Busting In (Busted Series Book 1)

by Vanessa M. Knight

  Busting In

  Vanessa M. Knight

  Busting In

  Copyright © 2018 by Vanessa M Knight

  Published by Inked Publishing

  Cover Design by Najla Qamber Designs

  Edited by Nancy Canu

  Busting In… is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations for use in critical articles or reviews.

  ISBN: 978-0-9971838-4-9

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Extras

  Busting Out

  About the Author

  Other Books by Vanessa

  To my readers. I keep writing because you keep reading. I love you all!

  One

  Jessi Xu tried to get lost in the soft hum of Green Day singing about the forgotten from her computer, but not even the calming piano ballad could stifle the urge to throw the desk phone out the window. Every time the darn thing rang, dread twisted in her chest. She was so going to get fired. On her first day. Who got fired on their first day? Twenty-six years old and she couldn’t keep a job. Fantastic. She was one phone call away from living with her mother forever.

  Riiinnggg.

  Jessi took a deep breath and picked up the handset for the demon-phone. The light blinked as it rang again. She clicked the little button next to the blinking light, fingers twitching. “Busted Detective Agency. How may I help you?”

  “You cannot hang up on me again.” The deep baritone voice on the other end would be sexy if he wasn’t yelling at her. Then again, she couldn’t really blame him since she had hung up on him before. Probably more than once. Him and a host of other people. In her defense, the damn phone system was older than dirt and broken.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It’s my first day.”

  He sighed. “Okay. Can you put me through to Maggie? Don’t hang up this time.”

  “Sure.” She hoped. She clicked the transfer button and then Maggie’s name on the phone. Hitting transfer again, she disconnected the line and sighed as the light next to the caller flicked off. She’d lost another call.

  This damn phone. Her mom might have been right. She should just work at the ashram.

  Maggie Lane, one of Jessi’s new bosses walked, out from the back office. “Everything okay?”

  Just what she needed, getting caught dealing with the dropped-call monster. “Fine and dandy.” Fine and dandy. Who says that? Maybe she should confess. “I’ve had a lot of problems transferring.” Which might be an understatement.

  “Damn phone.” Maggie echoed the words Jessi had on repeat in her head all morning and heaved a sigh. “Press transfer, select the name, then wait for the line to click over. It’s important to wait for the click. It can take a few seconds. Then hit transfer again and wait for the beep. The buttons stick, so make sure you hear a beep before you hang up.”

  “Sure.” Shit. She’d forgot about the beep. How many people had she hung up on so far? Ten. More. Maybe she deserved to be fired.

  Don’t even think like that. She’d end up working the front desk at her mother’s latest obsession. It wasn’t a horrible place, but it was so quiet and still. She’d never get to listen to her music and they didn’t believe in caffeine. Who didn’t believe in caffeine?

  “We were thinking about getting some coffee. Interested?” Speaking of caffeine.

  “Sure. Where do I go?” This was the part she hated. She worked the front desk. So naturally, she’d be the one to go out for coffee. She’d spent the past six years of college being the fetch-it girl for everyone from a hedge-fund manager to the manager of a coffee shop.

  Why the coffee shop needed someone to go fetch, she would never understand. Although most people couldn’t understand how she was still in college after six years, so who was she to judge life’s mysteries?

  But here she was again. The Caffeine Retriever. Ruff. Ruff.

  Maggie shook her head, making her blonde hair shimmy. “Actually, it’s my turn to run. Leti runs the first thing in the morning, I run in the afternoon, and Danni takes the evening shift if we’re around. The rule is, whoever flies, doesn’t buy. If you want to run to the coffee shop, I’ll buy your cup.”

  Wait, what? They didn’t expect her to pick up their coffee or dry cleaning or condoms or pregnancy kits? The pregnancy kit was one of the more interesting purchases she’d had to make. Try explaining that to Mom. It’s not my pregnancy kit, it’s for my boss. Her mom totally hadn’t bought it. She’d watched Jessi’s stomach for over year, waiting for a bun to rise in the oven. And don’t even get her started on when her mom found the condoms. Jessi still found pamphlets on why abstinence was a journey, not a destination.

  Jessi pulled her runaway thoughts to a stop. “I can run. Do you care which shop I go to?” She and her mom lived less than a mile away, in a small third-story walk up. She’d tried all the coffee shops in the area, since their Humboldt Park neighborhood wasn’t hip enough for an actual Starbucks.

  “Not at all. Afternoon coffee time,” Maggie yelled as she turned and headed toward the back office. The brains behind Busted Detective Agency sat in the desks in the back, behind the wall, while Jessi sat in front answering the demon phone and greeting the occasional walk-in.

  It wasn’t a bad little office. The front desk faced a bank of windows. A Christmas tree stood in the corner—which was odd, seeing it was the middle of March. A few metal chairs sat in quasi waiting room style. All they needed was a side table with some magazines and they’d have a full-on waiting room. But since the walk-ins were few-and-far-between, Maggie had assured Jessi entertainment wasn’t necessary.

