Unauthorized Affair Read online

  He came back to the table with some more breakfast and filled Sara’s plate. “I know a few. But I know that because it’s the same for all city jobs. First written test, then physical test if there is one, and then lie detector test if there is one. Prison guard, firefighter, and cop all have a physical test and a lie detector test.”

  “What kind of stuff do they ask you?”

  “On the lie detector? Easy stuff. How many times have you smoked pot, how many harder drugs have you done, have your ever hit a family member, have you ever stolen anything?”

  “Oh,” Jen said quietly. That was an easy one. She hadn’t ever done any drugs or hit anyone or stolen anything. But somehow the thought of having to take a lie detector test to get a job scared her. “And the physical test? What’s that like?”

  Jerry grinned. “It’s almost like a maze. You have to run a course and jump over stuff and through windows and drag weights and finish in a certain time. I know where they hold it. Want me to take you over there and run you through it? I could help you train for it. You’ll probably do well though - your muscles are pretty well-developed from surfing every day.”

  Jen’s anxiousness evaporated. Jerry was going to help her. Jerry was going to support her. She laughed and gave him a one-armed hug while she finished her breakfast with the other hand. “Yeah - let’s go now!”

  Chapter 4

  Sergeant Hunter Foley scanned the metal bleachers, laughing at himself for doing so, even though that was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. He knew what, or rather who, he was looking for. The girl with the pink hair. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t even know if she’d passed the written test, although he guessed she probably did. He wouldn’t get a look at the applications and test scores until after today’s test was finished. But he liked to get a handle on the possible candidates before he knew their names and their test scores. Test scores alter your perceptions of someone. He’d learned that seven recruit classes ago.

  Ever since that lesson he preferred to show up at the police applicant written test, and again at the physical test, and make a list of his possible candidates by watching them move and talk. Pulling police recruits out of recruit class and putting them undercover was dangerous. Very dangerous. And he didn’t want his decisions mucked up by how book-smart the recruit was. Because book-smarts almost never kept you alive in undercover work. Not looking and smelling like a cop kept you alive. The ability to think on your feet kept you alive. And even good old charm actually worked well in undercover work to keep you alive. That was something he never would have believed seven years ago when he had started doing this, but he’d seen it time and time again. If the criminal liked you, he was reluctant to think you were a cop.

  Hunter’s eyes never stopped moving. He saw one of his possibles, the big guy with the long hair and the cowboy hat, enter and sit down. And he was still wearing his cowboy hat and jeans. Briefly Hunter wondered if the guy was going to try to run the physical agilities test in those jeans. Because that would immediately disqualify him from undercover work for sheer stupidity, in Hunter’s mind. But no, he sat on one of the bleachers and took his hat off and his jeans off, revealing track shorts underneath. And he still looked like a cowboy. Good.

  Hunter moved on, searching for his other possibles. The petite chick with the tattoos. The redneck guy with the thick accent. And of course the surfer girl with the pink hair. His heartbeat quickened a little at the thought of her. She looked almost perfect for the undercover operation they had cooked up this time around. But looking perfect and being perfect were two different things. If she passed today he would have to take a good look at whether or not his interest in her was strictly professional— or if there was more to it.

