Curran

The first thing I do when the limo pulls into the lot is run the plates. Turns out Tess’s date didn’t just rent this thing, he fucking owns it. His driver parks directly in front of the rear entrance to Tess’s building, making it easy for his boss to head inside. But instead of escorting Tess down, or sending his damn driver for her, he slips out to smoke.

He barely glances at her when she walks out—too busy finishing his cigarette and yapping on his phone.

He half-waves at her, laughing at whoever he’s talking to. She lifts her chin, her eyes briefly meeting mine. There’s no trace of her smile or her glasses. She has her hair up, she must be wearing contacts, and she has my dead Grammie’s dress on beneath her wool coat. What gets me is how pale she seems—no color to her cheeks except for that stuff girls add to make them look less pasty.

But that doesn’t make her less beautiful.

For some other guy.

Who isn’t me.

Fuck.

The driver hurries out to open her door, but she’s already wrenched it open, her scowl fixed on her idiot date. Not that he notices or probably even cares. He talks for ten more minutes before finally disconnecting and gracing Tess with his presence.

I crank the engine of my truck and wait for a count of ten before tailing them. The last thing I need is to think about what he’s saying or doing to her in the backseat as I follow them downtown. But I do, because I’m not pissed enough she’s with another guy.

She could have walked away and didn’t. But the more I think about how defeated and tired she seemed, the more this whole thing bugs the shit out of me. Something’s wrong with all of it. Yet even though I’m a cop, and despite all our time together, Tess doesn’t trust me enough to tell me why…probably because I haven’t done the same in return, but that’s different. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

It takes a while to reach the hotel. It’s one of those swanky places with columns in the front and walkways so white and clean, I could lick them and refresh my tongue.

I speed ahead and angle my truck into the lot across the street, snagging a spot at the end where I can catch all the action going down. That asshole, her date for the evening, steps out of the limo from a different door than he went in and waves to the crowd.

Either they switched seats before he climbed out or something happened on the ride down. I hope it’s the former, because the latter makes me want to cross the street and break him in two.

I drum on the steering wheel. Jealous much, dipshit?

He helps Tess out, then presses his hand against her back, only to lower it down to her ass. It riles me more than it should—not just because of what he does, but how he does it: sly, like he owns her and is showing her as much. Despite where his hand wanders, his fake political face greets a group of higher-ups heading his way.

He leans into Tess and whispers something. She shrugs hard, trying to shake his hold. He laughs. I’m not sure if it’s for show or if he’s laughing at her expense. Either way, he keeps his hand on her when it’s clear she doesn’t want him to.

She tries to shrug him off again. Instead of giving her space, like he should have in the first place, he secures his grip and squeezes her ass.

I reach for the door and fling it open. I’m out of line, but so is this prick, and I have every intention of knocking him out. But from one blink to the next, Tess smacks his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she snaps, loud enough for me, and the advancing group, to hear. They pause as she storms away without him.

I find myself smiling.

She said “Don’t touch me.”

And “fuck.”

She’s not just annoyed. My girl’s raging.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” She was telling the truth when she said she didn’t want to go to this thing. But then my smile fades when I realize she doesn’t have a way out.

I watch her move in line alone, her chin up. She’s forced a smile more times than I can count, but this time, she can’t seem to manage. This time, she’s done playing happy.

I mumble a curse, but then climb back in my truck. She doesn’t want to be with this idiot, just as she’d claimed. But it also doesn’t seem like she has any friends to support her.

The crowd that approached her date surrounds him, laughing and pretending that nothing’s wrong while Tess stands alone. She’ll probably stay that way, whether those other assholes decide to include her or not.

And I don’t like it.

I lean back and tap my hand against the armrest, mulling over my choices. I can’t go in without flashing a badge and blowing my cover. And I can’t justify blowing my cover without looking like an ass.

This thing has head-to-toe security. I’m supposed to sit and wait unless she’s in danger. But she’s not in danger. She’s just with an asshole.

An asshole who’s gunning to be the next mayor.

Nope. I have no options…until the next SUV pulls in and I find my opportunity.

This SUV is specially designed to accommodate someone who uses a wheelchair. A ramp is carefully lowered and the driver, a guy about my age, jumps out and tosses his keys to the valet, smiling. He waits beside a woman in a fur coat, until what appears to be a paraplegic man eases his way down the ramp. The woman in the fur coat dotes on him, while the young guy reaches up to help a striking young woman out of the vehicle.

