by Karin Tabke
“Spoltori telling Mayor Dyer to back off the pussy, to which the mayor responded, ‘Just do what I hired you to do, Mario.’”
“I have a man on Mrs. Welsh. She’s in one of the pool cabanas.”
“Should we intercept them?” Stevie asked walking toward the back of the ballroom.
“We’re not the morality police, Detective,” Jack said.
“Spoltori just peeled out in his Beemer,” Flynn said. “We have a man on him.”
“Morality police or not, I want to talk to Mayor Dyer,” Stevie said. She was angry for Claire and for the people of Oakland.
“Better hurry, he’s making a beeline for the cabana,” Jack said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Stevie stood outside the draped cabana listening to Mayor Dyer love up on Mrs. Welsh. It was kind of creepy, given she’d considered him a father figure. Bursting in on him right now didn’t seem right, so she listened, hoping to get a little tidbit about Spoltori or, hell, anything she could use.
“Donny,” the senator’s wife moaned. “You know what I want.”
The rustle of clothing coming off mingled with the soothing strains of music flowing through the outdoor speakers.
“Looks like someone else gave you what you want already,” he accused.
“Only because you’re so hesitant.”
The sound of an open hand smacking flesh startled Stevie. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp.
“Oh, Donny,” Mrs. Welsh mewled.
He slapped her again, and this time the mayor’s grunt of satisfaction followed Mrs. Welsh’s gasp of pain. “Yes, Donny,” she moaned. “Just like that.”
“Who did you fuck today?” he demanded.
When she giggled, yes, giggled, he slapped her again and from the moan that followed it, she liked it. His increasing violence disturbed Stevie.
“Tell me who you fucked, Gina. If you don’t, no cock for you.”
He slapped her again and this time a whimper of genuine pain escaped the woman’s lips.
Stevie stepped back several feet, then called, “Mayor Dyer?”
The cabana moved as the inhabitants hastily sought to make themselves presentable.
“Sir?” she called.
“Stevie?” He called as he appeared, readjusting his tie, acting as if he were taking a stroll around the pool area. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’d like a private word if possible.”
He cleared his throat and extended his arm, motioning for her to walk ahead of him. “Of course, why don’t we have a seat over here where it’s quiet?”
As they sat down the mayor looked over her shoulder to the cabana. “Mrs. Welsh is heading straight for the ballroom,” Jack said.
Feeling uncomfortable discussing the mayor’s sex life, Stevie put her personal feelings aside. “Sir, I’m not one to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I know where you just were and who you were with. I need—”
His brown eyes narrowed as did his tone. “Young lady, what I do is none of your business.” He stood.
She pushed back with a tone of her own. “It is when you’re fucking a senator’s wife and I have reason to believe she’s the Cain killer’s next victim.”
“Remember who you’re talking to.”
She stood and faced him. “How dare you act so indignant? You’re my godfather! Dad would disown you if he knew what you were doing!”
“I need her husband’s support and his constituent’s votes to get to Sacramento.” There was no remorse, no contrition, only righteous justification.
“Then fuck him!”
His brown eyes flared furiously. “Because I loved your old man like a brother and because you are my goddaughter, I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened. Now please leave the premises.”
“I need to know what, if any, kind of relationship Mrs. Welsh has with your campaign finance manager.”
The color leached from his face. “Mario?”
Stevie nodded. “Mario.”
“None that I know of; why?”
“I have information that links them in a sexual relationship.”
“That’s not likely.”
Stevie raised her brow. “Because…?”
“Mario doesn’t swing that way.”
“You’re saying he’s gay?”
“I know he is.”
That explained why he couldn’t get it up for the demanding senator’s wife.
“How do you know?”
The mayor looked anxiously past her again. “I just do,” he said, and then caught her intent stare. “Please leave it at that.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Stevie pushed, “but I need to know everything you can tell me about Mr. Spoltori.”
“Mayor Dyer?” a man called, “your guests are asking for a few words from you.”
“I’m coming, Jason.”
“Sir,” Stevie said. “I’d like you to scratch out some time for me at the end of the week. I don’t know how, but my gut is telling me the Cain killer is linked to your run for governor.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone I work with has been vetted–they’re clean.”
“Nevertheless, sir, I want to speak to you this week.”
“Okay, Stevie, call my office and set it up. I want this case closed as much as you do. It’s worth a lot of votes.”
He walked past her as Jack came her way.
“Never mind that it will take a killer off the streets,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“I can’t believe he’s having sex with that woman for votes!” Stevie said, disgusted by it all.
“You didn’t tell me the mayor was your godfather.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot I’m not telling you.”
Stevie was greatly disturbed that the man she loved like a father would stoop so low for votes. She shivered and looked up at Jack, who stood staring at her with a pensive expression.
“What?”
“I know you have a set of balls, Stevie, you don’t have to keep whipping them out and shoving them in my face.”