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself. Of course there is more to it, asshole. Admit it, he growled inside his own mind. He remembered when he’d first seen her walk into the auditorium at the Civic Building. She’d made it with just five minutes to spare and had to rush to sit down in the very back row. There’d already been at least 800 people sitting in their seats, their pencils sharpened, their eyes glued to the sealed pamphlets, waiting for the proctor to tell them to break the seal and start. Hunter had watched her walk in, moving with a quiet grace that said athlete. Her long, pink hair had immediately drawn his eye. It was a dark pink on the top, but lightened towards the tips. It lay easily over her shoulders, framing her pretty face perfectly. She had looked young, delicate, and intensely feminine. Hunter had watched her enter and sit down and realized he was staring. And then he had realized that he was getting hard. He shifted in his chair, amused, irritated, and even a little grateful. He hadn’t responded to the mere sight of a woman like that since he was a teenager. In fact, it had been so long since he’d shown interest in any woman he’d begun to wonder if there was something wrong with him. The only women he seemed to meet anymore were cops, criminals, and lawyers. And not one of them had interested him in … he thought back. Had it really been 4 years? He had a ton of excuses. He’d been pulling 12 hour shifts for years, and by the time he got home all he wanted to do was relax. But this woman, there was something about her, something about all those yards of pink hair, that made him think of things … naughty things he would like to do — his thoughts broke off as he realized his body was responding to just the thought of her now. She wasn’t even here that he could see. Damn.

  Sgt. Foley dropped his clipboard in front of his zipper and walked stiffly away, reciting the prime numbers backwards from 300 to 1 in his head, calling himself a dirty old man with the rest of his brain. A stupid, dirty old man. That woman was probably 21 years old. 10 years younger than him. And he very well could be her boss in the next few days. He needed to get a handle on himself. Just because he was attracted to her was no reason to go and blow what could be the biggest bust the undercover program had ever been tasked to investigate. If it went well, they would have evidence enough to put dozens of criminals behind bars. Maybe even some of the larger fencing operations. Maybe even some of the dirtbags behind the fencing operations. Wouldn't that be sweet? He hated what Westwood Harbor was turning into. He hated the steady influx of criminals looking to turn an easy buck. He hated that three rival big bosses, one from the Mexican mafia, and two from L.A. Street gangs, had set up shop in Westwood Harbor and routinely held up cargo freighters and semi trucks moving through the city, shooting anybody who got in their way as a message. They sold the goods, then used the money to bring in drugs and weapons. The goods themselves were generally moved out of Westwood Harbor, and he had no control over what happened then. But some of them stayed here, and that’s what he was interested in. He also was very interested in busting the lowly criminals who had tried and failed to sell their stolen goods to the big boss. If he could get enough of them to give up information on the big bosses, he could secure a conviction. Foley dreamed about that. Dreamed about setting up a case strong enough to put these oxygen-thieves behind bars for good. And if he didn’t act fast, if his department wasn’t able to make an example out of someone, and quickly, Westwood Harbor would soon be overrun with crime, like LA. Maybe even like Oakland someday. Foley had seen it coming for three years, and there had been nothing he could do about it. But now, with the Chief’s approval, he had put together a plan that had minimal risk for the recruits going undercover, and maximum potential to slice a gaping hole in the organized crime operations. A hole he hoped would bleed until it drowned those in charge.

  Hunter’s hand holding the clipboard fell away from his front. He no longer needed it. His jaw was set in determination and anger, a common combination for him these days. Thinking about how crime was overtaking the city he was born in always brought out that mix in him. He threaded his way through the invariably young applicants and their supporters, dimly aware that testing was about to start. He needed to take his place near the finish line so he could get the names of his possibles if they passed.

  And that’s when he almost ran into her.
He’d weaved right to avoid a man who was stretching in his path, and the woman with the pink hair materialized in front of him, heading the other way. Too shocked to say anything he moved left, trying to get out of her way. She also moved that way, trying to get out of his. Up close, she was even prettier than he remembered. Her skin was clear and light, contrasting perfectly with her dark eyelashes and eyebrows in the way that only true blondes could pull off. But she wasn’t blonde. She was pink. And even as his brain was thinking this inane thought, he moved the other way, trying to allow her to pass. But she moved too and then she giggled, revealing a genuine and gorgeous smile. She apologized and took his arms, then turned them both so that he was on the side he wanted to be on and she was on the side she wanted to be on. She laughed again and walked on without sparing him another glance. His arms tingled at her touch and his nose sniffed, trying to hold on to the delicate, flowery scent she left in her wake. He watched her walk away, then realized what he was doing. Mentally he pushed himself forward, heading towards the finish line. She’d passed the written test. She was here. And he was a goner. If they used her, he’d have to let his partner handle her because he couldn’t trust himself to do it. But did he trust Sadler to do it? To 100% keep her safe?

