Bulletproof Page 2

  “You think he’s the supplier?” It was more than a question, like she was already halfway on board with the theory.

  “Maybe.” Dylan backpedaled, but only because she had nothing concrete to offer in support.

  Captain Calhoun nodded at her computer. “Come up with anything good?”

  “The license plate of the car they were driving comes back to a guy named George Rivas. Twenty-four years old. His rap sheet is mostly drug related.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “I know I probably sound crazy because it’s not much to go on, but it just felt…I don’t know, I can’t describe it. It felt like there was something there.”

  “You have to trust that Spidey sense.”

  Dylan forced a smile. The captain could be hard to read, and she wasn’t sure if she was teasing or not.

  “I’m serious,” Calhoun said, as though she read the concern. “Half this job is following your gut.” Her accompanying nod seemed to be laced with something else. Pride, perhaps. “You run him through our system yet to see if he pops in any cases?”

  She touched the computer screen, which had gone into sleep mode since they started talking. Next to Rivas’s name was a case number. Her heart started to beat quicker, but the celebration was short lived. Right next to the response was one word standing in her way: RESTRICTED.

  “Damn.” She didn’t even try to hide her disappointment. Without clearance, she didn’t have access to get any information on the investigation or what role George Rivas might play in it. Dylan tilted the screen so the captain could see.

  Instead of saying anything, Calhoun wrote the case number on a scrap of paper. “Give me a minute,” she said, disappearing into her office.

  To temper her frustration while she waited, Dylan opened a series of texts that promised to be interesting.

  Feel like playing?

  I’m wearing your favorite.

  Nothing.

  She full on grinned at the blatant invitation from Talia, a gorgeous yoga instructor who lived four doors down from her in Brooklyn. Together they had taken friendly neighbor to new heights. There was no denying the rush she felt at the thought of heading right to Talia’s apartment after her tour ended. They’d be horizontal in no time. The texts said it all. Talia wanted one thing. It was sexy and uncomplicated. Before she could respond with something equally direct, a new message appeared.

  Violet, this time.

  Hey Dylan. Haven’t seen you around in a while. Me and my friends are at that new bar near your place. Boca. If you’re out and about, stop by. Would love to see your face.

  It would certainly be a treat to see Violet’s face. Not to mention the rest of her body. But that situation was delicate. Violet was sweet with an alluring innocence. Dylan craved more every time they flirted. From their first hookup, Dylan had been up-front that she wasn’t looking for anything serious. At the time, Violet echoed the sentiment. But lately, Dylan could sense she wanted more.

  That knowledge did nothing to diminish her desire. She just wished their connection had the simplicity of what she had with Talia. Ugh.

  Instead of responding to either woman, she tossed her phone on the desk and shifted her attention back to George Rivas’s rap sheet.

  “Major Case Division has the investigation.” Captain Calhoun spoke across the squad from the doorway of her office. “Good news, the sergeant running the case is a personal friend of mine. I took the liberty of making a call.” She smiled big, folding her arms and resting her weight against the wall. “They’re working on a narcotics ring. Opioids, heroin, fentanyl, coke. The whole nine. Rivas’s name has surfaced a few times.” Dylan’s heart raced even though she was only hearing a summary of the conversation secondhand. “They’ve been hoping their groundwork would lead to the NYU overdose,” she continued. “Turns out it’s been one brick wall after the next,” she said. “Until right now.”

  Dylan’s mind was fourteen steps ahead, wondering what impact her intel might have on their investigation down the line.

  “There’s a case meeting on Monday. They’re expecting you. I’ll send you the particulars.”

  “Wait, what?” Her head was spinning. Dylan had been fully prepared to document her observations in a report. Perhaps even talk on the phone with the case detective. Presenting it in person, at a meeting, seemed…unusual.

  “Pack your bags, kid.” Captain Calhoun beamed like a proud parent. “You just made it into Major Case.”

