by Taylor Lee
It had been hard to tell her street-smart informant that the reason she couldn’t meet was because her overbearing commander had put her on desk duty. At her confession, Sly had been astonished and then gleeful. He’d crowed over the phone, “I knew it! I knew as soon as I met that hard-assed man that my little sweet cheeks was in for a lesson or two. Don’t try to fool Sly, sugar lips. That righteous dude has commander written all over him. I’m not surprised he’s put a leash on you. But knowing what a tiger you are, even that arrogant stud better know that he’s gonna need more than a leash to tame my little pussy cat.”
Remembering his elated conclusion, Viviana could only hope that Sly was right. She couldn’t imagine what he would say if he knew the truth about her and Jax. Their Belize experience was bad enough. But what had happened since he’d invaded her precinct and her life confirmed that a door she’d convinced herself had been closed was anything but. Dragging on her running shorts and halter, Viviana headed for Telegraph Pass, her most arduous running trail. She knew the only way that she could get control of the cement mixer churning in her gut was to physically challenge her body to the maximum. Even as she pounded up the steep rocky path, she couldn’t erase what had happened in Jax’s office from her teeming brain.
She didn’t know which image was most unnerving. The fact that he’d convinced her that they could be partners or his reference to their affair in Belize. Even now, she was astonished at his calmly asserting that they could work together and then proving it by literally giving her a blank check. She admitted that was a smart move on his part. Even though she’d given him the fewest details about her case as she could, he accepted her information at face value, assuming correctly that for once she was telling him the truth. With that one gesture, he’d concluded that that they were working together. She groaned, thinking how different it was with him than it had been with Captain Michels. Yes, her former Captain had also given her a blank check. The difference was that she never gave Captain Michels anything in return.
Reaching the top of the mile-high climb, Viviana stopped to catch her breath. Bending over, she placed her hands on her knees and sucked in one deep inhalation after another. When she had her breathing close to its normal rate, she allowed herself to think about the more challenging elements of their extraordinary conversation. She wondered how she could have made it through the meeting if Jax hadn’t poured them both several shots of scotch. The numbing properties of the potent alcohol had allowed her to acknowledge a couple of critical things. The most astonishing was when he implied, make that when he stated emphatically, that their Belize affair had affected him as powerfully as it had her. And from the pained expression on his face and the catch in his voice when he said it, it was clear that the experience was no farther from his mind than it was from hers.
Feeling her cell vibrate, she yanked it out of her shorts and saw Sly’s burner number on her caller ID. Punching it on, she heard his coded message. “Nine p.m. Usual. Will bring package. Bring yours or don’t come. Last chance.”
****
Dressed in one of her sluttiest outfits, Viviana made her way to the alley hideaway where she and Sly typically met. Her black wig, heavy makeup, and obsidian-colored contact lenses ensured that no one would recognize her. Turning down the sixth offer from cruising johns, she knew she’d achieved the required hooker look. She waited for what seemed like an eternity, but it was only twenty minutes past their meeting time when she heard Sly’s crooning voice. Pressing back against the pockmarked wall, she took out a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke to better study the pair approaching her.
Sly was as ostentatious as ever. His blond, synthetic wig hung in shiny waves down to the top of his curvy ass. The miniscule red satin sheath dress revealed his bodacious breasts and mile-long legs, made longer by the addition of shiny silver stilettos. Viviana had to admit her informant was one hot-looking babe and could have fooled the most street-smart john. She knew for a fact that Sly got multiple offers every night that he hit the streets. She chose not to ask him if he ever accepted any of the offers. When she’d pressed him on his potential activities, he’d always put her off, indicating that he wasn’t for sale but his “lovelies” were. Viviana had met a number of those “lovelies” and knew that Sly’s whores were tried and true longtimers. They’d likely been in the business when Viviana was still in junior high school.
