Immediately on the heels of his irritation was just the slightest surge of fear.
Fear that Ava Sims would go digging back to November two years ago when Luc had learned, firsthand, the dark side of being a cop. A dark side where good officers died and little girls in pink dresses went missing.
Luc rubbed a hand over his face and forced the thought back where it belonged. Far, far away from the prying eyes of Ava Sims.
Letting a journalist get to him was one thing. He’d be damned before he’d let her get to Shayna Johnson.
Correction: to the memory of Shayna Johnson. And he wasn’t letting her get at Mike’s memory either. He didn’t know why he’d been spared the media attention when it had all gone down two years ago, but he was damned grateful. Luc wasn’t about to let the legacy of two good people be tarnished now.
Ava Sims reached out and gave his arm a smug little pat, either oblivious or indifferent to Luc’s inner turmoil.
“We start Monday. What time do you get to work?”
“Sorry?” he said.
“Your workday. When do you start?”
He shook his head. “Why does it matter? Don’t you just tell me what day and time to show up at your studio?”
She rolled her eyes. “We can’t just have three hours’ worth of face-to-face interviews in cushy chairs. This is an inside look at America’s Hero.”
“Hold on now,” Luc said, his irritation escalating to panic. “Three hours? And America’s what?”
“America’s Hero. It’ll be the name of the series.”
Oh sweet Jesus.
“Now hold the hell on,” he said. “There’s not going to be a series. Just ask me a few questions and be done with it.”
Her grin had gone beyond smug to full out gloating. “It’s already been approved. It’ll be a three-hour special, divided up over three nights. Pretty standard.”
“Standard, my ass,” Luc snapped. “How the hell are you going to stretch four minutes of amateur video into three hours?”
Ava gave an expectant look at the captain, who cleared his throat nervously before explaining. “Ms. Sims and her team will be shadowing you for a while, Moretti. A day in the life of a New York’s Finest, and all that.”
“Just think, two whole months together!” she said with a mockingly bright smile meant to annoy him. “Won’t that be fun? You can show me all the lives you’ve saved with those parking tickets.”
Luc was too busy grinding his teeth to reply. Ava dug something out of her purse, slapping it against his chest before sweeping toward the door in her sexy high heels.
“See you on Monday, Officer.”
Luc swallowed against the surge of panic. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. It was one thing to be a local hero. Another thing entirely to become a “household name” as Ava had indicated. The last thing Luc needed was an even brighter spotlight on him, shining in places that should remain in the dark forever.
“I don’t like it either,” Brinker said gruffly, displaying a rare perceptiveness. “But I can tell you right now, there’s no point in fighting it. Your father’s replacement made it clear that this was an order. Not a request.”
Fuck. Fuck. If he were Anthony, or even Vincent, he would have pushed back. Would have shoved his principles down Brinker’s throat, superior or not.
But Luc wasn’t his brothers. Luc wasn’t a hotheaded hotshot. And he had far too much respect for the NYPD to pull a tantrum.
He would do his duty. He always did his duty. With pride.
Still, he couldn’t stop the groan of dread in anticipation of what lay ahead. Luc glanced down at the crumpled piece of paper that Ava had thrust at him. There was a coffee stain in one corner, and something that looked like lipstick smeared across the front, but there was no mistaking what he was looking at.
It was a three-year-old parking ticket.
She’d never paid it.
CHAPTER THREE