  Hunter shook his head and tried to clear it of these thoughts. Nothing was final yet. He had a job to do here. The whistle sounded, signifying the start of the test and the first number was called. He settled in to watch.

  ***

  Jen burst through Jerry’s front door, exuberant at having passed the physical agilities test. Jerry followed, smiling indulgently at her. She hadn’t stopped pinching herself since she crossed the finish line. Jerry had never seen her this excited about anything, especially not anything requiring hard work and dedication, at least since high school sports.

  “I did it Jerry! I’m going to do this! I’m sure to pass the lie detector. Call Sara! She said she wanted you to call her right away if I passed.”

  “OK, I’m calling her right now.”

  “When is she coming back?” Jen called over her shoulder, already halfway to her room, intent on hanging up her passing times for the physical agilities test on the wall right next to her passing score for the written test.

  “Not till next week.” Jen heard the sad note in Jerry’s voice. Sara had been gone only for three days, but Jerry already missed her a lot. Sara was in Sacramento, doing secret government stuff. Jerry was going back to work in a few days, so he hadn’t tried to accompany her.

  For a moment, Jen’s thoughts lingered on her brother, but they couldn’t stay there long. She’d passed the physical agilities test, slam-dunked it actually, coming in with 23 seconds still to spare, and she was that much closer to becoming a police officer. It had been seven weeks since she’d first made her decision and she still felt just as strongly about it. But even the decision seemed to be working magic on her. She already felt stronger, more sure of herself, and less naive. Two weeks ago Adam had even texted her and said he was sorry for what he did and could she forgive him. She’d thought about it for a long time, weighing the pros and cons of at least replying. On the plus side maybe she’d get her stuff back. Maybe he’d even send her half of the money he’d taken out of their bank account. But she could read the subtle subtext of his message. She’d bet anything that he was girlfriend-less and maybe even homeless right about now. And what he was really looking for was to see if she would take him back. Suddenly she was extremely glad that she had packed up and left San Francisco. If she were still there, nursing a broken heart, how would she have responded to his text? Would she have taken him back? She liked to think no, no way. But she couldn’t be positive. As it was, she had stared at the text for a long time. Thought about it hard. And then deleted it. Even the money wasn’t worth having to deal with him right now. Besides, she was more than half way to a starting salary of $52,000. She’d get that money back in one month.

  Jen tacked her paper on the wall, flopped down on her bed, and stared at it. The physical test had been hard. But she and Jerry had been running through it three times a week for the last seven weeks. Plus he’d been taking her to the gym twice a week. She’d grown muscles in places she didn’t know she had. He also had talked her out of getting a job, saying he’d be happy to support her until she finished the police applicant process. And Sara had been giving her self-defense classes in the yard, as well as taking her walking through the tougher districts in town. She could now easily distinguish between a person high on seven different kinds of street drugs. And she could spot the signs of concealed weapons. Better yet, she was beginning to be able to spot the difference between what Sara called Hawks and Doves. Hawks were dangerous people — willing to fight to the death for what they believed in, or what they thought they needed. If you rolled up on a Hawk on a traffic stop or responded to a domestic dispute and found a Hawk, you’d be better off pulling them off to the side and handcuffing them immediately, before you ended up rolling on the ground with them, their hands trying to pull your own gun out of its holster to shoot you with. Doves, they were almost never dangerous. They were the type of people who either don’t believe in physical violence as a means to any end, or were too cowed for whatever reason to attempt it. Doves could be sat down on the couch and interviewed without fear. And then there were Pigeons. Pigeons were normally doves, but for whatever reason, they had turned to Hawks for a short time. Drugs, being pushed too far, mental unwinding. Pigeons were the most dangerous, because you never knew what a Pigeon might do. A Pigeon might jump off a roof while wrestling with you, just for the pleasure of pulling you to the ground with them.

