Catch Your Breath Page 3

  “In a minute.” When Gabby hit the landing and turned the corner, he grabbed the doorknob and turned. Sure as shit, it turned without any resistance whatsoever. What the hell was that girl thinking?

  He opened the door and strode in. She had the radio on and he knew she couldn’t hear him. He leaned against the wall in the hallway at the epicenter of the apartment and waited. She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without seeing him.

  Within a minute she emerged from her bedroom wearing a skimpy robe while reading the label on a jar. Although he hadn’t moved, it was like she felt his presence and looked up. Everything froze. Her eyes widened.

  Then she screamed, threw the jar at him. The bottle bounced off his chest and he grabbed it from the floor. Wax.

  Jimmy let out a chuckle.

  Moira’s heart lodged in her throat before recognition hit. Jimmy? What the hell? Air flooded into her lungs and her heart steadied, but her blood boiled. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

  “You didn’t lock your door.”

  “I certainly didn’t leave it open either. There was no invitation to enter.” Her voice rose steadily and she jabbed a finger in his direction. “You had no business coming in. I should call and have you arrested.”

  He raised a hand in defense. “When you closed the door, I listened for you to lock up and you didn’t. I turned the knob and let myself in.”

  “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Me scaring you is the least of your worries. What if I was a rapist or murderer? You’re making yourself an easy target. This building has zero security. It is like an invitation for some creep to come after you.” His voice stayed quiet and strong, and was somehow way more menacing than her screaming rant.

  She took a step back and crossed her arms again. She suddenly realized that she wore nothing but her bathrobe, which was currently gaping. Tugging it closed and pulling the sash tighter, she stared at her feet.

  Could she get more embarrassed?

  Jimmy’s hand holding ajar filled her field of vision. Her wax. “I think you dropped this.”

  Yes, her night just got more embarrassing. She curled her fingers around the jar and tucked it into the pocket of the robe. His feet nearly touched hers and she focused on his scuffed dress shoes in front of her bare toes.

  They stood in silence and Moira noticed that they breathed in rhythm. He stood close enough that the heat from his body permeated the thin material of her robe. Holy shit. Jimmy O’Malley never got this close to her. If she leaned forward, she could rest her face on his chest.

  She couldn’t look at him. It was bad enough that he scared her half to death, but now he’d seen her freak out while half naked, all while he was holding her leg wax. And she might actually die if he realized she was just fantasizing about him.

  “Hey,” he said softly. Nothing else. He waited silently until her eyes met his.

  She expected to see his usual ridicule, but instead, there was something else. Kindness?

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He paused. “Well, I did, but only because I want you to understand how completely unsafe you are. I wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”

  Her heart, which had been making its way back to its normal position, plummeted to her feet. Jimmy stood so close, mere inches separating them. How many times over the years had she dreamed of being in this exact position? And he was here because he cared.

  She leaned forward and was certain she’d seen the look on his face shift. His eyes darkened and she knew he wanted to kiss her. The knowledge sent tingles through her body.

  He suddenly stepped back, turned, and walked to the door. Opening it, he said over his shoulder, “Make sure you lock up.”

  Then he was gone.

  Moira stood frozen in place for a second.

  “Now, Moira,” he yelled from the other side of the door.

  She scrambled to the door, flipped the dead bolt, and collapsed against the wood. What the hell just happened? Moira closed her eyes and replayed the scene in her mind. When she’d first come out of her bedroom, all she saw was a hulk of a man standing in her hall.

  Thinking back now, she should’ve recognized him immediately. Jimmy had a way of standing, he had this air around him that was a constant buzz of motion, but he never moved. He hadn’t been threatening, just leaning against the corner of the wall. And she had to go and throw wax at him.

  But what happened after, now that she could work past the embarrassment, she hadn’t imagined. She could still feel the warmth of his body even though they hadn’t actually touched. And while she would never claim to be an expert on all men, and certainly not one on Jimmy O’Malley, she knew a lusty look when she was on the receiving end.

  That was no one-way lust.

  Moira pushed off the door feeling lighter than she had in a long time. Jimmy O’Malley almost kissed her. She didn’t know how or why it had happened now, but she knew she wanted to be in that position again.

  With the jar of wax thumping against her thigh as she walked back to the bathroom, Moira developed a plan. They needed each other. She could help with whatever investigation Jimmy had going on and he could help her get a story that was more than high society fluff. And if she was lucky enough to get lucky with him, well then, that would be all the better.

  Jimmy stomped down the stairs and out into the fresh air. Or what would’ve been fresh air if it wasn’t July in Chicago. He dragged in a deep breath from the wall of humidity. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He just wanted to teach Moira a lesson about personal safety.

  He wouldn’t want to face her brothers if something happened to her and he could’ve prevented it. Never had he expected to find her wearing nothing but a skimpy robe. The woman was like a quick-change artist. He might not have even noticed how short the robe was or how the pale skin on her chest was sprinkled with freckles, but she got all feisty and started poking at him, which caused the opening of the robe to widen.

