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Strenlich was waiting for him and handed him a Rolex watch, a black onyx ring for his left pinkie finger, and a heavy gold ring with a large diamond for his right hand. At Peter's raised eyebrow he remarked, "For flash. You gotta look like somebody worth robbing."
Peter put on the expensive jewelry, storing his own watch in his bottom left hand desk drawer.
"Pete, you and Rezac are a couple spending a night out. We've given her a set of wedding rings that are something like yours and you're gonna..."
"No." Peter's refusal was flat.
Strenlich's face turned a fiery red. "What do you mean 'no'?"
Peter held up his left hand to display his wedding band. "This happens to mean something to me, Chief. I feel lousy enough about leaving Kacie home alone and scared. I am not going to cheapen the vows I made to her by using this ring as part of my cover."
Sara chose that moment to saunter up wearing a black sheath that came to just above her knees, the spaghetti straps and low neckline allowing the dress to display her ample curves. She sported a cultured pearl necklace and earrings, with numerous gemstones glittering on her hands, including a good-sized diamond and matching band on the third finger of her left hand. "Hi, 'Honey'. Are you looking forward to our night out as much as I am?" she asked saucily.
"I don't know what kind of big night you're planning, Rezac, but kindly remember that I am not and never have been your 'honey'." Peter threw her a withering look before turning his attention back to the Chief. "I'd rather go as some kind of gigolo than pretend to be married to this..."
"That'll be enough, Detective Caine." Strenlich stopped him before he could say more.
"I don't mind, Chief," Sara told him as she shrugged. "If he wants me to be a married woman out having a fling, it works for me." She turned to Peter. "You can even keep that precious wedding ring on, Caine. Wouldn't be the first time some two married people went out looking for what they weren't getting at home."
Peter's face flushed an angry red at the implication, but before he could say anything, Frank stopped him short. "There you have it, Pete. Your choice: does the ring stay off or on?"
Grinding his teeth together, Peter slid off his ring and handed it to Strenlich. "Here. Keep this safe for me. Your idea, your problem."
He scowled at Rezac. "All right, let's go get this over with."
"Gee, would you rather I took off my wedding ring off, too?" she cooed.
"Do what you want," he snarled. "I don't give a rat's ass whether you wear it or not."
The two detectives pulled up in front of the Marriott and a bellman immediately appeared to take their luggage from the trunk while Peter was turning over the keys to the Lincoln to the parking valet.
As they walked through the hotel lobby, Sara clung to Peter's arm and cuddled up to him every chance she got. By the time they checked in and got into the elevator, Peter was inwardly seething, though outwardly affectionate to Rezac.
The bellman opened their door with the computer-coded card and let Peter and Sara precede him into the room. He laid their luggage on the bed, and Peter handed the man his tip while escorting him to the door.
Peter turned and paced restlessly around the spacious room, wondering how many nights he was going to have to spend like this.
Sara made herself comfortable on the bed, lying across the bedspread while her already short dress slid up seductively. "Might as well relax, Peter." She smiled and patted the pillow next to her. "There's plenty of room."
He frowned at her and shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks." Still pacing, he said, "So now what? We sit here and wait for someone to come in on us?"
"Pretty much that's it."
"Kinda stupid to bust in a room while witnesses are here. It'd be a lot easier to rip us off while we're out."
"Maybe so, but all the money and the jewelry would be out with us and not in the room for them to steal."
Peter was chagrined at his lack of forethought. "Yeah, I guess."
"Oh, get over it already, Caine," Rezac sneered. "It's only one night away from your wife. Grow up." A new thought hit her. "Unless you're worried that she's out playing around while you're gone."
Peter laughed out loud at the absurdity of the suggestion. "You have absolutely no clue about the kind of woman my wife is or the kind of relationship we have," he said scornfully. "Somebody like you would never understand."
Detective Rezac's face took on a speculative demeanor. "I don't imagine she was too crazy about you spending the night here with me."
Peter clamped his lips tightly together and said nothing.
"Oh-h-h," she grinned cagily. "You didn't tell her, didja?"
"Look, if we're going to make it through tonight without my breaking your neck, I suggest you find something else to talk about besides my wife or my marriage. Get it through your thick head that I'm not interested in anything other than a professional relationship with you. And I'm not real crazy about that, either."
"You wouldn't be the first man to change his mind about that, given the right set of circumstances." She switched her position on the bed, causing her dress to hike up nearly to her hips.
Peter turned his back on her blatant sexual invitation. "We're on a stakeout tonight, Sara. That's all it is, and that's all it's going to be."
"Sure, Peter," she smirked, yawning and stretching lazily. "Think I'll take a shower. Wanna join me?"
"Real professional there, Rezac. Take off all your clothes and let the perps come in while you're completely defenseless. What police academy did you graduate from?" he asked sarcastically. "Or did you get your diploma by correspondence course?"
