Setting aside her own restless need to escape, Gina turned toward the passenger door to find some privacy for this personal conversation. “Did you call Sylvie?” she asked her great-aunt, once the older woman’s need to vent had subsided.
“She don’t answer.”
“What about Javi?” Her brother, Javier, was twenty-one, although that didn’t necessarily mean he was making better choices than Sylvie. She kept hoping for the day when he would step up as the man of the family and allow their great-uncle to truly enjoy his retirement. “Can he drive you?”
“He’s already gone. He’s picking up some extra hours at work.”
Well, that was one plus in the ongoing drama that was Gina’s life. Maybe so long as Javi was intent on saving up to buy a truck, he would focus on this job and avoid the influence of his former friends who’d made some less productive choices with their lives, like stealing cars, selling drugs and running with gangs. “Good.”
“Papi says he can drive,” Lupe Molina offered in a hushed, uncertain tone.
Gina sat up as straight as her seat belt and protective vest allowed. “No. Absolutely not. The whole reason he’s going for these checkups is because he passed out the last time his blood pressure spiked. He can’t be behind the wheel.”
“What do I do?” Lupe asked quietly.
As much as she loved her great-aunt and-uncle who’d taken in the three Galvan siblings and raised them after their mother had died, Lupe and Rollo Molina were now both close to eighty and didn’t need the hassle of dealing with an attention-craving teenager. Especially not with Rollo’s health issues. “I’ll call Sylvie. See if I can get her home to help like she promised. If you don’t hear from her or me in ten minutes, call the doctor’s office and reschedule the appointment for tomorrow. I’ll be off except for practicing for my next SWAT test on the shooting range. I’ll make sure you get there.”
“All right. I can do that. You see? This is where having a young man to help you would be a good thing.”
Gina rolled her eyes at the not-so-subtle hint. There was more than one path to success besides getting married and making babies. “I love you, Tia Mami. Adios.”
“Te amo, Gina. You’re always my good girl.”
By the time she disconnected the call, Derek had pulled the black and white into the coffee shop’s tiny parking lot but was making no effort to get out and let her deal with her family on her own. Instead, he rested the long black sleeve of his uniform on the steering wheel and grinned at her. “Sylvie off on another one of her escapades?”
Gina might as well fill in the blanks for him. “She’s supposed to be driving my uncle to the doctor. Instead, she’s cruising around the city with a young man who’s too old for her.”
Derek shook his head. “She does look older than seventeen when she puts on all her makeup.” He dropped his green-eyed gaze to her black laced-up work boots. “She’s got the family legs, too.”
Ignoring the gibe at her five-foot-three-inch height, Gina punched in Sylvie’s number. Then she punched Derek’s shoulder, giving back the teasing camaraderie they shared. “You’re eyeballing my little sister?”
“Hey, when you decorate the Christmas tree, you’re supposed to celebrate it.”
“Well, you don’t get to hang any ornaments on my sister, understand? She’s seventeen. You could get into all kinds of trouble with the department. And me.”
Derek raised his hands in surrender. “Forget the department. You’re the one who scares me. You’re about to become one of SWAT’s finest. I’m not messing with anyone in your family.”
The call went straight to Sylvie’s voice mail. “Damn it.” Gina tucked her phone back into her vest and held her hand out for Derek’s. “Could I borrow yours? Maybe if she doesn’t recognize the number, she’ll pick up.”
“That means I’ll have her number in my phone, you know. And Sylvie is a hottie.”
“Seven. Teen.” Gina repeated the warning with a smile and typed in her wayward sister’s number.
