“There’s been a threat.”
With a frown, she asked, “What do you mean by threat? What kind of threat?”
“Bomb,” was all he said.
She instinctively scanned her office to see what works of art would have been considered priceless. Typical of a conservator, she thought of the art first. Hell, she was dying. She might as well preserve the precious history. Its importance would live long beyond her fragility.
“Leave it. Nothing here is more important than you,” Benjamin urged, apparently reading her mind.
But he was wrong. Some of the pieces in the institute transcended time. She was but a speck in the universe, but history and culture had the capability of lasting lifetimes.
“Rebecca!” Benjamin insisted, grabbing her upper arm. “We have to exit the building.Now!”
She grabbed her purse and backpack and allowed Benjamin to escort her out of her office. She looked back at Vincent van Gogh’s priceless painting and realized that, unlike his, her significance would end with her death.
CATO
“Tell me again, Sarge, why are we responding to a bomb threat? Ain’t that Bomb and Arson’s job. Is it dope inside that motherfucka?”
Nick inhaled a deep breath and did his best not to lose his shit with his mouthy subordinate. Out of his entire eight-man team, only Tim Bailey, the rookie, had the nerve to question his orders. He was constantly dancing on Nick’s last nerve.
“Shut the fuck up and ride!” Nick blurted as they pulled to the curb a half a block away from the Art Institute.
So, they weren’t Bomb and Arson. Sure, he and his team wouldn’t normally respond to a bomb threat. And Nick may have been stretching his authority, but he’d done a little research regarding Miss Rebecca King and found out she worked there. The thought of seeing her again was too tempting to pass up.
Nick climbed out of the unmarked police car and looked back at the other half of his eight-man team. They were parked behind them. As each man exited the SUV, Nick noted the confused looks on their faces. But, unlike Tim, they all knew better than to question him.
Overall, Nick had a good rapport with his team. They were all good at their job, so he was good to them. He often covered them if they needed time off due to personal issues. And if God forbid, they got into trouble on the job, Nick would use his unique report-writing skills to clean up their mess as long as their screw-up wasn’t criminal, discriminatory, and didn’t cause the loss of lives. As their sergeant, he had their backs. However, if any member of his team abused their authority in any way, they were fucked. He would not be cosigning their bullshit.
Once the team gathered, Gary was the first to speak. “Wassup, boss?”
“We’re gonna give the on-scene supervisor a hand. There’s a two-block perimeter, and we’re gonna help them hold it. We’ll also be giving him a hand with the evacuation.”
Nick turned and walked toward the Art Institute, giving his team further instructions along the way. It was a typical July afternoon in Chicago, hot as hell. And like any typical afternoon in Chicago’s downtown area, Michigan Avenue was overcrowded with pedestrians and motorists.
Once they reached the perimeter, they pushed past onlookers and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Nick looked around until he located the on-scene supervisor. When he realized the supervisor was none other than Sgt. Brenda Garrett, he grumbled out loud.
He and Brenda had dated for a brief, but torturous period while they were in the training academy. Even though they’d only dated for a few months, her jealous tendencies and volcanic temper had proved too much for Nick to handle. Just before graduation, he’d ended their relationship. Unfortunately, Brenda didn’t go out without a fight. She would often show up at his house unannounced. And if he didn’t answer the door, she’d be waiting for him after roll call. After several embarrassing disturbances, the district commander scolded Nick and banned Brenda from the district. After stalking him for the next six months, she’d eventually moved on, probably to a new target.
“Stay here,” he grunted to his team.
Reluctantly, he walked over to his nutty ex. When she looked up and noticed him approaching, he could see the crazy in her eyes. He was about to turn around and drag his team outta there but changed his mind when he spotted Rebecca King standing just behind her. So, with his eyes trained on his purpose for being there, he continued his approach.
“Hey, Brenda.”
“Hello,Nick.”
He ignored the venom in her tone and gestured toward the crowd gathered outside the crime-scene tape. “My team and I are here to offer a hand. What do you need?”
Brenda shifted her weight to one leg and placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t need a damn thing from you. When I needed you, you treated me like shit.”
She continued on with her rant, but all he heard was, “Womp, womp, womp, womp womp.”
Nick’s focus was solely on the beauty standing just beyond the banshee in front of him. She was standing next to a tall redhead. He’d tuned Brenda out just enough to hear their conversation. He learned that they had plans to go to a nightclub called Butterfly on Saturday.
As he eavesdropped on their conversation, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was stunning. He was focused on her plump, kissable lips as she laughed and talked with the redhead. Her curly auburn hair was pulled into a neat bun that sat on top her head. Her flawless copper skin was highlighted by the setting sun. She smiled, brandishing perfect white teeth. Seeing her smile made Nick smile.
“What the hell are you smiling for?” Brenda seethed.
