by Taylor Lee
When Viviana frowned and raised her hand to stop him, he shook his head. “Uh-uh, sweet cheeks. I’m gonna tell you I had a hard time getting to sleep after you ran out. I did not like the tears I saw on my partner’s face when you kicked me to the curb and jumped in that cab.” He breathed out a hard sigh, then a shit-eating grin slowly spread across his expressive face. “But just look at you now. Hell, your eyes are shining, and if I’ve ever seen a well-fucked glow on anyone’s mug, it’s yours!”
Viviana threw a frantic glance around the diner, then glared at him. “For God’s sake, Mick, you sure you don’t want a microphone? Just in case the kitchen staff along with all the agog patrons in this place didn’t hear you describe your version of my night?”
Mick just grinned at her. “Honey, no one needs to hear my iteration, as scintillating as it is. All they need to see are your shining eyes and glimpse the multiple love marks on your hot bod to know that the police chief lived up to his righteous rep.” Before she could chastise him further, Mick grabbed her hands again and said, “You gotta understand, Vivi. I was nervous as hell about you last night, and I’m relieved as hell that Chief Jaxton Hughes put that smile and that glow on you.” His grin widened as he shook his head and crowed in admiration, “Damn, what a guy. To think I ever doubted him.”
***
Heading over to the precinct, Viviana was determined to get Mick off his obsession with her and Jax. God, it was bad enough that she couldn’t stop thinking about the extraordinary night they’d had. She certainly didn’t need her partner surmising what had happened after Jax captured her. She wondered what the voluble detective would say if he knew just how momentous her night had been. As if bursting into tears and totally breaking down in Jax’s arms wasn’t bad enough, somehow, someway, he’d convinced her that not only was he in love with her but decreed that she loved him as well. Viviana squelched a shiver, remembering what happened after they’d confessed their earth-shattering declarations. It said something about their relationship that within minutes of Jax insisting that they were going to make slow, easy love, they’d practically torn the chaise lounge apart with their passion. Flushing at the memory, Viviana was glad that Jax’s rooftop patio was high above the city. She could only hope that the distance prevented his neighbors from overhearing her ecstatic cries that, thank goodness, were echoed by Jax’s fierce shouts.
Walking into the precinct, Viviana saw Travis Jensen approaching. Too late to avoid their dyspeptic lieutenant, she squared her shoulders, preparing for the battle to come.
When Jensen spotted her and Mick together, hostility tightened his already resentful expression. Glancing at his watch, the sneering man said in an unsuccessful attempt at irony, “Well, well, what do you know. I can hardly believe my eyes. You’re only two hours late for the beginning of the shift. That’s a record for you two. May I presume you are trying to suck up to our new commander?”
Mick guffawed. “Yeah, Lieutenant, that’s exactly what Vivi and I are doing. Never fear. Knowing that you were here bright and early just in case the new guy needed his ass wiped, we took our time. Tell me, buddy, was Commander Bannon as impressed as you hoped he’d be? Or did he tell you thank you very much, he could wipe his own ass?”
Jensen’s expression darkened ominously, but he drew back when a voice called out across the lobby. Viviana looked up to see Greg Bannon approaching, a pleasant smile on his face.
“Good morning, Detective O’Reilly, Sergeant Moreau. Just the officers I was looking for.” He nodded to Jensen, then motioned to his office. “I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting with Lieutenant Jensen and was looking for you two. How about joining me in my office?”
Entering the corner office, Viviana was surprised at the mixed emotions that flowed over her. Good God, she’d been so excited about reclaiming her independence from her overbearing former commander and lover that she hadn’t realized how it would affect her to see Greg Bannon assume Jax’s position. She and Jax had been together in this office many times; most of the occasions were fraught with anger and pain. It was where they tried to come to grips with the aftermath of Belize. And where, Viviana now admitted, they’d ultimately declared that their torrid affair on the tropical isle was far from over.
