The Cop Read online

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “You know, you don’t look like a cop. Those clothes are a bit casual even for a dress-down Friday. Do policemen even have casual-dress days?” She lowered one of her hands and held it out to him, palm up. “Show me some ID.”

  Nik swept his gaze over her. “If you’re not going to tell me your name, maybe I’ll just call you Pipsqueak.”

  It gave him some satisfaction when she narrowed her eyes and her foot began to tap. She couldn’t be more than five foot two, but her stance radiated enough attitude for a woman twice her size. She had her hair twisted up on her head, but a few red curls had escaped. Her ruffled front white shirt was tucked into black pants that showcased surprisingly long legs. His gaze lingered on them a moment before he shifted his attention back to her face. That was when he noticed the eyes. They were green and direct, and for a moment he saw nothing else.

  “Well? How about it? You do carry ID, don’t you?”

  Annoyance and something else moved through Nik as he forced himself to blink and break eye contact. Then he gave her his cop smile, the one his partner Dinah said looked like a sneer. “Dream on, Pipsqueak. Let me make this as clear as possible. I not only ask the questions, I give the orders. Turn around, put your hands flat against the door of the cupboard, and spread your legs.”

  There was a beat before she did what he asked, and he couldn’t prevent the ripple of admiration that moved through him. He’d always been a bit of a sucker for a woman with guts. Nik was halfway through patting her down when he realized that he’d made a huge mistake. He had actually begun to enjoy the feel of those tight little muscles and soft curves beneath his palms. Dammit, he was a professional. This was a crime scene that needed his full attention.

  The moment he straightened, she whirled to face him. In that second when their bodies brushed against each other, a blast of heat shot through him. What in hell—?

  He took a quick step back, but he could tell by the way her green eyes darkened that she’d felt it, too.

  “Who the hell are you?” he muttered, half to himself.

  She lifted her chin. “I told you. I’m the caterer.”

  “Detective Angelis?”

  Nik recognized the voice of the young officer he’d left with Father Mike, but he kept his gaze on the redhead.

  “Now, you know my name. What’s yours?”

  “I’m J.C. Riley. I made the 911 call, and I want—”

  He held up a hand to cut her off. “What is it, officer?”

  “Sir, they’re about to take the priest away.”

  Nik tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans, then grasped the redhead around the waist, lifted and plunked her on the counter. “Stay put.”

  Following the officer out to the altar, he saw that the EMTs had loaded the priest onto a stretcher and that two officers were taping the area where the body had been. Another two crime-scene investigators stood on the altar steps. So much for his desire to quietly walk through the crime scene and think before his captain arrived.

  Nik addressed his question to the medics. “How is he?”

  “Unconscious, but stable. The bleeding has stopped.”

  That was good news. “And the man in the vestibule?”

  “Still unconscious. They won’t know how seriously he’s injured until they run tests.”

  “I saw who shot Father Mike.”

  Nik whirled and nearly brushed right up against the redhead again. He scowled at her. “I told you to stay put.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re a cop, shouldn’t you be asking me some more questions? I certainly have some for you. Are the bride and the groom all right? I heard some shots from farther away—maybe from up in that choir loft. And what about Roman Oliver?”

  Nik frowned. “What’s your connection to Roman Oliver?”

  Before he could stop her, she slipped past him and nearly made it to the gurney the priest was on. Grabbing her arm firmly, he said, “Look, lady—”

  “Is Roman Oliver dead, too?”

  Nik clamped down on his temper. “No. He’ll be taken to the hospital. In the meantime, this is a crime scene, and since you think it’s my job to ask questions, try answering the one I just asked. What is your connection to Roman Oliver?”

  “None. But I thought I recognized him. His picture’s been in the paper lately because of that big land deal. He came in the back way a short time after the groom arrived. At least, I assumed it was the groom. And someone used the name Roman while the fight was going on.”

  “Fight?” Nik asked.

  “Yeah. It was a doozey. I didn’t see it, but I could hear it from the dining room in the rectory. That’s where I was setting up the cake and the champagne. What about the bride and groom and the other woman, the blonde? Are they okay?”

  Nik could feel his head beginning to spin. “The blonde?”

  “She came in with the bride. She was carrying one of those big dress bags so I figured her for the maid of honor. I assumed the brunette was the bride because she was carrying the flowers and had a little crown of them on her head. Definitely bridal.”

  “You’re sure that it was a blonde who came in with the bride?” The photo he’d seen of Sadie Oliver in the newspaper had been taken from a distance, but she’d had dark hair.

  “I’m positive.”

  “How tall was she?”

  “Short. About my height. Are they all right? I think some of the shots came from the choir loft. Have you checked up there?”

  When she tried to step past him again, Nik tightened his grip on her arm.

  “I saw the groom running along the choir loft right after the first shots. Is he all right?”

  Frowning, Nik pulled her into the sacristy. When the two crime-scene officers followed, he said, “When you’re finished with the body, see if you can find the bullets.” He gestured toward the shattered mirror and the splintered doorjamb. Then he glanced around and spotted a door that opened off the sacristy. It was small and narrow, its only purpose being to provide access to a staircase he assumed led to one of the lofts that edged the sides of the church.