  It was a massive score to be transferred to such a prestigious division, and with a mere seven months under her belt as a detective, Dylan knew she was especially fortunate for the opportunity.

  “No way.”

  “For now it’s a temporary transfer,” Calhoun said. But the captain’s expression intrigued her. It was like she thought this might lead to something more substantial. “Prescott, this could be a really good thing for you. Go show them what you’re made of.”

  “Cap.” Dylan was slightly overwhelmed and almost choked up. “I don’t know what to say. I mean thank you, obviously.” It wasn’t like she could go over and hug out her appreciation, but a big part of her wanted to. She knew it was because of Calhoun’s connections she was being given this chance. “I won’t let you down.”

  “Get out of here.” The captain waved off her gratitude. “I’m serious,” she said. “Go celebrate. This is a big deal.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dylan grabbed her things, pumped for the early dismissal. There was plenty of time to reach out to Talia or Violet. But in the back of her mind she already knew it was unlikely she’d contact either. At this hour, she’d hit her Brooklyn neighborhood right when the bars were at peak capacity.

  She was feeling lucky.

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Briana Logan rested her elbows on her bare knees, enjoying the feel of the August heat on her arms.

  “Beats sitting in our apartment by, like, a million degrees.” Stef, her roommate, snickered. “Am I right?”

  “Meh. If you say so.”

  “Please. You love it.”

  “I don’t know about love,” Briana countered. It was kind of hot outside. At home she could be preparing for her morning meeting.

  “If this is about tomorrow, stop stressing. You know you’ll get every last detail on the case breakthrough once you get in the office. That’s how it works.”

  Sometimes Briana felt like she’d survived law school solely on her BFF’s conventional wisdom. Even though they practiced very different types of law now, Stef’s sensibility and rational approach helped channel her own zen.

  “It’s a gorgeous day,” Stef continued. “We’re steps from our place, enjoying the tail end of summer in our awesome Brooklyn hood. And there’s a basketball court full of women in their prime sweating it out for our viewing pleasure. All we have to do is ogle and clap.”

  “Cheerleading.” Briana widened her eyes to accentuate her jab. “Not really my jam, to be honest.”

  “How about the ten hot women in peak physical condition? I’m not hearing complaints about that.”

  “True, but I’m mostly in it for the happy hour afterward.” Briana patted Stef’s forearm and leaned close. “Tell me again which one you’re crushing on?”

  “Number five on the orange team. But I wouldn’t kick number three out of bed for eating crackers. Or number seven for that matter.”

  “Always so girl crazy,” Briana teased. “Go number five!” she yelled as loud as she could, cupping her mouth and adding a double woot for good measure.

  Stef yanked her hands down. “I hate you,” she said with a laugh.

  “You love me.” Briana smiled at her own shenanigans. “Ooh and look, one of them just turned around to check you out.”

  Sure enough, her over-the-top cheer had garnered some attention, and the tallest person on the team had turned around to look.

  And whoa, she was hot.

  Tall and wiry with pier
cing blue eyes that were striking even from a distance. Briana felt the tiny hairs on her forearms bristle when their gazes locked across the court for a full five seconds. An unexpected surge of heat followed when the player flashed her an impish grin.

  “Bri, much as I hate to admit this”—Stef’s whisper was tempered with intrigue—“I’m pretty sure she’s looking at you. Like, still.”

  A whistle blew, snapping the players back into action. Thank freaking God, because that stare was…something.

  “Tell me again why you’ve sworn off women?” Stef read her like a book.

  Briana shook out her shoulders, resurrecting her resolve from where it had momentarily melted into the pavement. “Stop. I love women. You know that. I’m not done with them forever.”

  “Yes.” Stef gave a mini fist pump, like she’d won a tiny battle.

  “I just need a break.”

