Catch Your Breath (4 page)

Jimmy stomped down the stairs and out into the fresh air. Or what would’ve been fresh
air if it wasn’t July in Chicago. He dragged in a deep breath from the wall of humidity.
He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He just wanted to teach Moira a lesson about
personal safety.

He wouldn’t want to face her brothers if something happened to her and he could’ve
prevented it. Never had he expected to find her wearing nothing but a skimpy robe.
The woman was like a quick-change artist. He might not have even noticed how short
the robe was or how the pale skin on her chest was sprinkled with freckles, but she
got all feisty and started poking at him, which caused the opening of the robe to
widen.

Even then, he kept himself in check, but he made the ultimate mistake of getting too
close to her. The look in her eyes when they met his almost undid him.

He almost lost his fucking mind and kissed her.

Shaking his head, he slid into the car beside Gabby.

“ ’Bout time. What the hell were you doing? Gettin’ lucky?”

His head jerked back. “No. I wanted to make sure she locked her door. That apartment
isn’t safe.”

Gabby snickered. “Dude, it takes three seconds to say, ‘Lock the door.’ ”

“It takes longer than five minutes to get lucky if you’re doing it right.”

She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Plus, you’re looking totally guilty right
now. What’s the story?”

“There is no story. Moira’s like a little sister.” The lie made his stomach turn.
He wanted to think about her like a little sister, but he hadn’t been able to for
years. Which was why he avoided her.

Gabby pulled out into traffic, a smile still hovering on her lips.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing. You want me to believe she’s like a sister, so be it. But the attraction
in the hallway was like snap, crackle, pop.”

“Not attraction, annoyance.”

“Whatever.”

Gabby drove back to the station so they could discuss a game plan. Last night had
been a waste of time. He was supposedly new to the city, and no one was quick to befriend
him. How was he supposed to get people to talk about being robbed? This whole thing
reeked of a wild goose chase.

If these rich assholes wanted to take the loss, let them. They obviously didn’t trust
the police to do their jobs.

They let the commander know they talked to Moira, who at least appeared to be cooperative.
Then after a long-ass day of accomplishing exactly jack shit, Jimmy drove home.

Elks told him he’d be in touch with the mayor to decide how they would proceed, but
Elks gave the impression that Jimmy’s days of being James Buchanan weren’t quite over.

By the time he got home, the last thing he wanted to do was deal with his dad. He
walked through the front door and tripped over the same damn hockey skate. He picked
it up and hurled it across the room. It whizzed by Tommy’s head as he came in from
the other end of the room.

“What the fuck, dude?”

“That’s what I was thinking. If you can’t pick up after yourself, find somewhere else
to live. I’m not your goddamn maid.”

Tommy grabbed the skate and shoved it under the table. “You’re not my mother either,
so stop acting like it.”

“Be an adult and I won’t have to.”

“What the hell crawled up your ass and died?”

What the hell indeed? Jimmy didn’t know what the hell was bothering him. Yes, he did.
A hot little redhead made his blood boil every way possible and made him crazy. “I’m
having a bad day.”

“I’ll say. Maybe you need to get laid. Always sets me straight. You wanna go out?”

“Maybe later. I have some work to do. Have you checked on Dad?”

Tommy shook his head. “He was asleep when I came in.”

“Asleep?” Not a good sign.

“He was breathing, but I didn’t wake him.”

Jimmy stuck his head in his dad’s bedroom. The man’s snore sounded like a Mack truck.
He counted the empties surrounding his dad. Eight beers. Enough that his father wouldn’t
have thought to check his blood. Probably not for the entire day. Jimmy thought that
once he got in as a detective, he’d be able to keep a better eye on his dad. It didn’t
help that Tommy and Sean didn’t see his drinking as a problem. If he offered them
a beer, they’d sit and drink with him.

No matter what he told them, they didn’t get it. They still looked at Dad like he
was an invincible superhero instead of a diabetic old man.

Jimmy gathered the supplies and tested his father’s blood. As expected, his blood
sugar was low, so Jimmy roused him enough to take a glucose pill. Then he went to
the kitchen to make some real food.

Most weeks Dad did a good job. He watched what he ate and stuck to a couple of beers
a night. Something would trigger a binge like this, but Jimmy didn’t know what the
trigger was. And it wasn’t like Seamus O’Malley would ever admit to his sons that
he had a problem.

Moira schooled her face and practiced what she wanted to say.
Treat it like an interview. Be professional. And don’t think about Jimmy O’Malley.

She tugged on her T-shirt to straighten it, knowing it was a silly habit, especially
since no one would see her over the phone. One more deep breath. Game time. She dialed
quickly before she lost her nerve.

“Hello.”

“Hi, is this Detective Ruiz?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi, Detective. This is Moira O’Leary. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Sure.”

