of his clan and kind. Those uncertainties needed to be addressed. Now would be a good time . . . but a lovely, blanketing fatigue seeped through her as she lay in the arms of this man who was so much more than just a man.
“I thought you were meeting with Cale and Rueben downstairs.”
“I will in a minute.”
A chuckle. “I hope they like your new cologne.”
Cee Cee closed her eyes, riding the rumble of her love’s laugh, letting the weight of palms upon head and hip solidify the mantle of peace that allowed her to slip easily into slumber upon one last thought.
What would I do without you?
– – –
Byron Atcliff hit the locker room between First and Second Watch change, a habit begun in his academy days. After a quick perusal of his personal messages, he changed into NOPD sweats the same size, he was quick to boast, as those of his youth. Then, powered by nostril-scorching coffee and a fresh beignet, he hit the uneven banquettes for a daily tour of his district.
The sounds of his city’s vibrant life pulsing all about him was a near religious experience, lessened only by the absence of Tommy Caissie’s footfalls beside him. He could almost hear his long-dead partner’s even breaths as he turned off heavily trafficked Rampart to enter Louis Armstrong Park through its iconic arch. The pain of missing his friend accompanied the requisite miles his anguish could never outdistance.
On the back half of his journey over mostly quiet paths and lattice-framed bridges within the sadly underappreciated thirty-two acres, intuition that had served him well as a beat cop began a familiar prickle through the short hairs on his neck.
“I thought you’d rather us meet away from the office.”
Heart rate lunging at the sound of Max Savoie’s ear-level drawl, Atcliff recovered quickly from his stumble and shot a glance beside him. Similarly attired in workout clothes, the lean bane of his existence offered a mild smile and an annoying suggestion.
“Maybe we should walk a bit while your pulse recovers.”
Without a word, Atcliff slowed, reflexively checking his watch to gage the spike in rhythm. Damned ghost had nearly killed him!
He’d no love for the lanky ex-thug, “ex” being the insistent question preventing him from celebrating his goddaughter finding the happiness that had blessed him for almost thirty years. But his wife had been the daughter of the Deputy Superintendent, a goal he sought to emulate. His stubborn detective had picked a man as famous for his mug shots as he was his tabloid exposés. And more recently, his charitable contributions. Nothing more altruistic than a reformed villain, if Savoie was indeed rehabilitated. That jury was still out. And here he was about to invite the legality-fluid fellow into one of his most troublesome cases.
Atcliff adjusted his pace to a brisk walk, Savoie falling in easily beside him as if they’d partnered for decades. “I take it she talked to you.”
“Indeed, she did. Have I you to thank for encouraging her down this dangerous path?”
“She never needs encouragement to take the road most likely to get her killed. Her journey with you, for example.”
Savoie’s blow-your-hair-back laugh took him by surprise. The genuine amusement in his smile relaxed tension into an almost friendly ease, allowing him to catch his breath and get to the fine point.
“Can you keep her safe?”
“In spite of her habit of making her own safety her last concern, it’s my priority. Always has been and will be.”
“Mine, too,” Atcliff grumbled. “And you haven’t made that a simple task. You’ll in no way compromise this investigation.”
That smirky smile again. “Have I ever?”
A reluctant chuckle escaped as he shook his head, sweat dropping from his flushed features. “I really don’t want to like you, Savoie.”
“Mutual, I’m sure.”
They walked in contemplative silence for a time before Max turned the conversation to business.
“Do you have any main suspects, so I’ll know what direction to watch?”
“Since you are part of this particular equation, I’d say you’d know better than I would.”
“Carmine.”
“Only on the edges. Though he does lend his stink to everything criminal in this city.”
“Are you looking closer to home, then?”
Atcliff’s jaw tightened, eyes front. “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”
Which gave Max all the information he needed. Brady.
The police captain pulled up to regard him with rifle-barrel seriousness. “Don’t let her get killed. Stay close and stay out of sight.”