Page 20 of The Consequences of Love and Vengeance

Taking out my phone from inside my purse, I make the screen light up so I can see what time it is; eight twenty-three. I’ve been waiting for thirteen minutes, although it seems longer.

As I’m tossing it back into my red, patent leather satchel, I hear the door creak open, followed by voices. My head turns in that direction to see the door partially open.

“You won’t be saying that on the golf course come Thursday, Morris,” he chuckles as the door fully opens. “Andrews,” Tom calls out my last name as he walks in dressed in his usual; a button-up dress shirt sans a jacket or tie, and dark slacks with his badge clipped to the side of his pants. “Becky said you were waiting for me.”

Becky is Tom’s administrative assistant.

Since Tom doesn’t work out of the Pacific station like I do, I’m downtown where traffic was a bitch and parking was even worse.

“Thank you for seeing me, sir.” I shift, making the leather underneath me crinkle.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Gabe as he stops gnawing on his fist to look at me. A smile breaks past my lips, and not wanting him to start throwing a fit, I pick up the little green and blue bear Alana bought for him, tucking it into the crook of his arm before turning my attention back to Tom as he sits behind his desk.

“I asked Houston to join us.”

Tom flexes his wrist, looking at his watch. About the time an annoyed look crosses his face, there are several loud, hard raps on the door.

“This should be him. Come in,” he voices louder.

“Sorry, I’m late, boss.” There’s no conviction in Lance’s voice, telling me he isn’t sorry at all. When I glance over at Tom, I get the feeling he has come to the same conclusion.

“Sit.” Tom’s voice is firm. “Andrews,” he looks back at me, “Why do you have a baby in my office?”

I’m caught off guard. I thought Mike had spoken to him and filled him in on everything, but it appears that isn’t the case.

“Mike didn’t mention the mother leaving her baby at the station Friday night?”

“What?” It’s Lance who speaks, sounding as if he’s shocked by this news.

Cutting my gaze to him, I see his eyebrows are scrunched together as he looks down at the car seat Gabriel is tucked inside with a fire blazing behind his eyes.

“Yes,” I confirm. “The girl you left me with the other night decided it wasn’t safe for her or the baby if he remained with her. She’s convinced Drago Acerbi, who she claims is the child’s father, wants to kill them.”

Lance snaps his head toward Tom. I watch as both men exchange a look I can’t quite decipher. Maybe they’re as shocked as I was a few nights ago. I’m still boggled by the events. Shouldn’t a mother be determined to protect her child, and by doing so, be there making sure he is, in fact, safe?

“So, Mike didn’t tell you any of this?” I was sure he was going to fill the chief in.

“He didn’t get a chance to.” Tom faces me. “When I called him back last night he was in the middle of a homicide that occurred hours earlier. He didn’t have much time to talk other than to say we may have minor evidence Acerbi does have dealings with Diaz. He mentioned a photo of Marino—Diaz’s main guy—and Acerbi swapping a package but said you would have to fill me in on the rest.”

He looks at the car seat sitting on the couch next to me. I’m impressed. Gabriel hasn’t made a sound. He might as well be a whole other baby from the one I met Friday evening.

“So spill it, Andrews. Tell us the rest.” He nods his head toward Gabe.

Before I answer him, something is nagging at me. Lance. Why is he here? What purpose is he serving? As I think this, Houston takes a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Tom’s desk.

“What are you doing here, Houston?” I ask nonchalantly. I recall Ramirez saying he asked him to join us, but I want to know why. I can’t think of a reason.

Lance gives me a look that makes me want to wipe it off his face. He doesn’t respect me. I know this. I don’t care. I don’t respect him either.

“I asked him to be here,” Tom answers instead. “Once I discovered this involved an Acerbi and possibly Diaz too, I wanted someone with a little more experience to help you, should you need it. With Manning on another big case, Houston was the next viable option.”

I don’t like this.

Mike, or even another detective, sure. Hell, I have a partner, and we work well together, but not Lance. Maybe I dislike him for reasons I shouldn’t—personal ones—he’s an asshole and makes stupid remarks that piss me off.

I don’t say that. It’s better to keep your mouth shut and not go against the deputy chief’s wishes.

“So, what’s the plan? Do you think the photo is enough to get a judge to issue a warrant to search Acerbi’s business? Doesn’t he have an importing business down at the Port? What about his residence?”

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