  Before Sara left, Jen had a hesitant question for her: “Sara, am I a Hawk or a Dove?” certain in her heart that Sara would say she was a Dove. Before Sara even answered she had her next question all lined up: Are Doves ever good at being police officers? But Sara had surprised her. “You’re a Hawk, Jen, you’ve just never known it till now. You can thank Adam for waking you up to your true nature. There’s nothing wrong with being either a Hawk or a Dove - it’s just the way you were born - but there’s a lot wrong with thinking you are a Dove when you’re not. It’s stressful.”

  Jen had thought about this for days. In fact she was still thinking about it. Her true nature? Really?

  She heard Jerry yell from the other room. “Come on, Jen, Sara says congratulations and says we should celebrate!”

  Celebrate. That sounded great. She got up and ran to the kitchen to make plans.

  Chapter 5

  Hunter whipped his chair around to face his partner, Sergeant Dominic Sadler. They’d only been working together a few months now, and he still wasn’t sure what he thought of Sadler. He’d make some final decisions about that when he saw how Sadler performed on this detail.

  “Did you look at my finals?” he asked Sadler.

  “Mmm.” Sadler grunted, his eyes on his desk.

  “What does that mean?” Hunter asked, irritation clearly lining his voice. He did not feel like dealing with crap this morning. They had less than a week to get operational.

  Sadler looked up, his eyes saying he was ready to square off. “It means, why are there so many women in your finals?”

  “Chief wants us to use women this time. He says if we don’t start offering women undercover slots we’re going to have a lawsuit on our hands eventually. Besides, women are perfect for behind the counter. Most of the perps coming in are going to be male. Having the softer sex behind the counter will put them at ease. And they’ll be less likely to think they are cops. Especially the ones I’ve picked out. Have you even looked at their files yet? Or did you see they were women and just start pouting like a child?”

  Sadler grunted again. “I looked. We shouldn’t be using fucking women though. The chief should fucking know better.”

  Hunter shook his head. He couldn’t believe this. So Sadler was going to be completely useless because they were going live with women? That didn’t make any sense. What in the
hell did he have against women anyway? He opened his mouth to chew Sadler a new attitude, but Sadler got up quickly and dropped three files on Hunter’s desk. “I looked. These are the best ones. Spare me the fucking lecture, OK?” And then he walked out.

  Hunter looked down at the files and felt all the breath rush out of his lungs. There she was. The top file. The woman with the pink hair. Even Sadler knew she was perfect. Jennifer Ann Mansko. Even her name was delicate and feminine. Put a lid on it, dirty old man, he told himself. But now he knew she was 26, not 21. Which made him only five years older than her, and not really in old man territory anymore, at least relatively. He put his thoughts away and thumbed through the rest of the files. The petite chick with the short hair and the cowboy. Well, at least Sadler knew what he was doing. Those were Hunter’s top picks too. He pulled the phone towards him and began to make the phone calls.

  ***

  Jen’s phone buzzed from somewhere in the room. She rolled off the bed and hunted for it. There! In the pocket of last night’s jeans. With one half-lidded eye, she tried to look aslant at the phone so its backlight wouldn’t send any spears of pain through her head. She’d drank too much at last night’s celebration. Even Jerry had. They’d had to take a cab home and leave his truck at the bar. Dimly she remembered singing karaoke with his two friends - the FBI agents. They’d both given her lots of tips on being a cop — not that she could remember any of them.

  The number on the phone didn’t have an identifier, and she didn’t recognize it. Briefly she considered not picking up. But she knew hiding from phone calls wouldn’t be an option anymore once she was a civil servant. She pressed the answer button and pushed out a painful word. “Hello.”