  “So you’re riding the dude highway again? I don’t get how that’s ever appealing.” Stef fake gagged, and even though she was clearly going for a cheap laugh, her punch line oddly resonated. Briana based dating decisions on individual personality and mutual click regardless of gender, but if she was being honest, it was hard to compare the emotional intensity that formed seamlessly between women. But, ugh, they were complicated. The last few she’d casually gone out with seemed to be headed for the proverbial U-Haul almost immediately.

  “I am decidedly not on the prowl for anyone.” Briana added a chin nod, as though the strength of her conviction might dull the desire she felt for temporary companionship. “I’m here to support you. And to treat myself to a frozen margarita. Or two.”

  “Oh, I know. I was only joking anyway. I support your pansexual lifestyle, even if I can’t always wrap my head around it.”

  “Is it too much to just want to spend time with a good person who’s interested in having fun but isn’t looking for a relationship?” She asked the question rhetorically, but experience had already given her the answer. “Honestly, Stef. Categorically speaking, women seem to have a harder time with the fact that I don’t want a traditional relationship at this point in my life.” She hated that it was the truth. “When I go out with a guy and explain I’m not looking for anything serious, most of them seem to respect that. They listen and don’t expect more.”

  “Because they just want to sleep with you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, young Stefania.” Briana was being playful, but it was important her best friend understand the nuance. “The men I go out with are interested in sex. As am I. No one is even invited to sleep over. That’s an earned privilege.”

  “You’re so dramatic.” Stef clapped when her favorite player scored. “I find it hard to believe there aren’t any women who are willing to adhere to these rules.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.” Briana steepled her hands to the sky in fake prayer. The truth was she shared Stef’s ideology. “You would think, in this neighborhood, I’d be able to find at least one. I mean, for crying out loud, it’s not even one o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, and we’re at a women’s rec league basketball game. Check out the size of this crowd.” She eyed the packed bleachers, the swarm of people lining the perimeter of the court. “But goddamn if they don’t all want to settle down and have babies.”

  “Don’t hate.”

  She touched Stef’s shoulder, not wanting to offend her. “I’m not judging. I want those things too. Eventually. Just might be nice to make partner first.”

  “Or Chief of the Criminal Bureau at the US Attorney’s Office. I get it.”

  “That’s a pipe dream, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” Briana loved that even though Stef didn’t share her vision or timeline, she still respected it. And she appreciated that Stef believed in her enough to voice her support out loud. “So give me the deets on number five,” she said, trying to return the favor.

  “Oh my God, Bri, she’s so funny. We’ve been texting all week.”

  “You met here? At a game?”

  “At the bar after last week’s matchups. There’s an informal meetup at The HB on Smith Street. The cocktails flow. The clientele is—to put it in professional terms—fucking gorgeous.”

  “Let me guess…” Briana fanned her hand at the court. “Stacked with these lovely ladies?” She was going for coy, poking fun at Stef’s weakness for sporty women, but as soon as she said it, she felt an unmistakable rush of hope that the player who’d checked her out might be there.

  “You know it,” Stef said. “This game is going to end in five. Let’s head over now, snag a spot at one of the picnic tables in the back.”

  “You don’t want to wait and congratulate your prospective girlfriend on the court?”

  “Ha-ha. No. I want to look like I’m not totally invested. Play a little hard to get.”

  “Ah, feigned disinterest and trickery,” she said, grabbing her purse as she stood. “The way to a woman’s heart.”

  Forty minutes later, Briana stood in the open-air courtyard of The HB, one of her favorite local places to chill, as she indulged the last sip of a frozen pomegranate margarita in the bright afternoon sunlight. The crowd was buzzing and loaded with eye candy, but the sexy player she’d shared a look with earlier was nowhere in sight. She was sure because, despite her words to the contrary, she was looking.

  The player’s absence was for the best. Briana was in the middle of a big case. One that could bring her career to the next level. She needed to stay focused.

  “You having an okay time?” Stef asked.

  “Definitely.” Briana checked a look at Stef’s crush a few feet away. “How’s things going with number five?” she whispered.