  Even then, he kept himself in check, but he made the ultimate mistake of getting too close to her. The look in her eyes when they met his almost undid him.

  He almost lost his fucking mind and kissed her.

  Shaking his head, he slid into the car beside Gabby.

  “ ’Bout time. What the hell were you doing? Gettin’ lucky?”

  His head jerked back. “No. I wanted to make sure she locked her door. That apartment isn’t safe.”

  Gabby snickered. “Dude, it takes three seconds to say, ‘Lock the door.’ ”

  “It takes longer than five minutes to get lucky if you’re doing it right.”

  She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Plus, you’re looking totally guilty right now. What’s the story?”

  “There is no story. Moira’s like a little sister.” The lie made his stomach turn. He wanted to think about her like a little sister, but he hadn’t been able to for years. Which was why he avoided her.

  Gabby pulled out into traffic, a smile still hovering on her lips.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Nothing. You want me to believe she’s like a sister, so be it. But the attraction in the hallway was like snap, crackle, pop.”

  “Not attraction, annoyance.”

  “Whatever.”

  Gabby drove back to the station so they could discuss a game plan. Last night had been a waste of time. He was supposedly new to the city, and no one was quick to befriend him. How was he supposed to get people to talk about being robbed? This whole thing reeked of a wild goose chase.

  If these rich assholes wanted to take the loss, let them. They obviously didn’t trust the police to do their jobs.

  They let the commander know they talked to Moira, who at least appeared to be cooperative. Then after a long-ass day of accomplishing exactly jack shit, Jimmy drove home.

  Elks told him he’d be in touch with the mayor to decide how they would proceed, but Elks gave the impression that Jimmy’s d
ays of being James Buchanan weren’t quite over.

  By the time he got home, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with his dad. He walked through the front door and tripped over the same damn hockey skate. He picked it up and hurled it across the room. It whizzed by Tommy’s head as he came in from the other end of the room.

  “What the fuck, dude?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. If you can’t pick up after yourself, find somewhere else to live. I’m not your goddamn maid.”

  Tommy grabbed the skate and shoved it under the table. “You’re not my mother either, so stop acting like it.”

  “Be an adult and I won’t have to.”

  “What the hell crawled up your ass and died?”

  What the hell indeed? Jimmy didn’t know what the hell was bothering him. Yes, he did. A hot little redhead made his blood boil every way possible and made him crazy. “I’m having a bad day.”

  “I’ll say. Maybe you need to get laid. Always sets me straight. You wanna go out?”

  “Maybe later. I have some work to do. Have you checked on Dad?”

  Tommy shook his head. “He was asleep when I came in.”

  “Asleep?” Not a good sign.

  “He was breathing, but I didn’t wake him.”

  Jimmy stuck his head in his dad’s bedroom. The man’s snore sounded like a Mack truck. He counted the empties surrounding his dad. Eight beers. Enough that his father wouldn’t have thought to check his blood. Probably not for the entire day. Jimmy thought that once he got in as a detective, he’d be able to keep a better eye on his dad. It didn’t help that Tommy and Sean didn’t see his drinking as a problem. If he offered them a beer, they’d sit and drink with him.

  No matter what he told them, they didn’t get it. They still looked at Dad like he was an invincible superhero instead of a diabetic old man.

  Jimmy gathered the supplies and tested his father’s blood. As expected, his blood sugar was low, so Jimmy roused him enough to take a glucose pill. Then he went to the kitchen to make some real food.

  Most weeks Dad did a good job. He watched what he ate and stuck to a couple of beers a night. Something would trigger a binge like this, but Jimmy didn’t know what the trigger was. And it wasn’t like Seamus O’Malley would ever admit to his sons that he had a problem.

  Moira schooled her face and practiced what she wanted to say. Treat it like an interview. Be professional. And don’t think about Jimmy O’Malley.

  She tugged on her T-shirt to straighten it, knowing it was a silly habit, especially since no one would see her over the phone. One more deep breath. Game time. She dialed quickly before she lost her nerve.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, is this Detective Ruiz?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Hi, Detective. This is Moira O’Leary. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure.”

  “I have a proposition. I know this afternoon I was . . . less than professional. I apologize. I definitely would never do something to intentionally cause problems for the police.” She inhaled slowly and reminded herself that Jimmy was the police, and although she liked to cause as many problems for him as possible, she couldn’t this time. “Anyway, I’m sure Jim—I mean Detective O’Malley explained that we grew up together. You know how it is when you’ve known someone your whole life. You get on each other’s nerves.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let me get to the point.”

  “Please do.”

  “I take it from last night’s fund-raiser that Detective O’Malley needs to be accepted in this social circle for whatever case you’re working on. My guess is, that needs to happen fast. I’m offering my help.”

  A slight pause and then, “Go on.”