Sly’s unusual moral code allowed him to pimp out his stable of whores without a twinge of guilt, considering it one of his most profitable lines of business. He’d told Viviana that he was a libertarian at heart. He believed that consenting adults could and should do anything with their bodies they damn well pleased. But, like Viviana, Sly was passionately opposed to underage prostitution. Indeed, in his bar owner persona he was actively involved in neighborhood initiatives for troubled street kids. Able to identify kids trying to pass as legal, he’d try to convince them to get help rather than refusing to serve them or throwing them out of his bar. He could spot a runaway like a blind python could sense a field mouse. He had enough contacts in the social services community to help a kid on the run find a group home or shelter for the night.
He was particularly on the alert for young girls and boys captured by the “dishonorable” pimps, as he called his competition who operated the kiddie strolls. Several of Viviana’s most publicized coups were breaking up underage prostitution rings with behind-the-scenes help from Sly.
Neither Sly nor Viviana had ever discussed the impetus for their passionate opposition to underage prostitution or child pornography. They both knew that the other was as strong an advocate as they could have. The fact that she was a hard-driving cop whose passion was bringing child abusers to justice and he was a well-placed pimp made them an unusual but powerful crusading team. Sly reveled in his doppelgänger personalities. He delighted in the fact that he was considered an upstanding businessman who associated with the elite of the community at the same time that he ran a successful string of prostitutes, many of whom serviced the upstanding gentlemen who frequented his club. Viviana’s ability to attract publicity like a forest fire sucking up air allowed Sly to raise a clandestine middle finger to the hoi polloi without undermining his position in the community. Together they ensured men and women who exploited young people paid dearly for their obscene practices.
Seeing the slender girl cowering behind Sly, Viviana fought to grab a decent breath of air. The heavy stage makeup and purple, green, and pink swaths of color in the girl’s unruly hair were no doubt intended to make her look older, more seasoned. Unfortunately the gaudy colors and flamboyant clothes only underscored how young and how fragile she was. Viviana was struck, as she always was, that grown men, often many years her senior, could look at a girl like this and not be embarrassed to exploit her. Indeed, many of the johns who preyed on young girls had daughters of their own. Some hideous disconnect in their brains, the switch that governed their consciences, apparently made it possible to see a nubile young girl as nothing more than a receptacle, a means to satisfy an illicit urge. Often this was the same man who would be horrified if a friend’s wife or daughter was raped or if that same friend mistreated a family pet. The inconsistency of the perpetrator’s abuse of young girls to his often sanctimonious everyday creed never ceased to amaze and anger Viviana. It was this incongruity that long ago she had declared that she would spend her life revealing and punishing.
Calling Viviana by her street name, Sly introduced her to the girl shrinking behind him. “Savannah, this is Ariel. We only have a few minutes to talk. I convinced Ariel to spend the night at St. Vincent’s halfway house. As you know, the sisters there close their doors at 10:00 p.m. I told Ariel that you are connected to people who can help her. That you are part of a team that goes after people who exploit young women like Ariel. I also told her that you will protect her and that no one, particularly her pimp, will know that she was your source of information.”
Seeing the young girl’s distrust, Viviana dro
pped the pretense and said, “Ariel, what Sly probably didn’t tell you is that I am a cop.” At the young girl’s horrified expression, she quickly added, “Not to worry. I tell you that because you need to know I can protect you. The reason I’m dressed like this is in case someone bad sees you with me. They’ll think I’m a streetwalker, one of Sly’s women.” Reaching for the young girl’s hand, Viviana persisted. “You need to listen to me, honey. I can make sure that the people who are taking advantage of you will pay a heavy price. But I need you to help me. Sly has told me what your pimp is doing. He said that you and other young girls are being forced to attend parties where older men take advantage of you. That they force you to have sex with them. Is that true?”
