Bulletproof Page 8

  “When did they pass away?” Briana lowered her voice and placed a hand on Dylan’s midsection, telling herself the contact was for support.

  “Nana died when I was eighteen. She had cancer. My grandfather moved in with my uncle in New Jersey after that. He died five years ago.”

  “After they left, you stayed in the house? With your mom?”

  “Actually, my mom moved to Long Island with her second husband when I was in high school.”

  “Oh, right. You mentioned that.”

  “My grandfather got sick shortly after he moved in with Uncle Tim. At that point, Uncle Tim and my mom decided to keep the brownstone, instead of selling it. Growing up, we always rented out the apartment on the top floor and lived in the space on the two main floors. When everyone but me was gone, they decided they could flip that situation. Rent out the first two floors as a big apartment and make some decent money. I could live on the top floor, rent free, in exchange for acting as the landlord and property manager.”

  “That’s a sweet deal.”

  “It’s fantastic. I didn’t want to leave. They took care of me.”

  Briana was hanging on every word. She loved Dylan’s deep slow cadence and the genuine affection that came out when she talked about her family.

  “Do you have to fix stuff? In the apartment?”

  “Sometimes. I’m pretty handy. My grandfather taught me everything. I followed him around like a puppy when I was a kid.”

  “Oh my God, I would love to see pictures of baby Dylan.” It was out before she could filter it, courtesy of her third cabernet and general lust.

  A wolfish smile spread across Dylan’s handsome face. “That can be arranged. My apartment is very nearby.” Dylan brushed a hand over her fingers, which were still hovering around her abdomen.

  “Dylan, we can’t.” Briana’s words stood in contrast to their fingers gently caressing in the dark bar. “You know we can’t.”

  “You worry too much.” Briana knew she should pull away when Dylan laced their fingers together. “We both want this.” Dylan leaned in close. “I think about you all the time.”

  How was she saying no to this? She was digging deep for restraint, but Dylan was still whispering in her ear. “We know the boundaries. We both want the same thing. I can be very discreet.”

  “We work together. Do you know how people would talk about us?”

  “Who’s going to tell them?”

  “I don’t know. I already wonder if Trevor suspects something. I come there for coffee almost every day.”

  “Where we are completely professional and talk about the case.”

  “True. But I can barely keep my hands off you.”

  Dylan squeezed their clasped hands. “That’s my favorite part.”

  Despite every internal lecture she’d given herself over the last few weeks, Briana felt herself caving. “No, no, no,” she said, reversing her thought process on the spot. She heard how weak her denial sounded, and her eyes bored into the ground. “I have to go home.”

  “Okay. I’m not going to pressure you into anything. Ever.” With one finger under her chin, Dylan tipped her head up. “But I am going to walk with you.”

  “Dylan,” she started to protest, even though she wanted the company.

  “Uh-uh”—Dylan covered her lips with one finger—“that’s just common courtesy. Okay?”

  Briana could only nod in response. She was using all her energy to resist what she most definitely wanted. Bad idea or not, her body longed for Dylan in her arms, in her bed. Thank God Dylan moved her hand, because in another second she might have caved and given in to her urge to suck on Dylan’s finger right there at the bar.

  “Let me grab my jacket,” Dylan said. “Wait here.”

  Across the bar, Briana saw Stef flash her a look and a subtle thumbs-up at her read of the situation. It made her laugh, and she shook her head, hoping to convince her roommate—and herself—that a walk was harmless.

  The night was brisk with autumn in full swing. Oak and Vine was a good few blocks from her place, and they spent the time in comfortable conversation about the neighborhood, their favorite restaurants, where Dylan had gone to elementary and high school. Their hands brushed a multitude of times, but when they were at her corner and Dylan’s index finger hooked with her pinkie, she didn’t even attempt to separate them.

  In front of her apartment, Dylan faced her. “I’m so glad I ran into you tonight. I know we see each other every day.” Her laugh was a deep throaty chuckle. “It was nice to not talk about work, if that makes sense.”

