by Syd Parker
A half an hour later, she was strapping on gloves, waiting for her trainer to show up. She threw several blind punches in the air, feeling the muscles in her shoulders start to warm up. She moved slower in the winter, or maybe she was just getting old. Thirty—six wasn’t exactly old, but lately she felt it. The last few years had snuck up on her and a quick look in the room—length mirrors confirmed her suspicions. The wrinkles were starting to show.
She ran a finger over the laugh lines around her eyes and lifted her eyebrows, groaning at the creases on her forehead. “Ahh fuck, Gray. Don’t let one crazy redhead make you feel old.”
A loud chuckle from across the room got her attention, and she spun around to see Tony laughing at her. Tony Wozniak, or Woz to his close friends. Retired FBI, at fifty—eight, the man looked better than most guys half his age. “See what women will do to you.”
“Hey, Woz. How come it hasn’t happened to you?” Jordan smiled and punched him in the shoulder.
“Whiskey and maybe cigarettes. All the preservatives.” Tony was the father she never had. Her own father had abandoned her mother years before, and most times, unless she thought long and hard, she couldn’t even remember what he looked like. Tony had taken her under his wing long before she joined the FBI. In fact, there had been a time when she thought that maybe he and her mother might like each other.
His proclivity for women and smoking changed her mind rather quickly. Her mother, God bless her soul, didn’t need another man coming into her life and leaving just as fast.
She watched him pull on his own gloves. He punched one hand into the other to make sure they were tight then repeated the process on the other hand. “You ready, kiddo?”
Jordan nodded, her feet already dancing on the pad below her. She put her mouth guard in and waited while he did the same.
She watched his eyes, admiration in them. She was cagey and a good boxer to boot. She could feel his respect for her. Their sparring matches usually ended in some well—placed punches on both sides, but more often than not, he could still take her. She thought back to her childhood and wondered if she hadn’t wandered into this very gym twenty years ago, if her life would have taken the same course.
They danced around each other, throwing a few light punches, each feeling out their opponent. In silent agreement, they both raised their gloves and readied for the real match. She moved around him, her left hand resting just in front of her chin protectively. She jabbed with her right, and soon, she had landed several good blows to his ribcage.
He took advantage of her weak left shoulder, a result of a gunshot wound years earlier and took a poke at her unprotected jaw. She wheeled around, stunned momentarily. She shook her head, shaking off the stars.
“Come on, kiddo. Keep your left up. You gotta guard your moneymaker.” He smirked behind his glove, and she felt her blood start to boil. Jordan was competitive by nature, and she hated to lose, especially to someone twenty years her senior, whether she liked him or not.
She brought her shoulders forward. Her eyes narrowed, and she focused on the small opening above his glove. She threw a roundhouse punch to his left ear and smiled when it hit home. His head whipped sideways, and his left hand flew to his ear protectively. She jabbed at his abdomen, and when he bent forward, she threw an uppercut at his chin. He reeled backwards, his hands in front of his face, and she went at him, her fists pummeling him everywhere.
She didn’t mean to be so brutal, but the emotions from the case were flooding to the surface. She wasn’t sure how long her arms jabbed, recoiled and jabbed again, but Tony’s voice finally broke through her haze. “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, kiddo. Take it easy on your old man.”
Jordan stood back and shook her head, dazed. “Sorry, old man.”
He shook it off, waiving a gloved hand dismissively. He stuck his hand under his arm and pulled his glove off then pulled his mouth guard out. “Rough day?”
She smiled sheepishly and held up her gloved hands. “Sorry, they kind of got away from me.”
Tony chuckled. “Wanna talk about it?”
Most times, when he offered, she would share whatever case she was working, and he would offer his opinion. This one she couldn’t talk about. She shook her head. “Nah, just a lot of pent-up energy."
He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her. “Energy, huh? That's what you’re calling it these days?” He knew her well enough to know that her taste in women was very similar to his and staying tied down to one wasn’t in their blood.
