Kansas City Cover-Up. Julie Miller
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violent suspect. But she’d only seen the folding chair and the gun. Chances were, that knife would have sliced through her skin if Gabriel Knight hadn’t intervened.
She deleted the last two sentences from the text and replaced them with a more accurate, less petulant account.
Reporter Gabe Knight injured in assistance of officer on scene. Recommend follow-up on allegations of ties twixt Ron Kober’s death and murder of Dani Reese.
After sending the text to her computer, Olivia stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her jeans and stretching to ease the kinks in her neck and back. Her new partner, Jim Parker, was right. She’d let her emotions interfere with the calm, logical pursuit of the facts and her duty to a citizen she’d sworn to protect and serve.
Common sense meant she couldn’t just dump Gabe Knight off at the hospital. As much as he’d butted heads and gotten in her way, she still needed an official witness statement from him, in case the man who’d escaped did have some bearing on Kober’s murder—or the death of Gabe’s fiancée. The DNA the tech from the crime lab had scraped from beneath his nails might provide a vital clue to identify the killer of one or both victims, so it had been necessary to keep him with her to maintain the chain of custody of that potential evidence. Besides, with his penchant for taking the police department to task for its shortcomings, Gabriel Knight was the last man she could risk abandoning. If he was injured worse than anything a few stitches could fix, or he blamed her for getting cut in the first place, then abandoning him at the hospital might put the department in danger of some kind of lawsuit. He’d probably make her front-page news on a dereliction of duty accusation.
Before a renewed wave of guilt and irritation could sideline her thoughts again, Olivia pulled aside the privacy curtain. “How much longer do you think you’ll be...?”
Olivia’s brain blanked for a split second when she saw Gabe Knight stripped to the trim waist of his blue jeans. She winced at the bruising he’d earned from his struggle with the perp, and suspected she had many similar marks herself.
But it wasn’t pain—or even empathy—that quickened her pulse. Focus on the woman in the green hospital scrubs and lab coat. Ignore the tapering T-shaped back of the man sitting on the stool beside the examination table. So much smooth, tanned skin. She’d bet it was warm skin, too, since there was nary a goose bump, in spite of the chill from the hospital’s air conditioning. Olivia Mary Watson!
Obeying her own mental reprimand, Olivia tore her gaze from the long stretch of Gabe Knight’s bare back, forcing her attention to the petite brunette doctor. “Um, are you about done, Dr. Grant?”
The wide shoulders shrugged and Gabe rose and turned to face her. “Kept you waiting too long, Detective?”
“Hold on, Mr. Knight.” Olivia’s wayward eyes got some naked chest time, too, before Dr. Rodriguez-Grant tugged Gabe’s arm back across the table to wrap a long piece of self-sticking gauze around his forearm. She cut the piece off the roll and patted the protective bandage into place before releasing him. “Now you’re done. We just need to finish the paperwork.”
Stop ogling! What was she, in junior high? Olivia raked her fingers through her hair, using the movement to distract her. She hardly qualified as a gawking innocent. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man’s naked chest before. She’d grown up with three brothers, a dad and a grandpa in the house, after all. And she’d been with Marcus for almost seven months before that relationship had blown up in her face. But Gabe Knight was taller, leaner than Marcus. His black hair was a smoky dust across some nicely honed pecs that indicated he got more exercise than sitting behind a desk all day, writing crime reports and editorials critical of KCPD.
And though she prided herself on her eye for detail, those were not the details she was supposed to be paying attention to. She needed to get away from this man and get a good night’s sleep to recharge her energy and ability to concentrate.
“No rush. I just need to call my partner and let him know my status if I’m going to be much longer.” That part was true. Jim had already texted her twice, asking if she was still with the reporter and if everything was okay. He’d gone house hunting after work with his wife, but would be there pronto if she needed him. He’d also pulled up Danielle Reese’s case file and wanted to get her up to speed on the dead-end investigation. “I can go outside to make my call.”
But the ER doctor stopped her before she reached the hallway. “Hang on a sec. I have some information for you, too, Detective Watson.” Olivia stepped back into the treatment bay and made a point of watching Dr. Rodriguez-Grant roll the tray table out of her way and cross to a stainless steel counter to retrieve a prescription pad. “Are you up to date on your tetanus shot, Mr. Knight?”
Gabe nodded. “My work takes me out of the country sometimes, so I’m current.”
“Good.” The petite doctor jotted a note on the prescription pad and tore off the top sheet. “Take the full round of antibiotics and see your doctor in about ten days to remove the stitches. Of course, if it shows any signs of swelling or infection in the meantime, come back and see me.”
He took the prescription note the doctor handed him and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans. “Thanks.”
The doctor tucked her short, dark brown hair behind each ear and peeled off her sterile gloves before addressing Olivia. “If you need an official statement from me, Detective Watson, that was definitely a defensive knife wound. Something with a short, thin blade—or else we’d be in surgery reattaching tendons and ligaments instead of mending skin and muscle. I can send the official medical report for your files if you need them.”
“I’d appreciate that, ma’am.” Olivia quickly noted the information on her phone before reaching into the pocket behind her badge. “Here’s my card.”
The doctor smiled as she tucked the business card into her lab coat. “I know the address. My husband and brother both work for KCPD.”
A snort of derision turned her head to the man sorting through the bundle of clothing at the examination table. Was that aggravated huff a response to learning he was surrounded by KCPD fans? Or merely a frustrated testament to the stained jacket and one-sleeved shirt that had been cut apart to gain access to the wound?
Olivia turned back to Emilia, answering with a genuine smile to distract the other woman from Gabe’s possible rudeness. “I know your brother A.J. He’s a very well-respected leader at the Fourth Precinct.”
“Thank you. My husband, Justin Grant, is on the bomb squad—”
A knock on the outer door stopped the conversation and a blond nurse peeked through the gap in the curtains. “Dr. Grant? We have a girl in Bay 2 who’s having an allergic reaction to something she ate. She’s breathing on her own, but the hives—”
“I’m on my way.” She was already following the nurse to another ER bay when she glanced back to Gabe and Olivia. “Excuse me.”
“Of course.” Suddenly, Olivia was aware of how small this curtained-off area was—and that she was alone with the department’s archenemy, Gabe Knight, a man who got under her skin and into her head far too easily for her peace of mind.
Several seconds of awkward silence passed before Gabe pulled on what was left of his white shirt. “Do I need to call a cab, or will you give me a ride back to the paper?”
“Can’t wait to write an exposé about me letting the perp get away? Or allowing you to get hurt?”
The dark brow over his right eye arched, his cool demeanor easily deflecting the accusations. “I was thinking more along the lines of retrieving my car from the parking garage and driving home. I jogged over to Kober’s building from the Journal as soon as the police bulletin came through. It was just a couple of blocks from my office.”
“Do you check up on every cop in the neighborhood? Or did I just get lucky that you’re my responsibility today?”
He inhaled deeply,