CHAPTER 1

Tony Lombardo arrived at the police station twenty minutes before his shift—a habit turned routine for the past twenty years. In the locker room, he changed into his black uniform, mentally preparing for another day on the job as a cop in the Pittsburgh suburb of Hilton. Anything from a traffic ticket to a shootout.

Unbeknownst to Tony, nothing prepared him for what he was about to encounter.

Max Brody stood next to Tony and hung his jacket in his locker. “Today’s the big day.”

Tony balanced his foot on the bench. “Yep,” he said, tying his shoe.

For weeks, the Hilton Police Department had speculated who would replace Chief Elliott Kahn after he retired. A morning press conference was about to put an end to the well-guarded secret.

Max took off his sweatshirt. “Did you hear the latest?”

Tony brushed off the rumor as idle gossip. “What’s it today?”

“Chief brought in an outsider. Wanted to give the department some fresh blood.”

“No wonder Rosario’s been a so miserable. He was next in line.” Tony clicked the duty belt that held his weapons. “Guess there won’t be another star on his collar brass.”

Max buttoned his uniform shirt. “Not surprised if the town board influenced the Chief. His sister-in-law is an elected official. Bet she’s been chirping in his wife’s ear.”

Chet Dalton entered the locker room and dropped his bug bag on the bench.

“Speaking of wife, enjoy your last moments of freedom,” Tony quipped to the officer.

“I got ’til December to live it up,” Chet said. “Full-blown bachelorhood all the way, boys. No holds barred.”

Max slid on his pants. “What are the big bachelor plans this weekend? A quick trip to Vegas?”

Chet hesitated. Busted. “Taste-testing cakes, finalizing flower arrangements, and choosing the song list.”

Tony oohed at his colleague’s so-called wild plans. “You’re whipped, Dalton.”

“Hey, it’s my wedding, too.”

“No, it’s not. It’s her day. Every guy knows that.” Tony flicked Chet’s arm. “Where’ve you been?”

Chet’s voice elevated with concern. “I should have some say.” 

Tony poked the officer’s pudgy midsection. “Only when it comes to the cake.”

Chet smirked and replied, “We can’t all be Italian gods like you, Lombardo.”

“This is true.”

Tony and the guys shared a rousing laugh. Bantering lived embedded into their blue brotherhood. Tony’s fellow officers were like brothers to him, a bond that saved him from the dangers of being a cop.

Max tucked his shirt into his pants and zipped his fly. “Chet, all that talk about marriage being a trap, the whole ‘Yes, dear’ scenario is BS.”

Tony wished his best friend had not opened that can of worms.

“I wouldn’t trade life with Audrey for anything. Not for fame, or money, or all the women out there. I knew she was the one in tenth-grade biology class.” Max stroked his brown goatee, smiling. “She was all squeamish about dissecting a frog, almost puked in the classroom until I jumped in and sliced the sucker open. We failed the assignment for not doing our own work. I gladly took the F. She couldn’t say no to a date with me after that.”

“Aww, how sweet.” Sarcasm seeped through Tony’s words. “Frog guts brought you two crazy kids together.”

Men were not supposed to share their feelings about women. It was chapter one of The Guy’s Manual, which Max apparently had not bothered to read. Part of Tony applauded Max’s bravery for not adhering to the male ego. The other part was tired of his best friend fawning over his wife. “Audrey’s the best mom… Audrey texted me to say she loves me.” Audrey this, Audrey that.

Max looked at Chet. “Why are you marrying Mia?”

The newbie cop hesitated. Like most men, he did not want to appear as a mushy sap. “Well, you know. I love her and stuff.”

“Right. Now imagine life with no Mia.”

Chet mulled it over. “Kind of sucks, I guess.”

“Marriage isn’t a cakewalk. Mia and you will disagree. You’ll have the dumbest arguments. Now and then, you’ll feel like you’re in a rut. But the longer you’re together, the closer you’ll be as a couple.”

If Max had a side business doling out relationship advice, he would make a killing.

Tony shut his locker. “Listen to the man, Chet. He’s got the perfect marriage.”

“No, I don’t,” Max said. “Audrey and I have butted heads over typical marriage stuff, but we’re committed to each other to get through the battles. Never go to bed angry. It’s one of our rules. Marriage is hard work. Period.”

Easy for you to say, pal. Too bad it doesn’t work that way for everyone.

Tony had believed in Max’s motto before his divorce. He had made a mistake—the big one—and his ex-wife dumped him without thinking twice. Apparently, she had forgotten the whole “until death do us part” agreement. After their daughter died, his wife left him, too. In less than a year, the two most important people in his life were gone. Tony had suffered the kind of loss he would not have wished on his worst enemy.

Chet untucked his T-shirt. “Who needs bachelorhood? The best woman in the world wants to marry me.”

Max slapped Chet on the back. “She’s a lucky woman.”

