Vigilante Mine (6 page)

"Better." Jay's voice dropped to a sliver of a whisper. "Fiscal adventures aren't enough for you during the day? You have to liberate files, too?"

So much for a reprieve on questions.
Ryan frowned. He was certain no mention of the file had gone over his earpiece. So how did his brothers know what he'd paid for with his implied bribe? Had they bugged Lieutenant Dale's office? Both of them had been heavy-handed with the tiny sound-triggered mics lately.

Jay didn't keep him guessing long. "I saw the folder when you crawled out of the air duct." He rubbed the back of his neck with a quiet sigh. "Ryan, if word got out where you were . . . "

Ryan rubbed his hand over his scorched jacket and shook his head. Officially, he and Amanda had to have climbed out a window. No one could know he'd been in the secure file room. McLelas credibility was on the line. Even wealthy civilians couldn't explain away a rummage through the precinct's sealed and cold cases, and a cover-up would mean piling new sins of bribery on top of the original one.

Lesson learned: Responsibility was fucking complicated.

"Soon as he's good, I'll take him home. Don't let him up," Jay said to an EMT who promptly retrieved a blood pressure cuff. Both men exchanged a conspiratorial smirk and Ryan groaned.

At least Amanda had been released from the clutches of her caretakers. Her oxygen mask was off and Ryan watched her shrug out from under the blanket; the bright, coarse fabric balling in her hands. Impatience tugged at him. If he could disentangle himself from his brother and the EMT now prodding his arm, he could catch her before she left. To what end, he wasn't sure. Asking her out to dinner would get him laughed out of the parking lot. Sentiment was a waste of breath and she wouldn't know any more than he about the explosion until investigators sifted through the precinct. For the second time since he'd met her in that dark alley, Ryan had no idea what to say.

Lieutenant Dale stomped into his peripheral vision and toward Amanda with a scowl, dragging a paramedic and two officers behind him. "Detective, take that off and you get strapped to a table. I'm not above sending you to the hospital overnight."

Ryan grinned. So, he wasn't the only one being bullied back to health.

Lieutenant Dale did an about-face and Ryan jerked to attention. It was obvious he'd be the next target and with the man's forehead furrowed so deeply, he didn't expect a pleasant conversation. Jay and Ryan's EMT disappeared, leaving him to the lieutenant's whim. Ryan started to slide from back of the ambulance.

"Don't. You're as bad as she is." The lieutenant let out an exasperated sigh as he propped a foot on the bumper. "Sit."

Ryan leaned back on his elbows.

"She's like a daughter to me, McLelas." Lieutenant Dale cut himself off. He gave him a long look, unblinking. "If you hadn't found a way out
—
"

Ryan waved off the implied gratitude and slid the mask down his nose. "Lucky we were in that room when the explosion happened."

A muscle ticked in the other man's jaw. "Should have been the safest place in the building."

Something in his tone caught Ryan's ears. Knowing. Before he could dig, they both spotted News 9's lead anchor picking her way around uniformed officers. Lieutenant Dale sighed and Ryan shoved the mask over his face, hoping to deter her from an impromptu interview. He'd have preferred not to be noticed on the scene, but such was the price of fame.

She brazenly shoved her microphone in their direction and gestured over her shoulder for the camerawoman at her back to start filming. "Can we get a statement, Lieutenant?"

"No comment." The lieutenant put his hand over the lens of the camera and lowered the device off the camerawoman's shoulder. "Sorry, ladies. Your viewers will have to wait with the rest of the city. I'm sure the other department heads will give you the same story: Press conference. Seven o'clock tonight. The investigators haven't gone through the door. If we know something before then, we'll let you know . . . at seven."

Both women glared at him, but the lieutenant was unmoved. Ryan suppressed a sigh and reached for his oxygen mask. His turn. But to his surprise, the microphone yanked away. They stomped off, toothpick heels steady on the uneven blacktop, leaving him staring after them with his mouth open.