  Ha! Moira knew this would work. “I know this crowd. I’ve been writing about these people for a year now. We might not be friends—they’re never going to invite me out for coffee or anything—but they trust me. I make them look good. When they want press, when they have a cause they feel strongly about, they call me.” Moira shifted the phone to her other ear and clicked to open her e-mail. Her invite to the Lincoln Park Zoo benefit had arrived. This was one party she really liked.

  The zoo was one of her favorite places. She had excellent memories of going to the zoo as a kid with her whole family.

  “How do you suppose you could help, Ms. O’Leary?”

  “Uh . . .” Shit. She’d gotten distracted again. She hadn’t come up with a plan for Jimmy. She just knew she could use his situation to help herself. “I can talk to him in front of the others. Make it seem like I know all about him so he doesn’t appear to be such an outsider.”

  “And you think that’ll be enough?”

  “If you can have your tech guys, who I’m assuming created Jimmy’s phony online life, create a few news articles dropping his name. They have to be out of town events for it to be realistic. These people read the newspapers and blogs that celebrate themselves. While they might excuse not noticing Jimmy at one or two events, they’ll know if he keeps saying he was somewhere, but no one remembers him.”

  “In truth, we were hoping no one would notice.”

  “They will. If I act like he belongs, offer to interview him as a new Chicagoan, the others will take notice. I’m not saying they care about what I think, but they’ll notice. Between that and being the mayor’s friend, he should be able to blend.” Moira sounded good even to her own ears. She was getting good at the bullshit.

  “And what are you looking for?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cut the crap, Ms. O’Leary. You’re not calling me and offering help out of the goodness of your heart. You’re after the story.”

  “Well, I am a reporter. This is how I make my living.”

  “I can’t make you any promises.”

  “I didn’t think you would. I can promise not to write anything without permission, but I want the exclusive.”

  Detective Ruiz sighed heavily. “I’ll run it by the commander, but it’s probably doable. It might not pan out to be much of anything. There might not even be a story.”

  Moira doubted that. Jimmy wasn’t the kind of guy who spun his wheels on a pointless job. “What’s the next event he has to go to?”

  “There’s something going on tomorrow night. A fund-raiser for I don’t know what.”

  “You need to narrow it down more. I have at least two to three things on most nights I could go to.”

  “Animals!” Detective Ruiz yelled.

  “The animal shelter?”

  “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  Moira scanned her schedule. She hadn’t planned on attending. It broke her heart to see all those dogs waiting for adoption. She always wanted to bring them all home, and her building wouldn’t let her have a pet at all. She sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there.” She added it to her schedule. “You know Jimmy’s not going to like this, right?”

  “Of course. That’s why you called me instead of him, even though you grew up together.”

  “He would shut the whole idea down. He wouldn’t want to accept any help from me.”

  She heard what sounded like a snort of laughter. There was nothing funny about pissing off Jimmy O’Malley. Maybe his partner hadn’t learned that lesson.

  “Call me after you break the news to him. Will you be at the fund-raiser ?”

  “Not where you can see me. I’m purely backup.”

  Backup, huh? Was Jimmy into something dangerous? He hadn’t made it sound dangerous. He’d just sounded like he didn’t want her anywhere near him. “Okay, then. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Oh, and this event is business casual. Tell him to leave the tux at home.”

  Moira disconnected and danced through her living room. She popped the top on a beer and took a swig. Things were looking up. Having his partner deliver the bad news to Jimmy could only be sweeter if she could watch. It would almost make up for him scaring the shit out of her in her apartment.

  She smiled as she too
k another drink. She’d definitely learned her lesson, though. She’d never forget to throw that lock again. After all these years, Jimmy O’Malley was still looking out for her.

  Jimmy adjusted the waistband of his pants again, shifting his gun to a position where it couldn’t be seen.

  “No good, O’Malley,” Gabby said. “I can still see it. Why don’t you take it off? It’s not like you’re going into a gun fight.”

  He grunted. He wasn’t going anywhere without his gun. Untucking his shirt, he bloused it out. “Gonna have to do.”

  The polo he wore still held the creases from being new. Gabby laughed about it. Like it was his fault he didn’t wear preppy clothes. He’d blame the whole thing on Moira.

  Thinking about her irritated him all over again. He knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her nose out of his business. The mayor sent a car to pick him up. He briefly wondered if this was one of those bills being passed on to the citizens of Chicago. He’d just as soon drive himself, but apparently a wealthy businessman wouldn’t drive an SUV unless it cost more than Jimmy made in a year.

  Gabby rode with him again, but planned to attend as a server for the caterer. That way, she could listen in on conversations where he wouldn’t be invited. They’d be able to cover twice as much ground.

  He stepped from the car and Gabby said, “See you inside. Be nice.”

  The event was being held in a park. Shelter workers were all wearing blue polos, a shade darker than what he wore, thank God, so they were easy to spot and avoid. Most of them walked dogs on leashes and stopped to talk to guests about the dog in their care.

  As he took a glass of champagne from a waiter drifting by, he kept one eye out for Moira. It was hot out, and if she wore another dress that showed off her chest, he might have to pull her out of the party.

  “James,” someone called.