Just For Now Read online

  Just For Now

  Sherryl D. Hancock

  Copyright © Sherryl D. Hancock 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2019

  ISBN 978-1-912701-59-9

  Cover by Claire Wood

  www.vulpine-press.com

  Also in the MidKnight Blue series:

  Building Empires

  Empires Fall

  Where Loyalties Lie

  Treachery Rising

  Betrayals Stand

  For all Intents and Purposes

  Blood in the Water

  Means to an End

  Past in the Present

  Chapter 1

  Things were decidedly tense in the chief’s office. With Julio Martinez, the man who’d already tried to kill Midnight Chevalier once, on the loose from Mexican police custody, the entire department was on edge, wondering where he’d turned up.

  Stevie O’Neil could sense the palpable tension as she walked into Midnight’s outer office for her appointment with the chief. Cassandra, Midnight’s secretary, glanced up and motioned her into Midnight’s office; the door was already open.

  Stevie knocked on the door jamb. Midnight was standing at her desk, phone in hand. Rick Debenshire was there as well as Joe Sinclair. There was another man standing in the office too. Midnight glanced up and motioned for Stevie to come in and have a seat.

  “Yes,” Midnight said into the phone, “I understand. Thank you.” She hung up.

  “What did he say?” Rick asked.

  “He said there’s only so much he can do with the limited security they have at the school.”

  Rick looked at Joe. “You got patrol alerted, then?”

  “Yeah, I’m on it,” Joe said. “I’ll have them head over now.”

  “Good,” Rick said, his tone serious.

  Midnight glanced over at Stevie. “Sorry, things are a bit stressed right now.”

  “It’s okay,” Stevie said. “Do you want me to come back later?”

  “No, I’m almost ready. Can you hang out a few?”

  “Of course.” Stevie was surprised that the chief was asking. Like she had anything else to do.

  Dave walked in, glancing at Stevie then looking directly at Midnight. Midnight waited expectantly.

  “I got no leads, boss,” Dave said unhappily. “He’s got no connections here as far as I can tell.”

  Midnight pursed her lips, looking over at Rick, who looked increasingly tense. “We’ll find him,” she told her husband.

  “We’d better,” Rick said, his arms crossed in front of him.

  Midnight walked over to him, looking up into his eyes. “We’ll find him, babe.”

  Rick’s face softened. He reached out and touched her cheek. “I can’t lose you again,” he said softly.

  “You won’t,” Midnight assured him. “Go on, I need to handle this.” She gestured with her head to Stevie. “Joe, let me know if you get any hits.”

  “Will do,” Joe said, turning and leaving with Rick. Dave walked out, giving Stevie a long, measured look then a quick wink, closing the door behind him.

  The man Stevie didn’t know sat down in the chair next to her, and Midnight took her seat as well.

  “Stevie, this is Kyle Masterson—he just started as the Assistant Chief here. Kyle, this is Stevie O’Neil.”

  Stevie turned to Kyle. She extended her hand to him. “Good to meet you, sir.”

  “You too, Ms. O’Neil,” Kyle responded warmly.

  Midnight sat back in her chair, giving Stevie a considering look. “First of all, Stevie, we need to establish a couple of things.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stevie replied automatically, steeling herself for what was to come, still not convinced she wasn’t about to be arrested.

  “Were you responsible for the body of Ramon Calderon?” Midnight asked, referring to the man who had been killed in his apartment.

  Stevie’s face was like stone as she calmly replied, “Yes.”

  “What happened?” Kyle asked authoritatively.

  “Tiempo sent me to his apartment with a message about a shipment. Calderon decided that I was the message and was up for grabs.” Stevie’s voice was still calm, but her green eyes sparkled with remembered anger. “He made his play—I told him no.”

  “What happened then?” Midnight asked, leaning forward, her hands on the desk in front of her.

  Stevie moved her neck as if working out a kink, her eyes closing for a second. Then she opened them, looking directly into Midnight’s eyes. “He pulled out a large hunting knife with a six-inch serrated blade and told me we could do it the easy way or the hard way. I pulled my weapon and told him that he could put the knife down or he could die. He didn’t believe me and took a step toward me.”

  “How far away from you was he then?” Kyle put in, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  “About eight feet.”

  Kyle nodded. “Please, go on.”

  Stevie nodded too. “I fired one shot, hitting him in the right thigh. He didn’t stop. He took another step—I told him to stop. It was obvious to me that he was on something, probably meth—that was his drug of choice. When he took the next step, I fired again. He wouldn’t stop. When he was approximately three feet from me, I fired the final shot to the head.”

  “You had reasonable fear for your life,” Kyle said, looking over at Midnight and nodding. Stevie’s story jibed exactly with everything the forensic analysts had come back with, even the fact that the final shot had been fired from approximately three feet. Calderon had indeed had a large quantity of methamphetamine in his bloodstream.