Motioning them to join him at the conference table, Greg reached for her arm and gave it a little squeeze. Knowing that he was a tease, she wasn’t surprised when he said with a deadpan expression, “I didn’t say goodnight to you last night, Sergeant Moreau. I’m glad to see that smile on your face.” Seeing Mick’s dancing eyes and him poking Viviana suggestively, Greg quickly clarified his response. “You left in a bit of a rush, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you how lovely you looked. That was some dress you were wearing.”
Mick sank onto one of the chairs and chortled, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You’re right about that, Commander. But I gotta tell you, since you are just now meeting the woman we call the Enchantress, you better be prepared. When Vivi crashes a party, no one, especially the ‘gentlemen’ in the room, ever knows what hit them. She is a phenom!”
Greg met Mick’s grin with one of his own. “Yes, Detective. If last night was any example, Sergeant Moreau has more than earned her singular reputation. I imagine no matter what the occasion or who the guests are, Sergeant Moreau would capture the house.”
Determined to take the attention off herself and away from last evening’s adventures, Viviana shot Greg a cheeky smile. “You shouldn’t talk, Commander. You gave our arrogant police chief a run for his money. At least if that crowd of eager women surrounding you was evidence of your stardom.” Surveying the blue-eyed stunner with the rakish, sun-drenched hair tied at the nape of his neck with a leather cord, she murmured, “But then, we’ve never had an all-American surfer dude running the VCU.” She laughed and said with a wink, “I can tell you our former Captain Michels is tearing out what little hair he has left on his head. Goodness, I thought I broke the mold, but something tells me, Commander Bannon, that like Chief Hughes, you aren’t above breaking a rule or two.”
Greg’s eyes danced with pleasure and a familiarity that warmed Viviana. She was relieved that, unlike yesterday, his presence no longer triggered the specter of Jax’s betrayal in Belize. It helped that Jax said he’d told Greg that he’d fallen deeply in love with her in Belize, something he thought he would never do. Her vibrating phone broke her sweet reminiscence. Glancing down, she saw it was an urgent message from her number-one CI, Francis Flemings. Assuming as nonchalant an air as she could manage, she rose to her feet. “I’m sorry, Commander Bannon, but I need to go. I’d forgotten that I have a critical meeting.”
Without waiting for him to respond, Viviana nodded to both men, who were looking at her with surprise. At the doorway, she said lamely, not attempting to explain her rudeness, “Perhaps we can finish this conversation later, Commander?”
Greg cocked an ironic brow and said dryly, “I certainly hope so, Sergeant.”
After she fled through the door, following a long moment of silence, Greg Bannon turned to O’Reilly. “Does that happen often, Detective?”
“Does what happen, sir? That my partner suddenly charges out of a meeting as if she’s been summoned by Pope Francis himself?” When Greg nodded, Mick said casually, “No worries, it was probably one of her super-secret CIs, who needs to meet with her ASAP. No doubt to give her the hottest crime tip in the city.”
“I see. Let me ask you again, Detective O’Reilly. Is that behavior something I can expect in the future from your partner?”
Mick snorted. “Uh, yeah. As in every damn day of the year!”
Greg’s voice was cool. “To be specific, Detective. Do you know where Sergeant Moreau is going?”
Mick raised his hands with a helpless shrug. “Not any more than you do, sir.”
Chapter 11
Thank God you got here, hot stuff. I’ve got about ten minutes to talk, then have to get back inside. My adoring public awaits.”
Seeing
the concern on Francis’s face conflicting with his smart-assed élan, Viviana didn’t waste time. She knew her CI wouldn’t have sent her an urgent text if it weren’t serious. Particularly since he’d told her to come to his bar. In addition to being her number-one CI, Francis Flemings was the erudite owner of Flemings, the hottest bar in the essj. Usually, Francis required her to meet him in the guise of his doppelgänger personality, which was an over-the-top, cross-dressing madam. Just for the hell of it, he also required her to dress like a slut when they met. The fact that he had her come to his club as herself, sans costumes for either of them, underscored that something was up—something serious.
“I got here as quickly as I could, Francis. What’s the matter? You look stressed.”
