A Fine Specimen (16 page)

“I’m so excited!” Caitlin beamed. “The focus of my project
will be on August Vollmer. The Frederiksson has extensive archives,
particularly for the period I’m interested in, which runs from the Peelian
reform in England to the founding of the IACP. I’m hoping to gather enough
material for a book.”

What the hell was she talking about?

“Vollmer?” Alex pursed his lips, thinking furiously. “Isn’t
that an…unusual choice?”

“Not really.” Caitlin frowned. “I mean, if you stop to think
about it, a modern professional police force would be unthinkable without his
theories of management. Why, you could almost call him the precursor to
community policing.”

“You’re right. Of course.” Alex deepened his voice and
looked thoughtful. “August Vollmer
would
make a really interesting
subject for a book.”

Who the fuck is August Vollmer?
Alex had some vague
memory of a hot summer afternoon in the academy and the most boring professor
on the teaching staff mentioning August Vollmer, but for the life of him, he
couldn’t remember a thing.

At the academy, he’d aced every subject that he considered
practical and pertinent to policing, including law.
Especially
law, once
he’d made the decision to uphold it instead of break it. He’d had top marks in
Surveillance Techniques, Self-Defense and Marksmanship and good marks in
everything else except for Police Theory.

August Vollmer had been somewhere inside the boring part,
but where? He didn’t give a shit right now. Right now, all he wanted was to get
her out of the Carlton and settled in his bed. Er, his
house
.

“Okay.” He slapped the table with open palms.”We’d better
get started,” he said, rising to put the plates in the sink. “Otherwise we
won’t get back in time for you to cook me a fabulous lunch.”

Caitlin laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. She ran up
the stairs and Alex followed, enjoying the view of her bare legs, with tantalizing,
glimmering glimpses of bare ass. It was very tempting to think of sliding his
hands under his shirt, cupping those firm cheeks while kissing her, but if he
did that they’d end up in bed, which as ideas went was a good one. A really
good one.

His cock, which had been at half-mast as he watched those
pink lips and small pink tongue as she ate—and had swelled as he watched her
run up the stairs—twitched in eagerness at the idea.
Down boy
, he told
himself. For now, anyway. He had to get Caitlin checked out and get some food
in the house before they could play.

And while he was at it, he was definitely going to have to
haul some of his old academy textbooks out of storage and bone up. August
Vollmer, eh? He was going to have to work hard to keep up with Caitlin Summers.

* * * * *

“We’ve got enough food to feed Baylorville for a month when
civilization breaks down,” Caitlin complained. Alex had restocked with a
vengeance, including a bottle of real French champagne. To celebrate her
fellowship in style, he’d said.

They had just left the Carlton, where she’d packed up her
few possessions and checked out. Alex now headed into a rabbit warren of dark,
dank streets. She looked at the bleak surroundings. “And judging by this
neighborhood, that day might not be too far off. Where are we, anyway?”

“We’re in the bad part of Riverhead. I’m taking a few
shortcuts home.”

Caitlin had been staring out the side window but when she
heard him, she turned, startled. “You mean the Carlton is in the
good
part of Riverhead?”

He looked over at her, just a quick glance out of dark eyes.
“Yeah.”

Caitlin sat back, blinking. The sky was darkening with storm
clouds, more every passing minute, but it wasn’t the sun behind the clouds
which gave the area such a forsaken air.

Almost all the buildings were boarded up—or worse, with
doors and windows ripped off and mounds of rubbish piled up inside. The streets
were almost deserted. This whole section of town was abandoned, as if a war had
been lost and conquering troops had passed through, wrecking everything in
their path.

The few Dumpsters there were had been tipped over and
ransacked. Black, charred circles on the cracked sidewalk showed where bonfires
had been lit. A number of rusted hulks of cars, most with the tires long-since
stolen, were parked haphazardly along the street.

Sullen, too-thin men loitered on door stoops, tipping their
heads back and drinking out of bottles wrapped in paper bags. Others were
clearly drug addicts.