  Midnight leaned forward, her expression intense, her eyes on Stevie. “I want you to know here and now that what you did, going after Tiempo on your own, although very brave and for seemingly good reasons, is not how we do things in this department. Is that understood?” Midnight’s voice left no room for argument. It was obvious she was very serious and that there was an underlying threat in her statement.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stevie replied. She knew Midnight could easily have arrested her for the killing of Calderon, at least for the purposes of investigation. She was willing to agree that what she had done was outside the realm of law enforcement.

  Midnight gave her a searching look, looking for signs of deception. She saw none in the other woman’s eyes. She sat back in her chair again.

  “Now that we have that established,” she said, her lips twisting in a half grin, “what do I do with you?”

  “Ma’am?” Stevie queried, not sure what Midnight meant and half afraid she was talking in terms of being charged. Had she just walked into a trap, admitting to killing Calderon? But that didn’t conform with what she thought she knew about Midnight’s style.

  Midnight shook her head, seeing the sudden apprehension on Stevie’s face. “Relax, O’Neil. Do you still have that badge I tossed you the other day?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stevie said, producing it from her pocket and moving to hand it to Midnight.

  Midnight held up her hand. “Keep it, and”—she opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small flat box and an envelope—“take these too.” She pushed them across the desk.

  Stevie leaned forward, taking the items slowly. She opened the box and stared almost in awe at the duty weapon and ammunition clip nestled in foam. Her finger traced the barrel of the weapon as she shook her head. Then she set the weapon in its box on the desk and opened the envelope. In it were credentials that identified her as a peace officer and the requisition form for her duty equipment. She hadn’t truly believed until that moment that she would really get her job back. She had figured Dave was just hoping for her benefit that she would.

  “Ma’am…” she breathed, not sure what to say right then. “I don’t know how to thank you, to tell you, to explain what this means…” Her voice trailed off as she felt a lump rise in her throat.

  “You just did,” Midnight said as she smiled understandingly.

  Stevie bit the inside of her lip, feeling very overwhelmed.

  “As for assignments,” Midnight began, “I can’t exactly put you back out on the street right now—you’re too hot.”

  Stevie nodded, chagrined that she was basically a target for any of the people Tiempo had had dealings with and, therefore, once again a liability to the department.

  “So I think I’ve come up with the best solution,” Midnight continued, placing her hands on a folder in front of her, turning it around and pushing it toward Stevie. “I’ve created a training and development position for you as a sergeant. If you agree to it, you’ll receive the mid-range salary as a patrol officer but you will be training as a sergeant. When the test comes up, you’ll take it, and if you score in the top three ranks, I’ll promote you, and you’ll begin making sergeant’s pay at that time. We’re looking at about six months until the next test comes up. Are you interested?”

  Stevie stared blankly at Midnight for a few long moments, stunned. Sergeant? Officers waited years to take that test! She wouldn’t have dreamed of
making sergeant for at least six years. She knew she was being handed a golden opportunity here, and she knew she should grab it and run, but she had to know why.

  “Sergeant…” Stevie said, as if testing the title, then looked at Midnight, her eyes narrowing slightly in her morbid curiosity. “But why?”

  Midnight grinned, realizing that Stevie’s sense of propriety was warring with her desire to grab the brass ring. She shrugged. “Basically, you’ve made yourself too hot to put out on the street in a uniform, and, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve proven your ability to do investigative and infiltration work. My best narc couldn’t take Tiempo down alone—you facilitated that. Besides, I think ingenuity and uncommon valor deserve recognition—don’t you?”

  Again Stevie was left speechless. To have someone like Midnight Chevalier, who was basically a legend in the law enforcement community, telling her she was brave was just astounding.

  “Do you want the job, O’Neil?” Midnight asked, her look indicating that she would think Stevie was nuts if she said no.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stevie replied, her voice stronger this time.

  “Good,” Midnight said, looking over at Kyle and rolling her eyes. “Thought I was going to have to sell it somewhere else for a minute there.” Midnight’s grin started, and Kyle chuckled, which made Stevie relax immediately.

  “Ms. O’Neil,” Kyle said warmly. “Do you happen to know anything about cyberspace?”

  “In terms of what?” Stevie asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

  “In terms of chat rooms and that type of thing.”

  “I’ve chatted a few times,” Stevie said, still confused. “But nothing major—not my thing. Why?”

  “Well,” Kyle began, shifting in his chair to turn toward her as he spoke, “we’d like you to work with one of the people under me on a special project. A kind of a pilot project.”

  “Okay,” Stevie said, nodding.

  “The man you need to see is Christian Collins. He’s our computer expert—you’ll be working with him. He can give you all the details and get you set up.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, still feeling a bit dumbfounded by all of this.

  Midnight stood up, signaling an end to the meeting. Stevie and Kyle stood as well.

  “Stevie,” Midnight said, extending her hand to the other woman. “It’s good to have you back.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Stevie said, clasping Midnight’s hand. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t.” Midnight nodded toward the folder still sitting on the desk in front of Stevie. “Read that paperwork over and sign it, and we’ll get you back on board officially.”