The young woman has my attention, but it’s not because of her looks, or because she’s dressed all in red. I know her, and know her well. I scroll through the contacts on my cellphone and hit her number. As I watch, the older man scoots ahead in his high-tech chair with his woman at his side, and the young guy hits a button to withdraw the ramp. The valet speeds away at the same time the hot chick in red digs out her phone from the bottom of her purse.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lety,” I say, watching her. “It’s Curran.”

“Hi, Curran,” she says, sounding surprised. Has it been more than a year since we talked?

Her date slides his arm around her and leads her toward the line of people waiting to get in. “Can I call you back? I’m at an event.”

“That’s actually what I’m calling about. I need to get into that event.”

“What?”

“I said I need to get in. By the way, you look great in red.”

She freezes, then slowly looks around. “Where are you?”

“Blue F-150 across the street and to your right.”

Even from here I can see her smiling. “What are you up to?” she asks through her teeth.

“Nothing bad.”

“That’s what you said when we broke into your father’s liquor cabinet,” she whispers tightly.

“Hey, we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t fallen down the steps.”

“You puked in my hair, Curran,” she mumbles.

“Yeah, but it was a total accident. Listen, this time I swear I mean it.”

Her date leans in and whispers something in her ear. She covers the mic and says something I don’t catch. “Curran, I don’t know. This is a private function.”

“Lety, I promise I won’t get you in trouble. But I’m serious when I say I need to get into that party. Say you’ll help me, kid.”

“Curran…”

“Come on,” I press. “You and me, we’re practically family.”

She edges to the front of the line, where her date passes security two envelopes. “Give me ten,” she says, and then disconnects.

Yeah. It’s good to have friends.

Lety walks out a little later, huddling in her red wool coat. She waits until several limos pull up to the curb before she crosses the street and heads to my truck. We exchange those cheek kisses we always do when she slips inside.

“Hey. You said ten. That was more like sixteen.”

She stops in the middle of fumbling through her coat. “You want my help or not, copper?”

“Okay, it was actually fifteen.” She shakes her head, smiling, and passes me a black jacket. “What’s this?”

“My boyfriend’s suit jacket. You’ll need it to get in. You’ll also need this.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an invitation to the event. “Your name’s Brody Quaid Moore—unless you get caught. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Okay. Come on, then. I need to get back.”

“Go ahead without me. I don’t want anyone to see us together, just in case.”

She tightens her jaw. “Just in case what? Damnit, Curran. I’m here with my boyfriend and his parents. Don’t start any shit that will embarrass me in front of them.”

“Come on, Lety. When have I ever embarrassed you in front of anyone?” She looks at me. “Okay, okay. But you have to admit, Father Flanagan’s face was classic when he caught us eating all that sacramental bread.”

She opens the passenger door but doesn’t step out right away. “Brody means everything to me, Curran. If you make him look bad because of something you do, you’ll be wearing your balls like earrings, understand?”

“Nice one, Lety. I guess you can take the girl out of Philly, but you can’t—”

“Shut up, Curran. And for Christ’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.”

She walks away then and crosses the street, joining the crowd of people making their way out of their limos and into the hotel. I hop out, wait another minute or so, and join the last few stuffed coats trailing in.

It takes a while to get to the front of the line. “This really you?” the security guard asks me.

“Who else would it be?”

“Brody?” Lety calls. She waves to me from inside the lobby. She didn’t go far, probably just far enough to check her coat. She wants to make sure I make it through. She’s a good kid, that Lety.

“Brody!” she calls again, this time louder. “You’re late—your father’s waiting, babe.”

“Okay, honey.” I grin. “I’m coming.” The guard isn’t completely convinced. “Come on, pal,” I say. “My girl’s waiting and so is my dad.”

Another security guard leans in to examine the invitation. I think there’s going to be trouble until he blows out a breath. “That there’s Brody Quaid Moore. You better let him in.”

And right on cue, Lety calls out again. “Brody!”

The guard motions me through. “Coming, sweet cheeks!” I yell.

I walk through the revolving doors. Lety wraps her arm around mine and leads me into a grand ballroom, speaking through her white sparkling teeth. “ ‘Sweet cheeks’? Nice, Curran. You could have said anything, but you had to go there.”

I grin. “You can’t tell me that boyfriend of yours never told you you have a nice ass.”

She tries to hide her smile, her real one, and fails. “That’s none of your business, butthead. Show some class for once and I won’t have to kill you.”

She weaves us around the crowd. She doesn’t seem to know anyone, but she also doesn’t seem to care. Instead she tries to look over and around people until she spots who she’s searching for. And holy shit, doesn’t she light up then.

Her date is down to a shirt and tie. Good thing security doesn’t know what he looks like, ’cause we sure look nothing alike. Although muscular, and about my height, he’s not as brawny as me. And instead of short hair, his falls past his chin.