Jordan laughed and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. “Guess I just need to get a few more rounds in. You up to it?”
Tony shook his head. “Can’t, kiddo. I got a date tonight.”
“Same girl I heard on the phone? Sorry about dragging you away.”
“Nah.” Now it was his turn to smile sheepishly. “New gal. Met her at my dry cleaners. She puts a hell of a crease in my pants.”
“And now, you would like to see her crease up close?” Jordan teased and was rewarded with a laugh.
“Something like that.” Tony pulled his second glove off and slapped them together on his leg. “Listen, kiddo, I’ve known you a few years now, and I can tell when something’s up your craw. If you decide you want to talk about it, I’ll be around.”
Jordan watched him walk away and waived one last time as he threw a glance over his shoulder. She listened to his steps, wishing she could talk to him about her unofficial case. She knew he could offer invaluable insight, and so far, with the limited details in this case, any help would be greatly appreciated.
Instead of feeling settled and worn out from their sparring match, she felt uptight. She walked towards one of the gym’s punching bags and was just about to take out her emotions on the heavy bag when a husky voice interrupted.
“I could use a partner, if you’re up for it.”
Jordan turned and was immediately struck by the owner of the voice. She had dark eyes and even darker hair, and it struck Jordan that she was very tall. She had at least a couple of inches on Jordan, which meant she was six feet tall at least. “Sure.”
Jordan watched her approach, and her heart skipped a beat. The stranger was attractive, and if Jordan was correct, was regarding her with what she could only describe as mutual interest. Her eyes were chocolate brown, set in an angular face, framed by masses of flowing black hair.
“Thanks.”
The stranger’s voice was deep and husky, somewhat at odds with her feminine features. She looked down, concentrating on her gloves, which gave Jordan even more opportunity to study her. Her bare arms were lean and rippled with muscles. She was on the slender side, in need of a few extra pounds. Jordan could tell she was in incredible shape, though. Her eyes swept over her body, and as her eyes flicked back up to her face, she met her amused gaze.
“I usually hit the bags too, but I wanted to spar and there’s never anyone here when I come.”
Jordan shook her head, the heat finally leaving her cheeks. “Yeah, mornings are the best time here. You can usually find someone to go a few rounds.”
“I’m Meghan, by the way.” Her eyes studied Jordan, the interest in them still evident. Her gaze roamed over Jordan’s body, and she unconsciously licked her lips.
Jordan felt the heat rise in her face again. She was used to women blatantly checking her out, but it had been a while since a woman had grabbed her attention so quickly. “Jordan.” She spun around, needing to break the connection between them. “You ready?”
Meghan put her mouth guard in and punched her gloves on tighter. “Ready.”
She stepped back on her right foot, planting her weight on her heel and dropped her right shoulder. She grazed at her chin with her gloved hand, a sign she was ready to spar.
Thirty minutes later, the women sank to the mats, completely out of breath and totally drenched in sweat. It was several minutes before either of them spoke.
“Wow, you are really good.” Jordan said with admiration. “I don’t
even work that hard with my trainer.”
Meghan chuckled softly. “Well I should have told you before. I boxed in college, and I kept it up for fun ever since then. I had an unfair advantage. You held your own alright, though.”
Jordan blushed. The compliment, spoken so honestly, warmed her through and through. “I’m sure you were taking it easy on me.”
Meghan sat up quickly, feigning innocence. “I did no such thing.”
“Sure.” Jordan sighed and pushed herself off the mat, her knees cracking in protest. “I’m gonna hit the showers. See you around?”
Meghan nodded yes. “Hey, if you’re not in a hurry, you want to grab a drink? I mean, if you’re available.”
Jordan smothered a smirk. It had taken her all of thirty minutes to ask her out. Guess I haven’t lost my touch after all. Take that, Detective Foxx. “I’m completely available.”
Chapter 5
Meghan waited while the bartender set drinks down then held hers up to Jordan. “To whatever comes next.”