Some of the houses looked as if they had been bombed.
Caitlin supposed that the owners had set fire to them in hopes of collecting
insurance money. There wasn’t a business open, there wasn’t a human being in
sight who looked purposeful. Though it wasn’t cold, Alex drove with the windows
up and the doors locked.

He’d made her put her purse in the footwell and had put her
things and most of the groceries away in the trunk.

Alex was in full cop mode, silent, utterly vigilant, eyes flickering
constantly to the rearview mirrors.

Caitlin shivered at the stares of some of the men. There was
no way for them to know that Alex was a police officer, but the hatred in their
eyes as Alex’s sleek, expensive car drove through the neighborhood, as out of
place as an alien spaceship, was unmistakable. He didn’t have to be a cop for
them to hate him. Alex belonged to a different world, a world they would never
join, and that was enough.

She pulled her new cotton sweater close around her midriff
and shuddered. “What an awful place,” she said.

“Yeah, it is.” Alex’s voice was grim. He took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. “I grew up here.”

Caitlin shot him a startled glance. Alex was looking
straight ahead, but she wasn’t fooled. She could feel his concentration
centered on her, wondering what her reaction would be.

This was fascinating. She’d known that he’d grown up on the
wrong side of the tracks. It was part of the legend surrounding Alex. How he
had been a punk and Ray had saved him. But somehow, being in the area where
Alex had grown up made it clearer just how greatly the odds had been stacked
against him and how far he’d come in life.

Caitlin felt her heart swell, but not with pity. Alejandro
Cruz didn’t need her pity. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

Caitlin had worked in the inner city on a sociology project
for three summers straight. She knew very well how a bad neighborhood could
suck its young into its own negative gravity of hopelessness and despair.

But Alex had been strong enough, smart enough to get out and
prevail over his background. He was an alpha male, and alpha males win or die
trying. He’d made a success of his life, despite the odds against it. Caitlin
felt only admiration for what Alex had done with himself. Admiration…and
something more.

She’d been close to falling in love with him and, right
there, in a car driving through the ’hood, Alex staring straight ahead, his
knuckles white on the wheel, she slid all the way in.

It wasn’t just the sex, she thought almost sadly. It would
be easier if it were. Falling in love with Alex Cruz was not a smart move, but
there it was.

“It’s a tough neighborhood,” she said gently.

Alex nodded, his face tense.

“But you were tougher.”

He swiveled his head and Caitlin smiled at him. Alex stared
at her for a second then turned his attention back to the road. He was quiet
for another mile, then one corner of his mouth lifted in that half smile she
was starting to know so well. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I was tougher.”

They drove in silence. Alex clearly knew his way around the
area. Caitlin had long since lost her sense of direction. The sky was turning
purple and sheet lightning flared on the horizon. A big fat raindrop splattered
on the windshield, then another.

Alex turned a corner and nosed the car into what looked like
an alleyway. Caitlin wondered what he was doing when he turned another corner
onto a broad avenue which she recognized. He’d shaved twenty minutes off the
drive.

“It wasn’t quite this bad around here when I was growing
up,” Alex said finally.

“No?”

Alex shook his head. “Oh, it was a rotten neighborhood all
right. But you could live a life here, of sorts. Over there,” he nodded at a
burnt-out two-story building, “was a little supermarket, and there,” he pointed
to a boarded-up storefront, “that was a clothing store.”

Caitlin blinked. It was hard to imagine organized life in
this place. “So what happened?”

“A lot of things happened, but
mainly
what happened
was Angelo Lopez.”

She’d heard the name before. “Angelo Lopez?”

“Yeah. A major scumbag. But scumbags are a dime a dozen, we
put them away by the ton. This guy’s worse. He’s a loan shark and runs a
protection racket. He’s dangerous as hell. He’ll bomb your shop in a heartbeat
if you don’t pay up. He’ll send his goons to kneecap you and then he’ll go
after your wife and kids. Five years after Lopez started operations here, the
neighborhood collapsed. Anyone who had the energy or the wits to run a business
had left.”

“Well, that wasn’t very smart of him, was it?” Caitlin
frowned. “Sort of like killing the goose that lays the golden egg.”

