The next morning Madeline was waiting impatiently in her apartment building elevator. It stopped at yet another floor, and a half dozen people got out. As the doors closed, a deep voice sounded from behind her.
“Nice legs.”
She whirled around and groaned feelingly. “What are you doing here?”
Cruz grinned from his position in the corner of the compartment. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and the look with which he was painting her was one of pure male appreciation. She was wearing an oversize sweatshirt, which almost covered her brief running shorts. Between the hem of those shorts and the rolled-down socks and tennis shoes was approximately thirty inches of the smoothest, shapeliest legs he’d ever observed. And, being a self-acknowledged leg man, his observations had been numerous.
“Looking for you, of course,” he answered. “Ariel heard me knocking at your door and advised me that you would be home in about fifteen minutes, so I decided to hang around.”
“You’ve been riding up and down in the elevator while you waited?” she inquired.
“I’m easily amused.”
Her lips wanted to tilt, but she firmed them. “Obviously.” When she’d entered the elevator she hadn’t paid much attention to its occupants. Her mind had already been busy planning the next segment of her day, now that she’d put in her time at the gym. Until she’d heard Cruz’s voice she’d assumed that she was alone after the last bunch of passengers disembarked.
“Actually, I came down to fetch Ariel’s paper.” For the first time she noticed the newspaper tucked under his arm. “She said she needed to see her horoscope before she could start her day.”
Madeline rolled her eyes. “That’s probably true.” For once she was grateful for her friend’s superstitious nature. She would much rather have Cruz running errands for the woman than spending any noticeable amount of time in her company. Ariel was lovable and funny, but she was also sometimes a real blabbermouth. Madeline really didn’t trust her friend not to divulge something sensitive to him while she had the chance.
She narrowed her eyes. Come to think of it, fifteen minutes was plenty of time for Ariel to have told Cruz any number of embarrassing things, including the description Madeline had given her of him. She looked at him suspiciously. There was no telling from his face what, if anything, Ariel had blurted out. Aware of her interest, he raised his eyebrows.
She looked away belatedly. Whatever Ariel might have told him, he would let it out at the earliest inopportune moment. If there was one thing she’d learned about the man, it was that he was an incurable tease. That certainty, accompanied by her discomfort at his seeing her while she was sweaty and half-bare, put her decidedly out of sorts.
“Ariel was right about the time you got home,” he added. “To the minute. How do you suppose she guessed that?”
She wasn’t fooled by his innocent tone. She knew exactly what he was getting at. “If that’s another dig about my ‘regimented’ life, you can take a hike, Martinez. Maybe if you were a little more scheduled yourself, you’d stop and think before you just showed up on a person’s doorstep. There’s this wonderful invention you may have heard of. It’s called a cell phone.”
He smiled. He doubted she liked him seeing her without her professional battle gear of those tailored suits and pulled-back hair. She looked completely different right now in her exercise garb, and he’d give a month’s pay to see her without the bulky sweatshirt. You’re really losing it, Martinez, he mentally derided himself. The last time he’d been this turned on just by seeing a woman’s legs, he’d been in junior high. And he didn’t remember any time he’d been as fascinated by a woman’s hair. For the first time sham he’d met her, she was wearing it down, and it was as glorious as he’d imagined. The thick red length reached just to her shoulders, and at the moment its riotous mass of curls was held away from her face by a thick, stretchy headband.
He looked his fill, enjoying every moment of the opportunity, aware that with each passing second her temper was escalating. “You should learn to be more spontaneous,” he finally suggested. The elevator opened and they walked toward her apartment. “Following a schedule just seems to make you uptight.”
She threw him a fuming glance as she unlocked her door. “I am not having this conversation with you again,” she informed him as he followed her into the apartment.
“Of course not, there’s no need,” he responded, going directly to the sofa and dropping onto it. “Because today we’re going to alter your usual dull schedule. Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll wait.”
She stared at him, her hands going to her hips. He unfolded Ariel’s paper and began reading it. After several moments he seemed to notice that she was still standing there. “What?”
“Martinez, go home.” She had no desire to spend yet another day in his company. Although the week seemed to fly by too quickly when it came to investigating the case, each weekend was a welcome respite from having to spend every working hour with him. She desperately needed the time apart to regain her objectivity, not to mention to write up her reports for Brewer. By the time they had parted last night her headache had returned, in spades. Seeing Vincent at the restaurant, on top of wondering about the mysterious Dan whom Cruz had spoken to, had been the cause. She was confused and on edge. Madeline didn’t like the feelings. And she knew she wasn’t likely to get respite from either as long as she was in Cruz’s company.
