LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Then I’d have to come back here and get my car.”

      “Not necessarily. You could pick it up in the morning.” He let his gaze travel leisurely over her body, lingering on her legs as he released a long, appreciative breath.

      When he finally glanced up, Eve gave him a cold glare. “You through?”

      “You’re not as tough as you try to let on, Barrett.”

      He stepped back to let her through the door. When Eve walked by him, his hand very deliberately grazed her derriere. She grabbed his fingers, bending the middle one back almost to his wrist, then releasing it so quickly he wouldn’t have known what had happened except for the excruciating pain. His eyebrows shot skyward.

      “Goddammit!” he roared, his eyes blazing with fury. “Why, you little—”

      “Careful,” she warned. “Next time it might be another appendage I feel like bending.”

      He muttered another oath, but kept his distance as the two of them walked through the noisy confusion of the squad room.

      DURTY NELLIE’S WAS a typical Irish pub that had become a regular hangout several years ago for cops who worked the South Side. Although it was located near the neighborhood where Eve had grown up, she’d never been inside.

      She found a parking space near the garbage bins in the back, then hurried around to the front door before D’Angelo arrived in his flashy gold ’Vette. He was the type of guy who would circle the block several times until he found just the right space, so Eve figured she had a few minutes.

      The decor inside was primarily green with wood trim, and cut glass that sparkled in the subdued lighting. There was a pool table in the back, along with a dartboard that was seeing some serious action.

      The patrons—mostly cops and mostly guys—sat drinking at the long, polished bar or hunched over rickety tables shoved together to make the most of the cramped space. Neon signs over the bar advertised Guinness, Bushnell’s and Bailey’s Irish Cream, while overhead speakers blasted an old U2 song, one of Eve’s favorites.

      Heads turned when she walked in, and eyes—appreciative and curious—took her measure. Most of the customers went right back to their drinking. Eve was still wearing her shield, although she’d locked her gun in her trunk. Even the ones who had never seen her before knew she was one of them and therefore commanded, even as a woman, a modicum of respect.

      She spotted Tony standing at the end of the bar, leaning over a beer and a shot glass as another man stood talking to him. When the man turned toward the bar, lifting his mug, Eve caught a glimpse of his profile. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might be Tony’s brother. Nick was a couple of years older than Tony. Eve hadn’t known him very well, but she remembered that of all the Gallaghers, his hair had been the blackest, his eyes the darkest blue. And his temper, even back then, had been legendary.

      Taking a deep breath, Eve walked over to them. “Hi,” she said over the music. “Mind if I join you?”

      Both men turned at her voice. Tony barely slanted her a glance before tossing back his drink. Nick leaned his elbow against the bar, giving her a slow examination. She wondered why his scrutiny didn’t offend her the way Vic D’Angelo’s had.

      Extending her hand, she said, “I’m Tony’s new partner. Eve—”

      Nick Gallagher cut her off. “Barrett, right? From the neighborhood.”

      Eve’s mouth dropped. “You remember me?”

      “Sure I remember you. You were, what? Fifteen, sixteen last time I saw you?”

      Actually, Eve had been twenty, almost twenty-one, when she’d seen both Nick and Tony at Ashley’s funeral. But neither one of them had noticed her that day. She’d stayed at the back of the chapel during the service and hadn’t approached the family at the cemetery. Tony’s grief had been too much for her to bear. She’d slipped away quietly to grieve in her own way for what might have been.

      Nick smiled down at her, a slow, sexy curving of his lips that might have sent Eve’s pulse racing into the stratosphere if Tony hadn’t been standing nearby. The Gallagher brothers were both sexy as hell, but Tony was…

      Tony.

      Both sets of blue eyes were on her now, and Eve felt her color heighten. Their perusal was very unnerving, especially the way Tony was almost glaring at her. He cocked his head, regarding her in a manner Eve couldn’t decipher.

      Finally he said, “Evie? Hell, it is you.”

      His voice held a note of incredulity, and Eve managed to shrug. “I wondered when you’d get around to recognizing me.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he demanded.

      “Wait a minute,” Nick said. “You mean to tell me Eve is your new partner, and you didn’t even recognize her? For God’s sake, Tony, are you blind?”

      “Well, she has changed,” Tony retorted, letting his gaze slip almost sheepishly over her features. “And it has been awhile.”

      Eve smiled. “I don’t wear glasses anymore, and the braces are gone. Plus I’ve put on a few pounds.” She gave a fatalistic shrug.

      “Yes, you have,” Nick agreed. “And in all the right places, from what I can see. You used to be almost scrawny, as I recall. And where did all your freckles go?”

      “Oh, they’re still there, unfortunately. You just have to look closely.”

      “Where? I don’t see even one.” Nick straightened from the bar and moved toward Eve, staring down into her face as if searching for her freckles took all of his investigative know-how.

      Behind him, Tony muttered, “Oh, please—”

      Nick gave him a sharp glance. “Am I cramping your style, Tony? Just say so, if I am.”

      “You always do,” Tony muttered, motioning for the bartender. “But when has that ever stopped you before?”

      Nick gave Eve a conspiratorial wink, then bent and brushed his lips against hers. “Nice seeing you again, Eve. And my condolences, by the way, for having to work with this punk.”

      Caught off guard by the kiss, Eve stared after Nick for a moment before turning to meet Tony’s blue gaze. He didn’t look the least bit jealous, she noticed with a flicker of disappointment. Just faintly amused. “Watch out for him,” he advised.

      “You’re warning me away from your own brother?”

      “Damn right.” The bartender appeared, and Tony said, “Another boilermaker, Curly.”

      The man didn’t have a single hair on his head. He glanced at Eve curiously. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

      “My first time,” she admitted.

      “We’ll try to be gentle. What’ll you have?”

      “How about a Guinness?”

      “Good choice.”

      Curly disappeared to get their drinks, and Eve perched on a bar stool. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she said, knowing it was too late if he did.

      Tony shrugged. “I guess you’d better. This crowd’s starting to look pretty hungry.”

      She knew he was referring to the glances she’d gotten earlier, but she laughed it off. “I take it you don’t get many women in here.”

      “Oh, we get enough. We just don’t get many who look like you.”

      Eve’s stomach fluttered at his words. She wondered if he was flirting with her or if he was actually paying her a compliment. She was confident enough to appreciate her own attractiveness, but she was also a realist. She was attractive, but not beautiful. She had neither the face nor the figure

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