Read Online Marrying Mike...Again by Alicia Scott - Free Book Online

turn—toward Sandy’s office.
    Rusty saw the motion and drew up short. “No,” he said forcibly.
    “Can’t let the chief enter a violent area alone,” Mike countered reasonably.
    “Like hell. If she wants to prove she’s tough, let her. Dammit, Mike. I’m your partner. ”
    There was a lot of emphasis on the last word, and it made them both tense. The conversation of this afternoon had been leading up to this. Hell, Mike and Sandra’s marriage had been all about this. Rusty wanted to come first. Rusty believed the brotherhood of cops should always come first. And Sandy, crazy her, had thought that a wife should be more important than a partner.
    Mike didn’t have an answer back then, and he didn’t have one now. How was someone supposed to choose between their right hand and their left? Four years ago, he’d simply waited patiently—futilely, it turned out—for one of them to stop pushing the issue. Now, he realized, it was even more complicated. Sandra was no longer his right hand, but had become, like Rusty, his left.
    “She’s the chief,” he repeated softly. “We have an obligation—”
    Koontz didn’t want to hear it. He turned away in disgust. “Do what you got to do, Rawlins. I’ll see you downtown, where the real cops are waiting.”
    He stalked toward the garage. Mike watched Weasel go running up behind him, looking scared as he always did, but made anxious enough by the shooting to bum a ride. Mike would have to pay for that later, too: Rusty hated Weasel.
    Rusty, however, could take care of himself, and Mike wasn’t so sure about Sandra. Knowing her, she’d want to personally attend the scene. An Aikens never backed down from a fight.
    Mike headed toward her office, where he discovered Sandra trying to put on her coat and hang up the phone at the same time. Her features were ashen, her lips pressed thin. She glanced at him once, then seemed to draw in on herself even more tightly. She suddenly hurtled the un-cooperative phone to the floor.
    “Incompetent…damn…incompetent…”
    Mike retrieved the receiver. He replaced it gently on the base. “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. “Whatever just happened over there, it’s not your fault.”
    “I am the chief of police! I sent men into the east side.”
    “Which you had to do. Believe it or not, we’d all rather be shot at than labeled scared. Besides, you assigned your two best men to the case. We just…” Mike shrugged miserably. “Sorry, ma chère. We couldn’t find Vee in the system, so we’re having to do it the old-fashioned way. That takes time.”
    “I should’ve come up with a game plan until then,” Sandra said relentlessly. “Dammit, I’d read the letter—”
    “So did the rest of us.”
    “Yes, but you took it seriously, and Koontz was right, I didn’t. I didn’t really believe he’d open fire. I didn’t honestly think a thirteen-year-old…dammit.” Then more vehemently. “Dammit!”
    Mike took her coat from her and helped her put it on. Her hands were shaking. She gathered up her clipboard briskly, however, and with a last composing nod—almost to herself—she headed for the door.
    “Well, are you just going to stand there all day,” she said, “or are you coming with me to the scene?”
    “I’m driving you to the scene.”
    “I don’t need a driver—”
    “Sandy. Shut up.”
    Mike turned off the light behind them. He noticed that the nameplate had once again been replaced, this time by a picture. It was even more graphic than the names. Sandy didn’t look at it. She had her chin up, her shoulders square, and she was heading like hell on wheels for her car.
    You never could keep her down, Mike thought. And just like always, he felt admiration tighten his chest. But then he felt something else. Something softer, sadder, lurking beneath respect and making him shift uncomfortably.
    For a moment, he found himself wishing she wouldn’t always be so strong. He wished that his fierce,