"Why, Detective Caine," she drawled slowly. "I'm not worried. After all, I have you here to protect me, don't I?"
"Go ahead and take your shower then," he answered testily. "At least I'll have some peace and quiet for a little while."
He turned on the television and channel surfed out of boredom. He was sitting on the end of the bed; remote in one hand and head resting in the other palm, with his elbow propped on his knee, when the bathroom door opened. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced in that direction. His face flamed and he jumped to his feet, retreating to a position across the room. "For Christ's sake, Rezac, put your clothes on!" He stood at the window and turned his back.
"Oh, come on, Caine. As if I've got anything you haven't seen before." Sara laughed. "I heard plenty of stories about you and Kelly Blake and half a dozen other women." She strolled further out of the bathroom, with only a towel wrapped around her hair, walking up behind him and putting her arms around his waist. She pressed herself against him, sliding her hands up over his chest and back down below his belt. "We're supposed to be a couple out for a fun night. I'm ready for the fun to start."
He broke her grip and whirled to shove her away, snapping furiously, "Touch me again, and so help me, I'll throw you out the window! Put your damn clothes on now!" He turned away from her, shaking with barely controlled anger.
If Peter's back hadn't been turned again, he would have seen the look of black rage that flashed over Sara's features before she swiftly schooled them back into a seductive mask. Flipping open her suitcase, she pulled out a filmy black negligee and dressed quickly. She stood posed like a runway model and asked, "How's this? Better?"
He looked over his shoulder at her and stared in coldly. "Get into bed!"
Her eyes widened and she looked shocked but pleased. "What?"
"You heard me. Get into bed," he said flatly. "If you're not going to wear anything more than that, you can at least cover yourself up so I won't be forced to look at you."
"I thought I was finally going to see some action," she sulked. "What's the matter with you, Caine? Most men like to look at me, with or without clothes."
"I'm not most men. I'm a man totally, completely, and faithfully in love with my beautiful wife, and I have absolutely no interest in you at all...with or without clothes." He stalked over to the easy chair and plopped himself down in it with a disgusted sigh and refocused his attention on the television.
Sara sat on the edge of the bed, surreptitiously watching him while she combed out the tangles in her still damp blonde hair. She slid her legs under the covers and propped the pillows behind her back. Putting her hands behind her head to display her ample charms more freely, she complained, "When are you coming to bed? These sheets are awfully cold."
"Give it a rest, Rezac. Don't you get it? I wouldn't climb into a bed with you if I was freezing to death. There's only one woman I want to sleep with, and she's at home waiting for me."
Rezac flopped back onto the pillows with a muffled oath. "So you intend to stay up all night?"
"Right here in this chair."
She laughed at him and snuggled under the covers. "OK, but if you get lonely tonight or you need...anything...elbow me over and snuggle right up."
He snorted in disgust. "As if I would ever get that lonely."
Peter was dozing in his chair when the ringing phone startled him to wakefulness. He grabbed for the receiver and knocked it on the floor before finding the right end to hold. Sara stirred in the bed and flicked on the bedside lamp.
"Yeah, what?" Peter snapped into the phone. "You got any idea what time it is? Oh...yeah...great...yeah...thanks for the call. Yeah...right...thanks."
He jumped to his feet and reached for his suitcase. "They nailed the bad guys up on the tenth floor. Tried to rob a couple of cops from the ninety-second. We can go home."
She called after him sleepily, "Hey, what am I supposed to do?"
He pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and tossed it at her. "Call a cab. I'm going home."
It was nearly four a.m. by the time the elevator opened and let Peter out at his floor. His head snapped up in alarm as he saw his father noiselessly leaving his apartment. His steps quickened and his heart raced as he approached his father. "Pop, what...?"
Caine raised his hand and stemmed the coming torrent of words. "I happened to be in the neighborhood and dropped in."
"Kacie's still up? Pop, she's gotta go to work in the morning. She's gonna be sick. Why didn't...?"
"Peter."
Peter's mouth snapped shut and he waited impatiently for his father to speak.
"She has been sleeping for hours. We talked. I played my flute for her. We drank tea..."
"And you slipped her something, didn't you?"
Caine shrugged. "Some teas are more relaxing than others."
"Pop, how did you know? I-I mean, I didn't even know I'd be gone until..." His father's raised eyebrow halted Peter's words and he laughed at himself. "Never mind." He sat down the suitcase and hugged his father. "Thanks, Pop. Man, if I'd known you were here I wouldn't have worried so much."
"You have always worried too much." Caine patted his son's back before releasing him. "Now, I must go. I am meeting a friend to watch the sunrise."
Peter hurriedly unlocked the apartment door. "Thanks again, Pop. I..." He looked up to see he was alone in the corridor. "Huh," he chuckled softly. "Some day you gotta teach me how to do that, Pop."