  “I completely agree.” They were still holding hands, and she could feel herself pulsing everywhere. She was one millisecond away from inviting Dylan inside and throwing her self-imposed restrictions out the window.

  Dylan pulled her in for a hug, and Briana didn’t fight it when she swayed them in place a little. Everything about the way they held on to each other felt both familiar and enticing. With each small degree of movement, Briana felt herself relenting.

  “Good night, Briana. See you in the morning.” She felt the outline of the words as Dylan’s lips brushed against her neck.

  “’Night,” Briana said to the sidewalk, knowing if she made even the slightest eye contact, she would give in completely.

  Chapter Nine

  Too much wine, a drought of physical activity, and close proximity to Dylan Prescott were a disastrous combination.

  In the light of day, this was clear, and as Briana walked from the subway to her office, she weighed her options.

  So long as she didn’t allow those three elements to align, everything would be fine. The solution was simple, now that she understood the equation. She mostly saw Dylan in the office where there was no alcohol. If they ran into each other in the neighborhood, she’d be sure to go easy on the sauce. Or leave. This was not a problem. She would have to put a moratorium on the innocent touches too. That indulgence was the most difficult to part with, but a necessary sacrifice to ensure success.

  Briana pressed the button for the third floor and wondered if Dylan realized how close she’d come last night to breaking her own rules. The thought washed out of her head as quickly as it had come in when she opened the squad door to a flurry of activity.

  The entire investigative team was assembled around the table.

  “Briana.” Sgt. Hollander acknowledged her presence and pulled out a chair at the head of the table. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please sit. We can fill you in on the break we caught last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “Ahmed and Karrakas followed Benji Rafferty to the Wine Bar.” Miri tacked a picture of the establishment to the corkboard. “Paul Rafferty was there. George Rivas showed up too.”

  “Wonderful.” She looked at Dylan, who gave her a soft smile in return.

  “It gets better,” Trevor said.

  “After about forty-five minutes, the three musketeers left the bar, walked to Paul’s Mercedes SUV, and unloaded several boxes into Rivas’s Maxima and Benji’s Audi.”

  Sgt. Hollander updated a whiteboard with the make and model of Paul Rafferty’s high-end vehicle. “You guys got pictures of this?”

  “Pictures and video, Boss,” Ahmed said.

  Trevor clapped once in excitement and turned to Briana. “Obviously we don’t know what’s in the boxes.”

  “Could be anything,” Miri echoed. “Including drugs to sell to college kids.”

  “This is fantastic. Great work.”

  “Okay, folks. You know the drill.” Miri capped her marker and put it back on the ledge of the board. “Find your targets and stick to them like glue. Without getting burned, obviously. We’ll reconvene this afternoon. Be safe out there,” she said in dismissal.

  The crew scattered, and Briana began to collect her belongings while Miri turned to her and began to flesh out the details of the previous evening’s surveillance. Briana listened intently even though part of her brain was trying to figure out if Dyl
an was still in the office. Miri laid out basic next steps, but before she was finished she introduced the possibility of sending Dylan and Trish inside the Wine Bar in an undercover capacity.

  “I’m not downplaying the work of these detectives, Miri. You know that. But we need more than one sighting of nondescript boxes being loaded into cars.”

  “Of course. We’ll get you more. You have my word.”

  “All right,” she said, still not sold on the risky method. “Let me go upstairs and brief my supervisor. I’ll get started researching the case law. Just so we’re up to speed when your team gets the probable cause necessary for moving forward.”

  “Thank you, Briana.”

  Briana waved over her shoulder just as a text from Dylan appeared on her phone.

  Sorry I didn’t have a chance to warn you about the group hug going on in the squad, lol. I only got in a few minutes before you. I’m in the field all day. Hope you got some coffee.

  With one simple text it was clear that despite their sidewalk quasi-cuddle the night before, everything with Dylan was just fine. A hundred percent normal. She felt at once relaxed and disheartened at the realization.

