But now wasn’t the time to argue.
She grabbed her pocketbook. “I’m on my way.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, Dad. Alone.”
She snapped the phone shut and finished pulling on her sweater and buttoning her slacks. She was halfway through the bedroom door when she collided with Derek, who’d come to announce that dinner was served.
He frowned, taking in her drawn expression and the fact that she was fully dressed. “What’s going on?”
“My mom’s in the hospital. I’ve got to get over there.”
He snapped into take-charge mode. “Is it serious?”
“Someone broke into their place. She surprised them. They knocked her out. That’s all I know.”
“I’ll go with you.” Ignoring the trays of lasagna, Derek headed for the door.
“No—wait.” Sloane stopped him, shrugging into her coat as she spoke. “My dad asked me to come alone. He sounds really upset. The cops are in his face, asking questions. I think he and my mom have had all they can take.”
Derek went very still. “I’m not going to interrogate them. I’m going to offer my support. And to be there for you.”
This was going to be tough. “I realize that,” Sloane carefully replied. “And I’m grateful. But think of it from my dad’s point of view. Right now, he doesn’t see you as my boyfriend. He sees you as yet another law enforcement official. I don’t want
to upset him any more than he already is. So I’ll do it his way. He and my mom are right here at New York Presbyterian. I’ll be there in a flash. And I’ll call you with updates.”
“Fine.” Derek wasn’t happy. But he didn’t argue. “My doorman will hail you a cab.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“I don’t. I’m accepting.”
“That works, too.” Sloane’s gaze flitted to the kitchen table. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll warm mine up when I get back.”
“Right. Sure. Send my best to your folks.”
“I will.” Sloane was already halfway out the door, waiting only until Derek had reined in the hounds before she took off.
Derek shut the door behind her. He parked himself at the kitchen table but ignored the food. He wasn’t hungry. He was bugged. Sloane had a hell of a poker face. But he knew her. Something was up. What had her father divulged about the break-in that he wanted kept under wraps? It couldn’t have been too detailed, given the brevity of the conversation. Regardless, he’d managed to convey that he didn’t want Derek around. And Derek wasn’t buying in to that I’m-too-overwhelmed excuse. There was more to this whole scenario than that.
He was still brooding when his phone rang.
Hoping it was Sloane, he snapped up the receiver. “Parker.”
“It’s me.”
The “me” in question wasn’t Sloane. It was fellow agent Jeff Chiu, Derek’s friend and squad mate on the Asian Criminal Enterprise Task Force.
“Listen,” Jeff continued in his no-BS tone. “The squad just picked up a weird conversation from our wiretap on Xiao Long’s phone. Something about finalizing a deal with an old art dealer on East Eighty-second.”
“Shit.” Derek’s fist struck the kitchen table.
“So I am right. I remember your mentioning that Sloane’s parents live on the Upper East Side and that her father’s a retired art dealer.”
“Not so retired.”
“Meaning this involves him. And you don’t sound surprised. What do you know?”