by Amber Malloy
“One of those stick-in-the-ass charity events.” Ava shook her head. “Right after she married Parker.”
“Not a fan?” he asked, noting her deep-set frown.
“Milo couldn’t stand him. Parker always made these backhanded comments about my race. They almost came to blows one night.”
“Sounds about right.” For the most part, the problems he had with Parker stayed rooted in high school. Over the years, he had caught wind of a rumor or two, but his job kept him too busy to give a crap about Lockland.
Ava peeked over her shoulder toward the stairwell and whispered, “I don’t get why she married him. Lonely maybe.” She shrugged. “She’s not his type.”
“What do you mean?” Jax played stupid, hoping she would reveal something useful. He didn’t want his own bias about Parker messing with his mind, but Lane picked the wrong moment to come back and break up the party.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jackson Thornbird. You take care of my best friend, or you’ll have me to answer to,” she threatened before she gave his hand a quick and sneaky pinch.
“It didn’t take me long. Some crazy OCD mouse arranged my clothes on the bed and….”
Jax yanked his hand back and stared at Ava in disbelief.
“Why are you holding your hand? Ava! You didn’t pinch him, did you?” Lane hurried over to him and took his hand. “Sorry,” she apologized for Ava while she patted the spot until the pain went away. “Those hurt like a son of a bitch don’t they?”
He nodded and frowned at the mischievous woman who acted innocent to any wrongdoing.
“We better go,” he said, not up to another attack by the crazy, pinch-happy elf. He steered Lane to the door, but she wiggled loose from his grip to run back to Ava.
“Be safe,” she said. They gave each other a sweet embrace. “And don’t forget to take your pills.”
“I hate those things,” Ava muttered before she let go..
“You’ll be off them in no time,” Lane told her. “I love you.”
Jax rubbed the back of his hand where it still stung and noticed Ava slip a wad of cash into her friend’s pocket. Since there was no better time to get the move on, he pulled Lane toward the door.
A light touch to his arm stopped his progress.
He turned toward Lane and saw the same unsure expression on her face from earlier. A question she needed answered.
“Go ahead,” he encouraged her.
“Grenade,” she said, tucking a lock of hair, loose from her ponytail, behind her ear. “It’s not the blast, it’s the shrapnel, right?” She glanced over her shoulder at Ava who gave them an encouraging smile and a wave good-bye.
“Yeah,” he told her. “It’s what happens after the grenade goes off.”
“Okay, then.” She walked past him through the open door. “I’m ready.” From the grit in her tone, she must have made up her mind about something.
Chapter Six
Jax left the car he borrowed from Ava on a side street near Union Station.
They took to the morning rush with the rest of the weekday warriors. “I come off like a slouch next to you,” he told her.
Lane glanced down at her outfit. Ava had put together a trendy homage to the sixties. Brown rider boots ran up the legs of her jeans to the knee. A fitted, white asymmetrical tank top hugged her shape down to her hip, complimenting the cropped cashmere jacket.
Surprised her chic duds felt so comfortable, she wondered what the rest of her luggage had in store. Ava always had a flair for the dramatic.
“New plus line.” She shrugged. “I’m the muse.”
An onslaught of people poured out of the bus parked near the curb. He pulled her closer. “Plus?”
“Yeah, big girls?”
“Since when is someone your size considered a big girl?”
“I’m not sure.” She ducked under his arm before she stepped into the revolving door, turning to face him as she walked backward. “I think the minute Jayne Mansfield died.”
He chuckled. Close enough to kiss. The scent of spearmint filled her nose. Ready for their lips to meet, she anticipated his mouth on top of hers but got slapped in the face with cold air instead. Jax pushed her out of the revolving door and caught her arm before she kissed the ground.
“Get on the Amtrak train to Washington,” he said with a hard edge. Swarms of morning commuters shot around them in an attempt to reach their morning train. He turned her around in the opposite direction.
“If you need money,” he whispered in her ear while he pulled out the money from her pocket. “Courtesy of Ava.”
She had no idea Ava had put anything in there. He passed over the handle to her luggage, and then gave her a small nudge toward the crowd.
Urgency gobbled up their light-hearted frivolity. Unsure what had happened to change the mood, Lane went along with him. The intensity he had displayed early that morning took over his genial demeanor.
“What are you going to do?” She took the first few stair steps, reluctant to leave.
“I’ll find you.” The certainty in his tone forced her to trust him. Jax folded the hood from his sweats over his head and disappeared within the tide of the crowd.
Unsure where to board, she hustled down the rest of the stairs with her trolley bumping along behind her.
Several uniformed officers entered the building. A ball of rock-hard tension coiled in the small of her back.
When she handed the ticket taker her pass at the booth, he grunted. “Must be a terror alert,” the man mumbled.
Under her breath, she urged the worker to hurry up before a newspaper caught her eye. A clear picture of Jackson Thornbird took up three-quarters of the Sun Times front page. Until that very moment, she never realized how closely cadet photos resembled mug shots. The hairs on her arms rose.