  But it had exactly what he was looking for. Slipping his handcuffs out of his back pocket, he fastened one of the bracelets around the redhead’s wrist and latched the other one around the pipe of the radiator in the stairwell.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Looks like I’ve done it, Pipsqueak.” So far, he hadn’t expected one move she’d made so it was giving him more than a little satisfaction to have surprised her.

  She whirled, quick as lightning, and poked a finger into his chest. “This is police brutality. I’m going to report you to your superior.”

  “You’ll have an opportunity to do that.” A hell of a lot sooner than he’d like, Nik thought. A quick glance at his watch told Nik that Captain D.C. Parker would be arriving soon, and he still wanted to walk through the scene.

  “Better still, I’m going to scream.”

  Did she ever shut up? He met her eyes, and for an instant he felt that same odd sense of awareness he’d experienced before. This close, her eyes reminded him of a swiftly moving stream, the kind that warned of rapids ahead, the kind a man could easily get sucked into and drown.

  Suddenly, he was aware of just how close she was. One more step and their bodies would be in full contact again. One more step and he could…

  No. Nik slammed the brakes on the direction his thoughts were taking. What in hell was happening to him? He was a cop, and she was a material witness to a crime that involved his brother’s best friend. That’s what he should be concentrating on.

  It took more effort than he liked to take a step back instead of forward, but once in motion, he moved all the way to the doorway. That way he could keep his eye on what the officers were doing in the next room. Then he took out his cell and settled the little debate he’d been having with himself since he’d recognized Roman Oliver. He was going to break a rule a
nd give his brother Kit a call. He needed a second set of eyes, and Roman needed someone on his side—at least until they sorted everything out.

  IT WASN’T UNTIL Detective Angelis reached the doorway that J.C. finally allowed herself to breathe. The sudden influx of air burned her lungs. In a second or two her brain cells would start working again. She hoped. She watched the detective punch a number into his cell. It really wasn’t a good idea to look at him, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.

  “Hey, bro, this is Nik.”

  Time for a reality check, Jude Catherine. This was Detective Nik Angelis. He was investigating a case. A case she was involved in. And someone had tried to kill her. She had worrisome things to occupy her mind. Still, it was hard to forget the effect that the man seemed to have on her senses. A moment ago when he’d been standing so close to her, he’d very nearly kissed her. If he had—

  Just the thought of that possibility had heat pooling in her center. J.C. reminded herself to take another breath. She’d never in her whole life reacted this…this…viscerally to a man. And he hadn’t even kissed her. Yet.

  She definitely had to get a grip. Nik Angelis was a stranger, and while he might be handsome, he was also annoying. He’d called her “Pips-queak,” for heaven’s sake! More importantly, there was a dead body not fifteen feet away in the next room. Father Mike and Roman Oliver were going to the hospital. And what about the others? Nik Angelis hadn’t answered any of her questions about them. Were they dead? Then there was the man with the snake eyes…

  And to top it all off, she was starving. If only she’d thought to stuff some of those almonds in her pockets. Then she remembered the candles…

  J.C. took two quick steps before the handcuffs brought her up short.

  Nik glanced at her as he pocketed his phone. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She lifted her chin. “I left candles burning in the dining room. Someone ought to check on them. And could you ask them to bring me back something to eat?”

  “This isn’t a restaurant and I’m not a waiter.”

  “If you were, you wouldn’t make much in the way of tips with that attitude.”

  The smile he flashed was completely and unexpectedly charming. “You’d be surprised, Pipsqueak.”

  On second thought, she decided he’d probably make great tips. The man had the eye-candy thing going for him, plus a kind of animal magnetism. “Look, you’d better check on the candles if you don’t want the whole place to burn down.”

  He moved to the door and signaled one of the officers. “Take someone with you and check out the rectory. There are some candles burning in the dining room.”

  “And bring me some almonds,” J.C. called.

  The officer glanced at Nik and he nodded. Then he leaned against the doorjamb and studied her for a moment. “Ms. Riley, let’s start from the beginning. Tell me what you’re doing here and what you saw.”

  “I’m here because I was catering the wedding reception.”

  That’s your van in the parking lot? ‘Have an Affair with J.C.?’”

  “Yes. And you’re Detective Nik Angelis.”

  “Of the San Francisco Police Department.”

  There was a beat of silence, and J.C. found herself thinking that here they were—not even really on a first-name basis—and they’d very nearly kissed.

  “Do you have any idea where the bride and groom are?”

  “They’re not dead?”

  “They’re not even in the church. Neither is the blonde you mentioned.”

  “You’ve checked the choir loft?”

  “Empty.”

  J.C. pressed a hand to her stomach as relief streamed through her. Had she been worried all along about the possibility of more dead bodies? Was the fear and adrenaline rushing through her body the reason she’d become so obsessed with Nik Angelis?

  “Did you see anyone else enter the church?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He pulled out a notebook. “When were you first contacted by the bride and groom?”

