Kansas City Cover-Up. Julie Miller
That made him her enemy, too. Right?
He pointed to the bandage wrapped around his left forearm. “This is on me. I thought that fool was going to hurt you. After seeing Dani the way I did, knowing I should have done something more, I...” The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw softened with a wry grin. “Guess I had a caveman moment.”
“Caveman?” As tempted to laugh at the apt description of his earlier interference as she’d been tempted to reach out to him when his eyes had darkened at the memory of his murdered fiancée, Olivia eased up on the self-recriminations and settled for smiling in return. That was probably as good an apology as she was going to get from him—and more of a concession than she’d expected. “Me no need Og’s help,” she teased. “Me carry big gun.”
“You carry big attitude.” No denying that. And then he extended his hand across the examination table. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Although her instinct was to reach out to accept a proffered hand, her caution around this man left her fingers hovering in the air.
But there was no hesitation when Gabe closed the gap between them and wrapped his hand firmly around hers. Olivia’s pulse leaped as if an electrical connection had just been completed. Instead of pulling away, her fingertips squeezed around the breadth of his palm. His skin was as warm as she’d imagined, and the heat of his grip seeped beneath her skin and lit a slow, easy fire that licked its way up her arm. “For listening to my side of the story. For not leaving me there in that alley to bleed. I know holding KCPD accountable hasn’t made them my biggest fan.”
“Any cop would have brought you to the hospital. We don’t stop to evaluate whether or not we like you if you’re threatened or hurt. If someone needs our help, we do our best to deliver.”
“I’ll remember that next time we meet.” Gabe’s gaze dropped to where they still held on to each other.
Next time? Olivia quickly pulled her hand away. Was that anxiety or anticipation crawling along her spine? She supposed another encounter with the bullying reporter was inevitable, since he’d made it clear he intended to dog the Cold Case Squad’s investigation into his fiancée’s murder. Didn’t mean she had to cling to him as though...as though she liked touching him. Still, if he could make the effort to be a little more civil and respectful, then she would do the same.
Appreciating the unspoken truce, Olivia pulled her keys from her jacket pocket and headed for the door. “I’ll drive. Finish buttoning things up and meet me out in the waiting room.”
Olivia strode down the hallway, flexing her fingers down at her side to alleviate the tingling awareness that lingered, determined to leave Gabe Knight and his blue eyes, warm skin and bothersome words behind her. Whatever was out of whack with her libido this evening would surely go away once she got a good night’s sleep. But she’d only inhaled a couple of cool, reviving breaths when she heard the commotion out at the information desk in the lobby. “Oh, no.”
She recognized all five of those urgent, worried male voices. She turned the corner and her family shifted as one, like a flock of tall, robust birds, and hurried toward her.
“Livvy?” Her father’s familiar limp led the charge, his arms outstretched toward her.
There must be a sign over her head today. Trouble magnet. Just because she could handle whatever the world threw her way didn’t mean she wanted to. Thomas Watson’s beefy arms wrapped her up in a bear hug that lifted her onto her toes. “What happened? How badly are you hurt? I heard you took a gun off a perp.”
Olivia treasured a few snug moments against her dad’s chest before dropping back onto her heels and stepping away. But that only allowed space for her brothers and grandfather to circle around her. One palmed the back of her head. Another squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not what you think, Dad.”
Her second-oldest brother, the one with the glasses and the medical degree, brushed her bangs off her forehead and hunched down to study her eyes. “Tell me exactly what your physician said.”
“You’re a doctor for dead people,” she groaned, referring to his position as a medical examiner with the crime lab. She swatted his hand away. “I’m not the patient, Niall. I’m fine.”
Her oldest brother, Duff, wasn’t buying it. “The radio report said that you were headed to the ER.”
“Damn it, guys. If you’re going to eavesdrop on the police scanner, make sure you’ve got your information right. I brought in a...” What exactly was Gabriel Knight? A suspect? A lead on a murder investigation? A not-so-innocent bystander? “I brought in a person of interest who is...helping with a case. He got injured at a crime scene late this afternoon.”
Her father propped his hands at his waist and shook his head, needing a little more convincing for the fear to dissipate. “But you’re okay? You missed dinner. Dad made his Guinness bread and stew. You never miss that.”
“Oh.” She smiled at the silver-haired gentleman beside her father. “Sorry, Grandpa. I lost track of the time. Did you save me a slice?”
Seamus Watson released his double grip on his cane and squeezed her hand. “Of course, sweetie.”
Keir, the brother closest in age to her, loosened the knot of his tie. “I heard you were in pursuit of an armed suspect. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“A couple of bruises and a wounded ego for letting the guy I was chasing get away. But I’m fine.” She beamed a reassuring smile to each member of her close-knit family before reaching up to smooth the rumpled collar of her father’s blue chambray shirt. “Now you want to get the gang out of here? I’m sure somebody in this family besides me has to work in the morning. I don’t know about any of you, but I’m exhausted. Let’s all go to our respective homes, and I promise I’ll swing by the house tomorrow morning.” She winked to the eighty-year-old sweetheart beside her dad. Seamus had always been her go-to guy when she needed someone in the family to listen to her. “A toasty piece of Grandpa’s bread and an over-easy egg to dip it in is my favorite breakfast.”
“I’m glad it was just a misunderstanding and that you’re all right.” His old-country lilt was as softly reassuring as the sweet peck on the cheek he gave her. “I’ll have breakfast hot and ready for you. Good night, Livvy.”
“Good night, Grandpa.”
They were in the midst of hugs and good-nights and going on their way when her father puffed up to his full height and glared over Olivia’s shoulder. “This SOB is your person of interest?”
Olivia didn’t have to turn to know that Gabe had come up behind her. She was learning to recognize him by the size of his shadow and the subtle scent that was a mix of soap and starch and now a tinge of antiseptic. And that deep-pitched voice with the cynical undertones was unmistakable.
“Is this the rest of your family, Detective?”
The rest of her family? Although the question didn’t quite make sense, Olivia nodded. Every loud, overprotective, stubborn Irish man belonged to her. “These are my guys.”
Gabe stepped up beside her, his gaze sweeping the circle of her family. “Let me guess, you’re all cops?”
“Kansas City’s Finest.” Her father’s shoulders came back proudly as he made the claim. “Not that you’d care.”
Of course, they’d recognize the department’s harshest critic—and be less than pleased to learn he was the man she’d brought to the ER. She didn’t suppose introductions would alleviate the tension rising around her, but it couldn’t hurt to turn the rumored enemy into an actual person with a name and a stitched-up arm—or to let Gabe know just how proud she was of her family and their accomplishments.
“Dad, this is Gabriel Knight. You probably recognize his name from the Kansas City Journal. My father, Thomas Watson. Dad retired a senior detective from the department a couple years ago. This is my grandfather, Seamus,