She’d barely been a teenager herself when her mother had passed away and their long-absent father had willingly signed away his parental rights, leaving the three Galvans orphans in No-Man’s Land, one of the toughest neighborhoods in downtown Kansas City. They’d moved out of their cramped apartment into a slightly less cramped house. Instead of prostitutes, drug dealers and gangbangers doing business beneath Gina’s bedroom window, they’d graduated to the vicinity of a meth lab, which KCPD had eventually closed down, at the end of the block. Naturalized citizens who were proud to call themselves Americans, her great-aunt and-uncle had stressed the values of education and hard work, and they’d grown up proud but poor. With her diminutive stature, Gina had quickly learned how to handle herself in a fight and project an attitude so that no one would mess with her family or take advantage of her. That hard-wired drive to protect her loved ones had morphed into a desire to protect any innocent who needed her help, including this neighborhood and her entire city. But she couldn’t forget which side of the tracks the Galvans and Molinas had come from—and just how far she had to go to secure something better for them.
“Hey, don’t jinx the SWAT thing for me, okay?” A little bit of her great-aunt and-uncle’s superstitious nature buzzed through her thoughts like an annoying gnat she thought she’d gotten rid of. If she made Special Weapons and Tactics, the rise in status with the department and subsequent raise in pay would finally allow her to move her whole family into a house with a real yard in a safer suburb. She wasn’t afraid of setting goals and working hard to achieve them, but it was rare that she allowed anything so personal as wanting some open space to plant a proper garden or get a dog or owning a bathroom she didn’t have to share with four other people to motivate her. “I’m not the only recruit on Captain Cutler’s list of candidates for the new SWAT team he’s forming. There are ten people on a list for five spots. Including you.”
“Yeah, but you’re the toughest.”
“Jinxing, remember?” Gina crossed her fingers and kissed her knuckles before touching them to her heart, a throwback from her childhood to cootie shots and negating bad karma. “We all have our talents.”
“I’m just repeating what Cutler said at the last training meeting. McBride scored the highest at the shooting range. And you, my kickass little partner, are the one he said he’d least like to face one-on-one in a fight. Take the compliment.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Derek that she wasn’t his little anything, but she was dealing with enough conflict already today. “You’re doing well, too, or you’d have been eliminated already. Captain Cutler announces things like that so we stay competitive.”
“Hey, I’m not quittin’ anything until those new promotions are posted. I only have to be fifth best and I’ll still make the team.”
“Fifth best?” Gina laughed. “Way to aim high, Johnson.”
“It’s too bad about Cho, though. He’s been acing all the written tests and procedure evaluations.”
Gina agreed. Colin Cho was a fellow SWAT candidate who’d suffered three cracked ribs when he’d been shot twice while directing traffic around a stalled car on the North Broadway Freeway in the middle of the night two weeks ago. Only his body armor had prevented the incident from becoming a fatality. “Any idea how he’s doing?”
“I heard he’s up and around, but he won’t be running any races soon. He’s restricted to desk duty for the time being. I wonder if they’ll replace him on the candidates list or just shorten it to nine potential SWAT officers.”
“Cho’s too good an officer to remove from contention,” Gina reasoned, hitting the phone icon on the screen to connect the call.
“But there is a deadline,” Derek reminded her. “If he can’t pass the physical…”
The number rang several times before her sister finally picked up. “Sylvie Galvan’s phone,” a man answered.
Not her sister but that slimy lothario who struck Gina as a mobster wannabe
—if he wasn’t already running errands and doing small jobs for some of the bigger criminals in town. Gina swallowed the curse on her tongue. She needed to keep this civil if she wanted to get her great-aunt and-uncle the help they needed. “Bobby, put Sylvie on.”
“It’s your wicked big sister,” he announced. The sounds of horns honking and traffic moving in the background told her they were in his car. Hopefully, in the front seat and not stretched out together in the back. “What will you give me to hand you this phone?”
That teasing request was for her sister.
Gina cringed at the high-pitched sound of her sister’s giggles. She groaned at the wet, smacking sound of a kiss. Or two. So much for keeping it civil. “Bobby Estes, you keep your hands off my sister or I will—”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Sylvie was on the line now. Finally. She could live without the breathless gasps and giggles and the picture the noises created of a practically grown man making out with her innocent sister. “What do you want?”
“You forgot Tio Papi’s doctor’s appointment.” Better to stick to the purpose of the phone call than to get into another lecture about the bad choices Sylvie was making. “You promised me you would drive him today.”
“Javi can do it.”