“After all the time I spent waiting for you this morning, now you’re kicking me out?”
She wasn’t fooled by his wounded tone. “That’s right.” No matter what excuse he dreamed up for them to spend the day together, it wasn’t going to work. She had made a strategic mistake the night she’d let him cook supper for her. Now he assumed his tactics worked on her, just as they probably did on all women. But no longer, she vowed. She needed this time alone in order to figure out just what the man was up to, and she wasn’t going to let his presence here take her mind off that.
He unfolded his long form from her couch, and refolded the paper. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “I thought you were serious when you said you wanted to be with me all the time, but I guess you didn’t mean it.”
Her mouth hung open at the man’s audacity. “When did I say that?”
He regarded her patiently. “Last week, of course. At work.”
“Work,” she repeated. Comprehension slowly dawning, she asked cautiously, “Just what did you have planned for the day?”
“Well, you said last night we should talk to Cantoney again, and I think you’re right. But I don’t want to wait until Monday to do it. I’ve got an itchy feeling where he’s concerned, like something’s about to go down. I’m going to try to find him and talk to him today.” He shrugged and moved toward the door. “I figured you’d insist on coming with me, but I guess I was wrong.”
She closed her eyes in embarrassment. He’d done it to her again. Why had she automatically assumed that the man was here on a social visit? Because he’d tried to confuse her, the rat. And she knew how amused he’d be if she let on that he’d succeeded. “Hold on,” she commanded. He halted and turned to eye her quizzically. “Um, you’re right, I do want to come. Give me a minute, and I’ll change.”
Cruz moved back to the living-room area as she disappeared down a hallway. He heard the door shut behind her, and he allowed himself a tiny grin. Somehow he’d known that showing up here would throw her off kilter. Madeline Casey was too used to being in control, he decided as he settled himself onto the couch again. It did her good to have her usual cool manner blasted away once in a while. He hadn’t been lying-he did want to find Cantoney, as soon as possible. He could have called her and arranged to have her meet him. But something inside him was unwilling to let her off that easily. He sensed she tried to keep distance between them, even while they worked side by side. But that alone didn’t challenge him. There was just something about her.
Let’s face it, she bothered him. A lot. Wasn’t it fair that she be bothered a little herself? He knew he’d accomplished that objective by his unexpected appearance here, and he whistled a little as he read the paper.
When the doorbell rang he called, “I’ll get it,” and without waiting for an answer he strode over and opened the door.
“Hello, you must have found Madeline. I’ve come for my paper. Are you done with it?” Ariel inquired as she spotted it laid out on the coffee table.
Cruz gave an abashed shrug. “Sorry about that. I had to do battle with Madeline and I sort of forgot to bring it over.”
She waved aside his apology. “Forget it. I forgive you, especially if you’re going to interrupt her monotonous day and take her away from all this.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
Ariel looked satisfied. “Good for you. It’s about time someone walked in and shook that woman up.” She eyed him approvingly. “You look like just the man for the job.”
Madeline walked into the room to overhear the last remark. “We’re going to work, Ariel. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Her neighbor raised her eyebrows. “Of course you are, Madeline, of course you are. And don’t worry.” Her eyes twinkled and cut back to Cruz, “I’m not disappointed. Not at all. Although I think your descriptive powers need a bit of work.”
Cruz observed the wicked note in Ariel’s tone and the almost desperate look on Madeline’s face as she strode to the front door. “I’ll talk to you later. We really have to go. Cruz is kind of in a hurry.”
“I am?” he muttered in surprise.
Ariel strolled by both of them and gathered up her newspaper before joining them at the door. “I can take a hint,” she informed them with a smile. “Far be it from me to interfere with two of Philadelphia’s finest doing their jobs. Never let it be said that I got in the way of… duty.” Her throaty laugh was full of innuendo, and Madeline gritted her teeth, while Cruz joined in the laughter. Honestly, Ariel was always irrepressible, but with Cruz around she was worse than usual. He encouraged her, just like now, his handsome face alight with amusement, as if Ariel had guessed correctly, and they had much more than the job on their minds. She was thankful when she got the two of them into the hall, and turned to lock the door.
“Call me when you get home, Madeline,” Ariel said. “Unless you’re otherwise occupied of course. And Cruz, take good care of your hair. You never know, you could be bald by the time you’re, oh, say fifty or so.” She went into her own apartment, chuckling to herself, and Madeline walked quickly to the elevator, staring fixedly at the closed door. She ignored Cruz’s puzzled expression and repeatedly stabbed her index finger at the button.
“She’s really got a thing about hair,” he observed, eyeing her closely. “She’s mentioned it both times I’ve seen her.”