“That’s not how these guys think, honey.” Caitlin started at
the endearment and told herself she was a fool to feel warmth spread through
her. “They don’t care. Lopez certainly didn’t. He probably cleared five million
in as many years. He sucked the place dry and then he moved on to greener
pastures. He’s operating out of Barton now.”

Caitlin sucked in a shocked breath. Barton was an old neighborhood
that was gentrifying—and it was where her friend Samantha had found a little
fixer-upper of a house. “He’s got to be stopped before he ruins Barton too!”

Alex glanced at her. “We’ll get him,” he said softly. “It’s
just a question of time. We’re going to pull in his numbers man, his
accountant. You might remember me talking about him. He took the protection
money and the prostitution money and the drug money and washed it whiter than
white for Lopez. You’d better believe he’ll—” Alex stiffened, his words ending
abruptly.

“Alex?” Caitlin hung onto her shoulder strap as Alex swerved
violently to the side of the road and braked sharply. “Alex, what’s the
matter?”

The car was still rocking as Alex unbuckled his seat belt
and reached into the glove compartment. Caitlin’s eyes widened when she saw him
draw out a gun. It was a Glock 19, bigger than his service weapon. He held it
with complete familiarity. A sharp snick sounded as he switched the safety off.
“Lock the door after me, and
don’t
move,” he said as he slid out of the
car.

Caitlin didn’t even have time to answer. Alex slammed the
car door shut and started sprinting down the street.

There he is!

Alex hadn’t been wrong. Scrawny build, narrow face, long
nose, scraggly whiskers. Ratso was unmistakable, as ugly as his namesake. Alex
had been thinking about Ratso, savoring putting the pressure on him—oh-so
gently so the DA couldn’t say jack shit about it—and watching him crack wide
open to let them reel Lopez in, when
wham
!

There Ratso was, walking down the street as if Alex had
conjured him up himself out of his yearning to see the fucker behind bars.

Ratso had turned around at the sound of a car braking
abruptly, but when he saw Alex shooting out of the car, he started running down
the street.

Alex was off-duty, with a civilian, in his own personal car.
Going after Ratso right now was a no-no. A
big
no-no.

But…damn it! He could almost taste Ratso’s testimony. He
could almost
see
Lopez behind bars.

Ratso had about a hundred yards on him, but Alex was in good
shape and Ratso wasn’t. Ratso looked over his shoulder at Alex gaining on him
and darted into an alleyway.

Alex grinned. Of all the cops in the world, Alex was the
only one guaranteed to catch Ratso in the dark, winding alleyways of Riverhead.
He knew these streets like a mother knows her child. Ratso could never shake
him here.

The adrenaline of the chase coursed through Alex. This was
what he needed, this was what he had been born for—the hunt. He drew even with
the alley, glancing swiftly backward before plunging into the labyrinth of
alleyways—and stopped dead.

Though it was only late morning, the sky was almost
completely black. The brewing thunderstorm gave the shabby, derelict buildings
a sinister bruised look. Even through the window of the car, Caitlin’s pale
face and pale hair glowed in the darkened street like a beacon.

Some of the groceries were stacked in the backseat, an open
invitation to a fist through the window. Caitlin herself was probably the most
delectable thing any of the men in Riverhead had seen in years. She was as
juicy a prey to the predators of Riverhead as a lamb tethered to the stake.

Even at this distance, Alex could see her watching him
anxiously. Leaving her there alone and unprotected was literally unthinkable. A
thousand eyes were watching. The instant he headed into the alleyways, the scum
would come swarming out of the woodwork.

Without a second thought, Alex put his Glock in his jacket
pocket and headed back.

As he walked toward Caitlin, it occurred to Alex that, for
the first time in his adult life, he had put something before law enforcement.

It didn’t seem real, but there it was. His decision had been
instantaneous, he hadn’t even had to argue with himself. All he knew was he
couldn’t possibly leave Caitlin unprotected.

When Caitlin saw him heading back toward her, she gave him a
shaky smile and his heart gave a kick in his chest, just as it had in his
kitchen this morning. Alex rubbed his chest absently.