Jordan clinked her glass and smiled as sincerely as she could muster. She knew exactly what came next. Sex. She could read between the smiles and the innocent touches. She could tell the interest was mutual, as was their desire for a quick and unencumbered night of passion. They hadn’t exchanged last names. There was no need to pretend that this night would continue tomorrow morning.
“So what do you do, Jordan?”
The question had been asked nonchalantly, as if they were acquaintances meeting for coffee. But she saw something underneath the inquisitive look. Meghan was searching for something. What it was she wasn’t sure, but Jordan felt the need for nondisclosure. “I’m an…investor.”
That was generic enough and held some truth. She did invest her life, so to speak, to bringing justice where there was injustice. “How about you?”
Meghan regarded her closely. She knew she had been lied to, or at least the real truth had been withheld. She knew the game. She’d had these encounters before, more often than she would like. Sometimes, she even imagined that she could commit to someone, but then her true nature came through, and she would go in search of another one nightstand. “Banking.”
It wasn’t entirely untrue. She was a banker of sorts. She was actually the managing director of the Helping Hands Fertilization Clinic. That wasn’t something she told her dates though. It wasn’t sexy, and more times than not, the conversation sparked an evening of delving questions, and she wasn’t up for that tonight. No, tonight she wanted to separate her mind from her body and just fuck. One look at Jordan and she was sure she would accomplish that tonight.
“Sounds interesting.” Jordan feigned interest in what she was sure wasn’t really Meghan’s profession. She downed her drink and waived two fingers at the bartender. When he had refilled them, she met Meghan’s interested gaze. She ran her knuckles over Meghan’s jaw. “Listen, let’s not pretend this is anything more than sex.”
“Fair enough.” Meghan sighed with relief. “I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep up the conversation much longer.”
Jordan laughed wickedly. “Your place or mine then?”
Meghan dropped a twenty on the bar and slid off her stool. “Mine, it’s right around the corner.”
Jordan followed her out of the bar and in the darkness of the night, slipped her arm through Meghan’s. “Lead the way.”
Two minutes later, they were ensconced in the warmth of an elevator, the nine—floor trip flying by quickly. Meghan opened the door to her apartment and turned on a hall light. She shut the door behind them and held out her hand. “I’ll take your coat.”
Jordan shrugged out of her knee—length leather coat and draped it over Meghan’s arm. She let out a low whistle. “Nice place. The banking business must be pretty good.”
Meghan smiled. You have no idea. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll take a beer if you have it.”
Meghan led them into the kitchen and pulled two bottles out of the fridge. She twisted the tops off and handed one to Jordan, who took an appreciative swig.
“It’s a local brewery. Goose Island.”
“I know it well. My mom is a waitress there. Has been since I was a kid.”
“Small world.” Meghan set her beer on the bar and stepped closer to Jordan, pressing her against the countertop. She looked down at her, her eyes twinkling. She ran a fingertip over the collar of Jordan’s shirt, dipping into the vee between her small breasts. She licked her jaw seductively, and Jordan felt her knees tremble. When Meghan’s tongue dipped into her ear and swirled around it, Jordan shivered. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
True to her word, Meghan slid a hand over her crotch. She let out a disappointed sigh. “You’re not packing. I figured a butch like you would come equipped.”
Jordan smiled ruefully. “Not tonight, darling. You didn’t give me much notice.”
Meghan shrugged. “No matter. Besides, I prefer to be the one with the cock.” She opened Jordan’s jeans and slipped her hand inside her briefs. Her finger dipped inside Jordan at the same time as her tongue teased its way inside her mouth. She was a skilled lover, and before long, Meghan had Jordan bracing the countertop, her fingers drawing out a fierce orgasm. When her breathing returned to normal, Jordan leaned against Meghan. “Fuck, your hands are dangerous.”
“You know what they say, practice makes perfect.” Meghan’s voice was oddly devoid of feeling, and Jordan wondered if she were present. She met her eyes, and they had turned decidedly remote.