Picking up his suitcase, he quietly entered their apartment and set down the suitcase in the hallway. He let his eyes adjust to the dark and kicked off his shoes to slip soundlessly into the bedroom.
He stripped off his clothes and slid in under the covers, feeling for his pillow. Kacie held it tightly clutched in her arms, much as a child holds onto its teddy bear for comfort and protection from the things that go bump in the night. A lump came into his throat as he thought of the nights she had held him like that.
He started to take the pillow from her grasp when her eyes flew open. She gasped and threw herself on him, hiding her face against his neck and shivering.
"Sh-sh-sh. Go back to sleep, Honey," he said softly, gently running his fingers through the hair at her temple.
"What time is it?" she choked.
"Late." He kissed the top of her head and repeated, "Really late. Go back to sleep."
"Are you all right?"
He kissed her forehead. "I'm fine."
"Didja get the bad guys?" Her voice wobbled.
"Somebody else got the bad guys, so I got to come home. Were you all right, Sweetheart?"
"Yeah...well...sorta..." She reached up to touch his face, reassuring herself he was there. "No. My imagination started working overtime and I was a big baby about it all," she confessed. "Your father stopped by, and I was never so glad to see anyone in my life."
She pulled herself up until her head rested next to his on the pillow, and she caressed the hair above his ear with her fingertips. "He said he was in the neighborhood and dropped in, but I think he somehow knew I was upset." She kissed Peter on the lips and said, "He stayed with me until I fell asleep."
His arms pulled her more securely to his chest and he lowered his lips to meet hers for a long moment. "I'm glad he was here with you tonight. I worried about you."
"I worried about you. Sweetheart, I really am so proud of the kind of cop you are. You're good at what you do, and the city needs more like you." She sighed. "I know I was just being silly, but do you mind all that much that I was a little scared?"
"As long as it was only a little."
"I'm glad you're home," she whispered.
"Me too," he answered back, just before lips met and limbs entwined.
The next day at the precinct, Peter looked bleary-eyed when he went to pour his morning cup of coffee.
"You look like hell, Pete," Kermit told him cheerfully.
Peter groaned. "Can't pull all-nighters any more. Last night was a bitch."
"The assignment or the partner?" Kermit grinned.
"Both. Strenlich owes me big time for that one. I'd rather be out walking a beat than have to spend another night with her."
He took a sip of his coffee and glanced over at the hen party at the other side of the squad room. He noticed several of the women looking his way and then back again at Detective Rezac, who was gesturing in his direction from time to time and laughing. In a few seconds, the women scattered in various directions, all of them ogling Peter and smiling knowingly.
"Wonder what that was all about?" Peter wondered out loud.
"With Sara it's hard to say," Kermit snorted. "Just custom made for vice, isn't she? You know, what's really sad is that the lady can be a really good cop when being a cop is where her mind is."
Simms stepped out of her office and stared at the two men. "You have all the crime in the city solved already?" She glanced at the clock on the wall and said scathingly, "And it's only 8:30 in the morning. My, you two are efficient, aren't you?"
Kermit and Peter exchanged looks and scrambled for their respective desks. Peter picked up a pen to start writing and noticed his hand was bare. He saw Strenlich walk in, and instantly jumped up to reclaim his property. "OK, Chief, my hand has felt naked long enough. I want my ring back."
Frank stared at him blankly a moment and then said, "Oh, yeah. I hid it in the back of your bottom desk drawer where you stuck your watch."
Peter eyed him in disbelief. "Why didn't you lock it up in the safe?"
Strenlich sounded insulted. "I thought about it, but I figured what safer place for it to be than in a police detective's desk drawer? Especially yours. I don't think you've cleaned it since you got here, have you?"
Peter ignored the last comment and went to search for his ring. He had trouble yanking the drawer open because a book kept getting caught against the desk frame. He gave an especially hard yank and nearly pulled the handle off the drawer before it flew open. He removed the journals from his father, grandfather, and great grandfather and set them on top of his desk. Rummaging through old bank statements and unfinished paperwork, he found his watch buried in a back corner, as Strenlich had said. Feeling around the bottom of the drawer, he still found no ring. "All right, Frank," he called out. "Funny joke. Ha ha. Now where's my ring?"
Strenlich stalked over to his desk. "I told you, Pete, in the desk drawer."
Peter felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "It's not here," he snapped. "You crawl around down here and look!"
Getting down on hands and knees, Peter and the Chief wrestled the drawer out of its track and dumped it upside down on the carpet. They pawed frantically through envelopes, papers, and candy wrappers, but found nothing resembling a ring except a piece of a broken ball point pen.
The two men exchanged stricken looks and Peter's throat suddenly went dry. "How could you have lost my ring, Frank?" His voice rose angrily. "How the hell could you have lost my ring?"