Jacked Up! (A Lt. Jack Daniels/Leah Ryan Mystery)
Page 7
Drinking with police officers wasn’t something I wanted to make a habit of, but I agreed because Jack insisted it was important. So I drove my rental to a place called Joe’s Pool Hall and was enjoying a Goose Island Bourbon Country Stout, which was recommended to me by the cute bartender.
He tried to flirt. I kept a poker face. But the beer was amazing.
I sipped my Goose Island, enjoying the rich texture of the beer as it slid over my tongue and down my throat. Almost like chocolate liqueur. My body ached from the ordeal it had been through the day before, but overall, I was feeling okay. I was on the right side of the dirt, and that was good enough for me.
Jack walked in looking like she stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Long trench coat, tailored slacks, and a fitted black blouse. Her chestnut hair bounced around her shoulders, silky and shiny. Unlike mine, which seemed to be perpetually wild and messy.
I cracked a grin at her. “Lieutenant. Nice to see you. And I actually mean that.”
“Same here,” she said, returning my smile. She sat next to me at the bar and began to study the tap handles.
“This Bourbon County Stout is good.”
“Yeah it is. But it’s fifteen percent alcohol, and I’m driving.”
Fifteen percent? I decided it was my new favorite beer. Jack ordered a Sam Adams Hallertau Imperial Pilsner. Then she appraised me.
“You look pretty rough.”
“I always look pretty rough.”
Jack raised her glass. “You wear it well.”
I clinked mine. “Thank you. I do try.”
“You didn’t do too badly at the hotel, Ryan. You helped bring down two very nasty bad guys. Albeit, not in a completely legal way.”
I watched her, taking a long pull off my beer, waiting for the shoe to drop. “I did my best. If you want to bust me for that, I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”
“Easy. I’m not here to squeeze you. I just wanted to tell you that we found a bunch of movies at Teddy’s apartment. Sex movies.”
I felt my blood churn and my hands clenched into fists on the table top. “Those fucking scumbags.”
“Your name was on one of the DVDs.”
Of course there was a video of me with him. I wondered if it had made it to the Internet. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. My stomach rolled in disgust. “Shit.”
Jack pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to me.
A DVD.
“I don’t know if there are copies, but we confiscated everything, and it won’t get out. I also had my tech guys check his computer usage log. Teddy hadn’t uploaded anything to the Internet for two days. I think you’re in the clear.”
I actually reached over and touched her arm. “Jack, thank you. Honestly.”
“You’re welcome.”
I wondered if she’d watched it. Then I wondered if I’d ever watch it.
Hell no. I didn’t even want to think about it. I picked up the DVD and snapped it in half.
We were quiet for a long moment, watching a group of young girls flirt with the bartender. He had an easy smile and ate up the attention, thanking them for the tip. It would be a long time before I picked up another bartender. No matter how cute he was.
Then he caught me watching and winked, and I felt myself smile back.
Well, maybe not a long time. Can’t paint all bartenders with the same brush, after all.
“It’s a crazy world, isn’t it, Jack?”
“That it is.”
I tilted my beer and finished the last mouthful. I had to get going. I had a healthy ration of shit waiting for me when I saw Callahan. He didn’t like when I almost got dead during jobs.
“I gotta jet. Plane to catch.”
Jack finished her beer and stood. “Take care, Leah.”
“You too. Stay safe. I owe you one.”
“You’d better believe it.”
We were walking out the door and Jack hung back, having spotted a rugged, good-looking bald guy who stood at the bar.
“See you at the trial,” she told me.
Then she gave the bald guy a nod and approached him, a smile on her face. He motioned toward the pool tables at the back of the pub. I wondered what their story was. Friends? Something more?
Which made me once again question my life. I thought about my on-again-off-again relationship with Callahan. My platonic friendship with Jackson. And I suddenly felt bitch-slapped by the lonelies.
I turned my back on the happy couple and walked out the door.