Tony had all he could take of the “How to Have a Happy Marriage Seminar” for one day and left the locker room. He went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, then followed the rumble of voices into the lobby, where a media mob of reporters, cameramen, and photographers had formed.

Tony approached a man from the Hilton Herald and slung his arm around the guy’s shoulder. “How did you get to cover the news story of the day, little brother?” 

“I can write about more than feature stories on old ladies turning a hundred and the town’s annual dog show.” The reporter adjusted his blue tie and centered the press pass attached to the black lanyard hanging from his neck. “It’s time my editor sees me as a hard-news journalist.”

Tony cocked a suspicious eyebrow, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup.

The man wiggled out a confession. “We’re down two reporters. I got called up from the bullpen.”

“It doesn’t matter how you get there, Joey,” Tony said, grinning, “as long as you get there.”

Joey held a pen to a notepad, ready for any scrap of information. “Any word about Kahn’s replacement?”

“Nice try.”

“What?” Joey lifted his shoulders with an exaggerated shrug. “I get the facts. That’s my job.”

“Even if I knew, I still wouldn’t tell you.”

Joey blew a mouthful of air. “Unbelievable. I have an inside source reporters would die for, but my brother—my flesh and blood—won’t budge.”

“Save the creativity for the article.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey mumbled, walking away.

“See ya Sunday,” Tony called above the media chatter.

His brother turned around. “Not this week, you won’t.”

Tony drank a swig of coffee. “Ma’s gonna kill you. The woman lives to feed us, and the Steelers are on prime time!”

“It’s dinner. Not the Super Bowl.”

Few exceptions qualified as worthy to bypass tradition in Italian families where food and family reigned supreme. If you lived in Pittsburgh, you were a Steelers fan until the day you died. A woman was the only acceptable excuse a Lombardo man had to blow off Ma’s Sunday dinner and the Steelers.

“Who is she?” Tony asked.

“Rachel.” Joey glowed as the name rolled off his tongue and more so the second time. “Sunday’s her day off.”

Tony downed the remaining coffee in one gulp. “You’re off the hook.”

Joey melted into the media circle as Lieutenant Mills announced five minutes until the press conference, sending reporters on a foot race to the conference room.

Tony tossed the empty cup into the trash can inside the kitchen. Rounding the hallway corner, he saw Chief Kahn talking to a woman. White uniform shirt and black pants, her backside facing Tony.

Mystery solved. The big secret—Kahn had hired a woman.

Tony had worked with a handful of female cops during his two decades on the force. Only one outshined the rest. Most of the men, too. Unfortunately, she had been long gone from the department and his life.

The new chief emanated an eerie familiarity. She stood like a statue. A subtle nod of her head as it balanced her hat. Her stealthy movement as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Chief Kahn raised his chin. “Lombardo.”

Tony nodded. “Morning, Chief.”

Not an ounce of curiosity caused the woman to turn around and scope out one of her officers. Odd. Cold, too. Tony had a bad feeling about the new chief as he went inside the conference room. Reporters sat at the oval table while officers and detectives lined up along the wall.

Tony moved past his colleagues and stood next to Max. Leaning over, he said to him, “It’s a woman.”

“Who’s a woman?”

“The new chief. Just saw her with Kahn.”

“Which explains the hush-hush. Did you recognize her?”

“I didn’t see her face. She wouldn’t turn around. Some first impression.” Tony grunted. “Kind of pointless to keep it a secret. Kahn picked a woman, so what?”

Max glided his arm through the air. “Look around, buddy. Not one female officer.”

“If she can’t handle the testosterone, she shouldn’t have taken the job.”

Chief Kahn strutted into the conference room alone. Muffled conversations ceased as he approached the lectern with microphones huddled in a bunch. He thanked the media for coming, then kicked off the presser with a preamble of his years as a cop, followed by passing the torch to a new leader. He paused, letting the interrupted applause ride out.

“She’s no stranger to Hilton,” Chief Kahn said. “In 2001, she started her rookie year here at the department.”

Tony’s ears took notice when he heard the year.

No, it can’t be.

“For nine years she served the Hilton community, then transitioned to the Scottsdale Department, where she earned the ranking of captain. The department and community have honored her for her involvement with youth programs, among other achievements.” This is not happening.

Max elbowed Tony and whispered, “Are you okay? You look sick.”

Chief Kahn ended with, “Her dedication to the force is admirable. It’s an honor to have her back. Ladies and gentlemen, join me in welcoming Hilton’s new police chief, Veronica Callahan.”

Tony swore his heart stopped beating. Veronica strode inside, moving in what appeared to be slow motion only to him. His jaw dropped. His eyelids were paralyzed. It was as if someone had whacked him in the back of the head with a two-by-four as the roaring applause faded to a low-level vibration in his eardrums.

Veronica stood next to Chief Kahn, posing with a Mona Lisa smile during a rapid-fire of camera clicks.

There she was. The new chief. Tony’s boss.

His ex-wife, Ronnie.