Either because Sly had laid the groundwork as well as he had or the young girl was simply as exhausted as she looked, fifteen minutes later, Ariel had given Viviana a treasure trove of information. She described limousines pulling up in front of the rundown patio home where she and nine other young girls lived in virtual captivity. The windows on the ostentatious automobiles were tinted from the inside, making it impossible for the girls to know where they were going. She told her how their pimp prepared them for the night’s activities. He insisted that they wear costumes. Sometimes they were dressed as schoolgirls, other times like seasoned streetwalkers. He also made them take “vitamins,” that from Ariel’s description of how they made her feel, were likely Ecstasy laced with H to amp up the reaction.
When it looked as though the young girl had said all she was going to, Sly interjected. “Ariel, tell the officer about some of the men who are at the parties.”
When Ariel frowned and shook her head, Sly said, “Remember how you told me about the two gray-haired men who took you at the same time? They called each other ‘Counselor,’ correct?”
When Ariel nodded, Viviana said, “Did you hear any other names?”
Ariel shrugged. “Several people called this one big man ‘Judge’ and another man, the one who liked to use whips, they called a funny name. I think it was Herman.”
Several hours later, after Sly ensured that Ariel was safely ensconced at the St. Vincent’s shelter, he and Viviana met at Flemings in their street clothes. Easily reverting to his proper name, Viviana was bursting with excitement. Ducking her head to contain her eagerness, she murmured, “God, Francis, do you realize that we may have uncovered our biggest scandal yet? Even ignoring the fact that from Ariel’s casual mention of whips and other toys we may be on to a circle of prominent men with, shall we say, unusual tastes, we also know that at the very least there is a judge or two in the group, as well as a number of lawyers.”
Francis snorted. “Not to mention that the only Herman I know is Herman Gladney, who happens to be the CEO of the largest financial services firm in the state of California.” Francis’s eyes twinkled. “I may have another bomb to throw your way, intrepid investigator. Herman Gladney, a judge matching Ariel’s description, and a particular district attorney who could be one of the ‘counselors’ she referred to all have something else in common.”
At Viviana’s impatient gesture, he said with a silky smile, “They all happen to be members of the mayor’s advisory group. You know, the group that Deidre Cummings and your righteous boss belong to. By the way, sugar lips, the word among the informed indicate that your boss and the dark-haired viper are a ‘thing.’ In fact, according to Frank Reynolds, your commander is more than a little acquainted with the long-legged, dark-haired beauty who’s rumored to have interesting sexual proclivities.”
Chapter 17
As if the earth had opened up and swallowed her into a churning vortex, Viviana fought for equilibrium. Seeing her consort’s concerned expression, she knew that she likely looked as devastated as she felt. Not surprising, given how well he knew her, Francis didn’t pretend ignorance. “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me that my sugar lips, the cocktease of all cockteasers, has fallen under the compelling spell of her hard-assed commander?”
When Viviana just shook her head but found it impossible to reply, Francis’s concern deepened. “Look, Viviana, I’m pulling your chain. All I know is that Ms. ‘I’m the most beautiful and sexiest woman in the world’ has set her cap for the righteous commander. Whether it’s all in her head or he’s as smitten as she implies, I don’t know.” When Viviana couldn’t rev up enough spit in her mouth to answer him, Francis waved a dismissive hand. “Look, sweet cheeks, it’s probably nothing. You have to know that your commander is as hot a badass as I’ve ever seen. Hell, if anyone could lure me to walk that side of the street, it would be him. Not surprising that every woman in the city is looking for a way to get arrested.”
When Viviana just shook her head and didn’t smile at his stupid joke, Francis changed the subject. “I grant you, considering whether Deidre has convinced your sex-on-a-stick commander to sample her wares is scintillating. However, it isn’t nearly as important as the fact that several of the men in her inner circle could be participants in what may be the most prominent gang of asshole perverts you and I have ever uncovered.”
Doing her best to respond in kind and not let Sly see how much his off-hand revelation had upset her, Viviana aimed for nonchalance. Yanking the blank check out of her pocket, she asked how much she owed him. Filling in the amount, she handed the check to him. Francis’s eyes widened when he saw the signature on the bottom of the check.
