Chapter 1
There’s no place like home.
The police substation didn’t sit at the end of the rainbow or anywhere near Kansas, but for some reason that stupid phrase ran like a mantra through Sinead O’Rourke’s head as she drew a deep breath and pushed through the double-doors leading into the station house. Once inside, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead, ignoring the way conversations died away as one by one the officers on duty noticed who’d entered their midst.
So, she’d been gone a while. No doubt San Antonio’s finest whispered she looked a little different than they remembered. A few even knew she’d gone nuts for a while. But their red-headed stepchild was back.
Fuck them, anyway.
Sin headed straight to the Lieutenant’s office and knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
Relieved to escape the thick atmosphere of the open floor, she knew she’d only traded one bleeding wound for another when the patrol shift lieutenant, Clayton Kalisek, glanced up and stiffened at the sight of her. “Glad to see you made it, O’Rourke.”
“Yeah, I finally got tired of sitting on my ass,” she said with more attitude than she felt. “Only so many Dr. Phil’s a body can stand.”
“Sit down for a second while we have a talk.”
She shut the door behind her and warily took the chair in front of his desk. Just as she remembered, his set expression didn’t give away a thing he was thinking. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant? The doctors gave me a clean bill of health.”
His narrowed gaze landed on the scar on her cheek then locked with hers again. “If you’re not ready for this, just say so.”
Some things never changed. Lieutenant Kalisek still knew just where to stick his dull knife. “I’m fine,” she said, her tone curt since she wasn’t about to bother hiding her irritation.
“Sure, you are.” But he didn’t sound convinced. He leaned back in his chair and continued to stare. “I’m putting you with Chappa, again. Now, I know you two have a history…”
Chappa. Shit. They had plenty of history, all right. Most of it bad. “Fine,” she bit out. “Have you broken the good news to him?”
Clay’s face tightened with a pained expression. “Told him yesterday.”
“Wish you’d waited until I was in the room,” she said, a mirthless grin sliding along her lips. “Bet he was loud.”
The lieutenant’s ice blue eyes narrowed. “He’s not going to cut you any slack.”
Her chin came up. “Don’t need any.”
His nod was curt. “Very well. Get out on the street.”
That was it? Feeling a little deflated, like she’d worried about nothing, she hesitated. “You’re not going to say anything about the psych eval?”
“Doc said you’re ready—that the meds and the time off did the trick.” His expression tightened. “Should I ask you if you’re still talking to ghosts?”
A lump burned the back of her throat as she caught sight of Danny standing just behind the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “No ghosts,” she lied, ignoring the grin splitting her late partner’s face.
She shot up off the chair and turned to open the door.
“Like I said, O’Rourke. Chappa’s not gonna cut you any slack.”
She nodded over her shoulder, not daring to look back.
“Sure you’re ready for this?”
Sin stifled a groan. How many times would she hear that today? She especially didn’t want to hear it from Jake Chappa’s lips. Lips she knew the texture and taste of all too well.
She didn’t respond, still fuming because he hadn’t even offered to let her drive. That had been only one of the bitches she’d had partnering with him before. He’d never trusted her. Not with the car. Not with his back.
Now, he’d been just fine playing house with her for a while, but he was too much of a chauvinist to ever accept her working at his side.
She’d looked him over when she strode through the garage to the car. He hadn’t changed a bit. Same thickly muscled frame, hair so “high and tight” a Marine DI would weep, same sensually-charged expression that had always made her stomach clench. He’d been a god in bed but a total asshole as a boyfriend. What was the lieutenant thinking? She thought she knew the answer.
He hoped she’d wash out in a week, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting anyone else killed.
Only everyone should have known that wasn’t what had happened. The review board had cleared her—and Danny, posthumously—of any negligence.
Memories too painful to face for months came flooding back.
They’d just finished lunch and were arguing over who had to pay the bill. Danny had lost a round of pool the night before but had claimed she’d cheated when he’d turned his back.
She had. He knew it. She knew he knew it, but he hadn’t caught her. A fair loss in her books. A win was a win.