  I passed on coffee. Truth is, I’m in it for the company as much as the crème brûlée. She dropped in the shrug emoji even as she wondered what the hell she was doing.

  Dylan’s response was the rosy cheeked smiling emoji. Same.

  You heard your boss. Go get some bad guys. Dylan, be careful.

  Always.

  Ugh. How did one word hit her so hard? She shook it off, and for the rest of the day she threw herself into work, trying to focus on the intricacies of legal procedure and not Dylan out in the street following dangerous drug dealers.

  At five forty-five, she was thinking about calling it a day when her desk phone rang.

  “Are you available to come downstairs for a meeting?” Lt. Nieves barked before even saying hello.

  For a fraction of a second she considered telling him to come up to her office, just to pull rank, before realizing she really didn’t care. Plus, a meeting in the plant might mean a chance to see Dylan. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “There’s been a few developments in the investigation. I know you spoke with Sgt. Hollander this morning. I’d like to brief you personally if you’re available.”

  “Sure, Dan,” she said dropping formality altogether. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Whatever you need. We’ll be here.”

  A half hour later, she listened to Nieves drone on with details she’d already heard at the morning meeting. Somehow, he had a way of making the surveillance and the likelihood of subsequent leads sound less exciting than it had earlier. Maybe it was because only Nieves and Sgt. Hollander were present at the break room table, and her hopes of seeing Dylan were all but dashed. The sheer disappointment she felt was absurd. Internally calling herself on it, she made sure to stay focused for the next hour as the three of them hashed out police procedure and legal process for moving the investigation forward.

  While they were chatting, Nieves checked his phone. “The team is following Paul Rafferty as we speak,” he said, giving fresh intelligence.

  “Just Ahmed and Trish,” Hollander clarified as she looked at her own phone, clearly getting the same set of updates. “Ianelli and Karrakas are on Rivas right now. He’s over in Chelsea.”

  “Old Goldenballs hasn’t moved in hours.” Nieves giggled like a schoolkid at the moniker. He turned to Hollander. “Pull Gill and Prescott off him for the day.”

  “Should I cut them loose?” she asked.

  “Have them report here. I’d like to talk to them directly about their observations.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, typing as she spoke.

  While Briana believed Nieves was flexing his brass, she was secretly happy because she knew his orders meant she’d get to see Dylan after all. For the next while, she hung around when she could have easily gone home. Instead she stayed at the table rehashing case law and tactics that had held up in court in similar investigations. Her patience paid off just after eight p.m. when Trevor and Dylan arrived.

  “Any news?” Nieves asked before they even put their stuff down.

  “Trish and Ahmed lost Paul in traffic heading crosstown from the Upper West. Just came over the air.” Trevor held up his portable radio for emphasis. “Dylan and I were hoping we might pick him up on our way here.”

  “And?”

  “No luck, Loo. They’re going to check up by the Wine Bar again and over at Benji’s house too, just in case.”

  “They can break off after that,” Nieves said. “It’s going to be another long day tomorrow.”

  Briana wondered if there was any point to extending this briefing, but then she hardly cared when Dylan gave her a sweet smile as she set her gear on a vacant chair.

  “Hey,” Dylan whispered as Trevor briefed Hollander and Nieves. “You’re here late.”

  “Nieves asked for a meeting.” Briana rolled her eyes. “It was mostly a recap of the morning session.”

  “He made you stay late for that?”

  “It was no big deal. We talked about the progression of the case going forward. It wasn’t a total waste of time.”

  “Still, though.” Dylan seemed suspicious, but at least her disbelief was aimed at Nieves’s motives and not hers. She watched—okay, stared—as Dylan switched out one radio battery for another. Like the rest of her, Dylan’s hands were long and lean, and Briana watched her work swiftly, wondering for the hundredth time what her fingers might feel like inside her. “Long day for you,” Dylan said, interrupting her X-rated thoughts.