  “Mackenzie.” Stef filled in the blanks as she bit her lower lip and pouted. “Good, I think.” She crossed her fingers. “Oh, before I forget. Dylan Prescott.”

  Briana answered her with an eyebrow raise.

  “That’s her name. The one from the game. You two had a staring contest. Is this ringing any bells for you?”

  “We didn’t have a staring contest.”

  “You’re right. It was more of an eye-fuck moment.” Stef sipped her drink. “She went home to shower. Apparently she lives nearby. Anyway, she should be here soon.”

  “And you are telling me this because…?”

  “Several reasons, really. One, in the name of lesbians everywhere, I selfishly want to keep you on this side of the playing field. Two”—Stef held two fingers in the air—“as your roommate, best friend, study buddy, et cetera, I happen to know you function better when you are not all pent up like you are right now. And three”—she lifted a third finger—“Dylan Prescott is a notorious player. So it’s honestly perfect. You can thank me later. When you are fully satiated.”

  Even though she wasn’t convinced, Briana was smiling. She adored her friendship with Stef. Of course she was right. Her mental focus was always sharper when she was physically content. It was a kind of natural mind-body symbiosis.

  “Out of curiosity, how do you know all of this?”

  “I have my ways. Worry about those details later.” Stef looked past her. “She’s here.”

  “Huh?” Her brain caught up but not before Dylan had made her way over to their loose group. Briana watched her greet Mackenzie and the rest of the team with fist bumps and half hugs before turning toward her and Stef.

  “I’m Dylan.”

  She was even taller than Briana had realized, and the hand she extended in greeting was strong and smooth.

  “Briana.” She smiled and licked her lips before she realized what she was doing. “Nice to meet you,” she added.

  She tried to look away but couldn’t help being drawn to Dylan’s delicately handsome look. Her clear eyes were accentuated by a dark blue rim and framed by long lashes. She had high cheekbones and an angular jawline that was somehow masculine but soft at the same time. There was a slight cleft in her chin, and for the briefest moment Briana imagined running the tip of her finger over the smoo
th skin there.

  “I’m going to the bar,” Briana said, just to give herself an escape. “Anyone need a drink?” she added to be polite.

  “I’m headed that way, too,” Dylan answered. “I’ll come with, if that’s okay.”

  Briana was full of nervous anticipation as they walked to the bar, but it was for naught. Once they were served she was ambushed by Roger, her needy downstairs neighbor. As he unloaded his latest tale of heartbreak, she watched Dylan chat up two pretty blondes and a curvy brunette. She sighed. Damn if Roger hadn’t cockblocked her.

  After a solid thirty minutes reassuring him he’d find the right one soon enough, she finessed her way out of the conversation. She was bummed when she didn’t see Dylan anywhere but went in search of Stef instead. She held back when she spotted her bestie in the back corner deep in a one-on-one with Mackenzie.

  “Think that has potential?” Dylan’s voice was low, her breath warm against her neck as she bent in close to speak.

  “I don’t know. I hope so. I think.”

  “You think?” Dylan held out a frozen drink toward her. “Pomegranate, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You looked like you needed a refill.”

  “Thank you.” Their fingers touched briefly as she reached for the cocktail, and Briana tried not to overthink the fact that Dylan had been keeping tabs on her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “No worries.”

  Dylan toasted her and took a sip of her beer. Briana enjoyed the precise way she used the tips of two fingers to wipe the foam from the edges of her mouth. Ugh, her mouth. She had full lips and a crooked smile, perfect teeth. Briana imagined the graze of their touch along her body, being kissed by her everywhere. Had she really sworn off women?

  Dylan pointed at Stef and Mackenzie with her drink. “How come you seem unsure whether or not you’re rooting for them?”

  “No, I am. I just don’t know Mackenzie at all.” She was always cautiously concerned about Stef’s choices. “Stef has notoriously bad taste in women,” she said, giving Dylan a window into the history.