He’s as dangerous—and irresistible—as ever…

Detective Sophia Hail risks her life every day. But for over a decade the decorated Philly cop has kept her heart under wraps. Now Santigo Rodriguez is threatening everything she has worked so hard to protect. With the city reeling from a scandal that touches her own family, Sophia is vulnerable…and tempted to give in to the passion her ex-lover is offering.

When Santigo falls in love, it’s for keeps, and the promise of a second chance with Sophia is more than he can resist. Once before she walked out, choosing her dangerous career over a future with him. Now Santigo has to find a way to keep Sophia safe in his arms…before a widening trail of sex and corruption blows the town—and their rekindled love affair—wide open.

“See me out?” he asked, wondering if she’d oblige or hurl the carryout bag at his head.

When she stood and turned for the door, he smiled. He wondered how well her innately polite nature fared in the midst of her daily police duties.

Sophia had already pulled open the door, where she stood steeling herself against the desire to tap her bare foot.

Santigo took his time about approaching the door. Once he’d closed whatever distance there was between them, Sophia drew on every ounce of will not to throw herself on him again.

Tigo leaned into her, dipping his head to trail his nose across her temple, down her cheek…. Cupping her neck in his palm, he placed a lingering kiss on her earlobe.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tig…” Her tone was half needy, half tortured.

Santigo slid the kiss below her earlobe and then alongside her neck, and he felt her shudder.

Sophia had no more words. She could only turn her face toward him, where she breathed in the cologne he wore. The subtle fragrance triggered every hormone she claimed.

“Lock up.” He spoke the order into the hollow at her throat. He straightened, taking delight in her reaction to his touch.

He gave her bottom a squeeze and proprietary pat, then he was gone. Sophia had just enough strength in her hand to set the locks before she had to rely on the door for support, as her legs had become totally useless.

ALTONYA WASHINGTON

has been a romance novelist for nine years. Her novel Finding Love Again won the RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Multicultural Romance in 2004. As T. Onyx, AlTonya released her third erotica title, Pleasure’s Powerhouse, in 2011. Her 2012 Harlequin Kimani Romance title His Texas Touch, second in the Lone Star Seduction series, was nominated for the RT Book Reviews Award in the Best Series Romance category. The year 2012 also marked the release of the fourteenth title in her popular Ramsey/Tesano saga, A Lover’s Sin. The author began 2013 with her Harlequin Kimani Romance title Provocative Territory. She enjoys being a mom and librarian in North Carolina.

Provocative Passion

Altonya Washington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

Provocative Passion was a rare treat to craft. The experience was a mystery much like the one that unfolds among the pages you’re about to read. Plotting this story and creating these alluring and very demanding characters was as much of a treat as it was a surprise.

I call the experience a mystery because I still can’t quite figure out how these characters manage to dictate the course of the stories we authors create. It’s amazing to be in the midst of drafting an outline and having a clear picture of the story’s path, only to have it all redirected by the characters.

It’s so exciting and motivating to still be surprised like this. Santigo Rodriguez, Sophia Hail and company definitely threw up tons of twists and turns in this book. I do hope you’re ready for the ride.

Love and blessings,

Al

altonya@lovealtonya.com

To my incredible readers, friends and family.

Your awesome support continues to overwhelm me.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Prologue

“Walk out that door and I’m done.”

Sophia Hail’s bow-shaped mouth opened in disbelief...and heartbreak. “You can’t mean that.” Her voice was less than a whisper.

The gold flecks in Santigo Rodriguez’s uncommon ebony gaze sparkled; then his stare faltered and he was taking a seat in the armchair next to the bed, where he began slipping into a pair of black hiking boots.

“You mean that?” Sophia hated the lost and still-heartbroken tone of her voice. She was made of stronger stuff than that, but her disbelief had stunned her.

Santigo continued coolly putting on his shoes until the weight of Sophia’s extraordinary gray eyes commanded a response. “How I feel shouldn’t be a surprise, Soap,” he said.

She shook her head. “All that time I’ve been at the academy—”

“And all that time you knew how I felt.”

“Tig, it’s my first day at work—”

“If it is, then I’m done.”

Something flickered in her eyes, and she came to stand before him, arms folded over her chest. “You didn’t think I’d go through with it, did you? Didn’t think I’d finish.” She saw the muscle skip along the angle of his strong jaw, and she knew she’d correctly guessed. “You jackass.”

Santigo finished tying the boots and reclined in the chair. “You proved you have the stones to see this through. Let it go and move on.”

Sophia placed the dry-cleaned uniform across her bed and pinned her lover of six years with a furious glare. “Move on? Why? To make it easier for you to handle?”

Tigo shot up from the chair, towering over Sophia and fixing her with a gaze darker than anything she could have conjured.

“Are you that ready to get yourself shot to hell to prove what a badass you are, Sophia?”

She took a step back...crushed. “That’s what you think?” She took in the tall, seductively crafted length of his six-foot-plus frame. “When I told you this was who I am, who I wanted to be...did you think I was playing around, Tig?”

He spread his arms. “You wanna break me down, Soap? All right then, I admit it, I can’t handle it.” He shook his head; the generous curve of his mouth was a grim line. “I can’t handle it.”

“But you can handle me walking away from something I love?”

“Love? Jesus, Soap, you haven’t even started!”

“Well, that’s about to change.” She went to reclaim her uniform.

“Then we’re about to change.” He turned his back and pulled a wrinkled denim shirt across his chiseled chestnut-brown torso.

Sophia bit her lip and willed herself not to cry. She watched the uniform turn to a blur before her eyes and knew that she had failed.

“Leave my key on the counter when you go,” she said and left without another look back.

Santigo maintained his rigid stance a mere second after the front door slammed shut. Then he crumpled, returning to the armchair, where he held his head in his hands and let emotion have its way.

Chapter 1

Sophia Hail was barely halfway through elementary school when her parents began Reed House. Gerald Hail, Sophia’s father, was a well-known textile manufacturer. His factory put to work hundreds of people in and around the greater Philadelphia area.

Gerald’s wife, Veronica, was a teacher in the same school her daughters Viva and Sophia attended. But Veronica was a dedicated daughter first and foremost. She was also an only child. When her parents grew ill, she left the career she treasured to care for them. For all her selflessness, Veronica pressed her girls to always follow their hearts. She urged them to seek and live their dreams for as long as their lives allowed them the option.

Sophia recalled her grandparents’ illnesses all too well in spite of her age at the time. She also recalled her mother’s heartbreak when Veronica realized how ill-equipped she was to care for them. Supportive to a fault, Gerald Hail had told his wife to spare no expense to find them the best.

The endeavor opened the Hails’ eyes to the lack of quality care for the city’s elderly. Once more, Veronica had found a passion—a new one that far surpassed her desire to teach. As she couldn’t find quality care, she decided to create it herself for her parents and for other parents who, after a lifetime of caring for others, could no longer care for themselves.

Reed House, named for Veronica’s parents, Glenn and Estelle Reed, grew into a premiere example of senior care. Local and national news stories had followed the assisted living center from its earliest days in a quaint Victorian-style home, capable of accommodating twenty “guests,” to the impressive assisted living park, sprawled over a ten-acre tract of land just outside Philadelphia’s city limits.

Veronica Hail was committed to providing her guests with virtually every aspect of the lives they’d enjoyed before the onset of age led them to her doors. Reed House was more than a retirement home. Nonresidents raved over the fine restaurants, which were exclusive to the center. It had often been said that Veronica Hail had discovered the secret to getting people to visit their loved ones in retirement homes more often: fine food.

Movie theaters, performance halls, an eighteen-hole golf course, community gardens...virtually any interest was indulged. The center earned its reputation as the finest example of elder care. There was certainly no shortage of funds to operate such an establishment, either. Veronica worked hard so that Reed House would be able to accept all applicants regardless of financial status.

The annual Reed House Jazz Supper was but one of the ways she made that possible. The supper had been a staple in Philadelphia for years. The award-winning entertainment flown in for the Jazz Supper often took a backseat to features on Reed House itself and the awesome work it accomplished. The acclaim was always abundant and consistent, and Reed House had managed to operate without scandal since its inception.

That had all changed seven days ago.

Sophia Hail didn’t need to see or speak with her parents to know how disappointed they were by the events that had taken place during the Supper. Although a wrong had been righted, Sophia knew that her parents were more focused on where the wrong had been righted.