Scheduled to depart the station in less than twenty minutes, she worried Jax wouldn’t make it. Determined to appear normal, she rushed to her platform and stepped in line with the rest of the passengers waiting to board.
A skilled upside down reader, she had honed her ability in grade school to make out even the worst of poor handwriting. Nasty bits about her poor attitude and future as a qualified juvenile delinquent became a repeated theme from her counselors, social workers, and her personal favorite, the principal.
A note here and there would be added to the ever-growing permanent file that Lane exhibited antisocial behavior, which stemmed from an acute case of isolation. With all their professional opinions mixed together, they’d figured out the girl without parents was most likely lonely. No shit, she sighed. Stepping on the train, she navigated the narrow hallway to her cabin. Lane pushed aside the memories of her past to dissect the story she just read from the newspaper about Jax.
She used the key card to get into her assigned cabin and groped around for the light switch. A strong hand clamped down over her mouth, cutting off her scream, at the same time she was yanked into the room.
“They’re going to check every cabin before the train leaves,” Jax whispered into her ear. “I will have to meet you in Washington.”
With no misgivings about his innocence, she believed he had been wrongfully accused of something. “No,” she said, panicked he would leave. “I’ve got an idea.”
He loosened his grip enough for her to turn around in his arms. “We won’t make it past the dogs if they bring them in—”
She put her finger on his lips to silence his protest. “Trust me.”
Doubt shuttled across his face, but after a beat, he relented. “What the hell. You’ve done a pretty good job trusting me.”
Thankful for the extra room in their suite, she shoved him into the small bathroom shower stall and got to work. She poured her bath gel all over Jax and his clothes. They got undressed. He stripped off his jeans, sweatshirt, and underwear.
She needed the flowery aroma to take hold of the space around them before the cops showed up. Too busy scrubbing the suds furiously into their sk
in, she didn’t have even a second for the insecurities about her body to sink in. Lane was insanely attracted to Jax, but she had no idea if he felt the same way. A crazy spike to her heart rate replaced the uncomfortable churn of fear.
With no time to feel humiliated by how bare she truly felt, she tried not to wonder if he was disgusted by her big hips and even bigger boobs.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” he asked, probably misinterpreting her snort for doubt.
“It will work on the dogs.” She tried to avoid any and all eye contact with his junk, but still caught a peek. The man was hung. She didn’t want to allow his manhood to hypnotize her, at least not right now. She had a job to do. She shook the remainder of the gel from the bottle onto his jeans and shirt.
Someone pounded on the cabin door. Naked and wet, they froze in place. Jax gave her a nod of encouragement.
Lane grabbed a towel. The thin fabric couldn’t cover her pinky toe.
“Police, open up!” Someone used the key card before she had a chance to answer. “Hello? Police.”
For dramatic effect, she waited a few seconds before she tumbled out the bathroom door. She skidded into the path of two shocked uniformed cops and one nervous train conductor. Without a lot of space between the rooms, she bumped her arm, forcing her towel to almost slip off.
“Oh, God!” she shrieked in her best imitation of Marilyn Monroe.
As she tried to figure out how dumb she wanted to lower herself to with her act, she struggled to stretch the towel across her enormous bosom. The sparse fabric lost the fight. The towel fell past her areola but stopped before her nipple. The Amtrak rep turned his head in embarrassment while the cops ogled her body.
“Sorry, ma’am, we’re doing mandatory checks. Are you traveling alone?”
“Yes.” She giggled. “What’s this all about?”
“We’re looking for this man.” The younger cop held up Jax’s picture.
“What did he do?” Lane squeaked and added a doe-eyed look of surprise for good effect.
“Nothing too serious, ma’am. We just have some questions for him.”
“Oh, no. It’s just little ol’ me. I boarded not too long ago and had a heck of a time getting up those stairs.” She leaned forward to maximize their view of her cleavage. “I spilled coffee on my Lucky jeans,” she lied, since she couldn’t fit her big ass into a pair of Lucky jeans, and thanks to Ava, she didn’t have any coffee to carry.
Fresh out of small talk, she wanted to hurry this shindig along. She made a clumsy grab for the flyer, forcing the towel to slide another notch. “If I see him I’ll send up the alarm,” she said, with another girlish giggle.
Less than a tick remained between the towel and her nipple, which denied them a view of her whole boob.
“Anything else?” She pushed for the men to leave who stayed rooted to their spots.
The older cop cleared his throat. “We’ll let you finish up with whatever,” he said while the younger officer bobbed his head up and down with a lecherous grin. “Good day, ma’am.”
Lane waited until they cleared out of the room before she blew out a ragged sigh of relief.
At no point did Jax think Lane’s idea would work, but the minute the dark-haired beauty began to peel off her clothes. When she yanked her tank over her head his mind stopped working. Stuck in neutral, he’d listened to her idea.
Two large treats, soft, and begging to be licked hypnotized him. The white and pink lingerie couldn’t contain all of her confectionary deliciousness. He had a hard time following the simple plan she laid out.
The past few days had been a whirlwind of incidents, which ended up with them naked in the shower. The ridiculously strong scent of flowers snapped him out of his lull before Lane took off her bra.
