by Wendi Zwaduk
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
When You’re With Me
ISBN # 978-0-85715-917-5
©Copyright Wendi Zwaduk 2012
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright March 2012
Edited by Stacey Birkel
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.
This story contains 146 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.
WHEN YOU’RE WITH ME
Wendi Zwaduk
A topless dancer plus a cynical cop doesn’t equal a lifetime love…or does it?
There’s more to Jude Nelson than just a sequined thong. She has big dreams of becoming an artist. There’s one tiny wrinkle in her plan—she’ll never forget the bloody image of her friend’s battered body in the dumpster.
Who can a nude dancer turn to for help? Certainly not a hardened undercover cop…
Detective Drew Alwyn is on the case to find out who murdered his good friend and fellow officer. But the moment he sees Jude, he can’t look away. He has to decide which is more important-his dedication to his job or the girl who holds his bruised and battered heart.
Will these two opposites come together to solve the case or will their desire consume them?
Dedication
N—for making me get this book back out after I’d shelved it.
E—for reading it when it was the first rough draft.
A—always good to have a lawyer in the house.
SB—for having faith in me and being fantastic.
JPZ—when you’re with me, I feel like I can do anything. I love you.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Nissan: Nissan Motor Co. Ltd.
Dodge Neon: Chrysler Group, LLC
S-10: General Motors
Korn: Creative Artists Agency
Beatles: Apple Corps, Ltd.
Superman: DC Comics
Harley: H-D Michigan, LLC
Kia: Kia Motors America, Inc.
Velcro: Velcro Industries, B.V.
Formica: The Diller Corporation
Popsicle: Unilever
Prologue
“Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency.”
Jude hugged her knees and rocked on the floor of her art studio. Instead of the art supplies, all she saw was the vision from behind the club earlier. Her hands trembled as she clutched her cell phone. The memory of the blood, the smell… Her stomach lurched and bile filled her mouth.
“Nine-one-one. Your emergency, please?”
“I’d like to report a murder.” Jude blinked and drew a long breath into her lungs. She needed to calm down or she’d never make it through the call. Tears burned behind her eyes. She shouldn’t have been in hiding. She needed to be right there with her friend.
“Okay, can you give me the location?”
“Thirteen hundred Broadway. Behind the Silver Steel.”
“Silver Steel gentlemen’s club?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and once again the vision gripped her. She’d only been asked to dump Astra’s things. Astra ran off to Vegas with Slade. She’s not coming back. Just pitch her trash. She bit back the sour taste of vomit in her mouth. Tiny had never asked her to dump trash before. That was Corey’s job.
“Ma’am?”
“I’m sorry.” Jude cleared her throat. The best thing to do was just to explain what she’d seen. “I took out the garbage behind the club and, when I opened the compactor, there was a hand.”
“A hand?”
Jude nodded. How in the world did the dispatcher manage to stay so calm? “Yes. My friend Astra Devlin and her boyfriend Slade McMann were supposed to have gone to Vegas, but they didn’t.”
“And how do you know, ma’am?”
“Because it was her hand in the compactor.” Jude rocked back and forth. The vision of the hand remained crisp in her mind—bloody and reaching towards the opening to the compactor. The smell of rot and decay held fast as well. Her stomach lurched again.
“We’ve got a unit on the way. Can you give me your name?”
Her name? Oh shit. Jude trembled. If she gave her name, her boss would know who had alerted the cops. If she’d been confident enough to tell them her name, she’d never have run from the scene straight to the safety of her studio.
She stared at her cell phone, unsure of what to do.
“Ma’am?”
Jude snapped the phone shut and gave it a fling across the room. If the cops wanted her badly enough, they’d no doubt find her. She’d seen enough crime dramas to know the police had a lot of tricks for finding people.
Just as long as her boss didn’t find out. If he remained in the dark, she’d be safe.
If.
Chapter One
“I need a lover who will drive me crazy in all the right ways…”
Detective Drew Alwyn tapped his pen to the beat of the song in his head while he waited for Lieutenant Wallace to begin the briefing session.
In his twelve years with the Carrington Falls Police Department in Ohio, Drew had never imagined being alone. Wasn’t a cop supposed to have a good woman to come home to? The next time he walked into his apartment, a wilted spider plant would offer the only comfort, and Drew wasn’t the type to talk to greenery.
The scent of day-old coffee and industrial cleaner wafted into the cramped, grey discussion room. Drew rubbed his stomach to quell the rumbling. Coffee sounded awful, but a sandwich sounded so good—something with roast beef and cheese. When had he eaten last? The club sandwich at eleven-thirty. He flicked his wrist to check the time on his thick watch. Five-fifteen. Damn.
