Slick

by Kristi Pelton

  “Fine.” The cop held up her hand in surrender. She turned back around to face the front. “I hope you’re ready for this. You’re going to be interrogated just like every other criminal we arrest.”

  Except I wasn’t a criminal. They’d figure that out sooner or later. As she pulled out onto the street, I closed my eyes to try to get some sleep, or at least to calm down more. My heart was still racing. When we got to the police station, the wired feeling was fading, and the exhaustion was taking over. When I was taken into an interrogation room, I eyed the table and had visions of just lying on top of it and going to sleep.

  “How long have you been dating Elijah Turner?”

  Instead, this was what I got.

  “Do you sell drugs for him?”

  No answer.

  “We know you graduated two years ago, but we know he’s got students from the high school selling for him. Is that what you do? Do you recruit students at your old high school?” She laid a file onto the table.

  I closed my eyes. The questions were giving me answers, not the other way around.

  “There are witness accounts placing you and Elijah at a rave last night. Drugs were sold at that rave. Your boyfriend’s drugs. If you were a part of it, come clean now. Brielle.” She gentled her tone. I opened my eyes to see a soft grin on her face. “We know a rival organization is moving in. Are you helping both sides?”

  What was she talking about? I wanted to ask. No, I wanted to demand.

  She leaned across the table toward me. “The time for you to start talking is ending. We have people talking. Don’t think we don’t. They are going to name you as an accessory to this whole thing. We can protect you, Brielle, if you help us. We can keep you safe. Elijah will have no idea you were a part of this.”

  I wanted to flip the table over. Then I wanted to leap over it and run out of there. Instead, I took a deep breath and hunched further down in my seat. She was going to keep talking, no matter what she threatened.

  “Oh.” She started laughing, stood up, and walked in a small circle. “Do you want a lawyer? You think your mom can pay for one? I read your file. Your whole history is in there. Your daddy left when you were little. Your mom’s working two jobs. You didn’t go to college. How come? My guess is that you stuck around to help your mom?” She opened a folder and skimmed her hand down it, stopping in the middle. “It says you work at the nursing home, but you quit recently. Is that what you’re going to do all your life? Are you going to get another job?”

  “How is that any of your business?”

  “You make shit money. With what we have on you, a public defender won’t get you off. You’re looking at jail time, Brielle. Jail.”

  I wanted to laugh at her. For what? For picking the wrong guy and ignoring my brother’s warnings? Yes. If that was a crime, take me away, Officer.

  Someone knocked briefly on the door, and a new guy came inside. Looking in his older thirties with his blond hair combed back, he was dressed in jeans and a shirt. He was also wearing a GWPD vest. After he nodded to the woman, she left and he turned to stare at me. Nothing was said for a minute, and then he slowly sat down in the chair across from me and folded his hands together, resting them on the table between us. “My name is Detective Williams, and I am here to tell you what we know. You can decide whether or not you want to participate in this investigation or not. Now.” He leaned back in his chair. With one finger, he slid a picture across the table toward me. “That’s a picture of a girl that overdosed at a rave last night. What Officer Sonya said is true. We do know you and Elijah were there, but we can’t connect you to the girl. However, we do know that your boyfriend oversees Grant West. Someone else runs Grant East. Are they the ones moving in? Wait, that’s another discussion if you decide to help us. We don’t know if you’re a part of it, and because of that, yes, you will be released in a moment.”

  My head perked up.

  He shook his. “I want you to know everything before you leave, so sit back. We would like you to help us, and we can hold you a whole hell of a lot longer without officially arresting you if we need to. But we’re not going to do that as a sign of good faith. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I have a feeling you won’t be able to not help when we’re done.”

  That was stupid of him. I leaned back in my chair and settled in. No matter what he said, I wasn’t a narc. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  His eyebrows moved forward before flattening back into place. “Why do you ask?”

  “You recently moved here?”