  “I’ll do that,” Stevie said, turning to Kyle and extending her hand. “It was nice meeting you, sir. I’ll contact Mr. Collins this morning, if I can locate him.”

  “He’s in the same office as your sister,” Midnight put in, smiling.

  Stevie laughed. “That should make it relatively easy, then.”

  Once outside Midnight’s office, Stevie breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe her luck. Not only had she gotten her job back, but basically she’d just gotten a promotion. She could almost hear Jason saying “spoiled brat,” as he’d often called her when he was alive. She grinned to herself as she walked down the hallway toward the elevators. A few minutes later she was walking into her sister’s office.

  Rhiannon wasn’t at her desk, but she heard someone tapping away at the keys of a computer. She stuck her head around the high cubicle walls and encountered the back of a monitor.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Yeah?” replied a disembodied voice.

  “Uh,” Stevie stammered, feeling odd talking to the back of a monitor. “I’m looking for Christian Collins.”

  “And who are you?” asked the distinctly English-accented voice.

  Tired of talking to the computer, Stevie moved to the side so she could see the operator of the machine. It had been many, many years since she’d been left speechless by a man’s looks, but she was indeed devoid of speech when she set eyes on this man. He was dressed in a black shirt, jeans, and black suede shoes. He had jet black hair well past his collar, and was looking back at her insolently with light blue eyes fringed with long black lashes, one eyebrow quirked.

  “I’m, uh…” Stevie stammered, clearing her throat to try and regain her composure quickly. “Stevie O’Neil.”

  “Ah,” the man replied. “The renegade cop.”

  Stevie’s eyes narrowed. She was sure now that she did know who she was talking to, and didn’t like the label he’d just placed on her. “And you’re Christian Collins, the cop killer.”

  “We should make a lovely pair, eh?” Christian replied, grinning at Stevie’s annoyance.

  Stevie opened her mouth to say something cutting, but then it hit her that he was baiting her. She closed her mouth, making a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. Christian’s grin widened.

  “Come on,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Let’s get some coffee.” With that, he stepped around her and headed out of the office. Stevie caught up with him as he walked out the door.

  They said nothing all the way down in the elevator. Christian leaned calmly against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. An Asian man Stevie knew as Spider Nguyen got on the elevator.

  “Hey, Blue,” Spider said.

  “Spider,” Christian replied, nodding at the other man.

  Spider got off when they did on the ground floor. Christian said, “Later man.”

  Spider replied with a simple “Later,” but grinned. On the way into the coffee shop on the corner, they encountered Donovan Curtis and his fiancée, Jeanie Franco. Donovan and Christian shook hands, and Jeanie hugged Christian and kissed him on the cheek, saying it had been a while since she’d seen him. Stevie looked on, noting that Christian Collins was indeed a member of “the Gang.”

  When they got up to the counter, the server, a young woman with an eyebrow piercing, winked at Christian. “The usual, Blue?”

  “Yeah,” Christian said, grinning at her, then gestured to Stevie. “And whatever she’s having.”

  Stevie ordered a mocha with a double shot of espresso.

  “Heavy night?” Christian asked, his look impertinent.

  “Every night is,” Stevie replied brazenly.

  “Oh…” Christian drawled, sounding intrigued, his light blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Stevie couldn’t help but grin.

  They got their orders and went to sit in a corner. Christian leaned back, his long legs extended in front of him. “Seriously,” he said, his tone conciliatory, “I heard you did real well for yourself out there.”

  Stevie was surprised by his apparent attempt to reconcile their differences. She nodded. “And I heard you were justified in shooting the bastard.”

  That garnered a bark of laughter from the Englishman as he nodded. “He did shoot first.”

  “Fight fire with fire, my dad always said.”

  Again Christian laughed and nodded agreement. In that moment, they became fast friends.

  At noon that day, Midnight received a frantic phone call from the principal at Mikeyla’s school.

  “The man said we were to send Chief Chevalier’s daughter out in fifteen minutes or he’d blow up the school with a bomb he has hidden on campus!” The woman sounded half hysterical. “We’ve only got thirteen minutes!” she wailed.

  “We’ll be there in five,” Midnight said, hanging up and yelling to Cassandra even as she picked the phone up again and dialed Joe’s extension. Kyle was in her office, so he got on his cell phone and called Rick.

  Police cars converged on La Jolla Middle School in a record three minutes. The bomb squad was there too, with eight teams of dogs and handlers searching every room. Meanwhile, officers herded frightened but controlled teenagers to the auditorium.

  Julio Martinez swore viciously under his breath. Puta! How did she react so fast? They’d quickly discover that there was no bomb. Of course there wasn’t; he hadn’t had time to create a bomb, let alone set one. He had hoped to bluff and get the girl; then he’d bring the puta to him and kill her and her daughter, and maybe even the husband too if he was lucky. This was not his lucky day though. How did she know he wouldn’t blow up the school with her brat in it?