“Turning into our primary mission, Heat, saving your butt. This what you call suspension?”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Heat said. “I was just being a good citizen.”
* * *
Raley and Ochoa gave them a ride back to Tribeca in the Roach Coach. As soon as they left the scene, Ochoa hopped on his cell phone to the precinct to get the results on the background check he had requested on Steljess. “Yeah, I can hold.” Then he turned over his shoulder to Nikki. “You don’t mind if I do this with you in the car, do ya? I know you’re not doing any sort of police work, so if you happen to pick up any information, I trust you won’t pay attention to it.”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Heat, returning his wink.
Raley gave it some gas as he steered onto the Bruckner and said, “What’s the deal with you, Rook? I mean, you figure you have some sort of superhuman powers, you can just hero-stride into the line of fire and repel slugs?”
“Somebody had to spring into action, seeing how you gentlemen took your sweet time arriving. Tell me, if I looked on the floor up there, would I see some White Castle wrappers from your stop on the way?”
Nikki was amused by how easily Rook fell into the understated cop talk, trading barbs instead of overt compliments or thanks. But she wasn’t feeling quite like being so oblique in her gratitude for what he did trying to save her. She slipped her hand over his and gave a squeeze. And then she let go and slid it up the inside of his thigh. They were still holding radar eye contact when Ochoa finished his call.
“As I said, pay no attention to this back there while I brief my partner, all right?” The detective finished jotting a note on his pad and turned to Raley. “Tucker Lee Steljess, male cauc, thirty-three, has a few assaults in his jacket. Mostly beefs in biker bars plus he recently got early release serving fifteen days of a forty-day sentence for breaking the front window of a liquor store. By the way, know what he used to break the window?”
Raley said, “I love it when you spice the story, pard. What did he use?”
“A pimp.”
“Only awesome.”
“Just wait. You ready? Digging back, Mr. Steljess was once a cop.” Ochoa gave Nikki a quick glance over his shoulder. “That’s right. Uniform for a long time before he finally made D-3, then worked undercover Narco in the Bronx.” He consulted his notes again. “Reports are he was volatile and pretty much a loner. Nickname was Mad Dog. Service discharge says he, quote ‘identified excessively with his undercover narcotics subjects’ unquote. Also known to harass hookers. In spite of that stellar record, they cut him loose in ’06.”
“Go figure,” said Raley.
Ochoa said, “But neither of you heard that.” Then he handed his notes over the seat to Nikki.
* * *