He grabbed the bottle of soda from his backpack and uncapped it, then took a long draw. The sugar wouldn’t quiet his hunger, but the caffeine would keep him awake when he ventured on duty in an hour. He took a pen from his notebook, clicked the button at the top and began doodling. The sound of conversation in the hallway did nothing to take his mind off the undercover operation or the death of his friend and colleague, Sergeant Randy McCall.
Drew’s partner, a bear of a red-haired man named James Mateo, strolled into the room and sat down in the closest chair. “You ready for this one?”
Drew looked up from his sketch. “This one what? We knew the bastard couldn’t stay underground for long. We just gotta prove he’s the one who took McCall down and put him in the dumpster.” He shuddered thinking about the photos of Randy hacked up and left to rot behind the gentlemen’s
club.
James crossed his legs and flipped open his notepad. “True. Randy was one hell of an officer, even if he chose the damn stupid name of Slade as a cover. Tiny’s always looking to make a quick buck. You think he’s shaking down the girls? It was a stroke of genius to send you and Nester in as customers. You know the lay of the so-called land and Tiny thinks you’re clean. As clean as a bouncer in a strip club can be.”
Drew added some details to his drawing and frowned. The woman in the sketch had begun to take on the features of the elusive female from down the hallway in his decoy apartment building. The soft-spoken brunette with the sparkling ice-blue eyes. The girl who lugged the enormous art portfolio down to the parking lot each morning. The one whose smile warmed his heart on the coldest evenings. The one woman he wanted to get to know better, preferably naked…and she had no idea.
He ground his teeth together. With this new undercover operation, any meeting with the sweet-natured female was out of the question. At least, not under the pretence of the truth.
“Is she your new girlfriend?”
Drew crinkled his brows. “No. I can’t get with her.”
James elbowed Drew’s ribs. “Why the hell not? If she’s as hot as your scribble there, then you’d better hit that.”
Drew shook his head. “I can’t get involved while undercover. You know the rules as well as I do. Plus, if Carlie found out she’d kill me.”
James slapped the pad on the wooden desk. “Bullshit. She walked away from you to screw around with Troy Balleswicz over in Vice. She doesn’t deserve your second chances. So what’s this chick’s name?”
Drew tossed his pen onto his own graffiti-decorated desk. “You’re right. I don’t owe Carlie anything, but Wallace put her in the Silver Steel as one of the dancers—Gold Dust Woman, if I’m not mistaken. If I get the security detail, then I gotta work with her. She’ll make life hell for any other female in my life. I don’t need that kind of crap right now.”
James folded his arms. “You didn’t answer my question. What’s Scribble’s real name?”
“I’m not sure what her real name is. They have stage names.” Drew raked his fingers through his hair. “I still haven’t worked up the nerve to speak to her. She’s quiet and always on the move. I can’t pin her down unless she’s at the club and I don’t want to spook her by coming off as a pervert or another guy wanting to cop a quick feel.” He averted his gaze from Mateo. “Trust me… If I could, I would ask this girl for a private dance.”
Lieutenant Frank Wallace strolled into the room with retired Detective Ross Malsam in tow. James dug his elbow into Drew’s ribs again. “When this is all over, you got a month of vacation time coming. Why not hunt her down and tag that?”
Drew frowned. “Tag that? How about I just learn her name and see what happens from there?”
Wallace cleared his throat. “If you’re done chatting, ladies, I called you two in here for the Silver Steel operation.”
James shrugged and grabbed a pen and notebook from his bag.
Drew groaned and half-listened to the directive. His dream girl ruled his brain.
“Gentlemen, the drug problem in the west end is getting worse. After the discovery of McCall’s body, we’re not taking chances. Salazar ‘Tiny’ Balthazar’s targeting the girls in the exotic clubs. Two are missing and one is confirmed dead. Alwyn, I want you to work the security detail as a transfer from the Pink Pussy Cat Club in Chatsworth. Kenworth supplied me with a list of the dancers and Malsam has given me the accompanying photographs.”
Ross Malsam handed each detective a manila folder. The former officer swept his comb-over across his forehead and frowned. His brown eyes darkened. “Drew, Tiny knows your reputation from the PPC and wants you personally. He’s always got something up his sleeve, so keep on your guard double time. I lost McCall. I don’t want to replace you too. Mateo, you’ll come in for an interview tonight as a bartender. Harry’s looking forward to the help. Questions?”
Drew flipped through the stack of pictures. Most of the women wore too much makeup. Their hair fluffed around their faces. Forced smiles painted their lips. He knew each girl and their particular dance styles, not that he cared. He rolled his eyes until he came to the last image. His breath caught fast in his throat.