Madeline shrugged and walked quickly into the elevator when its doors slid open. “She’s a hair stylist,” she offered weakly. “She talks about everyone’s hair.” Determinedly she changed the subject. “So, tell me. Where will we find Cantoney today?”
“Only one way to find out.” When they left the building he guided her to his car, which was parked illegally out front.
“You like to live dangerously.” It wasn’t the first time she knew of that he’d parked with such a disregard for city rules.
“Yeah, I live on the edge, all right,” he agreed dryly. If she thought ignoring parking laws was living dangerously, he had a lot he’d like to show her on the subject. Oh, yeah. Heat immediately flared in his belly. Somehow Madeline gave him the impression that she needed a little of the unexpected in her life. As hard as she tried to keep that calm pose and remain in control of every aspect of her life, he’d bet that beneath that unruffled exterior lay a woman with a fiery passion. He was curious about that woman, the one he suspected lived beneath the cool facade. He found himself wondering about her all the time. Or maybe fantasizing would be a more accurate word. It was much easier to picture the woman he thought she really was when she was dressed as she was today. She was wearing a pair of slim-fitting jeans, and if she was aware of what they did to showcase those long legs, he knew she would never have worn them. She’d scraped her hair back again, into a fancy braid this time, and although regrettable, it was probably best. He didn’t need the distraction right now.
Madeline got into the low-slung automobile. She couldn’t help admiring the leather interior. Despite the possibilities of how Cruz had paid for this car, it was impossible not to appreciate its beauty.
“So, what do you think?” he asked as he got in and buckled his seat belt. “Buckle up, Madeline. Or do you need some help?” He reached up to the visor and pulled out a pair of darkly tinted sunglasses and put them on.
She obediently followed his command, loath to give him an excuse to lie half over her to help her with the belt. “What do I think of the car?” she clarified. “I think it’s my turn to drive today, isn’t it?”
At his look of horror, she had to laugh. “Don’t tell me that you’re one of those men who won’t let a woman drive his precious machine?”
“Don’t feel bad,” he said. “I don’t let anyone drive it.”
“Isn’t that a little ridiculous?” At his uncomprehending look, she added, “To become so attached to a car that you fear for its safety.”
“It isn’t ridiculous,” he denied swiftly. “I’m like a kid with a new toy. I don’t want to share it just yet. Although if you were to try your best to convince me to let you drive, I couldn’t stop you. If you were to tempt me with your womanly wiles, I just might succumb. I’m not always very strong.”
She didn’t allow herself to think of just how weak he might actually be. Or of what he might have done in order to afford the car. Her imagination was wildly careening in another direction. Of just specifically what it might take to convince Cruz, as he was suggesting.
She firmly pushed the thoughts away. “It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged lightly, looking out the window as he pulled onto the interstate. “I don’t feel like driving it, anyway.”
“Liar. Do you think I don’t know you’re dying to get your hands on my-” he caught her swift glance, and deliberately paused another moment before completing the sentence “-steering wheel?”
“Believe whatever you want, Martinez,” she invited breezily, returning her gaze to the scenery flying by.
“Oh, I will,” he said with certainty. “And I believe that right now it’s killing you. It’s eating you alive. You want to drive this car so badly you can’t stand it.”
“Pay attention to the traffic,” she instructed him, and deliberately changed the subject. “You never told me where we’re going.”
“The usual places Cantoney hangs out. First we’ll look at his apartment, though. With any luck he’ll still be sleeping off the effects of last night. I suspect that the Lords have been trying to establish drug turf. Their attempts probably sparked the shooting of Ramsey. The gang was more penny-ante until Cantoney became involved with them. He’s got a taste for the stuff himself, and a few of the members have recently been nailed for possession with intent to deliver.”
“That’s why you think the real target of the shooting was Cantoney.”
Cruz nodded. “Fastest way to take out the competition would be to get rid of the brains of the operation. A hit like that would be difficult for the Lords to recover from quickly. From what I know of them, they don’t have much of a chain of command. Cantoney’s ego is too big to allow any of the other members to have much say. Makes him king of the hill, but if he’s out of the picture, the Lords would be fighting among themselves for control, and then the new leader would have to reestablish drag contacts. Yeah, if someone were to get rid of Cantoney, the Lords wouldn’t be a threat for some time.”
They rode in silence for a while before Cruz reached to turn on the radio. He glanced at Madeline, fully expecting her to protest when a country song filled the air. Surprisingly, she didn’t.
After a moment she asked nonchalantly, “Who sings this song?”
He thought for a moment. “Keith Urban.”