He polishes off the shrimp on toast he’s munching on and straightens when he sees Lety’s arm around mine. She holds on to her smile but lets me go, hurrying to his side. “Sorry, babe,” she says, standing on her toes to kiss his lips. “This is my boyfriend, Brody,” she tells me.

“Who’s this?” Brody asks, securing his arm around her waist.

Lety smooths her hand over his chest. “Oh, sorry. This is Killian’s brother, Curran.”

Brody nods, appearing to relax. “Oh, the DA.”

“That’s Declan,” she explains.

“That’s right, you’re the carpenter.”

Lety laughs. “No, that’s Seamus. Curran’s a Philly cop.”

“Then who’s the contractor?”

“Angus,” I clarify. “And Finnie’s the baby and probably up to no good.” I shrug out of his jacket and hand it to him. “Thanks for the coat, man.” I motion to Lety. “And sorry about keeping you from your girl. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

He slips into his coat and shakes my hand, grinning like he means it and showing me he’s a good guy. Lety leans into him like she’s known him forever, or at least plans to.

Brody’s arm returns to her waist as he considers me. “There are six of you, and you have a sister, too, right?”

“That’s right.”

He nods. “Yeah, Lety’s probably going to pop out at least seven for us, too. Right, pequeña?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Brody,” she mutters.

I laugh. “Oh, shit, are you blushing?” She narrows her eyes. “Aw, hell, you are. You got it bad, kid.”

“Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing?” she snaps. “Or are you only here for the free food?”

“Oh, I’m already doing it with my super-spy skills. I’m just so stealth—that’s spy talk for sneaky—that you didn’t notice.” I’ve already scanned the bar area and the other serving station. Still no Tess. “Hey, Brody. You know any of these people?”

He makes a face like he wishes he didn’t. “Yeah. Most of my life.”

“Where’s the asshole up for mayor?”

“Curran,” Lety warns, when my compliment makes an older couple passing us pause.

Brody laughs, not caring what people think any more than I do. “He’s over on the other side, trying to squeeze money out of a bunch of executives. Come on, I’ll get you close.”

“Thanks, man.”

We edge around the perimeter of the dance floor until I catch sight of Tess. Lety stops Brody when she realizes I’m not following them, her eyes widening at the sight of my pissed-off face. “Brody, wait,” she urges.

Tess stands next to Spender—or whatever the hell his name is—watching him laugh and rub elbows with the cluster of pricks circling him. He doesn’t care that she looks miserable. Instead he reaches for two glasses of champagne, one for him and one for the idiot next to him, while Tess’s hands stay empty except for the purse she’s clutching tight against her.

“Curran, what’s going on?” Lety asks. She glances in the direction I’m eyeing. “Oh, shit. It’s about that girl, isn’t it? Christ Almighty, you’re not going to start a fight, are you?”

“Humph,” Brody says. “And I thought this was going to be another boring-ass fundraiser.” He claps my shoulder. “I got your back if you need to throw down, dude.”

“Brody, do not encourage him.” She stops mid-sentence. “Oh, no. Here comes your dad.”

He looks to where his dad is maneuvering around a crowd of people making their way to the dance floor. “Yeah, he’s headed right toward us. Hey, Curran. He’ll probably do you one and mow over the bald prick to Spencer’s right. I think he slept with my mom.”

“Jesus,” Lety mumbles.

Brody’s dad stops his high-tech wheelchair directly beside his son. “Hello,” he says, frowning slightly, obviously aware something’s not right.

Lety inches to his opposite side, taking point directly in front of me. She’s trying to distract me, worried I’m going to do something stupid.

She’s probably right.

“Curran, this is Edward Moore. My…”

She seems to search for the right words. He smiles, and answers for her. “I’m Lety’s future father-in-law,” he says, causing Lety’s blush to return. “But you may call me Edward.”

I try to smile, knowing I need to keep it together. “Hey, man, and congrats. I hear Lety’s gonna pop out at least seven grandkids for you.”

His smile widens. “I was hoping for two, but this is excellent news indeed.”

Brody cracks up when Lety clasps her hand over her eyes. “I like this guy,” he says. He lowers himself so that he’s eye level with his father. “But hey, Dad, Curran here doesn’t like Spencer.”

Edward’s smile fades. “I can’t say that I blame him. He’s an imbecile, very much like his father.”

Lety places her purse on Edward’s tray and adjusts his collar. “Then why are we here? We could have stayed in and watched all those Wolfman movies we planned on.”

“Your mother-in-law insisted on getting me out, and her friend is the publicist running the event. She begged Dionna for her presence, and mine.”

