Page 48 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
How in the hell he’d understood that from her garbled syllables, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Bailey was happy. Colin seemed happy enough. And, dammit, if I could just figure out the trick, surely I could be happy too.
After breakfast Colin headed out to run some “errands.” His restaurant had a general manager, but Colin still checked in, preferably around peak mealtimes. He also spent a fair amount of time at home with me and Bailey, but the rest of his time was unaccounted for. He went out, and I wouldn’t be the nagging woman to demand to know where he was going and when he’d return.
We both knew that at least some of his time was spent working for his brother, but we didn’t talk about it. Avoidance may not be a psychotherapist-certified coping technique, but it worked for me. I wasn’t trying to get fancy. This wasn’t about true love. I didn’t need Colin to complete me. I just wanted some security, and he was it.
An hour later Bailey and I were rescuing the doll princess from the foam block castle. The doorbell rang. I’d told Shelly to just come around back. I stood and opened the door, but it wasn’t her.
Two men stood on the porch, dressed in identical brown suits. Cops. I knew this from years of avoiding them, not because I was a consummate lawbreaker, but because it was a well-known fact, in my neighborhood, at least, that cops only brought trouble. They’d brought a whole lot of nothing back when I’d needed them, but I suspected this was trouble.
I tightened my fingers on the doo
r and hugged it close to my body.
“Allison Winters?” His face had the look of an overweight person, though he wasn’t really, and it was mottled red. It took me a second to place it—the look of an alcoholic. “We’re with the Chicago Police Department. I’m Detective Shaw, and this is Detective Cameron. We’d like to have a word with you.”
How the hell did they know who I was? Or where to find me? “What is this about?”
“It’ll be best if we come inside.”
I glanced back at Bailey on the floor. I hated the thought of these men, with their weapons and condescension, being around her. My long-practiced avoidance demanded I slam the door on whatever bad news they brought, but it seemed that lately the cockroaches crawled out into the sunlight. There was nowhere to go. No place was safe.
The cops accepted my deliberation without surprise. The second cop, with a surprisingly respectful demeanor and startling blue eyes, offered his badge and prodded, “Ma’am.”
“Yes. Come in.” I opened the door wide and allowed them into the living room.
How would someone act if she’d done nothing wrong? That’s the part I had to play. I hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but that didn’t seem to matter when my heart was hammering in my chest. Keeping secrets had turned me into a skittish creature.
I gestured them to the couch away from where Bailey sat on the rug. She regarded them with a serenity I envied. I tried to don the confidence of my slut persona, but the props and setting were all wrong.
“How can I help you?” I asked, a touch too loud. Damn.
“You’ve been seeing Colin Murphy,” Blue Eyes said, more a statement than question.
I snorted. “I’m living in his house. Yeah, we may have run into each other a time or two.”
A slight smile tugged at his mouth—gone just as quickly. “Mr. Murphy is a person of interest in a number of ongoing investigations with the CPD.”
My heart beat faster, mostly with worry for Colin and whatever trouble he may be in, but, to my shame, there were other emotions too. Relief that they weren’t here about Andrew. And, because I guess I’d always been selfish, fear of what this would mean for me and Bailey.
“He’s not here,” I hedged.
A note of smugness marred the other one’s face. “We know that.”
I affected an amused look, as if I’d thought of something naughty. “Were you watching us?”
Blue Eyes remained impassive. What was his name? Detective Cameron. “We know his schedule.”
“He’s not usually out of the house by now.” I clamped my mouth shut. Could not believe I’d just said that. Even if it was something they could easily find out, I didn’t have to help them.
Shaw’s eyes glittered with triumph at the slip. He knew he could play me now. This Detective Shaw was stockier than the other guy, coarser, and an asshole besides. Like the kind of guy I’d pick at the club if he wasn’t hiding behind a badge. Cameron was leaner, quieter, with those watchful blue eyes. Both dangerous in their own ways.
Detective Cameron leaned forward, just a smidge, but immediately Shaw subsided. So, we had a leader. And it wasn’t the mouthy one either. Interesting.
“Are you aware of what he does for a living?” Cameron asked.
“He owns a restaurant.”
“He does own a restaurant,” he agreed. “It’s a very nice restaurant that he spends a few hours a week on. What does he do the rest of the time?”