Mateo elbowed Drew. “That’s your girl. According to the dossier, her stage name is Judy Blue Eyes, but her real name is Jude Nelson. Looks like a sweet thing. Innocent, ya know?”
Drew shook his head and drank in her details. Kohl-rimmed blue eyes sparkled and her pale skin shone with the honest smile on her crimson lips. Ringlets cascaded from the crown of her head and swathed her pink-tinged cheeks. “She looks too innocent to work in such a dive.”
“I’m sorry, Alwyn. Is there a conflict?” Wallace asked. “You have the best inside information on this operation. McCall was your friend. If you have any issues, then you need to get out now. Your work as Ramon Decker is essential.”
Drew closed the folder. He glanced at Ross. “No conflict. I’ll be fine. It’s just different to see the dancers I pretended to ogle as real people.” Sure, he’d be fine if he could stay a decent distance from Jude. A voice in the back of his mind didn’t agree.
She’s your salvation.
As Wallace returned to his directive, Drew slipped Jude’s photo from the folder. He prayed she didn’t remember him and, if she did, he hoped she wasn’t involved in the drug ring. He needed to trust one insider.
Or maybe he simply wanted her.
Shit.
An hour later, Drew headed out of the office and into the parking garage. He craved space, speed and chrome in order to get into character as Ramon Decker—bouncer and all-around hard-ass.
“I am Ramon,” he chanted. “I am Ramon, the bouncer and tough guy extraordinaire. I have to believe it so they’ll believe it.”
Instead of the elevators, Drew chose the exercise and fresher air of the stairwell. His days as a beat cop had enticed him with wide-open spaces and room to move. Now that he’d become a detective, he coveted his freedom—it reminded him of his time on the farm when he’d had no commitments. He liked having space to work within the team, though, rather than carrying the entire load on his shoulders as he had as a child.
When he opened the door to the second level, his cell phone rang. He knew the ring tone—Carlie Kenworth, his most recent ex-girlfriend. He stopped on the landing to answer her call. Since their acrimonious split six months ago, he’d refused to talk to her and she ignored him unless she wanted something. Now, circumstances were forcing them to work together and get along.
He used his cold, authoritative voice. “This is Alwyn.”
Carlie was the type of woman who never knew when to give up and walk away, especially when she was the one to cause the problems. Carlie hated competition. He couldn’t forget that her jealous streak was a country mile wide and violent. Although she was a stunning woman with statuesque legs, perfectly coiffed bleached blonde hair and high cheekbones, her downfall was her selfishness.
He didn’t have time for her shenanigans. A raw shiver ran the length of his spine. Bile rose in his throat. Carlie had a tendency of showing up when he least expected her…like right then.
She giggled. “I know who you are, silly.”
“What do you want, Carlie?”
“Are you alone?”
“Nope.” He leaned on the wall of the parking garage.
On her end of the line, she snorted. “Who are you with? Anyone I should know?” The question served as a thinly veiled reference to the reason they’d split up—she’d cheated on him with another officer on the police force.
Drew glanced through the window in the steel door out at his motorcycle. It was a used Harley that had needed restorative work when he’d bought it. After his brand of TLC, the machine gleamed like it was brand new. It was his pride and joy.
“You’ve never met,” he said smoothly. And you never will…
“Can you come over?”
He gritted his teeth. “Are you drunk? We have a major case going that you can’t screw up because you’re angry.”
“I’m just looking for a good time before we go back undercover.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Carlie, honey, we broke up. You didn’t want me then, but now you do? Look, I’m a good detective, but I need a few clues. What’s changed?”
“I can admit my mistakes,” she purred. “Letting you go was my biggest. You’re a great catch and a compassionate lover.”
“I see. Why do you really want me there?”
So she could rip out his heart and stomp it into the floor? Or maybe sleep with a co-worker and then laugh because he’d taken offence? Yeah, he felt sorry that she was lonely, but not that he’d walked away. A man could only take so much emotional abuse.
“I’m making martinis and thought you could share the drinks with me. I’ve been lonely without you.”
“Really?”
“I want to reconnect with you. We had such great times together and I miss the way you made me scream. No one has ever been able to match you—not even Troy.”
Drew rolled his eyes again. He’d made her scream all right. She’d screamed from when he’d walked in the door until the minute he’d walked back out. Her language made the most vulgar individuals look tame by comparison. She could just stick with the other officer—he’d had enough.
“Well… Think about it.” She blew a kiss into the phone.
Drew groaned. “Much as I like your company, I’ll pass.”
“But—”
He cut off any further argument when he snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “I know I have to work with her, but I really need to block her personal calls.”