Francis reached in his vest pocket for a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. At her refusal, he shook one out for himself. After three shaky tries he managed to light the cigarette and inhale a lungful of smoke.
Cutting to the chase, Francis said, “It’s Ariel, Viviana.”
Horrified at Francis’s expression, Viviana forced herself to ask the question she feared the answer to. “Is . . . is she dead?”
Francis shook his head violently. “No, thank God, she isn’t—at least not yet. But, Viviana, she overdosed—big time. Sister Eloise said that the hospital called to tell her that Ariel was in the emergency room. The ER doc said it was a miracle she was alive. From what they could tell, she not only had OD’d, but it also looked like she’d been assaulted.”
Viviana was shocked. “I don’t understand, Francis. Ariel was doing so well. The last time I saw her she was living at the shelter and working at Denny’s. She was even talking about getting her GED. She . . . she looked great.”
Francis exhaled loudly. “I agree. Hell, when I saw her last, she told me that things were going great at the shelter and that she’d gotten a raise at the breakfast joint. Imagine my surprise when Sister Eloise said that Ariel left the shelter over a week ago without telling her that she was going. The good sister tried to get information from some of the other girls at the shelter, but they couldn’t explain her disappearance either. Although one of the girls, Marilee, who also used to work the street, said that she’d heard from some of her former associates that Ariel was ‘working’ again.”
“God, Francis. I don’t get it. What could have happened for her to regress like that?”
Even as she said it, Viviana acknowledged the hard reality. For someone who’d led the kind of life that Ariel had, a relapse wasn’t unusual—if anything, it was expected. But still, to go back on drugs was one thing, but to start hooking again was a huge turnaround.
Francis shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking, Viviana. Unfortunately, we both know how fragile she is. I was so goddamned glad when you and Jax got her pimp Santiago Lopez and the rest of that hideous bunch behind bars, where I hope they’ll stay for eight eternities. I tried to believe that without Santiago in the picture, Ariel had a fighting chance to make it.”
Viviana nodded fiercely. “I agree. You and I both know that without her help, we never could have brought down that hideous group of pedophiles, not to mention one of the country’s most infamous pimps. And God, Francis, she put her life on the line for us. If she hadn’t confirmed who some of the players were, we’d probably still be sitting here with our thumbs up our butts, trying to convince Jax that a lot of his buddies were fucking pedophiles. We never could have made the breakthrough that we did if Ariel hadn’t been courageous enough to identify them.” Knowing that Francis agreed with her and had to be as upset as she was at Ariel’s relapse, Viviana breathed out a hard sigh. “Dammit, I really believed that she was going to make it. Especially when she agreed to live the shelter. Sister Eloise is truly an angel. Her success rate with hardcore juvenile offenders is phenomenal. Not to be believed. That’s why I was thrilled when Ariel went to live at the shelter.”
Francis’s expression contorted with disbelief, and he shook his head again. “That’s just it, Viviana. One of my madams, who’s been on the streets longer than Ariel has been alive, told me that I need to talk to Ariel. She told me that the word on the street is there is some bad shit going on at the shelter.”
“What?” Viviana was incredulous. “How can there be? For Christ’s sake, it’s run by nuns! And we both know Sister Eloise. God, if there ever was a living, breathing saint, it is that woman. She’s done more to help girls on the street than any one person I know.”
Francis shook his head in agreement, then glanced at his watch. Tossing his cigarette to the sidewalk, he ground it out with the heel of his boot. “Look, Viviana, I need to get back in. I’m short two wait staff tonight, and game two in the Cleveland/Bulls face-off is starting in ten minutes. Even though we all know the outcome, the bar is filled with diehards.” As he turned to go inside, Francis struggled to speak, the pain in his voice apparent. “We need to find out what the hell is going on, Viviana. We owe Sister Eloise that.”
Viviana snorted. “Not to mention what we owe Ariel, a sixteen-year-old heroine who literally put her life on the line for us and a whole lot of other young, abused girls like herself.”
Francis’s expression hardened. “I agree. Some serious shit had to happen, Sergeant Moreau, to drive Ariel back onto the streets.”
