Chapter Five

The elevator opened, and Eliot stepped out.

“Good morning,” a young man greeted.

“Morning,” he grunted back. The cheery disposition of new guys seldom lasted.

Eliot sank into a worn vinyl office chair and gulped his lukewarm coffee. Men and women hurried between workstations carrying manila folders. Each one figured their assignment was more important than the next. Not in his wildest dreams did Eliot imagine he’d land here.

Throughout his childhood, Carly told him he’d amount to nothing. She predicted he’d end up a wanted man. He wasn’t nothing, but she was right about being wanted. The police hunted him down, but not the way Carly envisioned. Returning stateside from Iraq, Eliot was summoned to this precinct.

The recruitment team never delved into his education or his experience. Though his vetted military file revealed he despised orders, they were impressed by his skill set. Not graduating high school wasn’t an issue. His interview lasted a minute, with the recruiters asking one question. Will you follow command?

“Yes,” he had lied. Employment with the NYPD allowed access to information, particularly child protective services files.

Motivated, he graduated from the police academy. Two years later, he made detective, but his actual goal remained unfulfilled. He ran into repeated roadblocks, unable to uncover his sister’s whereabouts. Bureaucracy sucked.

He kept trying. Weeks became months, and months grew into years. Then one day, he received a call from a court worker. The civil servant broke with departmental policy to save a child. Although appreciative of the tip, he feared what the information meant. Carly had wormed her way back into the picture. Playing the victim card, she convinced the authorities she was now clean. Carly, the sociopath, preyed on the biased belief that a child belongs with her mother. The fact that a court worker risked her job disclosing confidential information validated what Eliot already knew. Carly was incapable of changing.

Eliot set his coffee mug down and flipped through a few files. He hated the paperwork that came with the job. “Dammit,” he grumbled and stood. There was no way around this. He marched to his boss’s office. The door was open, signaling the occupant was alone. Eliot stuck his head into the room. “Sir, got a minute?”

The paunchy middle-aged man waved him into his office. Lieutenant Pratt scribbled in a notebook before dropping his pen. “Don’t stand there making me crank my neck. Sit.”

Eliot eased into the lone empty chair. The old wood creaked from his body’s weight. Like most of the precinct’s furnishings, it needed replacement. Completing a requisition form for a new chair was a waste of his lieutenant’s time. People would park their asses for too long if they were comfortable.

“What’s up, Scorp?” Pratt despised idle chitchat. He juggled too many priorities to roll out a welcoming mat.

“I need a warrant for a drug bust.”

“What case is it related to?”

Eliot shifted in the rickety chair. “It’s not.”

“Then contact the responsible precinct.” Pratt hated having his valuable time stolen by mundane tasks. He spearheaded undercover operations. Run-of-the-mill drug dealers held no interest.

Eliot stared at the screaming eagle on his wrist—an earlier tattoo whose color had faded. “The woman who lives in the drug house…I…I know her.”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Pratt barked. “Not enough decent women for you to screw.”

He gritted his teeth. Being pissed served no purpose. “The woman holed up there is Carly Traversini.”

Pratt’s neck darted forward. “Traversini, as in—”

“She’s my biological mother.”

Lieutenant Pratt paused, seemingly absorbing what Eliot said. “Dammit, Scorp. If your mom’s there, she’ll be arrested too.”

“Good. I want her locked up.”

Keeping his tone even, Eliot disclosed the details. Although it was Carly’s filth, shame loomed over him.

His childhood had been shitty. He lived in dumps with junkies hanging around. He had no toys, no clean clothes, and no love.

“I’ll get the raid done,” Pratt assured.

“During the day when the kid is at school. She mustn’t experience a drug bust atop the crap she’s gone through.”

“We’ll do it right, son.” his lieutenant promised. “Have you talked to child protective services?”

“Several times. They ramble about how little girls need their mother and how Carly’s now clean. I’ve heard their bullshit.”

“The system isn’t perfect, but when this goes down, you’ll want the authorities on your side.”

“Right,” he grumbled, still shocked the social worker believed Carly’s lies.

“Now, let’s discuss work. I want all pending reports completed and on my desk by morning.”

So much for knocking off early to assemble the kiddie bed. He’d be stuck at the precinct until midnight.

“You hear me, Scorp? No excuses, no exceptions.”

He nodded. He dared not speak and let resentment seep from his voice. The guy was doing him a favor by conducting the raid when Raine wasn’t there. Cops hated kids being around when they stormed in, but waiting for the perfect opportunity wasn’t realistic. The city had too much shit going on and insufficient resources.

As Eliot proceeded to leave, Pratt cleared his throat.

Great, what next?

“HR will send you forms. Fill them out. It takes a few weeks to process paid leave, but I’ll expedite them. I’m guessing two months should give you ample time to get the kid settled.” Pratt rolled back his chair and stood. “Get out of my office and go do your paperwork. Don’t make me haul you back early.”