The arrest of Waymon Cole at the event still had the city reeling from all the revelations and backlash it had created.

Cole was a financier who was known best as business manager to Jazmina Beaumont, the owner of Jazzy B’s Gentleman’s Club. The woman’s death had roused a power struggle of sorts between Cole and Jaz Beaumont’s niece, Clarissa David. Waymon Cole wanted to maintain a stake in the club as it was his front for a complex money-laundering scheme that involved many of the city’s “finest.”

Sophia’s work with Clarissa David had uncovered the crime and many of its participants. Sophia was especially determined to see the racket brought to an end in light of the nurturing role Jaz Beaumont had played in her sister Viva’s life.

Unfortunately for Sophia, her dedication to seeing the case closed put her at odds with her parents. Once again, her job had aggravated the sore spot the Hails had harbored since their daughter had announced her desire to join the police force. Veronica Hail refused to believe that such an occupation could truly be her daughter’s passion.

The closing of the case also put Sophia at odds with many of her coworkers. Given her line of work, such an upset could make for a dangerous situation.

That all took a backseat, however, to what weighed most heavily on her mind: the fact that she’d had to cancel her date with Santigo Rodriguez.

He’d taken her call to cancel quite well, as she remembered. Then again, he was probably used to it despite the fact that they hadn’t dated in years. After all, it had been the demands of Sophia’s job that had crippled their relationship in the first place.

Santigo’s offer to take her to the Jazz Supper was most likely a fluke anyway. Sophia had been having lunch with Clarissa David. They had been discussing the case when Sophia had looked up and there he was. After eight years of not seeing each other once, there he was. Maybe he thought it meant something. They lived in the same city and hadn’t run into each other at all before that day. Sophia had wondered if it’d meant anything, as well. She could barely hear herself accept his offer above the bass-drum beat of her heart in her ears.

She’d spoken to him only once since the Cole arrest. Even then, he’d sounded calm, telling her, “Work happens.” He’d sounded cool enough, yet Sophia couldn’t help but make note of the change in his demeanor. He’d made a joke about being too old to get riled up over things. Even still, Sophia remembered her ex-lover’s temper all too well.

She had to wonder how long the slower-to-rile, easier-going Tigo Rodriguez would maintain a presence.

* * *

Sophia jerked herself from the cavern of her thoughts and found that the coffee she’d been nursing in the break room had grown cold. Settling back in the uncomfortable metal chair, she sighed. Her dark gray stare appeared as weary as she felt while she studied the clutter she’d made on the small round table she occupied.

She had taken to finishing reports and making calls in the area since the case had broken wide-open. The remote space was rarely used since most cops took to eating at their desks or heading out.

Sophia grimaced and traced the tip of an index nail around the coffee circle the bottom of her cup had left on the manila folder. Break time in a bona fide break area or at a desk would be forever changed when upward of twenty cops—soon to be former cops—would either be sent to the unemployment line or jail.

And that was all her doing. Many of Sophia’s remaining coworkers blamed her for it all. This, regardless of the fact that the disgraced officers were dirty cops. It was a tough thing to deal with, tougher than it might have been, given the whole Reed House dinner fiasco.

Her colleagues had said little, but they didn’t need to. Their thoughts were clearly echoed in the venomous looks they slithered her way. Sophia snorted, wrinkling a small nose spaced perfectly above her bow-shaped mouth. Being treated like an outsider was no surprise. She’d never received much more than a “hi” or “bye” from her coworkers anyway.

Because of who her parents were, almost everyone thought Sophia was merely playing cop. She couldn’t blame them. There weren’t too many heiresses who chose to be public servants.

A tap on her shoulder jerked Sophia from her thoughts for the second time that day.

“Sorry.” Kelly Fields made the apology sound like a word of welcome as she smiled down at Sophia. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Sophia winced and took in her surroundings. “Sorry about that.” The apology was humble and genuine. Kelly was one of the switchboard operators, and that group rarely journeyed from the hallowed department that served as the nerve center of the precinct.

“Why didn’t you call?” Sophia began to put the cluttered network of papers into some kind of order. “Oh,” she said on discovering that her phone was nowhere on the small table or in the pockets she patted on her navy trousers.

Kelly cleared her throat, and Sophia looked up to find the petite redhead waving her cell phone lazily.

“I went by your office to look for you first,” Kelly explained.

“Thanks.” Sophia shook her head and took the phone.

“Not a problem.”

“No, really.” Sophia turned the rectangular device over in her hand. “Thanks for being thoughtful enough to drop this off. At least there’s somebody around here who’s not treating me like a pariah.”

Kelly threw back her head and laughed. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Hmph.” Sophia toyed with a loose mahogany-brown curl she’d left dangling from her chignon. “What cop shop do you work for?”

“Well, the D.A.’s been trying to track you down,” Kelly said after another bout of laughter. “She wants you to call her ASAP.”

“Thanks again, Kelly.” Sophia raised her phone in a gesture of mock salute.

Kelly leaned over to give Sophia’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you.”

Sophia smiled at the young woman’s departing figure and then got to work returning the district attorney’s call.

D.A. Paula Starker rarely answered a call with a hello. There were always the few additional moments it took for her to close out the conversation she was already involved in before she gave the next person her full attention.

Sophia smiled and listened in as Paula spoke to who Sophia assumed was one of her assistants.

“Now find me at least one piece of worthwhile evidence we can take into court instead of the beef the defense ground the prosecution’s ass into yesterday. Hello?” Paula answered the call as though it was an afterthought.

“Returning your call, Madam D.A.,” Sophia sang.

“Ah...Detective Sophia, don’t you own a mobile? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Waymon Cole?” The clipped, no-nonsense tone Paula reserved for her A.D.A.s had softened into her more natural native Georgia drawl.

“Cole.” Sophia frowned. “What about him?”

“Wants a deal.”

“Impossible.”

“Possible. That is, if what he’s dealing is good.”

Sophia left the small table and began to stalk the uninviting, fluorescent-lit room. “What’s he dealing?” Her voice was like stone.

“I’d rather discuss that in person. When can you meet me?”

Sophia was preparing to reply when the phone shook with another call coming through. Santigo.

“Paula, um, let me get back to you. Another call’s coming in.”

“Not a problem. I’ll look to hear from you before five.”

“Right.” Sophia made quick work of clicking off from Paula to catch Tigo’s call before it went to voice mail. Still, she took care not to sound overly excited when she greeted him.

“Hey, Tig.”

“Hey.” His voice was like caramel over chipped ice—sweet, cool and with an edge that roused shivers that had nothing to do with a chill. “This a bad time?” he asked.

“No, no, not a bit.”

“You’re lying.” He sounded amused. “But I won’t hold it against you. I want you for dinner.”

“Do I get to eat, too?” Hell. Where did that come from? Sophia asked herself. The words had tumbled past her lips so fast she hadn’t even realized they’d been verbalized.

Santigo laughed, the sound warm and thick. Obviously, he was surprised by her comeback. “Sure you do, but I get the feeling you don’t eat much.”

“So is this your way of saving me?” Sophia returned to settle back into the hard metal chair.

“Trying to save myself, Soap.” The caramel smoothness went soft, quietly affecting. “I’ll see you soon, all right?”

He disconnected before Sophia could say anything else. She studied the phone, rolling it over in her hand. “Do you know what you’re doing, girl? Uh-uh,” she answered herself in the negative. She never knew what she was doing when it came to Santigo Rodriguez.

“Oh, hey, Sophia!” Dionne Battles, another of the switchboard crew, strolled into the break room on stylish six-inch heels. “D.A. Starker’s been tryin’ to reach you.”

“Thanks, Dee.” Sophia threw a hand up to the operator who was on the way to the candy machine in the corner of the dim room. Turning back to the papers in her hand, she told herself to get back to work—the only thing she did well.

* * *

Santigo Rodriguez and his partner Linus Brooks were trading amused looks as they subjected their partner and old friend Elias Joss to a series of twenty or more questions. Elias had just announced that he was taking a quick trip, and he stood behind his desk trying to convince his partners that it was all business.

“Ah, man, please. You need to squash that,” Linus grunted with a playful smirk.

Tigo chuckled. “Line’s right, El. Admit it. Business and Clarissa David don’t even belong in the same paragraph for you.”

