Page 30 of Tough as Steele

“Yes.” He locked gazes with her, and the power of his internal resolve tightened his jaw. “It’s not something I broadcast or like to talk about, so would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”

“Will do,” she said, though she wanted to know more.

He kept his focus on her until the light changed, then he hit the gas. “Did you go straight into law enforcement?”

She was honestly surprised he was interested. Maybe he was assessing her ability to do her job. “I signed on after I finished a degree in criminal justice.”

“Did you always want to be a cop?”

Did she? Good question. “If you come from a law enforcement family like I do—father, grandfather—it’s common to follow in their footsteps.”

“But your dad owns the security company now, right?”

“He was a patrol officer for years, then worked his way up to lieutenant. My uncle worked for PPB. He was a sergeant. Then they retired, and it took all of a month before they were bored and going stir crazy. So they started the company.”

“And when they retire from running Steele Guardians? Is the business something you want or plan to take over?”

“I would rather keep doing my job, but if it’s in the best interest of the company, I’ll do it.” She tried not to sound disappointed as family came first. If she had to sacrifice for all her parents had done for her, she would do so. “Thankfully, I’ve met my dad and uncle’s terms to take over the business, so I can step in if needed.”

He tilted his head. “Terms?”

“If we want to work in the company, my sisters and cousins have to serve in law enforcement for five years. Dad and Uncle Hugh said it would give us a feel for what our guards might be up against and help us think like criminals.”

He glanced at her, his right eyebrow arched. “And did it? Help you think like a criminal, I mean?”

She worked hard not to scrunch up her face. “Unfortunately more than I ever dreamed it would.”

He gripped the gear shift with his free hand. “It doesn’t leave you. Ever. You’re always thinking about personal safety and the safety of those around you. Others don’t understand, and it can get in the way of a lot of things.”

“Like relationships,” she muttered, knowing she might never find a man who accepted her way of thinking.

“I hear you on that one.” He stared ahead again, not glancing at her to see how she responded to his reply.

Probably a good thing because this conversation had gotten very personal. She liked how it felt to learn more about him and find out what made him tick. Liked it way too much. It was time to take his lead and let a mask of indifference fall over her face and her heart.

8

Nate slid out of his car and pocketed his keys, taking in the scene. The air smelled like the homeless were using the area as a restroom, and he spotted a few hypodermic needles near the curb by Mimi’s silver Lexus. The pricey vehicle was parked on the side of a dark street and looked out of place in the Skidmore area of the city—an area that could be sketchy to visit at any time, much more in the pre-dawn hours. The suspects had left the SUV doors wide open, and light from the interior seeped into the darkness but did nothing to make the area feel friendlier.

A tall PPB officer had set up a perimeter around the vehicle with crime scene tape that fluttered in the breeze, and he stood talking to a woman wearing a Tyvek suit. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she held a large supply box that resembled the tackle box Nate had inherited from his dad and that he’d made sure he hung onto no matter his living situation. She’d hung a camera around her neck and was pointing a finger at the officer and arguing with him.

Had to be the trace evidence expert, and it looked like Sierra Rice was a feisty thing. She planted a hand on her waist. “I’m authorized to process this vehicle, and you’re wasting my valuable time by making me wait.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” The officer’s, expression held sincerity. “You may be authorized to process the scene, but I’m not authorized to let you pass. A detective is on the way, and when she gets here, maybe she’ll have more information.”

“Is there a problem?” Londyn approached the officer, whose nametag read Whitman.

Sierra sighed. “He won’t let me in.”

Londyn flashed her credentials for the officer. “She’s clear to proceed.”

“Yes, Detective,” he said.

Nate lifted the crime scene tape for Sierra, and Whitman took a step in his direction.

“He’s with me too.” Londyn smiled at Whitman. “Thank you for being so diligent.”

He nodded, but his gaze was sharp and intense. If his thinning hair and gray temples said anything, it said the guy had been on the job for some time and was a seasoned pro. A good thing, but old guys were often set in their ways and inflexible. Still, Nate had tremendous respect for OGs as they’d seen and dealt with more than Nate had in his law enforcement career.

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