As I breathed in the chill air, feeling like the last one picked for the softball team, I headed into the parking lot. A strong, sudden breeze lifted my hair and swept through the branches, making a flurry of leaves dance down around me.
Winter would come soon. And I’d spend it alone.
As I got into the rented Focus, my cell rang. I dug it out of my jacket pocket. “This is Leah.”
“Where are you?” It was Harry McGlade.
“A place called Joe’s Pool Hall.”
“I’m not far away. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“I have to go back home, Harry.”
“Meet me in front. It’s important. Trust me. It’s a surprise.”
I could imagine his idea of a surprise. But he did save my life, so I said I’d wait. I got out of the car and stood in the cold. Alone.
I was glad I did when a purple Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of me.
“Holy shit, Harry!” I beamed.
He put it in park, got out, and walked to me. “I had the trunk cleaned. Doesn’t even smell too bad.” Then he winked. “Ever do it in a Rolls?”
I bit my lower lip and shook my head. Harry opened the door for me, and I saw an unopened pack of fifty latex gloves on the passenger seat. I started to laugh.
“Got condoms, too,” he said. “But didn’t know if you wanted to try those for old time’s sake.”
I gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder.
“Let’s start with a beer and go from there,” I said, and climbed into the car.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Joe Konrath is the author of more than twenty novels and dozens of shorter works in the mystery, thriller, horror, and science fiction genres. He’s sold over a two million books worldwide, and besides Tracy Sharp he’s collaborated with bestsellers Blake Crouch, Barry Eisler, Ann Voss Peterson, Henry Perez, Tom Schreck, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson. He likes beer, pinball machines, and playing pinball when drinking beer. www.jakonrath.com
Tracy Sharp grew up in a small mining town in Northern Ontario, Canada, where there wasn’t much to do except dress warmly and write stories to entertain herself. She is fond of horror movies, thrilling novels, bellowing out her favorite songs in the car, iced coffee, flamethrowers and Slinkies. She lives in Upstate NY with her family.
ALSO BY TRACY SHARP
Leah Ryan Series
Repo Chick Blues
Finding Chloe
Dirty Business
Other Novels
Camilla
Soul Trade
Spooked
ALSO BY J.A. KONRATH
Jack Daniels Thrillers
Whiskey Sour
Bloody Mary
Rusty Nail
Dirty Martini
Fuzzy Navel
Cherry Bomb
Shaken
Stirred (with Blake Crouch)
Last Call (with Blake Crouch)
Shot of Tequila
Banana Hammock
Jack Daniels Stories (collected stories)
Serial Killers Uncut (with Blake Crouch)
Suckers (with Jeff Strand)
Planter’s Punch (with Tom Schreck)
Floaters (with Henry Perez)
Truck Stop (short)
Flee (with Ann Voss Peterson)
Spree (with Ann Voss Peterson)
Three (with Ann Voss Peterson)
Hit (with Ann Voss Peterson)
; Exposed (with Ann Voss Peterson)
Naughty (with Ann Voss Peterson)
Babe on Board (short with Ann Voss Peterson)
With a Twist (short)
Street Music (short)
Jacked Up! (with Tracy Sharp)
Racked (with Jude Hardin)
Other Works
Symbios
Timecaster
Timecaster Supersymmetry
Wild Night is Calling (short with Ann Voss Peterson)
Shapeshifters Anonymous (short)
The Screaming (short)
Afraid (writing as Jack Kilborn)
Endurance (writing as Jack Kilborn)
Trapped (writing as Jack Kilborn)
Haunted House (writing as Jack Kilborn)
Draculas (with Blake Crouch, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson)
Origin
The List
Disturb
65 Proof (short story omnibus)
Crime Stories (collected stories)
Horror Stories (collected stories)
Dumb Jokes & Vulgar Poems
A Newbie’s Guide to Publishing
Be the Monkey (with Barry Eisler)
Grandma? (with Talon Konrath)
JACKED UP!
Copyright © 2013 by Joe Konrath and Tracy Greene
Cover and art copyright © 2013 by Carl Graves
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the authors.
September 2013