  “I wasn’t. I don’t even know who they are.”

  Nik stared at her. “You catered the wedding and you don’t know who the bride and groom are?”

  “Father Mike was keeping it hush-hush. But he did drop the names, Juliana and Paulo. I thought they might be minor celebrities. Winners of Survivor or something like that.”

  “So you didn’t know that they were Juliana Oliver and Paulo Carlucci?”

  It was J.C.’s turn to stare as she let out a long low whistle.

  “You do know them then?”

  “Not personally. But I recognize the last names. Those two families are big business rivals, right?”

  “Did the bride and groom arrive together?”

  “No. I’d just brought the cake in when the two women arrived in a taxi. I told you before—I figured the young, dark-haired one for the bride, and the blonde for the maid of honor. Father Mike had told me to prepare cake and champagne for five—the bride and groom, the best man and maid of honor, and him.” She frowned. “He didn’t say anything about the bodyguard.”

  “The bodyguard?”

  “The dead man. He drove the groom here. You’ve got to admit he has the build. Of course, he might have been the best man.”

  “When did Roman Oliver arrive?”

  “Maybe five minutes later. I didn’t recognize him at first, not until the fight started and someone used his name.”

  “Tell me about the fight.”

  J.C. described the noises, and what she’d heard.

  “When I heard the shots, I called 911 and ran across the walkway and into the sacristy. I nearly tripped over the big man’s body. Then I heard Father Mike’s voice from the altar and I got there just in time to see this man in a ski mask raise his gun.”

  “He was wearing a ski mask?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it wasn’t Roman Oliver who shot Father Mike?”

  “No.”

  Nik didn’t allow himself to feel relieved. Not yet. Roman could have brought help if he’d come here to stop the wedding. “Did you see Roman at all after you entered the sacristy?”

  “No. All I saw were the dead man, Father Mike and the man who shot him.”

  “So you’re in the doorway, you see the guy with the ski mask pointing a gun at Father Mike. What happened next?”

  “I yelled at him to stop and I threw my cell phone at him. I got him, too, but I was too late to save Father Mike.”

  “Maybe not. Father Mike took a bullet in the shoulder. I bet the shooter intended that bullet for his heart.”

  “Oh.” J.C. let out a little sigh and felt her knees go suddenly weak. “Oooops,” she said as she slid down the wall to the floor.

  Nik got to her in two quick strides and squatted down, taking her hands in his. “You all right?” She didn’t look all right. Her face had gone white. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

  Her eyes sharpened then and her chin lifted. “I never faint. I grew up with four brothers. There’s not much I haven’t seen. It’s…just starting to sink in.”

  “Sir, I’ve got the almonds.”

  Nik gestured for them, and then handed the little silver bowl to J.C. When she’d finished a handful, he said, “So what happened after you hit the guy in the ski mask with your cell phone?”

  “He whipped off the ski mask and pressed it against the back of his head. I must have hit him pretty hard. Then he turned and pointed his gun at me.”

  Nik noticed that her knuckles had turned white where she was gripping the silver bowl.

  “His eyes were like a snake’s. When I looked into them, I knew that he was going to kill me. So I ran and hid in the closet.”

  Guts, Nik thought. She had them in spades. And she’d used a cell phone to try to stop a killer. “Back to the blonde. Tell me about her. What did she look like?”

  J.C. thought for a minute while she ate another almond. “I didn’t see her
face. She had her back to me the whole time she was walking into the church. But she’s short and slender, and she’s a girly-girl. Her suit was expensive and fashion-forward.”

  “You could tell all that from a back view?”

  “Sure.” She said it in the same tone that Sherlock Holmes might have used to say, “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

  “Do you know what happened next?”

  J.C. shook her head. “Maybe Snake Eyes kidnapped them.”

  “Maybe.” Nik didn’t like that scenario, but he couldn’t dismiss it. “I was close enough to get here within two or three minutes of your call to 911. Snake Eyes could have heard the siren and decided to bolt.” At least he hoped that was the way it had gone down. If that were true, then there was a chance that the mystery woman and the bridal couple had taken off on their own steam. “Tell me about Snake Eyes again. Everything that you can remember.”

  She did, and when she got to the part where he was moving in on her and she was paralyzed, Nik gripped her hands again. He didn’t like the fact that she’d raced into the sacristy after hearing the first shots. That had been foolhardy. And admirable. She’d saved the priest’s life. Yet, she’d been scared to death. Hell, she was scared now just talking about it. He saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way she was squeezing his hands.

  “I need more nuts,” she said with a shaky voice.

  Nik had a different idea. It was against all the rules, but the desire to kiss her had been building inside of him since she’d stepped out of that damn cupboard. He’d tried to ignore it, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore. He was the one in his family who’d had to struggle the hardest against a reckless streak. Kit was a dreamer and Theo was the intellectual, the politician. Becoming a cop had allowed him to channel his recklessness and his love of adventure and—he hoped—put it to good use. But he’d been thinking about kissing the redhead, and if he’d just get it out of his system then, maybe, his head would finally clear.