NYPD Red(19)

“Don’t be a racist,” Lexi said. “It’s not nice. They’re called Asian.”

“I thought Asians were supposed to be smart. This guy was an idiot. He asked me questions like ‘Did you go anywhere near the prop table?’ It’s the same as saying ‘Did you put real bullets in the gun so it would kill Ian Stewart?’ Of course I’m going to say no. I think he took one look at me and decided I wasn’t even worth the trouble. Like, you’re not good enough to be the killer. You’re just some extra who sits in the background and mumbles walla-walla-walla all day long for two hundred and twenty-five bucks. You know what, Lex, he’s the goddamn racist.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Tonight you’ll show them who the real star is. You’re gonna rock. I got your wardrobe and your makeup all ready.”

“Thanks.”

“Gabe…”

He knew by the way she said his name what was coming next.

“No,” he said. “Out of the question. Not this scene. It’s too dangerous. You can’t come with me.”

“Please,” she said. “It’s no fun sitting around wondering what’s going to happen.”

“You can watch it on TV,” he said. “Just turn on the E! channel and you’ll see it all.”

“But I want to see it with you.”

“Put the DVR on and record it,” he said. “When I get home, we can watch it together.”

She lowered her head and sulked. “Not as much fun.”

He dipped his finger into her champagne glass, scooped out a small dollop of cold creamy chocolate, and rubbed it gently against her left nipple. He leaned into her and slowly, tantalizingly, ran his tongue around her breast until he finally arrived at the sweet chocolate center. He sucked it off and she squirmed.

“I promise you’ll get to do a scene, but this one is too chancy,” he said.

“You promise I’ll get one?”

“I swear.”

She kissed him. “You want dinner when you come home?”

“I’ll bring back pizza,” he said. “All you have to do is wash out those champagne glasses.”

“For what?”

“Champagne,” he said, kissing her other breast. “Tonight, we’ll be drinking champagne.”





Chapter 21



KYLIE AND I were in our office on the third floor. And when I say “our office,” I mean the flat gray, high-ceilinged half a football field, filled with two long rows of institutional desks, very few partitions, and even less privacy.

Being a cop has its perks, but luxurious accommodations have never been one of them.

“The captain has me on the inside, you on the outside,” Kylie said. “Are you okay about splitting up?”

For a second I thought she was kidding, but she wasn’t. We were partners, and for Kylie that meant working as close to each other as possible.

“It makes sense,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe this is my first day at NYPD Red, and I’m going to work in an evening gown,” she said.

“Let’s not tell Omar,” I said. “I wouldn’t want him to get jealous.”

“You realize I’m going to have to explain to Spence that I’m wearing a wire,” she said. “I can’t just talk into thin air.”

“Actually, he’ll be good cover for you,” I said. “You can talk to the Command Center, but it’ll look like the two of you are just having a normal conv—”

I heard her heels click-clacking on the tile floor, and then I saw her walking toward my desk. Cheryl Robinson. She saw me see her, and she smiled—second time today, that killer smile that lights up a room, even one as drab as this.

“Hi, Zach,” Cheryl said. “This must be your new partner, Detective MacDonald.”

She reached out, and the two women shook hands. I don’t know why I felt uncomfortable, but I tried not to let it show.

“Cheryl Robinson, department psychologist.”

“Kylie MacDonald, NYPD Red probie. I hope you’re not here to pick my brain, because it’s on serious overload, plus I have to get home and make sure the gown I’m wearing tonight covers my ankle holster.”

“I’m guessing you’re working the crowd at Radio City,” Cheryl said.

“The in crowd,” Kylie said. “It was part of my plan for the evening anyway—one of the joys of being the wife of a TV producer. Now I’m getting paid to do it, and if we’re lucky, Zach and I will catch our first madman together. Win-win. It’s nice to meet you, Cheryl, but I’ve got to run home and suit up.”