Ballistics were a match; enhanced video imaging placed Baldy at the scene, and the partial plate number from the surveillance tapes corresponded to the tag registered to one Benito Dumb-fuck Alvarez. They had him dead-to-rights.
Not they, Micki thought. Harris. He’d come off looking like Superman. But her? She’d looked like one of those female wrestlers from TV. All she’d been missing was a pair of Spandex short-shorts.
She’d even seen the proof. Oh, yeah, adding insult to injury, one of the club’s employees had videoed the whole thing with his smart phone.
And posted it to YouTube.
However, even her sideshow antics—the chief’s description—hadn’t been enough to burst his bubble. The department’s P.R. director had promised to handle it, and that had been good enough for him.
“Great job, you two,” J.B. said, standing. He started to clap. His sidekick Buster joined him. “Record time closing that one. Almost like magic.”
Mick’s heart skipped a beat. How the hell had those two clowns found out Zach’s true identity?
“We’d love to hear how you pulled that off. Right, Buster?”
“Right, J.B. Every scintillating twist and turn.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Zach stepped in, slick as oil in the Gulf. “Good, old-fashioned police work,” he said and took a bow. “Hollywood style.”
Killian whistled her approval. A couple others chuckled appreciatively.
J.B. looked irritated and shifted his attention to her. “What about you, Mad Dog? What style were you going for?” As he spoke, he turned his computer monitor toward her. A second later, there she was: lunging at the perp, connecting with him, the two of them crashing to the floor. “WWF Smackdown? You’ve got the talent, that’s for sure.”
By talent, he no doubt meant her breasts, spilling out of her shirt. Her thought was confirmed as Buster added, “Big Shot Benito Alvarez taken out by DoubleD, a pair of ‘em.”
A round of laughter rippled over the squad room. Stacy Killian called out, “You look good, girl. Own it.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.” She’d like to ‘smackdown’ both the idiots, but kept her cool. “You finished being stupid, J.B.? ‘Cause I’ve got a list this mornin’ and no sense of humor.”
“I don’t now. I’m thinking we need one more look at you and your new boyfriend, Benito.”
Zach stepped in. “She saved my ass, okay? So screw off.”
The room went morgue-at-midnight quiet. Micki looked at Zach, furious. Other women, weak women, needed saving. Not her. She opened her mouth to tell him so when Major Nichols stuck his head out of his office.
“Dare, Harris, now.”
She fell in step with Harris, stopping him at Nichols’ door. “Don’t ever do that again,” she hissed. “You embarrassed me.”
He looked confused. “I was sticking up for my partner. Since when did that become a crime?”
“Since always. You made me look weak. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you or anyone else stepping in to save the day, my honor, or whatever-the-hell you thought you were saving. Got that?”
“Got it,” he said tightly.
The major waved them in. “I don’t have all day.”
When they were seated, he folded his hands on the desk and looked from one to the other. “Great work. Both of you.”
“Thank you, Major,” they responded in unison.
“Absolutely what we hoped for, in terms of your participation, Harris. And you,” he said, fixing his gaze on Micki, “how’re you doing?”
She’d prepared herself for something completely different. “My side hurts, but other than that, I’m no worse for wear.”
“Glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “Bad news. Your take-down video’s gone viral.”
“J.B. and Buster have already made me aware.” She glanced at Zach. “I can handle them, and anyone else who has a problem with it. Without help.”
If Nichols sensed the tension between her and Harris, he didn’t acknowledge it. “What was your primary assignment, Detective Dare?”
“Cover Harris’s butt. At all costs.”
A hint of a smile touched the major’s mouth. “At all costs. This situation seems to fit that description. Congratulations.” He turned to Zach. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”
“I have complete faith in Detective Dare.”
“Then show it! Dare leads, you follow. You do your mumbo-jumbo Sixer thing and let her do her cop thing.”
“Yes, sir. But—”
“You’re not a cop. You read me?”
“Badge and gun say otherwise,” Zach quipped. “Just saying.”
Nichols launched to his feet, face the color of a freshly boiled crab. “You compromised the arrest and put yourself and your partner in the line of fire. Unacceptable.”
“I get it, Major.”
But Nichols wasn’t finished. “Dare knows how to do her job. If you had done yours and stood back, she would have quietly snapped the cuffs on Alvarez. End of fucking story!”
Zach looked unfazed by Major Nichols’ tongue-lashing. “Understood, Major. From hero to zero, got it.” He slid his cell phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this call.”