I’m only half-listening. Spencer motions in Tess’s direction. Whatever he says makes the men laugh, and causes her to edge further away from him.

What did you just say about her, asshole?

Nails dig into my arm, keeping me in place when I take a step forward. “Curran, don’t,” Lety warns. “You’re a cop, and this is a highly publicized and political event.”

She’s right, and it pisses me off. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t embarrass her, especially now that others have seen me with her and her future family. I lean back on my heels, ready to apologize to Edward and Brody. They’re frowning, but it’s not because I’m seconds from charging Spencer and bashing his face in.

“You need to get that girl out of here. Don’t you?” Brody asks me, leaving me with the impression he realizes how Tess is being treated.

I square my shoulders. “Yeah. Will you help me?”

He and his father say yes at the same time Lety says no.

“I’ll go up first, Dad,” Brody says, straightening his tie. “You come up next and distract him so I can get her on the dance floor.” He grins at me then. “Curran, Lety’s one hell of a dancer,” he adds with a wink.

“Be sure to tell him I’m torn between parties,” Edward says.

Brody nods and takes off, leaving Lety to throw her hands out and swear. “Nice, Lety,” I tell her. “You kiss your future father-in-law with that mouth?”

“Shut up, Curran,” she fires back, when Edward starts laughing.

His wheelchair jerks and swerves as he attempts to steer between chuckles. He stops long enough to speak to someone he knows and give Brody time to strike up a conversation with good ol’ Spence. I’m not sure who Brody is around here. The security guard seemed to think he’s a big deal. Maybe he is, seeing how his presence draws Spencer’s attention away from the dumbass he’s been working. Again, a tray filled with champagne passes by. And again, Spence grabs two, one for Brody and another for himself.

Brody motions to where his dad is making his way forward. Spencer’s face lights up, similar to how a cheetah would at the sight of a baby gazelle. Evidently it’s cash on wheels moving toward him. He doesn’t even notice Brody pass Tess his drink. She takes it, her gaze dropping to it like she’s shocked anyone noticed her.

Brody makes a show of introducing Spencer and his dickless buddies to his dad. If Brody is a prince on a mound of bling, his dad is the king on a damn hill of diamonds. The men swarm him, with Spencer fighting to be front and center. Brody uses the moment to inch his way closer to Tess. He says something and motions to the dance floor. She shakes her head and smiles politely.

Come on, angel face. Dance with him.

Lety leans into me. Like me, she’s been watching everything closely. “Don’t worry, he’ll get her out there,” she promises.

Brody takes a small step back, giving her room before saying something that widens her smile. “Let’s go,” I tell Lety, knowing her boy is getting it done.

I clasp Lety’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor. The band starts playing a current tune, totally killing the song, but I don’t care so much now.

We’re halfway through the dance floor when Brody brings Tess forward, his arm appearing to only lightly touch her back. “You like to spin?” he yells over his shoulder when he sees us.

“What?” she asks.

Instead of explaining, Brody takes her by the hand and spins her hard my way. I do the same to Lety, who laughs and keeps going, right into Brody’s arms. Tess stumbles, barely keeping her feet, only to freeze when she sees Brody lift Lety for one hell of a kiss.

He places her down and leads her away, winking in Tess’s direction. Tess remains frozen, confused by his actions. At the moment, I can’t blame her. My girl doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Lety waves. “ ’Bye, Curran,” she calls through her laughter.

Tess’s spine straightens as she slowly turns to find me standing there. I wrap my arm around her waist and take her hand, dancing with her as I lead her further away from her date.

“Hi,” I tell her when we’re a good distance away. “I know I probably shouldn’t be in here, but yeah, hi.”

Okay, not the smoothest thing I’ll ever say, but I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d tell her.

“Hi,” she says, smiling softly. I lean forward when her arms circle my neck and she melts against me. It’s then I know that coming in here was the right thing to do. She needs me.

And maybe I need to know that.

My arms pull her closer in time for a slow dance. Neither of us says anything for the longest time. “You look beautiful,” I finally tell her, because she does, even in this old-lady getup.

“Thank you,” she says. “But God, I really hate this dress.”

I laugh and whisper close in her ear. “It’s kind of hot. You got support hose on beneath all that paisley?”

Her voice gathers a husky edge. “Do you want to find out?”

My hold on her tightens. “Yeah. I do.”

“What time is your shift over?”

I glance up at the clock. “I got another forty minutes.”

“Enough time to return to my apartment.” She leans back so I can see her face. The heat in her eyes stops me dead where I stand. “What say we head back so you can help me out of this dress?”