  “Here are the coffee orders and some money.” Maggie handed her two twenties with a Post-it wrapped around them.

  Jessi looked over the little square of paper. Coffee black. Yuck. Double shot espresso. Caramel cappuccino. “What size?”

  A laugh came from the back, and a redhead wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants over Ren and Stimpy slippers walked into the front. Danielle Stein. “There is only one size when it comes to coffee—and that size is the largest they have.” Her long hair was tied up with some kind of computer cord, which made sense since she was the resident computer specialist.

  “Amen. No matter what they call it— Grande, Venti, extra-large, jumbo—we want the biggest.” The third and final partner came into the waiting area. Leticia Ramirez. Dark brown hair and permanently sun-kissed skin, wearing a tight dress that showed off the kind of curves Jessi could only dream of. She was the numbers behind the operation. A forensic accountant—a job Jessi didn’t know existed until today.

  The biggest coffee available. Three times a day. They’d all need another job just to pay for their caffeine habit. Not that Jessi was judging. She swore she’d funded the Taylor Street Starbuck’s remodel before she lost her last job. However, when you’re unemployed, Starbuck’s coffee becomes a luxury you can’t afford. Especially when Mom pays your bills and doesn’t believe in caffeine.

  Like caffeine was something that could be ignored.

  Danni nodded, watching Jessi’s face. “We work long nights.”

  “No
judgement.” Okay there might have been a little bit of judgement, but three giant coffees a day? Her mother would freak out if Jessi drank that much.

  Maggie opened a drawer in Jessi’s desk and took out a camera and a roll of film. “I have to get to a stakeout in thirty. Can you get back by then?” Jessi nodded, and Maggie fiddled with the back of the camera, fitting the roll of film into place. Where did you even buy stuff like that anymore? Wasn’t everything digital?

  “Why do you use that relic?” Danni asked, putting Jessi’s thoughts into words. “I have a guy that can get you a professional digital camera. No chemicals. Great focus.”

  “I told you I’d think about it.” Maggie slapped the camera shut.

  “Which in Maggie lingo means no.” Leti crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clicking her heels against the peeling vinyl floor.

  “Technology doesn’t bite.” Easy for Danni to say, she was some sort of tech genius. For those struggling to get the phone to work, like Jessi? She felt like shark-chaw.

  Maggie glared at her partners. Apparently, she felt like the chum in the water, too. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Wow.” Danni’s eyebrows shot up. “Maybe Jessi should pick you up two cups. If you’re this cranky already, how will you last at an all-night stakeout?”

  “What are you complaining about?” Leti pulled away from the wall. “I’m the one who’s going to be with her all night.” She disappeared into the back room.

  “I’ll manage.” Maggie lifted her finger in an obscene gesture aimed at both women.

  Leti didn’t say anything, which left Danni to respond with the same obscene gesture and a laugh. She turned to Jessi and switched to a thumbs-up. “By the way, great music.”

  Jessi smiled. She loved her music. And the fact that she could listen to it all day—despite the demon phone—might make this the perfect job. Her bosses were fun. And even with the gestures and the nagging, these women cared about each other. And she was one of them now.

  She opened the bottom desk drawer, dragging out her oversized purse. After sliding her jacket on, she walked through the back and out the door. Her first excursion for her new bosses. Coffee. How hard could it be?

  Lorenzo Antonio Borelli—Enzo to everyone but his mother—passed under the steel Puerto Rican flag welcoming him to Chicago’s Little Puerto Rico. Parking down the block and walking was the price you paid for good coffee and good food. And the coffee shop on Division Street was the best in the city. He’d earned it.

  So far, it had been a hell of a day. He’d won his first case since the whole Markham disaster, hunted down a signature for a court order, and tried to get a hold of his law firm’s usual private investigator.

  Two out of three wasn’t bad, but three out of three would have been better.

  Getting the PI on the phone was supposed to be the easy part. Enzo had been working with Maggie at Busted for a few months and her firm was usually top-notch, which was why he liked working with them. Too bad the woman at the front desk couldn’t seem to understand how to use a phone.

  He just needed to bite that bullet and make a trip over to the Busted office—it was only a few blocks away. But his boss needed the signed affidavit by four. And if it wasn’t in by four, Enzo would be looking for a new job.

  So, no detour for him—other than this coffee-slash-food run—but a man had to eat. Once he finished with the affidavit though, he was coming back here. He needed Maggie’s help. Tonight. He needed a date. Not a real date. But someone on his arm so he could get inside the house of a local politician and blend.

  The rich aroma of crushed coffee beans and sugar hit him in the gut as he opened the door to the little shop. His stomach actually growled. Wasn’t surprising. He’d forgotten to eat lunch today between the delivering and the calling and the...

  Ding.

