He wore a tailored suit that fit his broad shoulders and large frame nicely. His GQ styling was polished and his tastes clearly expensive. The dark blue fabric complemented his warm complexion and the hint of facial hair made him look quite distinguished. Danni had no doubt that he was a fan favorite among the women, the few in the room fawning over him. But he commanded attention that was more about how he took full and total control without any effort at all. He was tall in stature, with a very majestic air, and it was totally captivating. It was obvious from everyone’s reactions that others readily deferred to him. He was all that, the chips and the dip.
“Who is that?” Danni asked, the words slipping past her lips before she could catch them. She felt herself blush, color heating her cheeks as if she’d been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. But it was only a question, she thought to herself, purposely ignoring the smug look the other man was giving her.
“That’s Detective Black. Detective Armstrong Black. I should go see if he needs anything. I’ll be right back.”
The man left her standing there, still staring. She watched as he moved in Detective Black’s direction, his hand extended in greeting. There was a brief exchange between the two, and then both turned to look toward where she stood, the officer pointing in her direction. Her breath caught deep in her chest as she and the detective locked gazes. And then his expression dropped, a deep scowl filling his face.
Armstrong knew there was no masking the shock that painted his expression. He felt surprise seep past his narrowed stare and pull the edges of his mouth into a deep frown. He dropped his gaze to the manila folder in his hand, shifted through the papers inside and then returned his eyes to hers. Danny Winstead wasn’t a Dan. Danny with a y was actually Danni with an i, short for Danielle, not Daniel. Danny was female. Very female. He couldn’t wait to call his brother to update him with that piece of information. He eyed the stunning woman from head to toe, his surprise registering in the muscles that pulled taut through his southern quadrant. He inhaled swiftly, a deep gasp of air that caught deep in his broad chest. He held it, fighting to stall the quiver of energy that shot heat through every fiber of his being.
The woman named Danni looked too soft and too pretty to be a decorated officer of any police force. Her petite frame was lean with just enough curve to capture a man’s attention. She had delicate facial features, killer cheekbones, and even from where he stood he could feel himself getting lost in her ocean-blue eyes. If he’d been made to guess, he would have said she was a kindergarten teacher, her bright smile so endearing that he found himself feeling like a kid again. The emotion was deeply disturbing.
The rookie officer intruded on his thoughts as the young man leaned close to mutter under his breath, “I’d hit that if she wasn’t such a...” he started, his tone as if the two were old college buddies.
“Show some respect, rookie. This isn’t a frat house,” Armstrong quipped, cutting him off. The comment had been inappropriate and had hit a nerve. He bristled with indignation. “Get me a cup of coffee,” he commanded, and then after a brief pause, he added, “please.”
Officer Lankford nodded. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, Detective.”
Armstrong cut an eye in the man’s direction as he watched him scurry off toward the break room. He paused for another quick minute to gather himself, and then he sauntered slowly in Detective Danni Winstead’s direction.
Meeting him halfway, Danni extended her hand to shake his. “Detective Black? I’m Danni Winstead. I look forward to working with you.”
“Detective Winstead, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Armstrong said as he met her palm with his own, flesh gliding like silk on silk. The handshake was quick and abrupt, both of them snatching the appendages away after the initial contact, a wave of heat surging between them. The moment suddenly turned awkward as the two stood staring at each other, neither saying a word.
Danni turned swiftly on her low heels, heading back into the conference room. Following behind her, Armstrong found himself staring at her backside. She had a lush, apple-shaped bottom nestled in slightly snug black slacks that she’d partnered with a tailored white blouse that was buttoned to the collar. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop himself from staring, or imagining what each cheek might feel like in the palms of his hands. He shook the sensation away, turning his focus to the business at hand.
“I’m told you’ve met most of the team?”
Danni nodded. “Yes. Briefly. Officer Lankford said you would bring me up to speed.”
He pointed to the photo gallery that decorated the wall. “All the women here have been tied to a local crime family here in Chicago.”
“The Balduccis. I’m familiar with them. We know they’re running drugs through Atlanta but haven’t been able to tie them directly to any of our big busts.”
“They have their hands in a lot of dirt.” He pointed a second time. “Maureen Winters, Priscilla Montgomery, Gina Torres and Faith Becker were all connected to the Balduccis. Maureen, Priscilla and Faith worked in one of their nightclubs. Gina was the family’s personal masseuse for a year before returning to school. All four were murdered after traveling abroad with a known Balducci associate and returning here to the United States. Bethany Brooks and Alice Mumford were known prostitutes with connections to the sex trade in Atlanta, and Jane, Erica and Felicity had ties to an escort service based in New York. Another body was found this morning. A young woman named Crystal Moore. She was a student who went missing about six months ago. We know she flew back from the Czech Republic earlier this week, but we don’t have any record of her ever leaving the country.” He shifted his weight from one side to the other, pushing his hands deep into his pants pockets as he continued.
“After we leave here you and I are headed over to talk to the man who flew back into the United States with her. He’s a low-level criminal with a long list of misdemeanors—petty theft, check fraud, shoplifting. He came on Interpol’s radar a few months ago, but they don’t have enough to charge him with anything, either. We know he’s well connected, though. His attorney’s one of the top litigators in the state. He can’t afford that kind of legal counsel without some serious backing. Bottom line, though, we can only hold him for a few more hours before we’ll have to cut him loose.”
Danni turned her eyes back to the wall to stare one last time, watching as Armstrong added Crystal Moore’s photo to the collage. She moved to get a closer look at the image. She tossed him a quick glance. The comment that came was filled with an air of awe and the sincerest appreciation. “You know all their names,” she said, her tone just a decibel above a loud whisper.
Armstrong met the look she was giving him with one of his own, contemplating her remark. He didn’t bother to tell her that he’d attended all their funerals and had made it his mission to speak to each woman’s family personally. He blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I do.”
* * *
The ride to county lockup was quiet. Armstrong made small talk about the city, the weather and the best places to grab good coffee and fresh pastry. Danni said little, responding politely as they crossed town, fighting morning traffic. When they fell into silence, enjoying the quiet and the light chatter of the police radio in the background, she was surprised by how comfortable they felt in each other’s company. Neither evidently had any need for words, focused on the tasks that lay ahead of them. When he broke the silence, his question startled her from her own thoughts.
“So why are you doing this? Why is this task force so important to you? In Atlanta, you investigate drug cases, correct?” He cut a quick eye in her direction.
She pondered his question for a split second before she answered. “Six