Eliot stifled a grin. Underneath his lieutenant’s hard-ass exterior was a good man. 

****

Eliot stared at the stupid and expensive plush giraffe. What was he thinking? Sprinkles guessed a five-year-old would be okay with it, but Raine wasn’t your average kid. Children raised by addicts never are. While other children learned to ride a bike, young Eliot learned not to walk barefoot. You only get jabbed in the foot with a syringe once before you keep your shoes on.

And even if the enormous stuff toy didn’t freak his sister out, living with him would. His body was covered with terrifying ink. He made the woman across the hall uneasy. Surely, he’d horrify a little girl.

The giraffe he could exchange for a comforting plush lamb, but the kid was stuck with him. He was no teddy bear. Yesterday’s haircut and shave weren’t enough to soften his image. Long-sleeved shirts could cover his arm and chest tattoos, but not the viper wrapping around his neck. Wearing a turtleneck in New York’s sweltering summer heat wasn’t practical.

Eliot opened his laptop and started browsing for a preschool. He hadn’t a clue where to find one. The landmarks he paid attention to were bars. He knew where to find good whiskey, cheap vodka, and a cold pint at three a.m. Luckily, he had Paula and Malcolm. They volunteered to babysit Raine when his hours got erratic. She’d like the Wilsons. They connected with kids. Their son Ty got into some trouble as a teen, but he became an honorable man thanks to his parents’ solid moral foundation. And the Wilsons did their best to guide Eliot, but he was already too jaded.

The Marine Corps curtailed his rebellion. A bit of attitude remained, but Eliot stopped infuriating his superiors. He listened more. Sometimes, he took advice. With Raine, he’d learn as situations arose. But what if he screwed up big time? He didn’t know shit about kids, let alone how to deal with a girl disappointed by her family.

He typed child care and found several within walking distance. He clicked on one of them. They offered a Montessori program. It sounded like an extinct dinosaur. He tried the next one. The place was called an academy and required three references. He wanted the kid to finger paint, not polish her résumé for NASA. He clicked again. The day home had a ratio of one staff member for every three children. Perfect. He scrolled to the bottom.

Are you insane? Three thousand dollars a month. He logged off the computer. A drink would take the edge off. Too bad he had poured every ounce of alcohol down the kitchen sink. Luckily, his other vice remained accessible. A fifteen-minute stroll and he’d be surrounded by sexy women, but it meant sitting in a bar. He couldn’t remember the last time he drank soda when beer was available.

He smirked. Across the hallway was the answer to his dilemma. He still didn’t know Sprinkles’ real name, but she had warmed to him. Yesterday, she cracked a smile. And Hudson had succumbed to his charm. A simple neck scratching had the mutt whimpering in delight.

Hey. I won over Huds. Sprinkles’ dog trusts me, so maybe my kid sister will too. “Not a chance,” he grumbled. Kids weren’t dogs. Besides, his neighbor’s dog had likely been showered with love since puppyhood. Raine’s life was devoid of affection. He had made a grave mistake letting her fall into the system. Plagued with a horrible mother, the kid also had a selfish dickhead for a brother.

He shelved the self-loathing. Regrets would lead to tapping the bottle when what he ought to tap was his neighbor. She’d make him feel good. Real good…at least for an hour. Hell, he’d settle for a few minutes of quick and dirty. Whatever the woman was willing to offer, he’d take. But bedding her might be difficult, for Sprinkles wasn’t like his usual pickups. The uptight ginger wouldn’t fall for flattery. Complimenting her hair or luscious lips would either piss her off or terrify her. A subtle approach was required, like asking her opinion on children’s books and suggesting chatting over coffee—or tea—whatever Ms. Prissy would fancy. Maybe she preferred not to talk about kids. Maybe her likes ran toward current events or stupid-ass poetry. No worries. He just had to appear interested no matter how boring she was.

He crossed the hallway and rapped on her door. He needed this. Not specifically Sprinkles, but a warm, feminine body. Her petite, curvaceous figure more than fit the bill.

“Answer,” he mumbled. Sprinkles was wasting his time. Didn’t she know he had to smooth talk her, buy her a coffee, and then make his move?

He struck the door with more force and determination. Again, no answer, not even a bark from Hudson. Perhaps if he drank expensive whiskey at a trendy lounge, he could limit himself to one.

“Scorp, are you looking for me?”

He jerked his head. Sprinkles marched toward him, her red waves bobbing in sync with Hudson’s tail. Baggy denim coveralls hid her curves but not her cuteness. Hell, if she lightened up, she’d be sexier than those coeds at the corner bar.

A sharp ring shot from his pocket. He stalled and then lifted the phone. “Yeah?” he grumbled.

The caller said three simple words.

A smile engulfed Eliot’s face. “I’m on my way,” he said. He hurried down the corridor, his boots pounding against the floor.