  The damn phone wouldn’t stop dinging. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but it was one of the law partner’s admins looking for a status. You lose one piece of evidence and screw up one case and all of a sudden you can’t be trusted to get an affidavit signed. Damn Markham case. Getting signed affidavits was usually left for the interns or admins, but this was Enzo’s punishment—menial tasks and outrageous deadlines to complete them.

  “Welcome to Café Colao.” The young woman behind the counter said the words, but his fingers were texting the updated status. He managed to refrain from telling the admin he still had an hour until the affidavit would be considered late, though.

  He should get some sort of medal for that.

  He didn’t want to be a dick. He liked his job. He liked the admins. He didn’t mind how crazy things got or that everyone in the office was always checking and double-checking—which meant his phone sounded like a bell choir all day—every day. But he needed five minutes to get coffee. He wasn’t asking for much.

  He didn’t think so, anyway.

  “Hi. Uh, sir, do you want to order or what?” The girl behind the counter glared. Apparently, she was pissed he wasn’t asking for anything.

  “Yeah, sorry. Large black coffee with cream, and a guava cheese pastry, please.” He handed her the cash and walked over to the pick-up counter. This was one thing he was going to miss while he was in New York. He was pretty sure they had pastry in the Big Apple, but nothing that could compare to the Puerto Rican Danish stuffed with cream cheese and guava. There was so much going on in just the description, it was going to be hard to find anything even close.

  “Sir, your change.”

  “Keep it.” He moved away from the counter so he could lean against the wall, and took out his cell phone. The place was slammed for an early afternoon. Baristas ran around blending, shaking, and foaming. Customers sat around at tables making the room hum.

  Despite the hum, Enzo couldn’t stop from looking up when the front door slammed open with a thud. Like a microburst, a woman spun in the door. Literally. She shoved the door open with her back and twirled into the room. Her giant purse spiraled to the ground, and the contents scattered and bounced on the entry mat.

  Did he mention the giant purse? What was she carrying in there? Oh wait, he could see it all on the floor. Makeup and hair bands and…was that a shirt?

  No one else seemed to notice, not even when she said, “Shit.” Loudly. Conversations didn’t stop as she crawled under an empty bistro table by the door, her butt in the air, to rescue a tube of something and throw it back in the bag. He wanted to turn away—it would have been the gentlemanly thing to do—but the sway of her hips was seriously hypnotic. It made him want to drop to his knees and help. With anything she needed.

  After scooping everything up, she tried to stand, and smacked her head into the table. “Shit,” came from a gorgeous mouth.

  Enzo pulled away from the wall, intending to help, but she bobbled upright, steadying herself on the table she’d hit. Slamming her hand through her hair, her eyes roamed the room before she walked up to the counter.

  Now that she was standing, he could actually see her. Black hair. Pale taupe skin. She wasn’t as tall as his six feet, maybe five foot seven. She was cute, but definitely not his type. The women he dated generally towered over him, since models tended to be tall. Not that he’d done all that much dating lately.

  Not that he wanted to date a giant-purse-wielding microburst.

  “Welcome to Café Colao.”

  “Uh.” The woman stared at the barista behind the register. Apparently, that was the only thing that registered, given the distracted way her hands roamed the interior of her purse.

  “Are you going to order?”

  “Yeah.” The woman grabbed her long black hair and swung it so it fell down her back. “It’s here somewhere.” She plopped her bag on the counter and poked around inside, frowning. Turning around, she looked at the floor, bending down and shaking her head. “Shit.” She faced the counter and attempted a smile. “So, umm… I need coffee.”

  “Don’t we all.” The barista nodded at the extensive menu o
n the wall. “What kind would you like?”

  The woman stared at her purse and sighed. “Coffee, black. Uh, double-shot espresso. And a caramel...”

  “Cappuccino?” the barista asked after a pause.

  “Yeah.” The woman nodded. “That’s it. And, oh yeah, the biggest size on all of those.” She handed the barista the money, took her change, and threw it inside the bag before walking toward the pickup counter. Her foot hit the lip of the rug and her bag almost flew from her arms. Again.

  Enzo leaned forward to stop her from taking a face plant into the rug, but before he could catch her in a daring rescue, she recovered her bag and righted herself.

  “Are you okay?” He probably shouldn’t have asked, but it was habit. And the glare she shot him told him she didn’t appreciate his concern. Then again, no one liked attention when they fumbled.

  “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t drop everything in my bag all over the floor.”

  “I did do that.” Her brown eyes dipped before rising to meet his. Brown eyes. No. Not just brown. From here he could see the golden flecks along the edges. They were beautiful. Even if they were now glaring at him. Again. “Did you get a good look?”

  “Not really.” He shook his head. “Is that your overnight bag?”

  She hiked the bag higher on her shoulder. “It’s a purse.”

  “Then why do you have clothes in there?”

  “I thought you didn’t get a good look.”

  “Maybe not a good look, but I have eyes.”

  The baristas called out names, and the people in the coffee shop floated around them. It was a little like those romantic comedies. The world melted away and they were the only two here. At least it felt that way to Enzo.