Born Wild

the man in the eye and tell him she knows what he’s been up to.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Washington insisted. “If he is the man behind these attacks, then what’s to keep him from plugging her then and there?”

“You mean with two witnesses watching? Me and Mac? Come on, Chief. Give me—”

“Hand me the phone.” Bill turned to see Buchanan standing behind him, the man’s hand extended in his direction.

His first instinct was to tell Eve’s cousin to fuck off, but he reminded himself of how hard Buchanan had been working—begrudgingly albeit—to help them. So, instead he tempered his response to, “Excuse me?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Buchanan said. “I know you’re talking to my police chief, and I think I have a way to convince him to let you have what you want.”

Bill lifted his brows, making his skepticism known, and then handed the phone over. He listened as Buchanan said something about a wire being inadmissible in court but going a long way in securing a search warrant before the man fell silent, no doubt intent on Washington’s response on the other end.

Then he gave Bill a thumbs-up and handed back the phone.

“What’s up, Chief?” Bill asked.

“Two hours,” Washington muttered, and Bill shot a mental fist in the air. “I’ll give you two hours to do your confronting. Jeremy’s gonna give you a wire for Eve, and I want you to make damned sure she wears it!”

“You got it.”

“And then when those two hours are up, I want all your asses down at the goddamned station answering any goddamned questions Normandy thinks to throw your goddamned way!”

Three goddamns in the same sentence? Washington meant business. “You have my word,” he was quick to assure the man.

“And in the meantime, just in case Edens thinks to vamoose himself from the city, I’m sending unmarked units to keep an eye on him. You hear what I’m saying to you, Reichert? You catch my meaning?”

Bill rolled his eyes. He may be crazier than Washington thought he was, but he wasn’t stupider. “You’re telling me I shouldn’t do anything hinky, because, if I do, your watchdogs will see it and then they’ll be forced to cuff me and throw me in the nearest eight by ten.”

“Bingo,” Washington said. “You’re not as dumb as you look, white boy.” Ha! Well, you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marine out of the man. The drill sergeant in Washington tended to pop up when least expected. “And tell Normandy to call me immediately!” he yelled before the line went dead.

Bill thumbed off his cell phone and turned to walk back toward the group. Buchanan, striding beside him, asked, “How the hell do you know my police chief?”

Well shit on a stick…

“Uh…a former military connection,” Bill lied. “We go way back. But I don’t think all the semper-fi love on the planet would’ve changed his mind about this plan before you stepped in. So, thank you. I really think Eve needs this.”

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, well, don’t thank me too quickly. If this blows up, my name will be Mud with the CPD, and I might need to come to you for a job. I’ll be honest and tell you right now that I’m total shit in the mechanic category, but I’m a quick learner.”

Bill slid the man a sidelong glance. Buchanan as a Black Knight? Two days ago he would’ve laughed at the idea. Now? Not so much…

“I’ll run and get the wire from my duty vehicle,” Buchanan said.

“You’re not going with us?”

“I wish. I’d like nothing more than to see Eve finally stand up to her father.” And that made two of them. “But that was my partner who called a minute ago, and I’m still on the clock.”

Bill nodded and watched Buchanan spin on his heel and jog down the alley. Turning back, he closed the distance to the group and handed his cell phone to the detective who was still attempting to question an uncooperative Eve.

“What’s this?” Normandy asked, one bushy gray eyebrow sliding up his age-spotted forehead.

“It’ll be your police chief on the other end once you hit redial,” Bill said, trying not to sound overly pleased with himself.

The look on Normandy’s face before he turned away to do as Bill suggested told him he’d failed in that endeavor. He couldn’t bring himself to care overly much, especially when, after a quick conversation, the detective turned back to him, gaze speculative. “You’ve got two hours,” the man said, echoing Washington’s decree. “Then I expect to see you at the station.”

“You got it,” Bill repeated the assurance he’d given to Washington before glancing over at Eve. “Now, let’s go question your father, shall we?”

“Yes,” she declared, eyes flashing, nose lifted so high in the air he was surprised she couldn’t smell the aviation fuel from the jetliners flying into O’Hare. But he much preferred cocky, pissed-off Eve, to terrified, guilt- ridden Eve. Pissed-off Eve allowed him to keep his defenses up in a way terrified Eve did not. “And then you’ll see you’re wrong about him, Billy. Dad will explain everything.”

“I hope you’re right, sweetheart,” he told her. Sweetheart? Damn, he just couldn’t get away from that, could he? And then he quietly added, “For your sake.”

Her lower lip quivered, and for a moment he thought he’d gone and ruined it all, smashed all her hard-won temerity and bravado. Way to go, Reichert. But then she firmed her shoulders, and he breathed a quick sigh of relief.

“I am right,” she declared, although the doubt in her voice was as loud and bright as a flashbang.

“I’m coming, too,” Delilah announced, and Bill turned to her with a frown. He opened his mouth to tell her she wasn’t involved when Mac beat him to it.

“If this man played a part in Buzzard’s death,” Delilah ignored Mac’s words as she slid a look toward Eve, wincing and laying a hand on Eve’s forearm, “I’m not saying he did, honey, but if he did, I want to be there when he’s confronted.”

And Bill could totally understand that. After all, it was his own desire to stare into Patrick Edens’s face when Eve questioned him that’d led him to make that call to Washington in the first place. And as much as Buzzard had exemplified his nickname—the dude had been a wizened old bird who’d hung around the bar waiting to feed, in the form of a quick bathroom hump, on the carcasses of the drunk and over fifty crowd—Bill knew the man had also been one of Delilah’s friends.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” he asked, turning to her and barely managing to keep from wincing. Damnit. Again with the sweetheart? “Everything that happens from here on out is your show.”

“She can come,” Eve declared, still standing tall and refusing to believe the evidence that was staring them all in the face. “If only to bear witness to my father’s innocence.”

You keep telling yourself that. You just keep telling yourself that until you’re ready to face the truth.

And, Lord help him, but when she was ready to face the truth and the inevitable psychological fallout it would unquestionably cause, he was probably going to have to be the one to help her pick up the pieces and put herself back together again. And how the hell was he going to do that and still keep his hands to himself? For shit’s sake, he hadn’t even been able to sit on her bed offering her comfort for two minutes before he’d slammed his mouth over hers. And ten minutes ago, he’d nearly screwed her cross-eyed in the middle of Delilah’s parking lot despite the fact that she’d very recently wrestled with a gunman for her life right before witnessing the gruesome death of an old man.

Christ, he was going to be in trouble. But he supposed he’d have to cross that bridge when he got there. For now, their two hours were quickly ticking away.

“Okay, so you’re coming,” he told Delilah, shrugging when Mac turned to him with a look that screamed what the hell, man? “If it’s okay with Eve,” he told the former FBI agent, “then I don’t see how we can stop her.”

Mac spun to Delilah, his mouth open with what was undoubtedly a very reasonable and logical argument as to why she should stay here or else go with Normandy down to the police station. But before he could spit out one