Eli kept his gaze on the folder he held. “We’re professionals,” he said.

“Bull,” Tigo declared.

“Double bull,” Linus added in the same playful grunt he’d used earlier.

Elias rolled his eyes, two mesmerizing orbs of sky blue that contrasted against a complexion of creamy caramel. “I seem to recall all of us being in the same meeting, where we decided to visit the locales of the clubs.” Joss Construction had won the bid for the redesign of Jazzy B’s locations across the country. Clarissa and Elias were to set off on a series of trips meant to ensure Clarissa’s desires for the clubs were along the same lines as the architects’ working with Joss.

“Damn.” Santigo closed his eyes and raked both hands through the silky coal-colored waves crowning his head. “Line, man, help me out. What’s the word I’m lookin’ for?”

“Convenient,” Linus supplied, idly scanning the copy of Architectural Digest he’d grabbed from an end table.

“That’s it.” Tigo snapped his fingers.

Eli grimaced, but it was all in fun. “I’m thinking of a word, too.” He shut the folder he’d been attempting to browse. “Maybe two words—peaceful and quiet.”

“Ah, man.” Tigo threw up a lazy wave. “Don’t get upset because you can’t admit you’re using business to fulfill your pleasure.”

Elias tried to appear exasperated but only broke down in amusement. Soon all three men were enjoying a hearty round of laughter.

“Seriously, El.” Linus stood once the largest portion of laughter had been spent. “You and Clarissa, it’s a good look.” He slanted his friend a wink.

Elias reciprocated with a nod. “Doesn’t feel half-bad, either,” he confessed.

Linus walked over to shake hands with Eli, and then he took his suit coat from the back of the armchair he’d occupied and left the office.

Tigo left his place on the sofa and strolled the room to claim a new spot on the edge of Elias’s desk. “He’s right,” Tigo said.

Elias gave his friend the benefit of a quick and knowing smile before resuming his scan of the folder’s contents. “Think you’re in line for the same?”

“Huh?” Tigo’s hand stilled on the paperweight on the desk. He laughed abruptly at the look Elias sent his way.

“Don’t even try it.” Eli closed the folder and picked up another. “We all know you’ve seen Sophia. Even Clari could tell there was something up when she saw the way you were drooling over her when they had lunch that day.”

“Ain’t that cute? You and Clarissa already exchanging scoops about mutual friends. This is serious.” Tigo bounced the weight in his palm.

“All right, all right.” Elias laughed. “Keep your secrets.”

A few moments passed with only the sound of Eli sorting through folders dotting the silence.

“I want her back.” Santigo eased the chrome paperweight back to its stand on the desk. “I don’t plan to let her walk away from me again.”

“Hmm...let her walk away. Don’t you mean you don’t plan to tell her to walk away?”

“Don’t start, El,” Tigo warned through a clenched jaw.

Elias kept his gaze on the open folder. “This won’t work if you can’t be honest about why it didn’t work out in the first place.” He looked at Santigo. “You’re gonna have to own up to the ultimatum you gave her. You can best believe she hasn’t forgotten it. And last I heard, she was still a cop.”

“Right.” Tigo acknowledged the fact in a deep voice as tight as his clenched jaw.

“And that still bothers you,” Eli guessed. He took his suit coat from the rack in the corner.

“So what? It bothers me.” Tigo jerked his shirt cuffs with more force than was needed. “It doesn’t mean I can’t have her.”

“No...it doesn’t mean that.” Eli slipped an arm into the amber-colored jacket. “But if it bothers you the way it did before, you should ready yourself for the sight of her walking away from you again.” Elias finished donning the coat and grabbed the folders he’d been studying. He paused to pat Santigo’s cheek before making his way out of the office.

* * *

“All right, now we’re on the right track. This is evidence.” Paula Starker was speaking to one of her A.D.A.s while nodding enthusiastically at the thick file she browsed. “It’s got gums, but you still need something with teeth... Detective Sophie!” she greeted in the same breath when she looked around.

“Bring me something juicy, Rich,” Paula told the harried-looking young man. She handed him the file and waved him off, grinning at Sophia as the A.D.A. rushed out.

“Something juicy?” Sophia shook her head. “I’ll bet he’s got all kinds of ideas running through his head.”

“Ha! So long as he keeps ’em there, we’re good, Detective Sophie.” Paula tossed a pen on the desk teeming with heavy-bound books, legal pads and folders.

Sophia took a seat on the arm of the tan leather sofa nearby. “You know, I really don’t think your greeting me as Detective Sophie is professional, Pauly.”

“Ahh...” Paula waved off the caution. “Do you really think folks don’t already know we went to school together and were roommates besides?”

Paula Starker was new to her post as D.A. The fact that a woman in her mid-thirties had unseated the former holder of the seat after a ten-year term was almost as startling as the fact that she was a black.

Sophia left the sofa, rubbing chilled hands as she headed for the coffee carafe set out near the liquor shelf in Paula’s office. “It might be an issue if we keep meeting this way. You say Cole wants to deal?”

“Says he’s got deal-worthy information. Funny how an arraignment not going your way will do that. Judge denied bail.” She shrugged. “For now.”

Sophia inhaled the coffee’s aroma as she poured it into a large mug. “So what’s this deal-worthy info?”

Paula waved her mug in a silent request for Sophia to provide a refill of the fragrant walnut blend. “He’s being tight-lipped. Understandable. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure what he’s bartering.”

Sophia filled Paula’s mug and returned it. “He wants to name names,” she guessed.

“I’ll say.” Paula took a timid sip of the brew. “Obviously he and Paul Hertz are on the B-list.”

Sophia added cream to her coffee, frowning over Paula’s mention of Paul Hertz, who had submitted his resignation as chief of detectives following his arrest along with several other uniforms who had been tracked by their badge numbers from a ledger belonging to Waymon Cole. The ledger had been discovered by Clarissa David among her late aunt’s belongings.

“We took down a lot of people, Pauly. That’s nothin’ to sneeze at.”

“Cops and a glorified stockbroker.” Paula set aside the coffee as though she’d lost her taste for it. “Do you really believe Cole and Hertz are as far up the food chain as this thing goes?” A measure of confidence faded from the woman’s round, honey-toned face. “If Cole does have something, I can’t make a deal for it. I could kiss off any chance for keeping my job if I did. We’ve gotta find Cole’s goodies without his help.”

Sophia hissed an indecipherable curse. “I just hoped all this was—”

“What? Over?” Paula recrossed her shapely legs beneath her side-split rose-blush skirt. “Guess you thought all the bad guys were behind bars?”

Sophia smiled in spite of herself. “Yeah...naive, I know, and a little anxious, I guess....”

“Anxious, huh?” Paula’s champagne-colored stare sparkled with a bit of wickedness. “Could that have anything to do with a certain half-black, half-Hispanic brotha, initials S.R.?”

The surprise on Sophia’s dark face sent Paula chuckling. “I heard he came to see you at the station. Ha! We’re a pair, aren’t we? Both of us could use more friends in our places of business. You’ve probably got more pull around here than I do, and I’ve probably got a bit more at the precinct that you do.”

“It was nothing to throw a parade over.” Sophia warmed her hands around the mug and remembered the day Tigo had come by the station. “The visit didn’t even last five minutes.”

“And you were okay with that?” Paula sat behind her desk.

Sophia laughed. “There was nothing to be okay with. Anyway.” She folded her arms across the gray blouse beneath her jacket. “Where should we start tryin’ to dig up the rest of Cole’s secrets?”

“And this is where more friends would come in handy.” Paula toyed with a curl from her bob. “You should have as little involvement in this part of the investigation as possible. Put some other bodies on this. Offer guidance but only at a distance. If you didn’t have any friends at the station before, then you’ve got even less now.”

Sophia looked like she’d just been slapped. “Paula, are you stupid? How can you lay something like this at my feet and not expect me to get involved?”

“Listen to me, So-So. If what I’ve heard is true, you’ll soon be in a position to delegate having somebody to do everything short of wiping your nose for you. Just keep a low profile on this.” She scratched her temple and grimaced. “The curtains are being pulled off a lot of shady windows in this city. Things may get a lot worse before they get any better, so you just be careful, Detective. We can’t afford to lose any more good cops.”