Jordan wasn’t sure what prompted her next move other than the emotional distance making her even more turned on. “Then I guess I should get some more practice in.”
She spun Meghan around and hoisted her body up on the bar. They were at eye level now, and she ran her tongue over Meghan’s lips, darting inside her mouth. She undid her shirt and pulled her bra away. Leaning over, she captured Meghan’s nipple in her mouth and swirled her tongue over it roughly. She heard Meghan moan, and when she spread her legs, Jordan stepped between them.
Jordan had questioned Meghan’s skirt, given the temperatures, but it did allow her easier access, and she quickly slid the material up, exposing Meghan’s naked sex. She licked her thighs, her nose taking in her heady arousal. She pushed Meghan back roughly and slid her tongue inside her wet creaminess. She pulled her hips towards her face, burying her tongue even deeper.
Meghan could feel her muscles contracting and her arousal building deep inside until her clit was a painful peak. She pulled Jordan’s face into her body roughly and started to ride her tongue. “Fuck, Jordan. Eat my pussy. That’s right, eat my fucking pussy.”
Jordan’s own arousal though already sated came back with a painful ferocity. She felt her jeans rubbing against her clit painfully. She lifted her leg over Meghan’s foot and started to rub against it, trying to assuage her own need. She slid two fingers into Meghan’s aroused center and captured her clit in her mouth.
She stilled until Meghan moved against her, begging to come. She pulled her fingers out then slammed them into her body making her cry out. “Yeah, like that. Fuck me!”
Meghan was not shy when it came to sex, and that turned Jordan on even more. She increased the pressure on her clit and soon, Meghan’s body began to tremble around her. She could feel her own orgasm coming close behind. She pushed Meghan to the edge then over as her own orgasm crashed through her body.
When she stopped coming, she fell against Meghan’s body and smiled into her naked breasts. “Now that’s my kind of sparring.”
Meghan chuckled softly. “And that round goes to you. I’d say you don’t need any more practice.”
Jordan could sense the dismissal, and it didn’t bother her at all. Yes, sex with Meghan had been great, but by prearrangement, they had both already decided this was all they wanted. She pushed herself away from Meghan and smirked. “Thanks, darling. I’ll show myself out.”
Jordan pulled the door closed behind her and smile
d again. She ran a finger under her nose and inhaled deeply. Very immature and too much like a man, but she did it anyway. She wouldn’t apologize for it either. She liked the way a woman smelled and tasted, and she lingered on the scent a moment longer before punching the button to call the elevator.
When she stepped outside, the cold hit her immediately, and she pulled her coat around her tightly. She shoved her hands in her pockets, wishing she had thought to bring her gloves. Despite the cold and the late hour, the city was still alive, and she decided she wanted another drink. She was about to pull her phone out to call Matty when it rang. She hit the accept button and held it against her ear with a shaky hand, unable to control her shivering. “Hello?”
“Special Agent Gray?” The voice on the other end was slightly familiar, and it only took Jordan a second to remember it.
“Detective Foxx. What brings you to my phone at this hour?” Jordan tried to ignore the slight flutter in her stomach when she said her name. She thought that Foxx was certainly a fitting moniker, but she suddenly wished that she was at liberty to call her Rebecca.
“We’ve got another victim.” Rebecca’s voice didn’t waver, but Jordan imagined she detected a hint of anger. And why not? Anyone surrounding this case couldn’t help but be angry.
“Where? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Jordan was surprised to hear that the body had been found in the same alley that Julie had been attacked in. She punched in Matty’s number and told him to be ready in five minutes. They had another hit in the case.
Fourteen minutes later, she screeched to a halt behind an already active crime scene. She flashed her badge to the patrolman who was holding the press back from the crime scene. She and Matt stooped under the crime tape, and she spotted Detective Foxx’s red hair. They stepped around officers and the medical examiner’s van.