“No way. You’ve forced me to listen to this stuff enough now that even I know it isn’t Keith Urban. I think it’s Brantley Gilbert.”
“Who’s the expert on country music in this car, you or me?” he inquired. “I’m telling you I’m sure it’s a new one by Urban.”
Her head turned slowly to pin him with a gaze. “Care to make a little wager on that, Martinez?”
He caught on quickly, his face becoming instantly wary. “What kind of wager?”
“On the identity of the singer. If I’m right,” she said, grinning wickedly, “I get to drive your car all the way back to my apartment.” She almost laughed at the expression of terror that crossed his face. “If you’re right…” She shrugged.
“If I’m right, what?”
“You name your prize,” she suggested ingenuously. She cast him a sidelong gaze. What he might come up with if he won didn’t bear thinking about, but she wasn’t going to have to worry about it. She knew she was right.
Cruz thought quickly. There was no way, under the circumstances, that Madeline was getting behind the wheel of his car. Unless, of course, she was sitting on his lap. Both possibilities were equally unlikely. She might have an incredible sense of direction. Her memory might soak up every bit of information she absorbed from her cases and research. But he doubted very much that she’d even listened to a country song before they’d become partners. He sent her a speculative glance.
“I can name anything I want if I win?”
“Anything. But that’s an awfully big if, Detective. You don’t seem all that sure of yourself.”
He swiftly calculated the odds. He couldn’t lose this bet. Madeline Casey had grown entirely too sure of herself. For once she was going to be proven wrong. He was going to prove her wrong. And then he was going to torture her by letting her wonder for a long, long time just what prize he would choose. His mouth curled in anticipation. All the possibilities were too much to resist.
“You’re on,” he told her smugly. “But don’t worry. I’m a very gracious winner.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she replied calmly. “But you should be,
He shook his head at her self-assurance. But his disbelief quickly became chagrin when she brought out her cell phone and brought up the Soundhound app. Smiling smugly, she held the screen out for him to read. “Brantley Gilbert,” he croaked. “How the hell did you know that?”
“We heard it once last week.”
“One time? You’ve never listened to the music before, you don’t know any of the singers, and you hear the blasted song one time and remember who sings it?” he demanded incredulously.
She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t help it, it’s a gift.”
He muttered something in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like a string of curses.
She raised her eyebrows. “Want to go for two out of three?”
He shook his head ruefully. “I can’t afford to. Somehow I think I’d end up owing you my first-born.”
“Now why do I have the feeling that letting me drive your car is even more of a sacrifice for you?”
He aimed an aggrieved stare at her. “You’re dangerous. Your memory ought to be outlawed. I’m surprised you aren’t making your fortune counting cards in Vegas.”
“Outwitting you is a lot easier. Why didn’t you tell me you were such a poor loser?”
The remainder of the trip passed with Cruz trying to wheedle her into accepting another prize. “What would I want with a pair of your boots?” she asked once of one of his offers.
“You could use them to kick me the next time I walk into one of your traps,” he suggested disgustedly.
When the car pulled up to Cantoney’s address, Madeline whistled. “Nice neighborhood. How does he explain his ability to live in a place like this to his parole officer?”
“He probably claims he’s living with friends. Maybe he is. But he’s in something dirty up to his neck, you can bet on that,” Cruz said grimly.
They heard voices from the hallway even as they walked up to Cantoney’s door. The voices ceased when they knocked on the door. During the next few moments of silence Madeline knew they were being observed through the peephole on the door. “Detectives Martinez and Casey,” she called. “We’re here to speak to Dirk Cantoney.”
A full minute passed before the door swung open. Cantoney himself appeared. “Well, what a surprise. Look, men, it’s the poleece,” he said in an exaggerated drawl. “I’ll bet they’ve come to tell us they caught the guy that shot Ramsey.”
Cruz looked over Cantoney’s shoulder into the room beyond. Several Lords members were seated or standing in the area. “Hi, Ramsey,” he said evenly. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
The boy stared back at Cruz, saying nothing.
Cantoney spoke again. “You’ll have to make it quick, Detectives. We’re busy.”
Cruz reached into his pocket, extracted the picture of Valdez and held it out. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
Madeline watched Cantoney’s face carefully, but it revealed nothing. He looked expressionlessly at the photo, and then back at Cruz. “Can’t say I have. Why? Is he the shooter?”
“His name is Jose Valdez. We’re not sure what his connection to this case is,” Madeline inserted smoothly. “Maybe one of your guests will recognize him.” For a moment she thought Cantoney would refuse, but finally he reached for the picture and handed it to one of the young men in the room.
“That the best you can do, Martinez?” Cantoney asked disparagingly. “Bring us a pretty picture of someone who might have something to do with the shooting?”