  He didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. His mouth flattened. “I don’t know what that has to do with this, but here are the facts. A girl overdosed. She is in the hospital, and she may never wake up.” He pointed to the picture. “Do you know this girl? Did your boyfriend sell drugs to her?”

  I didn’t know her, and I had no idea if Elijah did or not. Until this morning, I hadn’t even wanted to admit he was a drug dealer.

  I remained silent, and after another two minutes passed in silence, he stood up and a disgruntled sound came from him. It sounded like a groan mixed with a gurgling bark. “Fine. We have nothing to hold you. Elijah has been adamant that you have no part of his organization. He’s insisting we release you before he will comply, so with that said, you are free to go.”

  I shoved my chair back and stood. “Can I get my phone?”

  “No. That stays with us.”

  “I thought you said you were letting me go?”

  “You’re the girlfriend of a known drug dealer. We have every indication that he might’ve used your phone to set up deals. Your phone stays with us.”

  They think he used me? Used my phone? My jaw squared, and I stalked down the hallway. Leaving didn’t take long. They never fingerprinted me. No paperwork had been filed so the only thing I waited for was my bag. As the cop moved to hand it to me, he held it a moment. I glanced up to see him staring at me. It wasn’t a crude stare—not like a lot of the guys in school or Elijah’s friends. It was in a way that my mom used to look at me. His eyebrow raised as he said, “Dump the bad boy. He’s not worth it, and in the end, he’ll just take you down with him.”

  He let go of my bag.

  “Thanks,” I muttered under my breath, pulling my bag on my shoulder as I headed to the front of the station. Little did they know it was already over. I was an idiot, but I was a single idiot now. Then I stopped and turned back to the clerk. “Can I use your phone?”

  “What number?”

  Oh, this would not make me look good. “Rowdy’s.”

  His nostrils flared.

  “Just call. My brother’s band practices in the basement. They’ll still be there. They’ll answer.”

  He did and it wasn’t long before I heard someone answer. He straightened and his hand scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, hello. This is Officer Malley. I’ve got a…” He paused and held the phone against his chest. “What’s your name?”

  “Bri.”

  He held the phone to his ear again and continued to frown at me. “A Bri here. She reassures me that her brother’s band uses your basement to practice…” He stopped, and after another moment, he nodded and hung up. “The owner’s sending someone to pick you up.”

  I nodded and headed outside to wait. I didn’t want to stay in there. If I did, who knows what could happen. They could change their minds and take me in for more questioning. I knew they probably wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to chance it. Visions of my bed were taunting me, jumping all around in my head and laughing at me as I sat on the curb and waited for Braden.

  Twenty minutes later, my brother’s truck slid to a stop in front of me. Grabbing my purse, I didn’t see who was behind the wheel and said, “I know you guys played tonight and figured you’d still be partying, but I was nervous you would’ve passed out or with some girl…” Then I saw who was staring back at me and forgot what I was about to say. “Fuck me.”

  Luke Skeet. His dark brown hair fell over
his forehead, but he ignored it. A hint of dark humor entered those grey eyes of his, and he shook his head. “No, Bri. All those nights I crawled into your bed, fucking was the one thing we never got around to doing.” His eye twitched, and his hand tightened its grip on the steering wheel. He skimmed me up and down. “Pity about that.”

  I tried to stop my body from reacting. I did, but I failed. He was still gorgeous. My body grew heated, and I swallowed, already feeling my pulse quickening. Until three years ago, Luke Skeet had been my neighbor and best friend. I had made avoiding him into an art since Luke was still my neighbor and still friends with my brother. Oh yeah, he was in my brother’s band, too—the band I helped form when we were in middle school.

  All of that ended when I found his bloody body lying unconscious on his kitchen floor. It was the same night I started dating Elijah.

  For more, go to www.tijansbooks.com

  Falling Down (Rockstar #1)

  ©2014 Anne Mercier

  http://AnneMercierAuthor.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lucy

  Our flight's delayed which isn't a surprise. Thank God for iPhones and headsets or I'd have to endure the incessant chatter of Regina Russo. Yeah, that's my mom. The chatterbox who is now talking my brother's ear off. The difference between Joey and me is he likes to talk as much as my mom. I'd much rather enjoy solitude.