  “But I get to see you.” She said it out loud, for the moment letting her guard down and forgetting where she was entirely.

  Dylan’s look was gratitude, surprise, and desire rolled into one, and even though Briana hated herself for sending mixed messages, the smolder she got made it worthwhile.

  “What can I say, I missed my coffee buddy today,” Briana said, dialing it back on the spot.

  “Coffee buddies. Right.” Her laugh was so smooth and sexy. “We could have some right now.” Dylan’s eyes went to the cabinet where the fancy coffee pods were hidden.

  “But then he’ll know.” Briana looked in the direction of the lieutenant and mouthed, “Nieves.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” Dylan faked a grimace and whispered, “The big secret.”

  Were they still talking about coffee?

  “Prescott.” Nieves looked over from his mini confab with Trevor and Hollander. “Good work today.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And Ms. Logan, thank you for letting us take up so much of your time. We sort of kidnapped you down here.” He laughed heartily. “I’d like to get you a ride home as a show of my gratitude.”

  She wondered if he was truly grateful for her input or if he was just trying to show off in front of his staff. Either way she appreciated the gesture. “That’s not necessary, Lieutenant.”

  “Nonsense.” Nieves leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Prescott. You live in Brooklyn. Drive the good counselor home. Door to door. Understand?”

  “Sure thing, Lieutenant.” Dylan hopped off the desk she was perched on. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “I have to run upstairs and get my things,” Briana said as her head spun at the turn of events. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I’ve been given an order.” Dylan winked. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  * * *

  Briana hugged herself for warmth against the biting cold. How was it so frigid right now when just twenty-four hours ago she and Dylan had enjoyed a lovely, if brisk, stroll in their shared neighborhood? Furthermore, did Dylan assume she felt entitled to a constant escort? Selfishly she was excited for the time together. She hated that their coffee date was bumped this morning. It was silly, but she’d come to count on the one-on-one time. But being the recipient of forced goodwill made her feel
like a nuisance.

  “I’m sorry you have to do this. Again,” she said with a lilt in her tone, hoping to infuse the situation with some levity.

  “You know I don’t mind.” Dylan pressed the key fob, and the headlights flickered on her sedan a few feet ahead of them. “It’s almost ridiculous we don’t commute together all the time.”

  “I think we keep different hours.”

  “Do we, though?” Dylan’s voice was light. “We got here within minutes of each other today, and now we’re leaving together.”

  “Good point.” She slid into the passenger seat of Dylan’s Chevy Malibu. “How was your day?” she asked as Dylan settled in behind the wheel. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead when Dylan set up her radio, adjusted the mirrors, buckled her seat belt.

  “Busy. We were all over the city. What about you?”

  “Same. Busy.” Briana was distracted by all the little gadgets she noticed. Near the top of the windshield was a discreet light bar hidden by a swath of subtle window tint. “Hold on a second. Does this car have lights and sirens?”

  “Does that do it for you?” Dylan faced her and narrowed her eyes dramatically. “And to think this whole time I’ve been walking you home when I was sitting on this gold mine.”

  “Shut up.” Briana rolled her eyes.

  They were still parked, but Dylan pressed a button and the lights flashed red and blue. “Anything?” she asked playfully.

  Briana punched Dylan’s biceps. “You’re a jerk.”

  Dylan chirped the siren. “How ’bout now?”

  “You are insufferable—you know that?”

  She reached for the control panel to shut everything off, but Dylan beat her and blocked the switch with both hands. “I’m just making sure,” Dylan said, full of frisky spirit.

  Briana was laughing in spite of her protest as she tried to permeate Dylan’s makeshift shield.

  Finally, Dylan gave in. “Okay, okay. You win.” With a few quick movements Dylan shut everything down, but her smile stayed as she looked over her shoulder and pulled away from the curb.

  “I can’t believe you did that.” Briana covered her chest, which was beating a mile a minute. “My heart is racing.”