The easy glow returned to Paula’s face and she reached for her coffee mug. “You just delegate and chill out. I’m sure you can find finer ways to spend your time and with finer people. Initials S.R.,” she sang.

Sophia smiled, unable and unwilling to discuss the shiver that danced up her spine.

Chapter 2

Sophia rushed home right after her shift. It was something she rarely did. There was always one more thing to be done—one last report to file, one more lead to follow. That was before Santigo Rodriguez had resumed his place at the top of her thoughts.

She showered, changed and, so as not to appear completely desperate for his company, entertained herself by reading up on the notes she had from the Waymon Cole case. She scoured the pages for anything that might offer a lead to the food chain Paula had alluded to.

Her mind wasn’t on it, though. The words were practically blurring together on the pages. Damn it! she thought, suddenly resenting Tigo’s reappearance in her life.

She was just getting used to getting along without him. Wasn’t she? Sophia couldn’t or wouldn’t answer the question. Just as well since her doorbell was ringing. Quickly, she brushed her hands across the seat of her shorts and went to answer the door.

Tigo’s glare held the unmistakable tint of amusement. “A cop shouldn’t be so careless. You didn’t even ask who it was.”

Sophia tossed her head, sending her high ponytail swinging playfully. “I’ve got a gun,” she reminded him.

He bowed his head, nodding while he leaned on the door frame. “What if he didn’t give you time to pull it?”

Sophia bit her lip, happily willing to melt in response to the alluring depth of his voice. “I do have other ways of defending myself.” She almost didn’t recognize the breathy tinge to her words.

Tigo pushed off the jamb. “And what if he did something you couldn’t defend against?”

Her gray stare was fixed on his mouth. “Like what?” At that point she didn’t care how breathless she was.

Santigo didn’t disappoint. He’d barely dipped his head to oblige her unspoken plea when Sophia moved to her toes and eagerly drew him to her.

One of them moaned. Tigo rested his lean, athletic frame against the door, still holding her securely to him. Sophia savored the lunges of his tongue in her mouth and met the powerful drives of it against hers with her own thrusts of equal intensity, equal need.

She moaned, that time clearly recognizing the gesture as her own. She locked her arms around his neck, wantonly rubbing her body against his, needing to feel every inch of him.

“Sophie.” His whisper sounded suspiciously like a whimper. He curved one hand around her bottom, his thumb grazing the hint of cheek visible beneath the frayed hem of her cutoffs. “Babe?” he murmured amid the lusty thrusting of their tongues.

“Hmm...” Sophia had sealed herself against him so that not one ounce of space existed between them.

“Soap,” he growled his pet name for her and squeezed her bottom with a bit more insistence.

Sophia shivered from the sound of the endearment that she hadn’t heard in so long. It was then that she heard the rustling emerging from below and realized that Tigo was tugging her back. She blinked, taking stock of her actions and the burning sensation in her cheeks.

“I promised dinner,” he said and gave the bag he held another shake.

Sophia hadn’t even noticed it before, and she could not have cared less whether or not he’d kept that particular promise. She wasn’t hungry for food. Still, she recognized the logic in exercising a little more...restraint.

“Right.” She turned away to indulge in a few deep breaths and the necessary lash fluttering while she composed herself. “Do we need plates?”

Tigo shook the bag and moved off the door. “Only if you have a problem eating out of the box.”

Sophia whirled, observing the bag with more interest. “Chinese?”

“Uh-huh.” The striking length of his sleek brows merged to form a frown. “You still eat it, don’t you?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

He laughed and moved farther into her cozy apartment. “Where would you like to have it?”

Sophia could have swooned then for sure. Chinese food in bed, before and after sex, had been one of their many indulgences during the course of their very passionate relationship. Whatever differences they may’ve had outside the bedroom carried no power inside it.

Tigo waited patiently for Sophia’s response, knowing exactly what was going through her mind. It’d been going through his mind all day, longer.... He took stock of her attire. She wore a simple ensemble consisting of a throwback Eagles jersey that virtually covered the denim cutoffs beneath it.

Simple attire or not, it gave him all kinds of ideas and returned all sorts of memories.

“We can eat right in here.” Sophia threw a loose wave toward the living room. “At the coffee table.” Overrun by memories, as well, she knew she was doing a poor job of hiding her fluster.

They studied each other. One quietly observing the other. Just as her eyes had lingered on his mouth, Sophia was fixated on the gold chain he wore, just visible below the open collar of his burgundy shirt. The tails hung outside the waist of his black trousers. Jewelry had always seemed out of place on other men in Sophia’s opinion. On Tigo, it was just right. The piece had belonged to his father, who had died of a heart attack the summer before Tigo had started middle school.

“Would you, um...like a beer?” She asked once her unhurried perusal of his body had concluded.

“I’d like a lot of things, Soap.” He turned away then to give her time to absorb his meaning. “But I’ll settle for a beer.” He started setting out the dinner.

* * *

“Why’d you call me after all this time, Tig?” Sophia queried in a soft, careful manner. They’d eaten in a surprisingly comfortable silence for almost thirty minutes. “I couldn’t have looked that good the day you saw me at lunch with Clarissa,” she murmured into her pint of shrimp lo mein.

Santigo smirked from his reclining position on the large navy armchair that flanked the sofa. “You have no idea,” he replied.

“So what?” She looked up to meet his eyes, unmistakable challenge enhancing her dark lovely face. “Is this about ringing up an ex-lover for another go? Ah...there it is.” She caught sight of the jaw muscle he clenched. “I was wondering if you still had that temper.” She snuggled into the sofa, intent on capturing one of the plump shrimp amid the noodles.

“Yeah, I’ve still got the temper, Sophie. Stupidity always brings it out in me.”

Sophia caught the shrimp and popped the morsel into her mouth. “Stupidity? Hmph, I thought I was being very perceptive.” She managed to sound cool enough when it was all she could do to chew her food as she weighed his reaction.

When there was no reaction, she returned her flint-colored gaze to the pint of food. “Why did you call me, Tig?” she whispered.

“I miss you. I miss you in every way.” There was no hesitation in his response.

Sophia worked the chopsticks deeper into the box and smiled. “So this was about calling me up for another go?”

“Is that why you answered?” he countered.

“Of course not.” She cleared her throat on the lie.

What else could she say, though? That she hadn’t had sex with anyone since him? That on more occasions than she cared to admit, she could only fall asleep after pleasuring herself using memories of them together for stimulus?

She observed him covertly through the thickness of her lashes. He was a picture of ease. She’d be a fool to say he didn’t affect her. What woman wouldn’t be affected by him? His features were a perfect mesh of his biracial heritage, compliments of his African-American mother and Puerto Rican father. His eyes even carried traces of both parents. The gold flecks were a testament to his mother’s rich hazel gaze. They sparkled amid a sea of bottomless ebony, compliments of his father. The fierce perfection of his features was softened by the easy humor that lurked in his stare.

What woman wouldn’t mind being the target of his attention? Sophia asked herself again. He’d always been able to gauge the tracks of her thoughts using little effort, and she resented him for it.

In spite of their years together, she had never been able to get a line on his innermost thoughts. The fact that she was a cop and pretty good at getting into other people’s heads made acknowledging her failure at reading Tigo’s mind a difficult thing to admit.

Then again, she wasn’t a cop around Santigo Rodriguez, was she? She was a woman, just a woman who craved the man who sat in her living room acting like he had no idea what he did to her.

“Thanks for dinner, Tig.” She uncrossed her legs and scooted forward to gather empty and nearly empty containers. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed Chinese with someone.” She returned the items to the carryout bag.

Tigo wondered how often she enjoyed food at all. He knew that she had a tendency to forgo eating when she was in the middle of a project. Years ago, work had consisted of school. Now, it consisted of crime solving and saving lives. Yes, he had a fine idea of how often and how well she ate.

Thankfully, the bad habit hadn’t taken a negative toll on the shapeliness of her tall, mahogany-brown frame. Every part of him roared that he was a pure idiot for denying her when she was all but handing herself to him on a platter.

She hadn’t changed. Correction, she had changed in the most beautifully subtle ways he could imagine. She’d always been tall, but her very slender frame had acquired an alluring set of curves honed by her very active lifestyle. The bow-shaped mouth and tiny nose still gave her the doll-like appearance that clashed provocatively with the dark gray, almond-shaped eyes. His fingers literally ached to lose themselves in the loose shoulder-length curls that were as mahogany-rich as her skin.