She squirted half the bottle onto his pile of wet clothes and began to lather him up with more than enough feminine smells for a lifetime. Beads of water trickled down her skin and through the suds of her breasts. Various crime scenes flashed through his mind while he tried to keep down his raging hard on.
With ten minutes before departure, the uniformed cops had to be close. They would need to check every occupied cabin. There was no way he could go to central booking covered in the smell of lilacs with a case of blue balls.
A knock on their door broke his concentration, which helped him avoid glancing south of the border at her amazing body.
Lane went into her Betty Boop routine, performing better than he could have ever imagined. He considered her charming talents of persuasion, and Basic Instinct came to mind.
“All clear,” the cop said.
He wanted to be sure they left before he turned off the shower and stepped over the sopping mess of his clothes. On his way out of the stall, he grabbed a towel to cover himself.
Perched on the edge of the sleeper couch, she shook. He stood above her while she took several deep breaths, and he worried she was in the beginning stages of a full-blown panic attack.
“Your picture is on the front page of the paper. They’re saying you’re wanted for questioning about the murder of my mark l-last n-night. Why would they say that?”
Wet and probably vulnerable, the shakes were inevitable. A light tremble took hold of her jaw. Jax wanted to comfort her, but first he needed to lay everything on the table.
“Is now a good time to talk?” he asked while he grabbed the seat next to her. Not sure where to start, memories from one of the worst days of his life tackled him from the past and pushed their way straight into the present.
Chapter Seven
Four months ago….
Darkness threatened the city. Frustrated about the amount of work on his desk, Jax headed toward his car, taking the stairs outside of the precinct two at a time.
“Partner, I need a ride.” Raff stood next to the passenger side door, waiting for him. “My car got towed to the shop this afternoon.”
“Hop in,” he told her. “I need to make a quick stop.” Partnering with Raff had been seamless but didn’t start off that way. Jax glided through the downtown streets with ease. Nobody wanted to spend ten to fourteen hours with the rich boy and found the task of taking on the lesbian even less appealing.
Raff had just transferred into the unit, and he was still the new guy. The rest of Homicide tried their best to freeze them out, which caused unnecessary tension between the pair. After some time, they established a groove and earned the highest arrest record within the department. They might have still been the black sheep, but at the very least, they commanded respect.
“We need to kick this case,” Raff said, smacking on her nicotine gum with a vengeance. He appreciated the good quality of fresh air, but the constant gum chewing tickled his every nerve.
“You want to give it a rest?” He grabbed a napkin and put his hand in front of her mouth to spit it out. The details of the last case ran rampant in his mind, and the distraction of her new habit made him want to flip her a cigarette.
“This one’s got nothing. No motive, no forensics, which means no suspect.” Raff played with his stereo. “Plus, all this crap going on with you. How about we just take a break? I could use some time off.”
“What, you and Trixie got a thing?” Tired of her fiddling with his dials, he tried to slap her hand away. With crazy fast reflexes, Raff moved in the nick of time.
“Yeah, she wants to take a shot at in vitro fertilization.”
“Oh, wow!” He snapped off the radio. “Congrats.” Genuinely happy for his partner, it couldn’t have been worse timing. Under the gun, their own department was out for their blood.
“I’m not like you.” She snorted. “I don’t want this job to be my whole life. Could you be a bigger workaholic?”
He had no desire to chase his tail. Instead, he changed the topic. “Who’s the daddy?”
“Are you putting in an offer?” The low-key woman cackled. “A wealthy aristocrat like yourself? Will the kid hold his pinky up or down when he drinks tea?”
According to her neighbors, the sweet, old lady who wouldn’t hurt a fly had met a horrible fate. Regardless of her unflappable charm, someone decided to beat her into the hereafter anyway.
They got out of the car and headed toward the brick four-story walk-up. The neighborhood, at one point, had been a well-to-do middle class but, over the past twenty years, had changed. A rush to migrate to the suburbs had transformed the community, and little by little, family buildings sold for next to nothing.
“Did you see that?” Raff asked him.
The sun dipped behind the buildings. Twilight hit fast. Jax noted movement by a hedge alongside the alleyway. Police tape still covered the door of Edith Collins’ building. No one should have been there.
“I’m going to check it out,” Raff said before she took off after the villainous shrub shaker.
His partner had never been a fan of crime scenes. In the past, she’d told him it was nothing better than a shell after CSI processed the property. If she hadn’t hitched a ride, he would have never taken her in the first place.
He clumped up the stone steps while he dug in his pocket for the key to the lock the police put on the door. He ripped the yellow ribbon away from the entryway without the slightest idea why he needed to come back to the crime scene.
Not that he wanted to admit it, but this case was a dog. If he didn’t give it one more shot, it would be dead in the water. Once a file came across his desk, he did his best to see it through.
He walked inside the widow’s home and popped the holster of his gun. He couldn’t see two feet in front of him, but he smelled the acrid scent of iron and funk.
He hesitated to take out his flashlight since the beam would pinpoint his exact location. Instead, he felt his way along the wall and headed to the back of the house toward the kitchen.