“I could say the same thing to you, Jack, except you whip yours out for a different reason.”
He grinned. “Maybe if you stopped busting them every chance you got, you would see they’re not so bad.”
“I’ll never get tired of busting them.”
“Hey, kids, can we get back to the case?” Flynn said in her earpiece.
Stevie laughed. “Shut up, Flynn or I’ll bust your balls, too.”
“I’m always up for a workout, Detective.” His meaning was not lost on either her or Jack.
Jack scowled and what sounded close to a growl rumbled up from his chest. Stevie laughed again and as she turned to walk back into the ballroom, Jack grasped her bicep and gently pulled her around to face him. Taking his earpiece out, he slid it into his pocket. He reached up to her ear and did the same thing. Then he lowered his lips to hers, hovering just above them. “Flynn’s off limits.”
Stiffening, she shook her head. “I set my own limits and at the moment I have none.”
His lips pulled back from his teeth. “Yes you do, and he’s one of them.”
Yanking her arm from his grasp, Stevie stalked away.
Jack stood for a long minute, deciding if he should fuck the defiance out of her or walk away, and this time not look back. Watching her with Spoltori and listening in on their conversation set his nerves on end. He knew Stevie was a scrapper and could take care of herself, but Spoltori was pure evil, with no conscience, and would stop at nothing to protect himself. Jack could never live with himself if one hair on her head was damaged because of that sick puke.
His watchful eyes continued to follow the sassy sway of her hips as she stalked off in t
hose fuck-me pumps.
His lips tightened.
Jealousy cut deep. He’d never experienced the emotion before. He despised the way it weakened him. When he saw Flynn meet Stevie at the doorway to the ballroom, the emotion jabbed at him. When Flynn lowered his head to her, Jack’s temper flared.
When Stevie put her hand on Flynn’s forearm and leaned into him, his temper snapped.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Reinserting his earpiece, Jack softly said, “Back the fuck off, Ryker.”
He watched Flynn’s body stiffen, but he was a smart man and he wasn’t an interloper. Yet. Flynn stepped back and as he did, Stevie shot Jack a look that would have sliced most men in half. Then she flipped him the bird and stalked off.
Swiping his hand across his face, Jack shook his head. The woman had a bigger set than he did! That was saying a hell of a lot. Going after her, he stopped when Flynn blocked the doorway. If it had been anyone else he would have shoved him aside, but it was Flynn. Not only a fellow agent but a friend.
“What was that all about?” his buddy asked.
“Hell if I know.”
“She get to you?”
“She got to me seven years ago.”
“Ah, the proverbial one that got away. Well, take it from me, pal, as a trained observer, I’d say she has it just as bad for you. Find a way to make it work, but keep it out of this case or you’ll end up like Meyers when he was caught with that uniform he was working with in San Francisco last month.”
The powers that be gave Special Agent Thad Meyers a choice after he was caught with his hand in a very cute San Francisco police officer’s cookie jar: Resign or end it and pack your bags for some fun in the hospitable sands of the Middle East. He chose relocation.
“I’m distracted, but not that distracted.” Liar. He was beyond distracted.
“I don’t know how you can’t be, Thorn. I’d jump ship just for a sip of that long drink of water.”
Jack’s lips tightened. “She’s off limits.”
Flynn cocked a brow. “What does she have to say about that?”
Jack’s head jerked back and he speared Flynn with a glare. “Do you really want to go there?”
Keeping it cool, Flynn shook his head. “No, I just asked you a question.”
“She thinks she has no limits.”
Flynn burst out laughing and slapped Jack on the back. “You have my sympathy, man.” He opened the door and said, “Let’s brief the team, then get the hell out of here. All this money is making me rethink my chosen profession.”
Thirty minutes later they broke up and Jack found himself without a ride back to his car.
Pulling out his cell, he texted Stevie.
I’m stranded
Call a cab
No $
Liar
C’mon
I’m out running
You shouldn’t run and text it’s dangerous
Stop telling me what to do
You shouldn’t be running so late at night
See previous text
How long will you be?
I just started, at least an hour. Seriously, call a cab
Thanks for nothing
That’s what you get for butting into my business
You’re my business
Not
Flynn isn’t your business
He is if I want him to be
You don’t want him to be
How will I know until I try him?
What you’re trying is my patience
Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?
Take you over my knee and warm up that sweet little behind of yours
That almost sounds good
It’s better than good and u know it
Yes, Jack, you cornered my lust market for the last 7 years, but it’s time for me to move on and explore the world
I’m your world
You’re arrogant
No, I’m just right
Good night, Jack
Sweet dreams, Stevie
Jack shook his head, deciding not to push her, and called a cab.