“He’s at work. Besides, it was your responsibility.” Her fingers curled into a fist at the sound of her sister’s gasp. Really? Bobby couldn’t keep his hands to himself for the ten seconds it would take to finish this call? “Do you want me to treat you like a grown-up or not?”
“I just got home from school.”
“A half hour ago. I was counting on you. This isn’t about me. It’s about helping Rollo and Lupe. Do you want to explain to them why you’ve forgotten them?”
Bobby purred against her sister’s mouth, and the offensive noise crawled over Gina’s skin. “Is big sis being a downer again? You know she’s jealous of us. Hang up, baby.”
“Bobby, stop.” Sylvie sounded a little irritated with her boyfriend. For once. The shuffling noises and protests made her think Sylvie was pushing him away. Gina suppressed a cheer. “When is the appointment?”
“Four forty-five. Can you do it?”
“Yeah. I can help.” Thank goodness Sylvie still had enough little girl in her to idolize her pseudo grandparents. She’d do for them what she wouldn’t do for Gina. Or herself, unfortunately. Her tone shifted to Bobby. “I need to go home.”
“I said I was taking you out to dinner. I was gonna show you my friend’s club,” he whined. “Just because Gina’s a cop, she doesn’t make the rules. She sure as hell isn’t in charge of what I do.”
“Don’t get mad, Bobby. Just drive me home.” Sylvie was doing some purring of her own. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Ooh, I like it when you do that, baby.”
Gina wished she could reach through the phone and yank her sister out of Bobby’s car before she got into the kind of trouble that even a big sister with a badge couldn’t help her with. “Sylvie?”
“I’ll call Tia Mami and tell her we’re on our way.”
“Bobby doesn’t need to go with you.” A powerful car engine revved in the background. “Seeing him will only upset—”
“Bye.”
Bobby shouted an unwanted goodbye. “Bye-bye, big sis.”
She groaned when her sister’s phone went silent. Gina cursed. “Have I ever mentioned how much I want to use Bobby Estes as one of the dummies in our fight-training classes?”
Derek laughed as he put away his phone. “Once or twice.” He opened his door, and Gina shivered at the blast of wintry wind. “I keep telling you that I’d be happy to help run him in.”
At least the chill helped some of her temper dissipate, as did Derek’s unflinching support. “Bobby’s too squeaky clean for that. He does just enough to annoy me, but not enough that I can prove he’s committing any kind of crime. And Sylvie isn’t about to rat him out.”
“Just say the word, and I’m there for you, G.” He turned to climb out. “I’ll leave the car running so you stay warm.”
But the dispatch radio beeped, and he settled back behind the wheel to listen to the details of the all-call. “So much for coffee.”
Derek closed the door as the dispatch repeated. “Attention all units in the Westport area. We have a 10-52 reported. Repeat, domestic dispute report. Approach with caution. Suspect believed to be armed with a knife.”
“That’s the Bismarck place.” Derek frowned as he shifted the cruiser into drive and pulled out onto the street. “I thought Vicki Bismarck took out a restraining order against her ex.”
“She did.” This wasn’t the first time they’d answered a call at the Bismarcks’ home. The address was just a couple of blocks from their location. Gina picked up the radio while Derek flipped on the siren and raced through the beginnings of rush-hour traffic. “Unit 4-13 responding.”
Her family troubles were forgotten as she pulled up the suspect’s name on the laptop mounted on the dashboard. Domestic-disturbance calls were her least favorite kind of call. The situations were unpredictable, and there were usually innocent parties involved. This one was no different.
“Gordon Bismarck. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce very well.” Gina let out a low whistle. “He’s got so many D&Ds and domestic-violence calls the list goes on to a second page. No outstanding warrants, though, so we can’t just run him in.” She glanced over at Derek as they careened around a corner. “Looks like he’s not afraid to hurt somebody. You ready for this?”
“I know you’ve got my back. And I’ve got yours.”
She hoped he meant it because when they pulled up in front of the Bismarck house, they weren’t alone. And the men belonging to a trio of motorcycles and a beat-up van didn’t look like curiosity seekers who’d gathered to see what all the shouting coming from inside the bungalow was about.
