Kansas City Cop. Julie Miller
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telling me what to do,” he muttered, striding toward his bike. “Especially one like you.” Once he was astraddle, he revved the engine, yelling something at Derek that sounded a lot like a warning to keep his woman in check. The roar of the bike’s motor drowned out his last parting threat as he raced down the street, but Gina was pretty sure it had something to do with her parentage and how their next meeting would have a very different ending.
“Make sure they stay gone,” Gina said, hooking her cuffs back onto her belt and running to the front door. She opened the glass storm door and knocked against the inside door. “KCPD!” she announced. The woman screamed, and the man yelled all kinds of vile curses. “Vicki Bismarck, are you all right? This is the police, answering a call to this address. I’m coming inside.”
Twenty minutes later, Gina and Derek had Gordon Bismarck and his former wife, Vicki, separated into two rooms of their tiny, trashed home. Gina had bagged the box cutter Gordon had dropped when she’d pulled her gun and blinked her watery eyes at the stench of alcohol, vomit and sweat coming off Gordon’s body. Either Gordy and his buddies had been beefing up their courage for this confrontation or they’d partied hard and gotten stupid enough to think violating a restraining order was a good idea.
Although the slurred epithets were still flying from the living room where Derek had taken Gordon to put a winter coat on over his undershirt, and Vicki was bawling in the kitchen while Gina tried to assess the woman’s injuries, Gina was already wrapping up this case in her head. Even if Vicki refused to press charges, she could book Gordon on breaking and entering, violating his restraining order and public intoxication—all of which should keep him out of Vicki’s life long enough for her to get the help she needed. If she’d ask for it. Clearly, this wasn’t the Bismarcks’ first rodeo with KCPD. That probably explained why Gordon had brought his friends.
Although she hadn’t noted any stab wounds on Vicki, the woman was cradling her left arm as if it had been yanked or twisted hard enough to do some internal damage. Gina glanced around at the slashed curtains and overturned chairs in the kitchen, her gaze landing on the shattered cell phone in the corner that had been crushed beneath a boot or hurled across the room. Clearly, there’d been a substantial altercation here.
Gina righted one of the chairs and urged the skinny woman to sit. “Will you let me look at that arm?” Gina asked, tearing off a fresh paper towel for the woman to dab at her tears. When Vicki nodded, Gina knelt beside her. Bruise marks that fit the span of a man’s hand were already turning purple around her elbow. But there didn’t seem to be any apparent deformity suggesting a broken bone. Didn’t mean it hadn’t been twisted savagely, spraining muscles and tendons. Gina pushed to her feet and headed toward the refrigerator-freezer. “An ice pack should help with the swelling.”
She heard a crash from the living room and spun around as Derek cursed. “Gina—heads up!”
“Are you turnin’ me in, you bitch? My boys are gonna kill you!”
“Gordy!” Vicki screamed as Gordon charged into the kitchen.
Gina simply reacted, putting herself between the frightened woman and the red-faced man. There was no time to wonder how the drunk had gotten away from Derek. She ducked beneath the attacker’s fist, kicked out with her leg, tripped the big brute, then caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, following him down to the floor. Before his chin smacked the linoleum, she had her knee in his back, pinning him in place.
“He’s too big for the damn cuffs,” Derek shouted, running in behind the perp. He knelt on the opposite side, catching the loose chain that was only connected to one wrist.
Gordon Bismarck writhed beneath her, trying to wrestle himself free. His curses switched from Vicki to Gina to women in general. Locking her own handcuffs around his free arm, Gina twisted his wrist and arm another notch until he yelped. “Don’t make me mad, Mr. Bismarck. Your buddies outside already put me in a mood.”
The mention of his friends sparked a new protest. “Denny! Al! Jim! I need—”
“Uh-uh.” She pushed his cheek back to the floor. “They went bye-bye. Now you be a good boy while my partner walks you out to the squad car so you can sober up and chill that temper.”
“My boys left?”
“That’s right, Gordy.” Derek wiped a dribble of blood from beneath his nose while Gina locked the ends of both cuffs together, securing him. “You’re on your own.”
“I don’t want him touchin’ me,” Gordy protested. “I don’t want him in my house.”
“Not your choice.” Gina stayed on top of the captive, her muscles straining to subdue him until he gave up the fight. She glanced up at Derek, assessing his injury. Other than the carpet lint clinging to his dark uniform from a tussle of some kind, he wasn’t seriously hurt. Still, she kept her voice calm and firm, trying to reassure Vicki that they could keep her safe. “You got him okay?”
“I got him. Thanks for the save. I didn’t realize the cuff wasn’t completely closed around his fat wrist, and I ended up with an elbow in my face.” Derek pulled the man to his feet, his bruised ego making him a little rough as he shoved Bismarck toward the front door. “Forget the coat. Now we can add assaulting a police officer to your charges. Come on, you lousy son of a...”
The door banged shut as Derek muscled Bismarck outside. Gina inhaled several deep breaths, cooling her own adrenaline rush. She watched from the foyer until she saw her partner open the cruiser and unceremoniously dump the perp into the backseat. Only after Derek had closed the door and turned to lean his hip against the fender did she breathe a sigh of relief. The situation was finally secure.
When he pulled out a cigarette and started to light it, Gina muttered a curse beneath her breath. She immediately thumbed the radio clipped to the shoulder of her uniform. “Derek,” she chided, wanting to warn him it was too soon to let down his guard. “Call the sit-rep in to Dispatch, and tell them we’ll be bringing in the suspect. I’ll finish getting the victim’s statement.”
“Chill, G. Let a man catch his breath.” He lit the cigarette and exhaled a puff before answering. “Roger that.”
Gina shook her head. She supposed that losing control of the perp had not only dinged his ego but also rattled him. Maybe she should have a low-key chat with her partner. Aiming for fifth place wasn’t going to get the job done. If he didn’t light a fire under his butt and start showing all the ways he could excel at being a cop, Captain Cutler might cut him from the SWAT candidate list altogether.
But she had more pressing responsibilities to attend to right now than to play the bossy big sister role with her partner and nudge Derek toward success. After softly closing the front door on the cold and the visual of Gordon Bismarck spewing vitriol in the backseat of the cruiser while Derek smacked the window and warned him to be quiet, Gina pulled out her phone again and returned to the kitchen. She found Vicki making a token effort to clean up some of the mess.
“Is he gone?” the woman asked in a tired voice. Although the tears had stopped, her eyes were an unnaturally bright shade of green from all her crying.
“He’s locked in the back of the police cruiser, and I sent his friends away. He won’t get to you again. Not today. Not while I’m here.”
“Thank you.” Vicki dropped a broken plate into the trash. “And Derek’s okay?”
“‘Derek’?”
“Officer Johnson.” A blush tinted Vicki’s pale cheeks. “I thought maybe Gordy thought...having another man in the house...” She shrugged off the rambling explanation. “I remember you two from the last time you were here. So does Gordy.”
“I’m sure Officer Johnson will be fine. May I?” Gina held up her phone and, at Vicki’s nod, snapped a couple of photos of the woman’s injuries and sent them