“Hmm, I’m beginning to see a potential problem. Please tell me that just because Commander Hughes gave you a blank check—presumably to pay off your snitch—doesn’t mean that he knows who I am.”
Viviana shook her head and said with a sigh, “I had to tell him something, so I revealed your madam identity. You need to understand, Francis, this guy is on me like ugly on an orangutan. Jesus God, he actually put me on desk duty! He forbade me to leave the office for the whole day. And he would have kept me there until I gave him a blow-by-blow description of the cases I’m working. For what it’s worth, when I told him that I might have a bead on a prostitution ring that’s pimping underage girls and that my CI required payment for information, he whipped out a blank check and gave it to me.”
“Jesus, Vivi, desk duty? I still can’t get over that one. That dude’s got to have balls the size of Jupiter.” At Viviana’s heartfelt groan, Francis relented. “Okay, sweet cheeks, I can see your dilemma, make that our dilemma. Obviously the guy is not a pushover.” He added with a frown, “It too fucking bad you drove Captain Michels to the old folk’s home. My question is this. Can you give the commander enough information to keep him off your tail without compromising our op? Christ, Viv, we may be on to the crime of the century. We can’t let some interfering guy who thinks he’s your boss fuck things up. All I can say, sweet cheeks, is that you need to be the one holding the leash, not him.” Francis scrubbed at his chin, then blurted, “Hell, if he truly is interested in Deidre and she’s as kinky as everyone says, she could be inducting him into the ring of perverts!”
Viviana snorted derisively. “First, we don’t know if Deidre is involved in the ring of perverts, as you rightfully called them. The chances of that are remote, to say the least.” Even as she said it, Viviana had a thought. What if the haughty bitch was involved in the group they were investigating? But the more she thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed. First, Ariel didn’t mention any women at the parties except for the prostitutes. Even Viviana had to admit that the stunning Ms. Cummings would be hard to miss. She realized that she had to get away from Francis. He knew her too well for her to dissemble. She needed to be alone to work through the bombshell news that Ariel had given them, not to mention trying to come to grips with the gut-wrenching possibility that Jax was actually seeing that awful Deidre Cummings.
****
Jax glanced at his watch for what seemed like the twentieth time since he arrived home. It was already close to midnight, probably too late to call his troublesome sergeant. Even thinking of her in those terms underscored the fact that no matter how he couche
d it, calling her was not the same as checking in with another member of his squad. Hell, he’d call O’Reilly or Jenkins at three in the morning if he needed a question answered. He wouldn’t give it a second thought. But even as he considered it, he couldn’t compare calling Viviana with checking in with Travis Jensen.
Breathing a hard sigh, Jax relived their remarkable morning meeting. Remembering taking her hands in his and not letting her turn away, the memory of her luminous azure eyes brimming with unshed tears tore at his heart. Throughout the day and evening, that poignant scene rarely left his mind. Rather, it skittered from one corner of his brain to the next, always managing to settle just below his consciousness. He still had a hard time believing that he’d essentially confessed he was still madly in love with her. Hell, why hadn’t he just said it? Instead he’d suggested blandly that they put their torrid affair on the back burner and deal with it at a later time. He snorted. Back burner? Right! Great advice. Too bad he couldn’t take it.
Pouring himself another shot of Maker’s Mark, Jax rose to his feet and began pacing the deck on his upscale condominium. Leaning against the railing, he acknowledged that it was a beautiful night. Myriad stars lit the sky with twinkling light. The sliver of a crescent moon darted playfully from behind the airy clouds that tried unsuccessfully to dim its shining light. It was the kind of dark, quiet night that he’d always craved, where he could focus on the things that were right with his life. He shook his head, admitting that since Belize those blessedly tranquil nights were but a memory. No, instead of peace, the mysterious night only reminded him of the churning emptiness he felt. It was a void that he was beginning to admit could only be filled with one thing, make that one brash, beautifully sexy woman.