“I should go.” He muttered the phrase “pure idiot” below his breath as soon as he heard the words leave his tongue.

“Yeah, you probably should.” Sophia was shoving used napkins and utensils into the bag.

“See me out?” he asked, wondering if she’d oblige or hurl the carryout bag at his head. When she stood and turned for the door, he smiled. He wondered how well her innately polite nature fared in the midst of her daily police duties.

Sophia had already pulled open the door and stood steeling herself against the desire to tap her bare foot.

Santigo took his time about approaching the door. Once he’d closed whatever distance there was between them, Sophia drew on every ounce of will not to throw herself on him again.

Tigo leaned into her, dipping his head to trail his nose across her temple, down her cheek... Cuffing her neck in his palm, he placed a lingering kiss on her earlobe.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tig...” Her tone was half needy, half tortured.

Santigo slid the kiss below her earlobe and then alongside her neck, and he felt her shudder.

Sophia had no more words. She could only turn her face toward him, where she breathed in the cologne he wore. The subtle fragrance triggered every hormone she claimed.

“Lock up.” He spoke the order into the hollow at her throat. He straightened, taking delight in her reaction to his touch.

He gave her bottom a squeeze and proprietary pat; then he was gone. Sophia had just enough strength in her hand to set the locks before she had to rely on the door for support—her legs had become totally useless.

* * *

Linus Brooks was used to being the more wary head between his two partners. Elias was usually immovable, with the ability to make precise decisions based on the facts at hand. Santigo used his capacity for calm and easygoingness to give people enough rope to hang themselves. It was his method of separating trash from treasure.

Linus felt he’d crafted the art of seeing folks for what they were right off the bat. Therefore, he took great enjoyment in taking the lead during meetings.

That morning, his joy was overshadowed by Santigo’s obvious mood. Linus found himself letting the architects on one of their latest projects off the hook a bit more easily as he was anxious to discover what was up with his friend.

“Spill it,” Linus ordered once the architects had beat a hasty path for the conference room door.

Tigo was still gathering his thoughts when he heard his partner. He frowned, noticing Linus’s liquid brown eyes on him. “What?”

“What’s up with the mood? I’m supposed to be the brooding one.”

Linus’s playfully put-out tone brought an unwilling grin to Tigo’s face. After a few seconds of debate, he set the tablet and mobile on the table and then loosened the olive-green tie from his collar.

“Saw Sophia last night.”

Linus whistled. “Now that’s a name from the past.”

“Yeah...” Tigo worked the bunched muscles at his neck once he’d loosened the top buttons of his shirt. “I saw her having lunch with Clarissa a while back. Soap was helping her get to the bottom of that mess with her aunt’s clubs.”

“So next you’re calling her and then...what?” Linus reared back in the black swivel chair and crossed his feet atop the long rectangular table. “Will you be next to head off on a ‘business’ trip?” He curved his index and middle fingers to quote the word.

Tigo chuckled, recognizing the dig at Elias’s trip with Clarissa. “We’re not there yet. Far from it.” He sighed.

“Ah...” Linus grinned and folded his hands in his lap. “Detective Hail’s gonna make you work for it, huh?”

“Hmm...” Tigo scratched his eyebrow and took a seat on the edge of the table. “It’s not her. I’m the one who wants to...work for it.”

“Say what?” Linus almost laughed the words while he pulled his feet off the table and leaned forward.

Tigo nudged his fingers against the tablet’s leather casing. “She was willing, but I, um, I just want us to start off better than that, you know?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, T?”

Santigo muttered something vile, cursing that he’d confided too much. Unfortunately, it was too late to clam up then.

“I want us to wait before we have sex, all right?”

Linus dissolved into a lengthy bout of laughter. “Aw, man, that’s sweet,” he managed after a full minute.

“See? That’s why I always talk to Eli.” Tigo waved off Linus. “It’s impossible to talk serious to you.”

“Hold up, man.” Linus wiped tears from the corners of his eyes and stifled what remained of the laughter. “You already took her virginity a long time ago, right?”

Tigo merely shook his head and began taking his things from the table.

“Tigo, wait—”

“Save it.”

“Seriously, man.” Linus extended a hand across the table. “I’m sorry, seriously.” He waited for Tigo to put down his belongings. “It’s just...is this a good idea? I mean, after what happened last time?”

“I remember. Damn.” Tigo pushed a hand through his hair and returned to sit on the edge of the table.

“I want to make it right with her, Line. I never should’ve made her choose between me and her job.”

Linus came to sit next to Tigo on the table. “You think her choice would be any different this time around?”

“I don’t want to know what her choice would be.” Tigo folded his arms over his double-breasted heather-brown suit coat. “I don’t want her to make one. I only want her to make room for me. For us.”

“So you’re ready to accept that?” Linus folded his hands over the table’s edge and studied his black loafers. “She’s a real cop, you know? She’s got no qualms about bein’ in the line of fire. The girl’s no desk-rider.”

“I want her back, Line.”

Linus nodded, knowing his friend well enough to know the matter was settled for him. “So how do you plan to make it happen?”

Tigo groaned. “Not a damn clue.” He buried his face in his hands.

Linus massaged satiny facial whiskers, which had been tamed into a permanent five-o’clock shadow. Again he nodded. “But you know it involves denying what you both really want?”

“What I really want is her back.”

“Bull. What you really want is her back eventually and her in your bed now.”

Tigo grimaced, but his gaze was soft when he slanted a look at his friend. “I’m beginning to understand why you’re single.”

Linus slid off the table and shrugged. “She still got that doll face?”

Tigo bowed his head and massaged his neck again. “Yeah.” He smiled, envisioning the woman he loved.

“Goddess body?” Linus inquired.

“Better than ever.”

“Hell...” Linus’s smoky, calculating stare was filtered with something wicked. “And you expect to woo her or whatever the devil your plan is without the thought of taking her to bed ever crossing your mind?”

A growl worked its way up Tigo’s throat. “Hell, Line, that’s the only thing on my mind.”

“Exactly my point. Neither of you is gonna be able to focus on a damn thing with all that tension between you.”

Tigo gave a wan smile. “Thanks for your support.”

“I’m only saying that the situation is already stressful enough given your history.” Linus inclined his head. “Why make it worse?” he asked.

Tigo considered Linus’s point of view while taking a slow stroll around the golden-lit conference room. “The way she looked at me last night when I tried to talk to her...maybe sex is all she’s interested in.” He worked the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “If we take it there, Line, and that’s all she wants or expects from me...I’ll never get anywhere with her.”

Linus appeared as though he at least understood his friend’s point of view. “You really do still love her, don’t you?”

“Yeah...” Tigo massaged all ten fingers into his neck and smiled. “Yeah, I really still do.”

* * *

“Captain. Chief,” Sophia greeted Captain Roy Poltice and Chief of Police Dean Franklin. A surprised frown claimed her expression when she spotted the other unexpected face at the table. “Commissioner Meeks,” she whispered and then cleared her throat as she extended a hand.

Police Commissioner Ethan Meeks was a sturdy, broadly built sixty-something man with a head full of snow-white hair that framed his face, which was usually brightened by a smile.

“Detective.” Commissioner Meeks moved to envelop one of Sophia’s slender hands in both of his beefy red ones. “We hope you’ve saved room for a big breakfast?”

“Have a seat, Sophia,” Captain Poltice urged, expertly reading the young detective’s stunned expression.

“We know you weren’t expecting this particular cast of characters, Detective,” Chief Franklin conceded once orders for coffee had been taken to the kitchen of the corner bistro where the meeting was taking place.

In truth, Sophia had only received the call about the gathering the night before, after her dinner with Santigo.

“Um, no, not at all, Chief.” She remembered that she hadn’t answered the man’s question.

Her pitiful denial roused laughter from the three men. Chief Franklin’s dazzling white smile was a sharp, attractive contrast against his molasses-dark skin, and it had a quality that settled some of the nerves in Sophia’s stomach.

“I thought I’d only be having breakfast with the captain.” Sophia smoothed damp palms across her sandalwood-colored slacks. “Is anything wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong, Detective,” Chief Franklin assured her. “In fact, it appears that things are finally on their way to being right again.”