“I have a proposition. I know this afternoon I was . . . less than professional. I
apologize. I definitely would never do something to intentionally cause problems for
the police.” She inhaled slowly and reminded herself that Jimmy was the police, and
although she liked to cause as many problems for him as possible, she couldn’t this
time. “Anyway, I’m sure Jim—I mean Detective O’Malley explained that we grew up together.
You know how it is when you’ve known someone your whole life. You get on each other’s
nerves.”

“Okay.”

“Let me get to the point.”

“Please do.”

“I take it from last night’s fund-raiser that Detective O’Malley needs to be accepted
in this social circle for whatever case you’re working on. My guess is, that needs
to happen fast. I’m offering my help.”

A slight pause and then, “Go on.”

Ha! Moira knew this would work. “I know this crowd. I’ve been writing about these
people for a year now. We might not be friends—they’re never going to invite me out
for coffee or anything—but they trust me. I make them look good. When they want press,
when they have a cause they feel strongly about, they call me.” Moira shifted the
phone to her other ear and clicked to open her e-mail. Her invite to the Lincoln Park
Zoo benefit had arrived. This was one party she really liked.

The zoo was one of her favorite places. She had excellent memories of going to the
zoo as a kid with her whole family.

“How do you suppose you could help, Ms. O’Leary?”

“Uh . . .” Shit. She’d gotten distracted again. She hadn’t come up with a plan for
Jimmy. She just knew she could use his situation to help herself. “I can talk to him
in front of the others. Make it seem like I know all about him so he doesn’t appear
to be such an outsider.”

“And you think that’ll be enough?”

“If you can have your tech guys, who I’m assuming created Jimmy’s phony online life,
create a few news articles dropping his name. They have to be out of town events for
it to be realistic. These people read the newspapers and blogs that celebrate themselves.
While they might excuse not noticing Jimmy at one or two events, they’ll know if he
keeps saying he was somewhere, but
no one
remembers him.”

“In truth, we were hoping no one would notice.”

“They will. If I act like he belongs, offer to interview him as a new Chicagoan, the
others will take notice. I’m not saying they care about what I think, but they’ll
notice. Between that and being the mayor’s friend, he should be able to blend.” Moira
sounded good even to her own ears. She was getting good at the bullshit.

“And what are you looking for?”

“Excuse me?”

“Cut the crap, Ms. O’Leary. You’re not calling me and offering help out of the goodness
of your heart. You’re after the story.”

“Well, I am a reporter. This is how I make my living.”

“I can’t make you any promises.”

“I didn’t think you would. I can promise not to write anything without permission,
but I want the exclusive.”

Detective Ruiz sighed heavily. “I’ll run it by the commander, but it’s probably doable.
It might not pan out to be much of anything. There might not even be a story.”

Moira doubted that. Jimmy wasn’t the kind of guy who spun his wheels on a pointless
job. “What’s the next event he has to go to?”

“There’s something going on tomorrow night. A fund-raiser for I don’t know what.”

“You need to narrow it down more. I have at least two to three things on most nights
I could go to.”

“Animals!” Detective Ruiz yelled.

“The animal shelter?”

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

Moira scanned her schedule. She hadn’t planned on attending. It broke her heart to
see all those dogs waiting for adoption. She always wanted to bring them all home,
and her building wouldn’t let her have a pet at all. She sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
She added it to her schedule. “You know Jimmy’s not going to like this, right?”

“Of course. That’s why you called me instead of him, even though you grew up together.”

“He would shut the whole idea down. He wouldn’t want to accept any help from me.”

She heard what sounded like a snort of laughter. There was nothing funny about pissing
off Jimmy O’Malley. Maybe his partner hadn’t learned that lesson.

“Call me after you break the news to him. Will you be at the fund-raiser ?”

“Not where you can see me. I’m purely backup.”

Backup, huh? Was Jimmy into something dangerous? He hadn’t made it sound dangerous.
He’d just sounded like he didn’t want her anywhere near him. “Okay, then. I’ll talk
to you tomorrow. Oh, and this event is business casual. Tell him to leave the tux
at home.”

Moira disconnected and danced through her living room. She popped the top on a beer
and took a swig. Things were looking up. Having his partner deliver the bad news to
Jimmy could only be sweeter if she could watch. It would almost make up for him scaring
the shit out of her in her apartment.

She smiled as she took another drink. She’d definitely learned her lesson, though.
She’d never forget to throw that lock again. After all these years, Jimmy O’Malley
was still looking out for her.

Jimmy adjusted the waistband of his pants again, shifting his gun to a position where
it couldn’t be seen.

“No good, O’Malley,” Gabby said. “I can still see it. Why don’t you take it off? It’s
not like you’re going into a gun fight.”

He grunted. He wasn’t going anywhere without his gun. Untucking his shirt, he bloused
it out. “Gonna have to do.”