with it?”

      “The commish called yesterday and asked me to check Judge Maynard’s house. Personally. See if there was any trouble.”

      “Was there?”

      “Not that I could see. That’s why I’m trying to make some kind of connection. Reed wasn’t eager to share details.” Mitch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and splaying his hands in a gesture of frustration. “The only person there was the judge’s daughter. And she definitely wasn’t thrilled to see me.”

      Joe laughed and tapped the bridge of his nose, indicating the purplish bruise decorating Mitch’s own nose that morning. “Is she another conquest you charmed and left by the wayside?”

      Mitch felt his own mouth curling up into a wry smile. Casey Maynard had certainly packed a wallop. He’d never so much as experienced a slap on the face from one of his dates. “Even on my best days, I was never charming.”

      “Hey, now don’t sell yourself short. I just put five bucks on you bringing a hot date to the big awards banquet.”

      Mitch shook his head, his mood momentarily lightened by his friend’s teasing. “Don’t I give you enough work to do?”

      Joe smiled innocently. “Most of the guys say you’re going stag to the big event. Ginny thinks you’ll take an old friend.”

      “Save your cash, Joe. Isn’t that fourth baby due pretty soon? I figured you’d have more sense than to waste your money like that.”

      “Impending daddyhood just makes me all the more romantic. I know you got a pretty lady stashed away somewhere.”

      He dismissed Joe with a cajoling smile. “Back to work, Lieutenant.”

      The two men stood, old friends at ease with each other’s various moods. Joe feigned hurt feelings. “What about the morning report?”

      Mitch shooed him toward the door. “Let me return these calls on my desk. Then you can update me on our priority cases. And Joe…?”

      Hendricks turned in the open doorway and waited expectantly.

      “Step up patrols in Ms. Maynard’s neighborhood. But nobody goes into that house unless I give the okay.”

      Joe touched a finger to one eyebrow and saluted. “Will do.”

      “You’re a good man.”

      “That’s what my wife says.”

      Mitch smiled and dismissed him with an answering mock salute.

      Poor Joe. He could kiss his money goodbye. Mitch had no intention of spoiling that banquet by sharing the evening with a woman who didn’t understand what that service award and promotion meant to him. Who couldn’t understand.

      Women wanted attention. They demanded the spotlight. They expected to be spoiled. And if good ol’ Mitch Taylor, the Fourth Precinct’s resident old man, couldn’t give a woman what she thought she deserved, then she’d look elsewhere. Jackie had.

      Mitch swallowed hard, sending the bitter taste in his mouth down to his stomach. His work had saved him from hell and given him a chance to be somebody. It had given him an identity. A power and an authority that he’d earned with blood and sweat and a lot of hard work.

      But his work was a mighty cold companion when he lay in bed at night. It didn’t laugh with him over his mistakes, nor rally him when his faith faltered. It wouldn’t grow old with him.

      Ignoring the debilitating influence of his own thoughts, Mitch unbuttoned the cuffs on his broadcloth shirt, rolled up the sleeves and sat down to do some of that work. He noticed the full mailbox on his computer screen and brought up the messages.

      He scrolled СКАЧАТЬ