“Sir?” Sophia didn’t mind letting her confusion show.

The query wasn’t addressed until the waitress had arrived with the coffees and left with four hearty breakfast orders for bacon, hash browns, eggs and toast.

“Detective, we’d like to start by complimenting your work on the Cole case.” Captain Poltice leaned forward and nodded in Sophia’s direction. “You showed cool professionalism in what is still a very delicate situation.”

“You knew the risk, knew the beehive you were about to aggravate, and still you moved forward,” Chief Franklin added.

“With all due respect, sir.” Sophia scooted forward in her chair. “I’m no statement maker or politician. I was just doing my job.”

“Precisely, and that’s why we can’t think of a better detective for the job.”

“Sir?” Sophia eyed the commissioner, who had spoken.

Commissioner Meeks’s inviting smile came through again. “We’re sure you’ve heard that Detective Hertz submitted his resignation. We’ve accepted it and would like to offer you the chief of detectives post. Will you accept it?”

Sophia ordered her brain to send word to her face that it wasn’t polite to sit with one’s mouth hanging open when meeting with the commissioner of the force. Her brain and her face didn’t appear to be on speaking terms just then, however.

“I, um... This is... I...”

“Perhaps a couple of days to think it over might help?”

Sophia nodded gratefully at Chief Franklin’s suggestion.

“We’ll give you forty-eight hours to get used to the idea.”

“Right.” Sophia pursed her lips at Captain Poltice’s clarification of the chief’s suggestion. The man’s phrasing translated into: “The job’s yours. Get used to it.”

“You were at the top of a very short list, Detective. Actually, you were the list,” the commissioner shared.

Sophia reached for her coffee, gulped it down and tried to smother a cough as the bitter black brew burned a path down her gullet. Though rattled by the effect, she had at least regained a firmer grasp on her verbal skills.

“Sirs, uh...previous chiefs of Ds...they haven’t been posted until they were almost fifty. I’m barely into my thirties and...well, I am almost single-handedly responsible for my successor losing his job. That won’t exactly instill a sense of welcome from my new staff.”

“Perhaps not at first, Detective.” Chief Franklin sipped at his coffee. “But one thing it will instill from the onset is a sense of decorum. It’ll go without saying that you’ll accept no half-assed work, cutting corners or shady measures. Cops under your command will know they play aboveboard or they don’t play at all.”

Sophia nudged her fingers against the handle of the gleaming silverware at her place setting. “What about the cops who think they can get away with it?”

The men traded looks.

“We know Paul Hertz wasn’t at the top of this thing, Sophia,” Roy Poltice said matter-of-factly. “Our new D.A. is on a mission to weed out every bad seed she can find. If she hadn’t made contact with you about it yet, she will soon.”

Commissioner Meeks set his coffee on the saucer with a slight clatter. “We know there’re more rats to be shaken out of this blanket, Detective. When it’s all said and done, we want to be able to show that we’re taking this seriously and that we’re determined to give the force a clean face again.”

“So this is all for appearance sake?” Sophia asked.

“This is about initiative.” Chief Franklin nodded to Captain Poltice. “We’re all in agreement about the fine way you took charge and followed your instincts in getting to the bottom of an injustice.

“And you got results besides,” the chief continued. “You followed every aspect of the case to the letter. Cole’s and Hertz’s attorneys will be hard-pressed to find any improprieties within the investigation.

“Using information we’ve yet to uncover to strike a deal for a lesser sentence is the only leverage they could possibly have. We’d like to take that away from them.” Chief Franklin stirred his black coffee. “Take the forty-eight hours, Detective. Get used to the idea and give us the official call so we can give the media something else to salivate over.”

The breakfast platters arrived, and, after a momentary clatter of plates next to mugs as they were set on the table, the group prepared to dive in.

Sophia watched as the three heavyset men showered their food with salt before they’d even tasted it. “I have just one more question,” she said after eating heartily for several minutes.

“Anything, Detective.” Captain Poltice added butter to his hash browns.

Sophia washed down eggs and toast with a swig of coffee. “As chief of detectives, will I have the chance to take part in the occasional bust?”

Silence hovered over the table until Roy Poltice’s healthy frame began to shake. In seconds, all three of the high-ranking officers were deep in the clutches of ribald laughter. Sophia joined in moments later.

Chapter 3

Santigo’s conversation with Linus following their meeting with the architects went on for a while longer and ended with drinks in Linus’s office. Neither man wanted to admit that it was far too early in the day to be breaking the seal on a bottle of bourbon, but Tigo appreciated that Linus understood his trying predicament.

The partners indulged lightly but joyfully until Tigo remembered he had another meeting to attend. Linus was very persuasive, but Tigo admirably refused another round of the fine liquor.

“Carl and Lester are already inside,” Jenny Boyce’s childlike voice chirped out the information when Tigo arrived in the private lobby outside his office.

Tigo checked the platinum timepiece around his wrist. “They been waiting long?” he asked his assistant.

“Not more than five minutes.” Jenny moved from behind her desk to help her boss straighten his tie. “They don’t look so good.” She spoke in a hushed tone.

That was news indeed since the two crew chiefs were known for their comedic wit and easy smiles. As Tigo’s main responsibilities put him in contact with union reps and oftentimes tense negotiations, working with a laid-back duo like Carl and Lester was one of the few joys his job provided.

“Thanks, Jen.” Tigo smoothed down the attractive olive-green tie with its subtle markings and cleared his throat while pushing open the double doors to his office.

“Gentlemen,” he called out to Carl Roche and Lester Bradford. He made his way across the wide expanse of the room to shake hands with the two men, who waited before the gargantuan desk in the rear.

“Coffee? Somethin’ stronger?” Tigo offered.

“Nah, thanks, T.”

It didn’t take much more than those few words from Carl for Tigo to share Jenny’s assessment of the men’s moods. “Is there trouble brewing in the ranks?” he asked.

“This isn’t union business,” Carl said.

“It’s personal,” Lester tacked on.

Tigo shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Talk to me,” he offered in the blunt, inviting and informal manner all Joss Construction employees had come to love about him.

“You remember my boy Kenny?” Lester asked as he, Tigo and Carl took seats.

Tigo smiled, nodding from his perch at the edge of his desk. “How is he?”

“Working.” Lester’s smile hinged between pride and something akin to sorrow. “Last year in high school. He’s working for Greenway Construction.”

“Ugh.” Tigo twisted his face into a playful frown. “Working for the enemy, huh?”

“Hmph, in more ways than one.”

Tigo’s amusement transitioned quickly into agitation. “What’s goin’ on, Les?”

Lester braced his elbows on the knees of his khaki work pants and smoothed a hand back over his dark, balding head. “Some weeks back, Ken went to Carl’s son, Ian, about makin’ some extra money.”

“Right.” Tigo nodded, knowing that Ian Roche was one of their part-time crew members. “We don’t own him, fellas. Ian’s free to work with another company if he wants to.”

“That ain’t the problem, T.” Carl Roche’s face was a bit flushed beneath his honey-toned complexion. “The extra money wasn’t from a construction job, but some...errand, and both the boys are sittin’ downtown right now in a cell on a carjacking charge.”

Tigo blinked—stunned. He knew the kids had taken work to earn extra money for college. To help their parents, both boys had agreed to start school a year later in order for their folks to get better prepared before they were hit with the expense.

“What can I do?” Tigo leaned forward, shifting his gaze between the two men.

The worried fathers traded uncertain looks. “We were hoping you could tell us, T.” Carl Roche sighed.

“The public defenders on the boys’ case are useless.” Lester slumped back in his chair. “Judge says he wants to make an example of ’em.”

“They haven’t been in trouble before, have they?”

The fathers shook their heads in unison.

“So what possessed ’em to do somethin’ so knuckleheaded?”

“The boys swear they didn’t know a damn thing about the truck being stolen,” Lester insisted.

“So how did this go down?” Santigo left his desk and assumed his place behind it. “Did they get pulled?”

Lester nodded. “Cops say it was a routine stop.”

Carl grunted an ill-humored laugh. “Yeah, I guess even in the twenty-first century, two young black men driving around town in the wee hours of the morning still looks suspicious.”

“Cops ran the plates. Truck came up stolen.” Lester massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Hell...” Tigo ran a hand across his cheek while shaking his head. “What do the guys have to say?”