Stevie shook her head, slid her cell into her sports bra, and continued her run down the winding foothill road that led from her house to town. The night had become warmer, the air heavier and unusually humid. She enjoyed the seclusion of her house high on the hill, and she liked the challenge of the winding road that led to it. Running kept her in better shape than a week in the gym. Like she had done hundreds of times before, she ran the three miles downhill in twenty minutes, barely breaking a sweat.
But what began as a measured jog to clear her head turned into an internal Jack bash.
A mad emotional dash to drive space between her and her demons. They were clearly labeled and clearly out to get her. Her libido didn’t give a rat’s ass what her brain wanted. Her heart didn’t either. Hell, the only part of her that wanted to resist Jack was her brain, and even that gelatinous organ found ways to justify giving in to his sexual persuasion.
And damn it she had!
Until she got the Jack effect settled in her heart, she would go on having difficulty focusing on her case. She had an in with Spoltori now and she didn’t want her Jack issues to cloud her judgment. There was no room for error where Spoltori was concerned. He was deadly. She needed to be fully focused. So she focused on the one thing that was impeding her.
Jack.
Jack who didn’t care what she wanted. She’d been very clear about backing off. Leaving her the hell alone. Did he respect her boundaries? No. He just showed up at her house and forced himself on her. Then stayed for dinner despite her insistence that he leave.
Her pace picked up as she headed back up the hill. No one ever considered what she wanted. Her fate had been etched into the Cavanaugh commandments the moment her father’s sperm impregnated her mother’s egg. She’d never been asked what she wanted. By anyone. Ever. Jack never cared what she wanted so long as it was what he wanted. To fuck. That’s all it was to him.
Hot tears stung her eyes. Angrily she swiped them away. She hadn’t wanted to accept his reason for not calling her or his apology, but she had. Because she knew it was sincere. She didn’t want him to be sincere! She didn’t want him to be jealous and possessive as he had been tonight. She didn’t know what to do with that Jack. It was easier not to believe him when he said he’d try not to break her heart again. It was easier not to allow him to charm his way back into her bed or her heart. It was the path of least resistance, because surrendering would get her hurt. Badly. She couldn’t handle a second time.
But what if it works this time?
After a half hour of running full-out, she wanted to scream her frustration. The devil was inside her and she couldn’t outrun herself.
Realizing she had run miles from her normal route into a narrow canyon road, she slowed in the darkness of the starless, humid night.
Bent over, inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, she blamed the stitch in her side on Jack. It was so easy. He was, after all, the source of all of her heartache.
He was deserving of her anger, too. She couldn’t let it all go, even with his apology, even accepting it.
Just a text. One lousy text while he was waiting for his luggage! How difficult would that have been?
She perched on the edge of the guardrail on the shoulder of the road to more fully catch her breath. Damn Jack; he’d thrown her off course in so many ways.
“Argh!” She threw her hands up into the air and stood. She was no closer to sorting out her Jack dilemma than she had been when she tied her laces and took her first step down the hill.
She stood still for a moment as she tried to center herself. The crickets chirped happily in the darkness as a rare breeze rustled through the poppies that were in full bloom along the r
oadside. Her muscles screamed and she dreaded the jog back home. She should have hit the treadmill.
As she turned back toward her house, the fine hair on the back of her neck rose. Sliding the cell phone from her bra, she frowned. No service. She wasn’t packing; she never did when she ran.
Still feeling vulnerable regarding the Jack effect, Stevie tried to shrug it off.
As she started to jog, she exhaled and picked up her pace, accepting what she’d been fighting: She was still in love with him, and until she knew without a doubt that there was no future for them as a couple, she couldn’t force him away. She wouldn’t just take pieces of him as they satisfied her whims, either. It was all or nothing for her, but she couldn’t say the same for Jack. At least not now.
She smiled slyly. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t give him the green light to fall in love with her. But she would be strategic this time, not look at him like a love-starved kitten. Because she knew that if Jackson Thornton was capable of settling down, she was the girl to settle him. Not collar and leash him; that he would never settle for, and she didn’t want a trained dog, she wanted a man, a partner, an equal. Someone who cared about what she wanted. Someone she trusted.
Smiling, she whooped and punched the air.
“Watch out, Jack Thornton, you have no idea what’s about to blindside you.”
Rejuvenated, she picked up her pace as she headed down the long, sweeping road. She could just hear the low rumbling sound of a car engine, somewhere behind her. Stevie moved faster, wondering who was up here this time of night.
For the second time since her run began, the hair spiked on the back of her neck. The rumbling grew louder. Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she squinted when the funneled tip of light speared the dark night as a vehicle crested the hill.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Quickly Stevie sprinted across the road to the outside shoulder, going against the flow of traffic. Unless the driver was blind, she was in no danger of being hit.
She continued her measured stride.
It instantly registered that the car had adjusted to her jog pace. She glanced over her shoulder again and caught her breath. The car had not only slowed to her pace, but had moved to her side of the road.