No interview? Ryan rubbed at his ears in agitation. The press couldn't always follow him around
—
gas at twenty a gallon was too expensive for most of the outlets
—
but his favorite restaurant was regularly staked out by photographers snapping shots of his date for the evening. Magazine articles, radio speculations, near-daily TV footage of his charming public face and playboy tendencies had been the norm since before he'd signed on as McLelas Financial's president. Being ignored was surreal in a way that made his blood go numb.

"Not everything is about you."

"Huh?" He looked up to find Lieutenant Dale studying him, his expression bland.

"I can call her back if you like." The corner of the man's mouth twitched. "But you look like you've been dragged behind a semi, dunked in a vat of tar, and left to repel stray cats."

Ryan blinked at him, then down at the ashen knees of his suit pants. He grimaced. For the press not to recognize him, the lieutenant couldn't be far from the truth.

Lieutenant Dale's hearty laugh broke free. "Money can't buy everything." His eyes swung toward the reporter, watching her find another officer to harass. "She'll have an exclusive. The other networks won't waste the gas for a . . . simple fire."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Lieutenant, the floor moved. Twice. There's no way
—
"

"Blown gas pipes, maybe." He dragged a hand through thick, graying hair. "As you saw, the heat's been acting up."

Was the lieutenant downplaying the potential dangers for a civilian or was there more to his hedging? Ryan frowned, studying the precinct as he weighed his next words. The north corner had darkened with soot and some windows were broken. From the outside it appeared stable. Slightly more rundown than the rest of the area, but still standing. The solution to one of his problems formulated in his head. In the face of even minor disaster, funding was far easier to pry from wealthy, philanthropic pockets.

"This press conference," Ryan said.

The corners of the lieutenant's eyes had pinched with concern, and now his gaze turned wary. "What about it?"

Ryan smiled. "I'm thinking that McLelas Financial's fundraiser couldn't come at a better time. Your building was in bad shape before
—
look at it now. When's good for you? A couple of days? End of the week?"

Lieutenant Dale eyed the front of Ryan's jacket, where the smuggled documents created a slight bulge. "Would hosting it sooner be an apology?"

"I don't make excuses." Nor would he return the file. His father hadn't been able to find answers. Ryan would. "Hosting it now turns your disaster to an advantage. Your choice."

The other man studied him for a long moment and finally gave a slow nod. "You'll do your father's memory proud yet."

His chest ached with the reminder but Ryan forced a shrug. He snapped his oxygen mask over his cheekbones, focusing instead on the sting of elastic.
War, distraction by detective, and a tongue that functions ahead of my brain, yes, those are the hallmarks of a good legacy, Lieutenant.

"I don't recommend tacking it on to tonight's media circus, though. Give me a day or two to sort this mess."

Ryan nodded. At least this way, he could leverage the case file deal to a greater advantage, both for the company and for the reputations at stake.

The cellular phone hooked on one of Lieutenant Dale's belt loops buzzed and he flipped it to his ear. After a final nod at Ryan the lieutenant strode off. He disappeared around the side of Amanda's ambulance to take the call as if the shield of a vehicle between him and the swarm of people in the parking lot could garner a private conversation. Amanda looked up as he passed. When he didn't glance her way, her mask fogged with an aggravated huff. Ryan empathized
—
his EMT buddy had returned to poking. He occupied himself with burying memories as he watched the detective's fingers twitch in an uneven pattern over her biceps.

A furious, muffled "Where is she?" came from the other side of Amanda's ambulance. Ryan stripped off his oxygen mask. He tuned in to the lieutenant's phone call, ignoring the EMT's attempt to strap the device back to his face.

"No praise for my demonstration?" asked an auto-tuned voice on the other end of the line. "Disappointing, Lieutenant."

"You had your fun. Tell me where she is."