Derek turned off the engine and swore. “How many thugs does it take to terrorize one woman? I hope Vicki’s okay. Should I call for reinforcements?”
“Not yet.” Gina tracked the men as they put out cigarettes and split up to block the end of the driveway and the sidewalk leading to the front door. Middle-aged. A couple with potbellies. One had prison tats on his neck. Another took a leisurely drink from a flask before tucking it inside the sheepskin-lined jacket he wore. Their bikes were in better shape than they were. But any one of them could be armed. And she could guess that the guy with the flask wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking. Judging by what she’d read on the cruiser’s computer screen, these were friends, if not former cell mates, of Gordon Bismarck’s. Gina’s blood boiled in her veins at the lopsided odds. She reached for the door handle. “But keep your radio at the ready.”
Gina pushed open the cruiser door and climbed out. “Gentlemen.” She rested her hand on the butt of her holstered Glock. “I need you to disperse.”
“You need us, querida?” Flask Man’s leer and air kisses weren’t even close to intimidating, and she certainly wasn’t his darling anything.
Derek circled the cruiser, positioning himself closer to the two in the driveway while she faced off against the two on the sidewalk. “In case you don’t understand the big word, you need to get on your bikes and ride away.”
“We gave Gordy a ride home,” Potbelly #1 said, thumbing over his shoulder just as something made of glass shattered inside the house.
A woman’s voice cried out, “Gordon, stop it!”
“I paid for this damn house. And I’ll—”
Gina needed to get inside to help Vicki Bismarck. But she wasn’t going to leave these four aging gangbangers out here where they could surround the house or lie in wait for her and Derek to come back outside. “We’re not interested in you boys today,” she articulated in a sharp, authoritative tone. “But if you make me check the registrations on your bikes or van, or I get close enough to think any of you need a Breathalyzer test, then it
will be about you.”
Prison Tat Guy was the first to head toward his bike. “Hey, I can’t have my parole officer gettin’ wind of this.”
Potbelly #2 quickly followed suit. “I’m out of here, man. Gordy doesn’t need us to handle Vic. My old lady’s already ticked that I stayed out all night.”
Potbelly #1 clomped the snow off his boots before climbing inside the van. But he sat with the door open, looking toward the man with the flask. “What do you want me to do, Denny? I told Gordy I’d give him a ride back to his place.”
Flask Man’s watery brown eyes never left Gina’s. “We ain’t doin’ nothing illegal here, querida. We’re just a bunch of pals hangin’ out at a friend’s place.”
“It’s Officer Galvan to you.” She had to bite down on the urge to tell him in two languages exactly what kind of man he wasn’t. But she wasn’t about to give this patronizing lowlife the satisfaction of losing her temper. She was a cop. Proud of it. And this guy was about to get a lesson in understanding exactly who was in charge here. “Mr. Bismarck isn’t going to need a ride.” Potbelly #1 slammed his door and started the van’s engine. Gina smiled at Flask Man and pulled out her handcuffs. “Denny, is it? I’ve got plenty of room in the back seat for both you and good ol’ Gordy.” She moved toward him, dangling the cuffs in a taunt to emphasize her words. “How do impeding an officer in the performance of her duty, aiding and abetting a known criminal, public intoxication and operating a vehicle under the influence sound to you?”
“You can’t arrest me for all that.”
“I wouldn’t test that theory if I were you.” Derek stepped out of the way of the van as it backed out of the driveway and sped after the two men on motorcycles. “Not with her.”
Gina was close enough to see Flask Man’s nostrils flaring with rage. “Handcuffs or goodbye?”
“I don’t like a woman telling me what to do,” he muttered, striding toward his bike. “Especially one like you.” Once he was astraddle, he revved the engine, yelling something at Derek that sounded a lot like a warning to keep his woman in check. The roar of the bike’s motor drowned out his last parting threat as he raced down the street, and Gina was pretty sure it had something to do with her parentage and how their next meeting would have a very different ending.