  Sera and I are listening to a random playlist on Spotify. She chose the Today's Top Hits playlist, which is okay, but I'm not into a lot of the rap-type music whereas Sera loves it. It beats out listening to Regina any day.

  Sera taps my shoulder and I pull one earbud out.

  "Stuck in Chicago, of all places."

  "Could be worse. We could be stuck in Kansas."

  "Or Texas."

  "Truth. Let's go get something to drink and see if maybe they have some decent magazines with His Sexiness in the gift shop."

  Sera snorts. "His Sexiness."

  "What? He is."

  "He's alright. His brother's seriously hot too."

  "Oh yeah. Mom, we'll be right back."

  "Don't be too long. I have a feeling we're going to be up in the air soon."

  "We won't."

  We head through the concourse of Chicago's O'Hare International airport. Tons of people are traveling today. I wonder if it's like this every day or if Thursdays are busier than most.

  "Ugh," Sera says. "If I get bumped one more time I'm going to throat punch someone, I swear. It's so rude. I mean, how hard is it to walk around someone instead of into them?"

  "Swap," I say, tugging her to the right so she can walk along the wall.

  I'm not a fan of being bumped into, but I don't have a hair-trigger temper like Sera. Let me tell you a little about Serafina Manzini. Her mom, Lily, was my dad's sister. She was a Russo. Tommy Manzini married a Russo, which caused some major feuding. Mr. Manzini refused to get involved in his brother's "family business." Who could blame him? Who wants to get involved with the freaking Chicago mafia? Hell to the no thank you. Well, his brother didn't take too kindly to being told no and after multiple threats and multiple "fuck you's" from Sera's dad, they killed Sera's parents execution style. When the hit was carried out Sera was on vacation with us, which is the only reason she's still alive. Now, she's protected under my family as our grandpa Giovanni and my uncle Emilio are involved in the "family business". We aren't directly involved in any of that crap. My grandpa respects my dad's decision to go legit and raise us outside the rules of the mafia, which I am thankful for every day—though we will never be one hundred percent outside. That's just not possible. I've seen my cousins Nico and Bella both with guns tucked in the waistband of their pants and I've been told they can hit moving targets better than some of their most seasoned veterans. Bella can't participate, being a girl and all, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Not something I'd want to participate in. This was going to be the life for Sera had her uncle succeeded.

  Oh, and just so you know, my grandpa "took care of" those who killed Sera's family. I shouldn't be happy about that as revenge doesn't solve anything, but now those thugs won't be able to do that to anyone else. Go gramps! (He'd have a fit if I ever called him gramps to his face.)

  Now, you're probably wondering what that has to do with Sera's temper. Well, before her family was killed, Sera was bubbly and fun. She was always positive but with the loss of her family, she's become bitter, angry, and, at times, hostile. She just has no patience for anyone's bullshit anymore—her words, not mine. So, you can imagine after she's been bumped into five or six times how she'd react. It wouldn't be pretty. It'd range from yelling and swearing to possibly punching someone in the face and, as she mentioned, throat punching someone. Well, let's just say it would have been ugly.

  "Oh! Starbucks!"

  "Hell yeah," Sera says, following behind me.

  "What do you want? My treat."

  "Caramel macchiato, Venti, triple shot."

  I raise my eyebrows. "You're going to be hyped on the plane."

  "All the better for playing Candy Crush."

  "Oh my God. You and that dumb game."

  She flips her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Whatever. You only think it's dumb because you can't get past level 96."

  "Suck it."

  "If you had something to suck…" She breaks off with a shrug and a smirk as we step up to the counter to order.

  I order Sera's large cup of caffeine and for myself I order an Americano with vanilla syrup, extra sweet, with two creams.

  As we wait for our order there's a commotion in the center seating area near the flight boards.

  "Huh, I wonder which celeb is flying today," Sera questions.

