“Egg and bacon on an English muffin. Figured you might also be hungry.”
Her stomach clenched. She took it from him, and he unwrapped his own breakfast sandwich and bit into it.
“You can go—you can drive now,” he mumbled around his mouthful as he reached for his coffee.
She studied his face, trying to read him.
He paused chewing. “What? You vegetarian? Vegan? Gluten intolerant?”
“Who did you phone inside there?”
He stilled his chewing, and slowly his eyes narrowed. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and said, “I didn’t phone nobody. Left my cell in the car.”
She continued to hold his gaze.
“Besides, Pallorino, even if I did, it’s none of your fucking business. I got a life, even if you don’t.”
She swore softly, dumped her wrapped sandwich onto the dash, engaged the ignition, and accelerated out of the parking lot, making him spill his coffee as she swerved into the street.
“Is this what you did to the other guy?” he snapped as he tried to dab up the spill on his jeans with a paper napkin.
“What other guy?”
“Your previous partner—how long did he last with yous? Alls of three months?”
“He didn’t have what it took. Not my fault.”
“So, he wasn’t Hashowsky. Igetit, Angie.”
“That’s Pallorino to you.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, Pall-or-eee-no.” He turned to look out the window, sipped his coffee, then said, very quietly, “I intend to keep this job, Pallorino. I’m gonna make sergeant someday—okay? I got stayin’ power your other dude didn’t have. So pace yourself.”
CHAPTER 7
James Maddocks shook out his umbrella and inserted it into the holder by the door of the Blue Badger Bakery along with all the other wet umbrellas. They’d finally gotten seats. The place was choked to the gills, and the line outside was still growing despite the blustery weather.
Their server, wearing a funky short skirt and long red boots, led them to a tiny table with chairs that were not designed to accommodate the frame of someone Maddocks’s size. Outside the window, tables and chairs on the wooden deck glistened wet and empty. Beyond the deck, gunmetal-gray water rippled with wind.
Ginny had insisted on brunch, and she’d insisted on the Badger.It’s the cool thing to do in Victoria, Dad...they make a great eggs benny. Maddocks could think of a lot of “cooler” things to do with Ginny that did not involve standing in a line outside in gusting wind and sleet for half an hour. Or plunking down a fortune for eggs he could fry up himself in his yacht galley. These places didn’t take reservations, either. What was so cool about eggs benny? But his goal in moving here was all about Ginny and trying to salvage what he had left of a family. Maddocks wanted a second chance with his daughter before he lost her altogether, so when she’d been accepted at the University of Victoria, he’d started looking for a job here, too.
Ginny shucked off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting. Maddocks shrugged out of his own gear, wondering if Jack-O needed to pee. The old dog had been in the car for almost an hour already. As he hung his coat over his chair and seated himself, he noticed ink poking out of his daughter’s T-shirt.
“Is that a tattoo?” he said.
Her eyes flared up to meet his. “So what if it is?”
“When did you get that one?”
“Mom doesn’t mind. I don’t see why you should. Everyone has them.”
He wasn’t a prude. He was okay with tats. Just not indelible ink on his baby girl.
“You might like having it now,” he said, “but in years to come—”
“Dad.”
He inhaled, and they perused the menu in silence while chatter rose from the tables around them. Maddocks was almost bumping elbows with the guy seated beside them. He dutifully ordered the ranch benny with bacon and sausage. Ginny went for the low-carb option, sans bagel. He knew better than to ask. His kid had long struggled with her weight, although he thought she looked beautiful. Their server brought coffee.
