the clear. They wanted money, not a dead store owner.”
Another cop appeared and waved at Simms.
Simms gave a light tap on Avery’s shoulder.
“You might want to get out of here,” he said. “They’re bringing them up now.”
“No,” Avery said. “I’d like to see him.”
Desoto was so large he had to dip out of the front door. Two cops were on either side of him, and one was at his back. Compared to everyone else, he looked like a giant. His men were brought up behind him. All of them were led toward a police van. As he drew close to Avery, Desoto paused and turned; none of the cops could make him move.
“Black,” he called.
“Yeah?” she said.
“You know that target you were talking about?”
“Yeah?”
“Click, click, boom,” he said with a wink.
He stared at her for another second before he allowed police to load him in the van.
Idle threats were part of the job. Avery had learned that a long time ago, but someone like Desoto was the real thing. Outwardly, she stood her ground and stared back at him until he was gone, but on the inside, she was barely keeping it together.
“I need a drink,” she said.
“No way,” Ramirez muttered. “I feel like shit.”
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Any bar you want. Your choice.”
He instantly perked up.
“Really?”
Avery had never offered to go out to a bar that Ramirez wanted. When he went out, he drank with the squad, while Avery chose quiet, low-key bars around her own neighborhood. Ever since they’d been a sort-of item, Avery had never once accompanied him out, or had a drink with anyone else in the department.
Ramirez stood up too fast, swooned, and caught himself.
“I got just the place,” he said.
CHAPTER NINE
“Fuckin’ A!” Finley roared in a drunken stupor. “You just took out six members of the Chelsea Death Squad, including Juan Desoto? I don’t believe it. I don’t fuckin’ believe it. Desoto is supposed to be a monster. Some people don’t even believe he exists.”
“She did it,” Ramirez swore. “I was right there, man. I’m telling you, she did it. Girl is like a kung-fu master or something. You should have seen her. As fast as lightning. I’d never seen anything like it. How did you learn to fight like that?”
“A lot of hours in the gym,” Avery said. “No life. No friends. Just me, a bag, and a lot of sweat and tears.”
“You’ve got to teach me some of those moves,” he pleaded.
“You were doing pretty well there yourself,” Avery said. “You saved me twice, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s true. I did do that,” he agreed so that everyone could hear.
They were in Joe’s Pub on Canal Street, a cop bar only a few blocks away from the A1 police station. At the large wooden table was everyone who’d been on Avery’s previous Homicide Squad: Finley, Ramirez, Thompson, and Jones, along with two other beat cops that were friends with Finley. Homicide supervisor for the A1, Dylan Connelly, was at another table not far away, having a drink with some men that worked in his unit. Every so often, he glanced up seemingly to catch Avery’s eye; she never noticed.
Thompson was the largest person in the entire the bar. Practically albino, he had extremely light-colored skin, with fine blond hair, full lips, and light-colored eyes. A drunken gaze turned sour at Avery.
“I could take you,” he declared.
“I could take her,” Finley snapped. “She’s a girl. Girls can’t fight. Everyone knows that. This must have been a fluke. Desoto was sick and his men were all suddenly blinded by chick-beauty. No way she beats them cold. No way.”
Jones, a lean, older Jamaican, leaned forward with incredible interest.
“How you take Desoto?” he wondered. “Seriously. No gym shit. I be in the gym too and look at me. I barely gain a pound.”
“I got lucky,” Avery said.
“Yeah, but, how?” he truly wanted to know.
“Jujitsu,” she said. “I used to be a runner, back when I was in law, but after that whole scandal, jogging around the city wasn’t really my thing anymore. I enrolled in a jujitsu class and spent hours there every day. I think I was trying to purge my soul or something. I liked it. A lot. So much so that the instructor gave me keys to the gym and said I could go whenever I wanted.”
“Fuckin’ jujitsu,” Finley said like it was a bad word. “I don’t need no karate. I just call my crew and they go pop-pop-pop!” he cried and pretended to fire a machine gun. “They’ll blow everybody away!”
A round of shots were ordered to commemorate the event.
Avery played pool, threw darts, and by ten o’clock, she was hammered. This was the first time she’d ever actually hung out with her squad, and it gave her a true sense of community. In a rare, extremely vulnerable moment, she put her arm around the much shorter Finley at the pool table. “You’re all right by me,” she said.
Finley, seemingly bedazzled by her touch and the fact that a tall blond goddess stood next to him, was momentarily speechless.
Ramirez remained slumped over at the bar and sitting alone, where he’d been all night. A walk over nearly landed Avery face down on the floor. She put her arm around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
“Does that feel better?” she asked.
“That hurt.”
“Aw,” she cooed. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll make it better.”
“Nah,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
Ramirez was distraught when he turned around.
“You,” he said. “You’re incredible at everything you do. What am I? I feel like I’m your sidekick sometimes. You know? Until you came along, I thought I was a great cop, but whenever we’re together I just see my flaws. This morning – who else could have stopped that guy from shooting that cop? At the dock, who else could have seen what you saw? Who else could have gotten Desoto to let you into his crib and then beaten Desoto? You’re just so good, Avery, it makes me question my own value.”
“Come on,” Avery said and pushed her forehead into his. “You’re a great cop. You saved my life. Again. Desoto would have cracked my neck in two.”
“Anyone could have done that,” he said and wiggled away.
“You’re