Viviana returned his hard glare and said softly, “You’re right, Francis. I don’t have to tell you that I will not rest until I figure out exactly what, and, or who caused the bravest young woman I know to fall off the rails.” She added grimly, “And when I do, I promise you, I’ll make them wish they’d never heard of Sergeant Viviana Moreau.”
As Francis turned to go into the bar, Viviana called after him, “I’m going to the hospital now, Francis.”
He sighed. “I knew you would say that, Viviana. Sorry, hot stuff. I already tried. Ariel bailed this morning. AMA, against medical advice. She’s in the wind.”
***
Nursing her second double scotch, Viviana heard him call out her name and turned to see Jax and, God help her, Greg Bannon loping though the crowded bar toward her. Wondering what the hell she’d done to have life sic those two particular men on her, she blew out a hard breath and planted a false smile on her lips. Seeing his eyes harden, Viviana knew she hadn’t fooled Jax. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then yanked out the chair next to her and said to Greg, “Hmm, if I was paranoid, Commander Bannon, I might think that your sergeant isn’t particularly pleased to see us. What did you do to her today, on your first day as commander?” He nodded at her glass and said to the passing waiter, “Bring us what the lady is having.” He turned to Greg and said, “Sergeant Moreau insists on good booze. But then, I remember you learned that in Belize when you were pretending to be a bartender. As I recall, Compass Box Hedonism was our elusive sergeant’s preferred drink at that time. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to convince Francis Fleming to stock that overpriced libation.”
Wondering if Jax was purposefully referring to Belize to throw her off her stride, Viviana refused to take the bait. Ignoring Jax, she flashed a sunny smile at Greg. “Good afternoon, or is it evening, Commander Bannon?”
Greg’s smile looked somewhat strained when he replied. “I don’t know how best to describe it, except that it has been much too long, Sergeant Moreau, since you left the precinct . . . and our meeting.”
Jax’s frown darkened perceptibly, but he responded coolly, “Yes, Viviana, Commander Bannon mentioned that you skedaddled early today. I left you several messages, but when you didn’t return them, I took a chance that you may have come here.” Turning to Bannon, Jax said, “If ever there was a second home for SJPD officers and most of the hoi polloi in the city, it’s Flemings.” He looked up as Francis approached. “Ah, and here is the impresario of this fine establishment, Francis Flemings himself.”
Francis waved both Jax and Greg back into their seats and pulled out the chair next to Jax’s. “Good evening, Chief Hughes. As I understand, that is the name you are going b
y these days. Tell me, Jax, will you be the police chief longer than you were in Commander Bannon’s role?” Francis smiled at Greg and said, “The big money is on the fact that Jax decided he could better contain this irascible but lovely sergeant if he was an even bigger honcho. Not that as Sergeant Moreau’s current commander that should give you pause, sir.”
Jax laughed and said with a wink, “C’mon, Francis. Don’t try to scare the big guy off on his first day. Although, according to Commander Bannon, the sergeant didn’t stick around long enough for him to do much commanding.” Shooting both Viviana and Francis a narrowed gaze, Jax added, “Knowing Sergeant Moreau and you, Francis, as well as I do, I suggested to the new commander that when Viviana flies the coop as she’s inclined to do, a good bet is that like a homing pigeon, she’ll land at Flemings.”
Francis’s engaging grin widened. “Thank you, Chief Hughes, for the compliment. Whether it is true or not, any wise saloon owner will tell you that his take for the evening rises exponentially when the word gets out that the Enchantress is gracing his humble establishment.”
Greg glanced at his phone, then rose to his feet. “Sorry, folks, I need to take this call. Please excuse me.” He grimaced and added, “I presume that whatever Lieutenant Jensen needs will not be nearly as intriguing as this conversation is sure to be, but apparently duty calls.” He grinned at Jax. “I trust you can handle these two, Jax? Get to the bottom of their adventures? I only wish I could watch. In the short time I’ve been Sergeant Moreau’s commander, it’s clear I’m going to need all the advice I can get.”