“Claim they were set up or some mess....”

Tigo frowned and looked to Carl for more clarification.

The man shrugged. “It’s all we can get out of ’em right now.”

“We just want our boys out of jail. Judge won’t even budge on it.”

“Who’s the judge?” Tigo frowned at Lester.

The man said something foul below his breath. “Some fool...Oswald Stowe.”

Tigo nodded, assessing the information. “Anything else I need to know? Have the boys given up a reason why they think they were set up?”

Carl let out another grunt. “Took us forever to get that much information out of them.”

“All right then.” Tigo pushed out of the wide gray suede swivel chair. “Don’t you guys worry too much over this. I’ll see what I can do.” He rounded the desk to shake hands with both men and then muttered a curse of regret once the disillusioned fathers had dragged themselves from the office.

* * *

Sophia lingered behind the wheel of the car for a bit longer than she needed to. She had parked in the curving brick drive outside her parents’ home and spent time running shaking hands through her hair once she’d unbound the professional updo she’d worn for the meeting with her superiors that morning.

She hadn’t seen or spoken to her parents since shortly after Waymon Cole’s arrest at the Reed House dinner. Even then, the conversation had been brief. It was long enough to tell Sophia that her mother and father clearly disapproved of the entire situation. More importantly, they disapproved of their daughter’s part in it.

“Oh, Sophie, what the hell are you doing here?” She cast a wary eye at the large brick dwelling nestled behind a fence of tall pine trees. Other than setting yourself up for more parental ridicule, she added silently.

Perhaps a part of her was hoping that news of her pending promotion might soften the Hails’ viewpoint toward her job. After all, she’d be more of a shot-caller than an order-taker, right?

The question strengthened her resolve and provided the necessary motivation for her to leave the car. As she began a search for her house keys on the silver ring she carried, she thought of Santigo.

How would he react when she told him of the promotion? she wondered. When? Sophia slowed her steps. Was she so certain they’d see each other again? Was it even wise to move ahead there? Sophia rolled her eyes, issuing a quiet order to herself to shut up. Wise or not, she missed the man’s touch far too much to deny herself the possibility of enjoying it again.

Sophia gave a quick, decisive toss of her head and moved to unlock the front door. It opened before she could touch it, and Sophia smiled at the unexpected guest who stood on the other side.

Laureen Bradford was obviously caught up in her own thoughts if her jumping at the sound of Sophia’s greeting was any clue.

“Oh!” Laureen gushed. “Sophia, honey, what a nice surprise.”

Sophia bought Laureen Bradford’s surprise; though there was more emotion mixed in than she could pinpoint. It was just as well since Veronica Hail was emerging at the door.

“Sophie, oh, baby, thank God.”

The greeting was a far cry from the one Sophia had expected from her mother.

“Laur, what do you say we run this by Sophia?” Veronica smoothed a hand along the sleeve of the woman’s burgundy floral-print blouse. “If there’s a way, she’ll know.”

Laureen sniffled. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, which sent a few tufts of her feathered hair into her round, milk-chocolate face. She nodded. “I’ll get the papers from the car. Thank you, Sophie,” she whispered while hurrying past.

“What happened?” Sophia asked her mother as she watched Laureen move down the long brick driveway.

“Her boy Kenny got himself arrested for stealing a car.” Veronica sighed, smoothing five fingers along the tapered edges of her short hair, which accentuated a lovely oval face.

“Arrested?” Sophia cast a reflexive look across her shoulder. “Isn’t he on his way to college?”

“Not if he’s convicted over this.”

Veronica Hail and Laureen Bradford had been friends for years. Laureen’s small yet successful soul food restaurant was a yearly participant at the Reed House dinners. The women had launched a friendship while Laureen was preparing to showcase her cuisine during the first Reed House event.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Veronica seemed to remember herself and pulled her daughter into a hug. “This is such a good surprise.” She applied a few brisk rubs to Sophia’s back. “It’s chilly out here. Let’s get inside.”

I guess it can wait another day. Sophia decided against sharing her news. She acknowledged that she was being a wimp, but being on the receiving end of parental ridicule was never fun. She was preparing to follow her mother inside when her mobile vibrated. Tigo.

Sophia let the phone shake twice more so as not to appear too eager for the call. Who the hell was she kidding with this stuff?

“Hey, Tig.” She congratulated herself on the coolly delivered greeting.

“I was wondering whether high-powered detectives ever took coffee breaks?”

Stop being a wimp, Sophie, she urged herself silently. “I’m, uh...actually no longer a high-powered detective.”

The silence that followed was lengthy and meaningful.

“You didn’t quit.” His hushed tone was shrouded in disbelief.

Sophia couldn’t tell whether he sounded more hopeful or stunned. “No. They...they actually offered me the chief of detectives post.”

Laughter sounded without hesitation. “That’s great!”

Sophia thought he actually sounded happy.

“To hell with a coffee break—this deserves a real celebration.”

Sophia pressed the phone into the front of her blouse and moved aside to hold the door for Laureen Bradford, who was returning with folders in the crook of one arm.

“Miss Laur, would you tell Mama I’m on my way?” Sophia asked, smiling when the woman nodded. She put the phone back to her ear.

“I really don’t want to make a big deal of it.”

Santigo snorted out a laugh. “Precisely why you’re not in charge of it. What time are you done at the station?”

“Well, I’m not sure—”

“Call me when you are. Go home, get dressed and I’ll be over to get you maybe around seven?”

“Seven sounds good.”

“Sounds good to me, too.”

The connection was severed before Sophia could speak another word. No matter, she could hear her mother calling out to her.

* * *

“And neither of them had prior offenses?” Sophia inquired as she scanned one of the folders Laureen had brought in from her car. The women sat in Veronica Hail’s sunroom; it had been made golden that day by the lamps required due to the overcast skies.

“No.” Laureen Bradford sniffled against the tissue she’d been using to dab at her nose. “No, no, they’re both good boys.”

“Oswald Stowe.” Sophia read the judge’s signature on one of the papers.

Laureen nodded as she sniffled again. “The public defenders told us he was pretty easygoing and that everything should work out since the boys were first offenders. They said it should never have come to this.”

“Making a statement for his public image maybe....” Sophia guessed. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she heard Laureen Bradford gasp.

“Oh, Miss Laur, I’m sorry.” Sophia eased an apologetic look toward her mother. Scooting to the edge of the rose-colored armchair she occupied, she reached over to pat the woman’s knee. “I’ll look into it and see what I can do,” she promised.

Laureen blinked, and her teary eyes began to sparkle with hope. “Thank you, baby.”

Sophia nodded again and then left her mother to console her friend.

“Baby girl!”

Sophia heard the familiar call within minutes of leaving the sunroom. Her father was on his way down the corridor toward her.

“How is it in there?” Gerald Hail asked, cocking his head toward the sunroom door.

Sophia cast a forlorn look toward the door, as well. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’m gonna try to help.”

Gerald nodded. “They’ll appreciate it. Your mother’s very worried.”

“I’m sorry I bothered you guys today.”

Squeezing his daughter’s upper arms, Gerald stood back on his long legs and regarded Sophia with a curious stare. “What’s up?” he probed.

“Daddy—”

“What?”

Sophia shifted her weight. “It’s probably not the best time to get into it now.”

“Now you have to tell me.” Gerald folded his arms over his broad chest, causing the jacket of his nylon warm-up suit to rustle. “You know I won’t let up till you tell me.”

Sophia bowed her head, inhaling her breath and courage. “They offered me the job as chief of detectives.”

Gerald let out a “Whoop!” that had his daughter jumping. Moments later, he’d pulled Sophia into a crushing hug and swung her in a semicircle.

“Are you serious?” Sophia couldn’t have hidden her disbelief had she tried.

“Are you?” Gerald countered, pushing back a mahogany curl that clung to Sophia’s cheek. “Do you know how much that job of yours worries us? Now we can rest easier.”

Sophia’s smile was curious. “What are you saying, Dad?”

“Well, hell, as chief you can put your lil’ butt behind a desk instead of out there in the street.”

“Daddy...” Sophia grimaced at her father’s declaration. “I’m still a cop, you know?”

“Sure you are.” Gerald gave Sophia’s chin a playful bump with his fist. “And now you’re a cop who doesn’t have to put her life on the line every day.”