  I shrug. It's not uncommon to see celebrities pass through Chicago, I've just never seen one up close and personal.

  "Maybe it's someone sexy like Taylor Lautner." She wiggles her eyebrows at this and I can't help but smirk.

  "Doubtful. It's probably some old dude or a model," I start to ramble as I hand Sera her coffee and pay. I head off to the side to stir in extra sugars and creamer. "Maybe it's Miley. Or the Biebs," I say with a snort.

  Sera taps my arm a couple times.

  "What?" I look over at her. She's standing there with her coffee halfway to her mouth, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide.

  "What's going on?"

  "L-look," she points.

  I turn and I nearly drop my coffee. All the air in my lungs has been sucked out in some sort of vacuum and I can't breathe. I grab Sera's arm and make some incoherent sound that sounds like, "unh". She must get what I'm saying because she responds with, "I know!"

  "Unh!"

  "I know! Wow. Did you conjure him up looking for His Sexiness? You should go ask for his autograph."

  No way. Uh-uh. I, Luciana Russo, am a chicken. I can't even move at this point. Hell, I can't even speak. I'm sure he wouldn't understand "unh".

  "You have to, Lucy. You've wanted to meet Jesse Kingston since we were in seventh grade! This is your one and, probably, only shot."

  She's right, but I can't move. I don't even have a pen. I must be talking normally now because she thrusts a pen and paper in my face. Then she grabs my arm and drags me to where he's standing.

  "Unh." Guess not, she just knows.

  Okay, you're probably wondering who the hell Jesse Kingston is and what the big deal is. Let me tell you. Jesse Kingston is People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive the last three years running. He's tall, dark and delicious. He's sex on a stick. He's the lead singer of Falling Down and has the sexiest voice I've ever heard. I kid you not, his voice is deep and gravely and sends chills down my spine, goose bumps all over my body, and moisture between my thighs. Oh yeah, that's Jesse Kingston. Okay—back to the hottie that has my mouth and body in zombieland.

  I wipe around my mouth, checking for any signs of drool. Oh God. My heart is going eleventy billion miles an hour, I've got tummy flips going on, and my girlie parts are tingling—all this because
he's within twenty feet of me? If he touches me I'll likely spontaneously combust.

  "Jesse!" Sera calls out.

  Unh. She tugs me along behind her as she walks over to him. Oh. My. God.

  "Ladies. How are you today?" Oh that smile.

  "Good, we're good," Sera says as she smacks my arm. I give some semblance of a smile, which I'm sure looks hideous. I'm such an idiot. His mouth kicks up into a grin—dimples!

  My gaze zeroes in on his piercings. He's got a hoop in his eyebrow and another through his bottom lip. Could he be any sexier? Yes, yes he could. How you might wonder? Well, he's wearing a tight black Chevelle t-shirt and worn, faded, and ripped jeans along with a pair of scuffed black boots. Hot! Both of his arms are full of tattoos that I wish I could focus on, maybe trace with my tongue, but, well, zombieland and I'm not so sure my tongue on his body would be welcome at this point.

  Sera rolls her eyes at me. "You're traveling alone?"

  He nods. "The band is in L.A."

  She pouts. I know she was hoping to see Falling Down's lead guitarist and Jesse's brother, Ben Kingston. Sera started crushing on him in tenth grade when they came out with their third album that was a bit harder than their previous ones. Her favorite song to date is My Fantasy, which was the title song off of that album and spent thirty-seven weeks at the top of the charts.

  "My friend, Lucy, would like to get your autograph." I stand there frozen.

  "Is that so, Lucy?"

  Still frozen. I refuse to try to speak. I don't want to "unh" in front of him. This is embarrassing enough.

  He reaches out to take the pen and paper from my hand and as he leans forward he whispers, "It's okay, Lucy. I won't bite. Well, unless you want me to, of course." He flashes those straight, white teeth and winks. Whiskey-colored eyes dance with humor and I sigh on the inside because I seriously can't snap out of this, whatever it is.