“Think you could do better, Dirk?” Cruz asked him softly.
“Man, I know I could,” Cantoney retorted. “Another one of my friends could be shot before you find out anything.”
Madeline’s attention was divided between listening to their exchange and watching the faces of those who looked at the picture. She was disappointed, however. None exhibited any emotion at all when looking at it. Then one gang member exclaimed excitedly, “Hey! I think I know this dude!” Into the silence that accompanied his outburst, he added, “Yeah, I think it’s my mama’s ol’ man.” Laughter filled the room and another grabbed the picture. “No, it ain’t. It’s my fourth-grade teacher.”
“Naw, it looks like my probation officer.”
The photo was handed back to Cantoney, who turned to face the detectives again. “Sorry. Guess you’re on your own. Show yourselves out. We’ve got to get back to work.”
“Just what work would that be, Mr. Cantoney?”
The man’s pointed look was chilling. “We’re involved in some charity work, Detective Casey. Getting poor youngsters off the streets.” An outburst of laughter from the room accompanied his words, and the door shut in their faces.
They were silent until they left the building. “Another dead end,” Cruz remarked dourly. “Did you catch that little dig about charity work?”
She had. “Taking poor youngsters off the street? If I had a suspicious mind, that would sound to me like he meant getting rid of one particular person for good.”
“He was referring to his plan to retaliate for the shooting. Bastard. He’s so cocky he practically came right out and told us what he was going to do.”
“What’s he been waiting for? Is it taking Cantoney this long to get his hands on the weapon of choice?”
“Could be. Or maybe it’s taking him this long to come up with a way to shoot down a rival gang leader without landing himself back in prison.”
“We’ve been pretty visible,” Madeline agreed. “He’s got to know that we suspect what he’s planning. So we can figure that however he strikes back at the other gang, Dirk Cantoney will have an iron-tight alibi.”
As they walked from the building and toward the car, Cruz took the keys from his pocket and reached for the door handle of the driver’s side.
Madeline’s hand got there first. When their eyes met, she said, “Aren’t you forgetting something, Martinez?”
Her question hung in the air between them. “What?” he asked, stalling.
“This.” She snatched the keys away and pushed him lightly. “I’ll take it from here.”
At any other time, under any other circumstances, Cruz would be delighted by that wicked gleam in her eye. It would bring about all sorts of fascinating fantasies about just how wicked, given the right provocation, she could be. But right now it drove his heart right down to the level of his boots. “Ah, c’mon, Madeline. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? After the disappointment we just had? I can’t tolerate any more stress today.”
His attempt to play on her pity didn’t sway her. “Move aside and I won’t have to give you any.”
“It doesn’t have to be right now, though, does it? You could drive the car some other time, I promise. Let’s just put this off for a while.”
Madeline opened the door while he pleaded, buckled herself in and adjusted the seat. “Are you walking or riding?” It wasn’t until she turned on the ignition that he hurried. He almost sprinted to the passenger door and got in.
“You are merciless, do you know that?”
She grinned. “And you’re a big baby.”
The tires shrieked lightly as she pulled away from the curb, causing him to wince. “Take it easy,” he muttered, as anxious as a new mother. “This is a valuable piece of machinery. It’s not a police car.”
“I can tell. It’s a lot cleaner.”
Casting a glance at him, she was amused to note that his face had turned two shades lighter than normal. He was grasping the dash with clenched knuckles. As she turned onto the freeway, he didn’t relax a bit. If anything, he got even more uptight.
“Careful there. Look out for that car. Are you watching that semi? Slow down, for Pete’s sake!”
“I’m barely driving the speed limit,” she protested. She almost felt sorry for him. He looked downright ashen, and his knuckles were white. But his annoying directives didn’t make her feel particularly patient. In fact, they made her want to do something cruel. And take the long way home doing it.
“How fast did you say this car could go?”
He actually shuddered at the question. “Forty-five. Fifty-five, tops. Definitely no faster than fifty-five.”
“You’re kidding!” she said in mock amazement. “I would have bet that it would go ninety, easy.”
“Don’t even think about it,” he said through clenched teeth.
Her foot pressed down more firmly on the accelerator and the powerful car responded immediately. A delighted grin spread across her face.
“You’re truly an evil woman, do you know that?”
A laugh was her only response, and he grasped the dash more tightly. Wouldn’t you just know it? The first time he got to see Madeline Casey as loosened up as he’d always fantasized, she was behind the wheel of his precious car, doing twenty over the speed limit, putting him in the throes of cardiac arrest.
Someone up there, he thought darkly, had a hell of a sense of humor.