Sophia’s phone picked that moment to vibrate. Gerald squeezed his daughter’s wrist when he saw the mobile’s faceplate glow.

“You get that and we’ll talk later.” Gerald kissed her forehead and then continued his trek down the long hall.

“Hail.” Sophia answered before the call was sent to voice mail. She hadn’t recognized the displayed number and was still rather dumbfounded when the man on the other end of the line began to speak.

“I’m sorry, Mr...?”

“Apologies, Detective.” The man chuckled. “I’m sure you’re running in so many crazy directions right now. Lem Chenowith here. I’ve just been hired as head of your style team. We’d like to schedule some time to meet and get acquainted. What works best with your schedule?”

“Uh...” Sophia was scratching the fine hair smattered along her temple. “Mr. uh—”

“Chenowith,” Lem promptly supplied.

“Mr. Chenowith. Style team?”

“At your service. Now, what’s a good time for us to drop by for a chat?” the man went on, with no thought that what he said was in any way out of the ordinary.

“Mr. Chenowith, I’m sorry but I think you have the wrong number. I—”

“Detective Hail, my team and I have been brought on board by the commissioner’s office. We’ve been hired to keep our new chief of Ds looking her best.”

Sophia stopped in the foyer and leaned against the wall. She pulled the phone away from her ear just briefly before continuing the strange conversation. “Mr. Chenowith—”

“Lem, please.”

“I think there’s been a mistake.” Sophia exchanged scratching the hair at her temple for massaging the bridge of her nose. “The last thing I need is help getting dressed.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Trust me, Detective, I certainly understand. Most people are very put off by the suggestion that their wardrobe isn’t up to par.”

Sophia bowed her head and gave it a shake.

“But don’t you worry,” Lem continued right along. “You just leave it all to me, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

Lem found nothing to criticize in the flat way Sophia voiced the phrase and took her words to mean that all was well.

“We look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Chief.”

“Sure thing.” Sophia gave a mocking two-finger salute. At that point, she was so exasperated that she didn’t care to argue any further. “Mr. Chen—Lem.”

“Very good.”

“Look, Lem, I’m in the middle of something—”

“Yes, yes, of course. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Sophia could only stare at the phone once the connection ended. She felt as if she’d just been through a whirlwind. She was pushing off the wall to head for the front door when Veronica arrived in the foyer.

“Ma—” Sophia found herself pulled into a tight squeeze before she could say anymore.

“Congratulations! Your daddy just told me all about it.” Veronica danced in place after she released her daughter from the embrace.

Sophia could tell from her mother’s elated expression that she was happy for the same reasons as her father. After the dizzying conversation with the head of her new style team, Sophia was in no mood to make an issue of it.

“How’s Miss Laur?” Sophia asked instead.

The glee Veronica showed began to dim. She tugged at the oversize cuffs on the white pin-striped blouse she wore and glanced across her shoulder. “All this hit her and Les out of nowhere. Ken’s such a good boy. Sophia, honey, there has to be some kind of mistake.” She clasped her hands and propped them against her chin. “Hopefully there’s some way the boys can make up for it without going to jail.”

Sophia didn’t bother to tell her mother that the chances of that sort of break were bleak for two black kids.

“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll look into it. We’ll find a way.” Sophia nodded past the woman’s shoulder. “You keep Miss Laureen calm. If she thinks of anything, she can call me.”

“I will, honey, and you and I should make some time to discuss the celebration party.”

Sophia ceased retrieving keys from her pocket. “Celebration for what?”

“Ha! Your promotion, of course.”

“Ma. No.”

“But, honey—”

“I don’t want to bring a lot of attention to this.”

“If anything deserves to be celebrated, it’s this.” Veronica posted her fists on her slender hips. “After years of putting your life on the line, you’re being rewarded for it. Time to let someone else go into certain death for a change.”

“Is that the time?” Sophia barely glanced at her wristwatch and turned for the door again.

“We need to discuss this, baby. I’m thinking of something intimate. Right here at the house.”

“Mama, I’m in a hurry. I’ve got a lot to do before tonight.”

“Oh?” The last piqued Veronica’s rampant curiosity regarding the private lives of her daughters. “Anything exciting?”

Sophia shrugged, deciding to feed the woman’s interest. “Dinner with Santigo Rodriguez.”

Veronica’s gasp filled the foyer, and glee illuminated her face once more. She was so overjoyed that she could only clasp her hands and press them to her chest.

Sophia took advantage of her mother’s rare bout of speechlessness. “See you later.” She kissed Veronica’s cheek and hurried out the door.

* * *

“Now that is strange.” Detective Sergeant Jofi Eames rubbed the stubble on his jaw and frowned. “Are you sure the guys haven’t passed the man’s bench before?”

“Nah.” Tigo gave a slow shake of his head. “Not so much as a parking ticket between the two of them. These are two of the good ones, Jof.”

Tigo’s meaning was clear, and the detective nodded his understanding. “Could be some kind of election or publicity stunt.” Jofi reared back in his desk chair. “It could put him in a rough spot if he’s seen as a softy on car thieves.”

“Well, they’ll cross that bridge soon enough. Families just want ’em granted bail. They’re no flight risks, Jof, and...” Santigo’s words trailed into silence when he saw Sophia arrive on the floor.

“I’ll take this to mean the discussion’s over?” Jofi smirked at his friend’s captivated expression.

“Sure.” Tigo left the metal chair he’d taken next to Jofi’s desk. “You can take it from here.”

Jofi grinned. “Why, thanks for your vote of confidence.”

Focusing on Jofi, Tigo smirked and moved to shake hands and hug his old friend.

“I’ll call if I make any headway,” Jofi promised as Tigo headed out of the cramped, dank office space.

Tigo found Sophia leaning against her desk and browsing a file. His single knock sent her head lifting, eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Did I get our date wrong?” She quickly pushed to her feet.

Tigo raised his hands. “You’re good—don’t worry. I had other business and thought I’d drop by and congratulate you in person, Lieutenant.”

“Well, are we still going out?” Sophia didn’t care how anxious she sounded.

“Mmm-hmm...” The confirmation trailed off into quiet when he dipped his head to kiss her.

“My walls are glass,” she reminded him, breathless and already curling her fingers around his jacket lapels to bring him closer.

He grinned, the gold flecks in his dark eyes sparkling with devilish intent. “We should give ’em a good show then. Don’t you think?” His tongue was enticing hers into a naughty battle before she had time to respond to his question.

Sophia managed a shaky moan as her tongue tentatively answered the call from his. Her heart thudded, heavy in her chest, the sound reverberating to her ears. Mere moments passed before she was kissing him with sheer lust and need fueling the gesture.

Tigo exercised the cooler head then and tugged on the hem of Sophia’s short-waist blazer to draw her down. “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised, smiling into her lovely dark face while brushing his thumb across her well-kissed mouth. The playfulness returned to his gaze, and he shrugged as if skeptical.

“What?” Sophia knew she sounded dazed and dumbfounded. What the hell... He did that to her.

Tigo expelled an exaggerated sigh and focused on a curl that had found its way down inside her shirt. “We’re on for tonight, unless the hard-core detective gets called away on assignment.”

“Hmph.” She rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you heard? I’m now the hard-core chief of detectives.” She blew an unruly curl from her forehead. “Getting called away on assignment and hurling myself into the lines of fire are now things of the past.” She massaged the middle of her forehead. “At least they would be if my parents could have their way.” Her mounting frustrations cooled to a simmer as if quelled by magic when her gray eyes settled once again on the enticing curve of his mouth. She bit her upper lip, hungry for the pleasure of another kiss.

Santigo was more interested in the Hails’ reaction. “What’d they say?”

“Nothing bad.” Sophia leaned against the desk. “I don’t think they’ve ever been happier with me.”

“Well, isn’t that good?” Tigo sat next to her, nudging her shoulder with his. “It’s better than having them give you grief over it, right?”

“I don’t know. Is that why you seem so thrilled?”

“It is.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped over the easy admission.

Tigo took her parted lips to mean she craved another kiss, which she did. He obliged, but only for a sweet moment. Then, he stood and brushed his nose across hers once, twice...

“Be ready by seven.” His voice was a gruff whisper and then he was gone.

“Oh, boy...” Sophia groaned.

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