Ryan hopped off the bumper and moved toward Amanda, purposefully keeping his steps slow and calm. Her lieutenant's hedging hid guilt. He had known there would be an attack. Had spoken with the person behind it before the explosions, and now he was doing so again. A grim smile found its way to Ryan's lips. "Might take some time to find," indeed. Lieutenant Dale had purposely maneuvered his favorite detective into the safest place in the building.

"Smooth," Ryan murmured. McLelas Financial made the right call to support the 16th.

The lieutenant snapped his fingers and Ryan guessed the man had covered the receiver. "Get my team."

Amanda frowned as one of the officers guarding her took off at a sprint across the parking lot. She hopped down and scooted around the corner. "Lieutenant?"

"Where?" he asked again.

"She's here. Home, safe and sound. But I'm not calling about your lovely wife." The caller's tone modulated wildly between pitches, clearly irritated. "I'm calling to deliver a promise."

"And what would that be?"

Ryan braced himself against the ambulance door as a rising tide of murmured concern pushed over the caller's response. He leaned around the corner to see several detectives huddled around their commanding officer. Amanda's shoulders were straight and her weariness had dropped away.

"Who is that?"

"Everything okay?"

"Sir . . . "

The lieutenant snapped his fingers, this time for quiet, and the pressure of extra voices in Ryan's ears eased. He homed in on the caller's so-called promise, his ability rummaging through the tones in the modulated voice. The caller's voice was a knot of sound. If he could focus long enough, he could find the right string, pull it, pull it again, until the whole thing unraveled.

"Elected leaders in our dying city's government must vacate their offices within the week."

That was an ultimatum, not a promise. Ryan aborted an intense step forward. He wasn't supposed to hear both sides of the conversation.

Lieutenant Dale uncovered the receiver, his stance rigid with fury. "Or?"

"One week, Lieutenant. One week until I take matters into my own hands. Relek City will be cleansed." The line clicked.

Ryan swore. A few more seconds, and he might have had the caller's real voice.

Lieutenant Dale's face blanched and he fisted his phone. "My house. Now. Dispatch two uniforms, and I want you two in the car with me." His fingers jabbed the air to punctuate each command. "Hunter, stick around and keep that reporter and her camera lackey busy."

"Is Theresa okay? Which car do you want me in? I can help." Amanda pressed in as the men on her team hurried to follow orders. Her fingers curled against her thighs. "I need to help."

Lieutenant Dale ripped his keys from a ring on his belt. "Speak with Charlie."

"Oh, I have. Lieutenant, you can't keep me on the bench!"

"Go home. Shower. Sleep. Take tomorrow off, and for once, Detective, do not argue with me." He flicked a cryptic look at Ryan and ran for his vehicle.

"Take tomorrow off?" Amanda stiffened as if it took all of her will not to follow. "He can't be serious. I should
—
"

Ryan brushed his fingers against her arm to win her attention. In an instant, her elbow launched toward his solar plexus, and he barely dodged the instinctive attack. He sucked in a relieved breath and grinned down at her. If nothing else, her months in recovery had improved her speed. Klepto would have taken a real beating if she'd moved like that back then.

"Remind me not to piss you off." Ryan tamped down on mental images of an indoor, silk-and-leather rematch as her eyes flashed at him, ice flecked with steel. He didn't need a rematch. Now, a winter-cold dunk in the Bentley Park Lake? Yes.

"Why are you still here?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Right." Both of her hands popped up to her face, scrubbing at her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"How's the breathing?" Twin sirens threatened to drown out his words.

"I'm cleared." Her gaze latched onto the cruisers as they pulled onto the road. "And still, everyone's going after this guy but me."

Ryan forced a grin. "I'm not."

A fraction of strain dropped from her shoulders, but the smile she sent him pinched at the sides. "About the fire, Ryan. I wanted to than
—
"

"I'll let Zach know." He intercepted her thanks in a rush. He didn't deserve it. Ever. No good deed could offset the harm he'd done to the city. To her. The reminder burrowed into his gut. "He was quick with those blueprints, wasn't he?"