Noah and Nate, and Nell, the baby of the Fensom family, were probably back in the dining room, dealing out another hand of penny-ante poker with their grandfather and Uncle George.
Nick’s chest expanded in a sigh that revealed a mix of happiness and regret. His hand drifted down to the gun belted at his waist. He hated to leave the bustle and conversation, the good food and fun. But this was why he answered calls like Spencer’s in the middle of the night—to protect his city and the people he loved. The sooner he and the task force could put away the Rose Red Rapist, the sooner he’d stop worrying—a little less, at any rate—about his mother and grandmother and sisters being safe on Kansas City’s streets.
But his mother, Trudy Fensom, was equally worried about him once he explained Spencer’s phone call and the need to get some eyes on the crime scene ASAP. “That poor woman. But...tonight? It’s New Year’s.”
“Mom, I gotta go. The bad guys don’t celebrate the holidays the same way we do.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for breakfast.”
“Be careful, Nicky,” his grandmother, Connie, warned.
She got a kiss, too. “Always am.”
His dad, Clay, wrapped a sheltering arm around both women and hurried the goodbyes along so Nick could get going. “Keep an eye on the roads, son. Temps are dropping and with this snow there could be patches of black ice.”
“I’ll watch ’em.” Nick crossed into the dining room and gently squeezed his hands over the shoulders of the silver-haired grandfather whose name he shared. “I’ll be back for a rematch with you, card shark.”
“Everything okay?” George Madigan, a cop like Nick, who’d been on the force long enough to recently be promoted to deputy commissioner, pushed back his chair. Even though his uncle had been pushing papers at KCPD headquarters the past few years, the detective instincts were still there. “The department’s short-staffed tonight. You need backup?”
Nick urged his uncle back to his seat. “Just some task force business to take care of,” he answered, keeping the details vague for his younger siblings while dropping enough of a hint to let George know what he was up to. “I’ve got it covered.”
George’s steely gray eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. Besides, somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this one.” He patted his grandfather’s shoulder and pointed a warning finger to his brothers and sisters sitting around the table. “You all keep him honest. He’s dealing off the bottom of the deck.”
Nicolas Fensom snorted at his grandson’s ribbing. “I am not. Fifty years of playing poker just makes me good.”
And then Nick realized the numbers around the table really didn’t add up. “Where’s Nell?”
“She got a text from—”
“Damn it, she’s seeing that boy—”
“What boy?”
“She’s in love, Grandpa.”
“She’s seventeen.”
“If she snuck out again—”
“Easy, Dad.” Nick held up his hands to stop his father from charging through the house, and cool the collective concern in the dining room. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“She’s missed curfew more than once because of him. Taking calls at all hours—sending my texting bill through the roof. I don’t like him.”
The same sense of alarm had already energized Nick. For one night, for family night, she couldn’t give that rebellious streak of hers a rest?
Nadine jogged back down from a quick run upstairs. “She’s not in her bedroom. But her coat’s still here.”
Nick nodded to George to keep his brother-in-law in check and sprinted toward the front door. “I’ll find her.”
The blast of cold air was just what Nick needed when he stepped out onto the big wraparound porch and saw his baby sister leaning up against the fender of a souped-up Chevy Impala parked in front of the house. A young Latino man with his cap on sideways was leaning up against her with their lips locked together.
Ah, hell. Was that a number 7 inked into the back of his neck? He’d worked gangs before being partnered with Spencer and joining the task force. But he didn’t need that kind of training to recognize the signs of trouble for his youngest sister.
“Nell?” he shouted, taking the steps two at a time down to the front walk. His sharp voice, his bold stride or maybe the brass badge peeking out from the open front of his jacket, were motivation enough for the young Don Juan to take a step back from his sister.
“Oh, great,” she moaned, tucking her long brown hair behind her ears. “The cops are here. Did Dad call 9-1-1?”
“Where’s your coat?” Nick asked, ignoring the attitude. He glanced at the fluffy white flakes settling onto Nell’s blue sweater, and wished he had enough cause to do a pat-down on the black parka and baggy jeans on Romeo here. He glanced from Nell’s petulant blue eyes up to Romeo’s dark brown ones. The younger man might top him in height by a good six inches, but the parka and jeans were hanging on a wiry thin frame and Nick knew he could out-muscle the kid if he had to. “Are you going to introduce us, sis?”
“Nicky, we didn’t do anything wrong.” Her shoulders huffed in protest when she realized he wasn’t budging. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her fingertips and hugged them beneath her arms to keep them warm. “This is my oldest brother, Nick.”
“I’m Jordan Garza, Officer.” Good. So Romeo had seen the badge. Instead of shaking hands with Nick, though, he plunged his into the pockets of his coat and grinned. “Every girl deserves a kiss on New Year’s Eve. Especially my girl.”
He winked at Nell. She pursed her lips and blew him an air kiss.
When had Nick’s high-school-aged sister become such a flirt?
Opting to slide his gloves onto his chilling fingers instead of hauling her bodily back inside, Nick tamped down on a protective surge of temper. If this had been a routine stop of strangers in the street, he’d be thinking about their safety before his own irritation with the situation. “Get in the house before you freeze, Nell. Everybody’s waiting for you.”
“I’ve had enough party games and talking about the old days,” she protested, her words stuttering as she began to shiver. “I want to say good-night to Jordan.”
Nick waited for the alleged boyfriend to notice the pale cast to Nell’s cheeks and the way her jaw trembled with the cold. Chivalry was dead in the ’hood, apparently. Nick shrugged out of his own jacket and draped it around Nell’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you just invite him to the party instead of sneaking out?”
She shrugged off Nick’s coat and linked her arm through Jordan’s to snuggle up to him. She rolled her eyes up to the stern father and curious family members silhouetted at the front windows. “Like he’d be welcome here?”
“Have Mom and Dad even met him?” The bite of winter wind pierced the double layers
