Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Dobryy vecher, Detective,” came a very familiar, very Russian voice.
Maggie jumped. This damn priest really needed to stop sneaking up on her.
What was he even doing at the station anyway?
She spun to face him, prepared to ask him that very question, when she spotted her lieutenant standing next to Father Anatoly.
A bad feeling lurched in her gut at the sight of them together.
“Father, Lieutenant…” She greeted them both, her tone clipped. She was in a dreadful mood to begin with as her evening had not gone as planned. Since waking up for her shift things had gone from bad to worse. It was the most Monday of Thursdays she’d ever experienced.
First, she’d stepped in Gremlin’s puked up hairball.
Then the water in her apartment wouldn’t stay hot long enough for her to get completely rinsed off so her shower had mostly been cold.
She would have to send in a maintenance order to the building manager the second she had a chance and she was dreading it.
Last, but not least, some asshole had bumped into her in the elevator, spilling hot coffee all over the front of her blouse.
The only silver lining was at least she hadn’t been wearing white tonight, but she’d still never get the coffee stain out of the turquoise fabric.
Now, to top it all off, here was her slimy lieutenant with the last person she wanted to deal with: that priest. Judging by the shit-eating grin on his face, Lieutenant Martin was about to make her life hell.
She caught Anatoly’s gaze drop to her shirt.
No doubt he was taking in the still wet stain, but then she realized one of the buttons was undone and her lacey, pink bra was showing through the gap where her breasts naturally stretched the garment.
She should have reached up and buttoned it, but Maggie was feeling spiteful and left it, not caring what the clergyman thought of her.
Martin had seen it too, and his smirk only widened. “Need a little help with that, Detective Boone?” He started to reach out toward her chest, feigning that he would grab her. His hand didn’t get far.
Father Anatoly caught the police officer’s wrist, his expression suddenly stern and protective. “Perhaps it would be best if you explained why I am here?” he said in his syrupy accent, releasing the other man.
“Yeah, Lieutenant, why is he here? I don’t have anymore questions for the father right now.” She finally fixed her shirt, giving her boss a withering glare as she did. The priest’s gaze hadn’t perturbed her, but Martin had always made her feel dirty when she caught him checking her out.
It was like he thought since she’d bedded her last supervisor, he was next, and as such, he took liberties with her that he might not have with other subordinates.
She hated him, but she let the matter go.
The last thing she needed was to make a big fuss and bring more shit down on herself, so she kept her mouth shut.
If Martin noticed her discomfort around him, he kept it to himself. Chances were he simply didn’t care.
“The father is gonna ride along with you, Boone,” the sack of crap was saying.
He indicated Anatoly with a jab of his thumb.
“He makes a convincing argument. If someone is targeting preachers and such, there’s no one better to consult than a priest.” That shit-eating grin was back, flashing a crooked row of nicotine-stained teeth.
Maggie clenched her jaw and glared at Martin. There was no way he really thought a priest was going to be of any use. He was doing this to fuck with her, and for once, she wasn’t going to take it laying down. “With respect, Lieutenant, I’ll manage just fine on my own. I always have—”
Martin let out a snort, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. “Sure ya have, Boone. I wonder if your last CO would agree?”
Anger burned through Maggie like a raging wildfire, but instead of punching him in the throat like he deserved, she just stood there, knowing she had no choice but to take it. The blow was low, but it worked exactly as Martin had meant for it to; the fight had gone out of her.
“Fine, the father rides along tonight—” she started to agree, but then Martin laughed, cutting her off.
“The father rides along until you solve the damn case, Boone. That’s the deal.” The lieutenant was enjoying this far too much and it showed.
Beside him, Anatoly was frowning. He seemed to be picking up that his presence was being used against her and to his credit he appeared uncomfortable. “Perhaps—”
Martin slapped him on the back roughly. “Have a good time, Padre. But don’t get your hopes up, this one’s soul is already damned.” With that he turned away, chortling at his own dark joke.
Meanwhile, Maggie stood there fuming. She knew it wasn’t really Anatoly’s fault, but she couldn’t help but blame him a little.
Hadn’t she told him to let the police do their jobs?
Why had he gone around her back? One glance at him and she knew it hadn’t been for any nefarious purpose.
He certainly couldn’t have known that her boss was going to bully her into it either.
No, like everything else in her life right now, the blame rested squarely on Maggie’s shoulders. Her decisions alone had landed her here and now she got to suffer the consequences.
She stopped glaring at Martin’s office door, which he’d promptly closed when he entered, and shifted her brown eyes to the priest. He was gazing back at her, his expression gentle, curious.
As much as she wanted to be angry at him, too, she found it difficult to hold onto.
She blew out a disgruntled sigh and shook her head at him.
“If you’re riding along, you better mind what I tell you and stay out of my way.
” Her words were harsher than she intended, but she felt like she needed to build a fortress around herself where Anatoly was concerned.
It would have been easy to trust him and that terrified her.
“I’m not a babysitter, so don’t expect me to wipe your nose if you get a sniffle.
This isn’t a game. It’s life and death, got it? ”
His pale eyes twinkled. If he was offended by her curtness, he did an excellent job of hiding it. “I am no stranger to either, Detective,” he answered, his tone mild.
The way he had said it sent a shiver down her spine and she realized how true that statement was.
She cleared her throat, glancing away from him awkwardly. “Okay, great,” she replied, unsure what else to say. “Give me a minute to change my shirt and we’ll get started.”
Not waiting for a reply, Maggie brushed past Anatoly and headed to the locker room where her set of gym clothes were kept. She’d throw on her department t-shirt and then go on a stake out with a priest. What could possibly go wrong?