The Ringer

by Amber Malloy

  The old wood boards groaned underneath his feet. Jax decided to just check the first floor. The rest of the building was closed off since the owner had been too old to make it up the stairs.

  Not hearing anything suspicious, he kept to the side of the hallway until the sound of rotting planks creaked under the feet of someone else’s weight.

  “Police!” He called out. With his gun pointed straight in front of him, he hit the kitchen light switch with his free hand.

  Metal from a weapon caught his eye.

  Instinctually, he fired three rapid shots into his assailant’s torso. The intruder’s body jerked back with the first bullet and then settled into a lifeless free fall.

  Jax kept his gun trained on the motionless corpse. He needed to make sure the intruder wouldn’t get up from the floor. He kicked the gun out of the perp’s reach and looked into his face. “Shit,” he growled, recognizing the man right away.

  “Shit!” he said again before he got down on one knee to take the pulse of his old snitch. Dead eyes, wide open and full of condemnation, stared at the ceiling while his blood ran cold.

  “Jax!” Raff’s scream came from the front of the house before she gave emergency dispatch their location. The sound of her work boots came at a quick clip toward him.

  “Kitchen,” he shouted before he glanced at his watch.

  “Oh, hell, Thornbird,” Raff said, rounding the corner with her gun out. “Is that?”

  “Yep, Nookie,” he confirmed. He picked up the weapon and took a picture of the serial number before he dropped the cartridge of the Glock to check for bullets.

  “What?”

  “Empty,” he told her.

  “Crap, damn it!” She repeated his sentiments from earlier. “It’s starting. They’re doing exactly what they said they would.” Raff grabbed the blonde tips of her hair and pull at them in frustration. “What now?” Angry blotches attacked Raff’s face and neck.

  Jax didn’t have enough time to calm her down, so he did the best thing for the both of them. “Go! Get out of here!”

  “What?”

  “Leave.”

  “But I’m the one who called in the shots fired.”

  “Do what I say,” he commanded. They had a few more minutes alone, and he couldn’t waste any of it on her.

  Raff opened her mouth to protest but must have decided against it. Instead, she turned on her heels. He waited until he heard her steel-toe boots hit the weather-beaten porch outside before he moved.

  A junkie, plain and simple. Nothing but a petty thief by day and a hophead by night, he would sell out his mother for a hit in a pinch. Nookie was the go-to snitch for everyone in narcotics, a dope fiend through and through. Armed robbery was not Nookie’s thing. Jax recognized a setup. In the distance, the faint sound of sirens seeped into the old home. Jax determined the uniforms were probably only blocks away. With minutes to spare, he pulled the gas oven from the wall and yanked up the loose floorboard closest to the outlet. He dropped the perp’s Glock down the open hole before he shoved the oven back into place. After this setup, he knew the evidence would have to go into the right hands. In other words, no one from his division could find it.

  The sirens from the emergency white and blues were on the next street. He hurried down the hallway and threw the wooden plank into the closet. He rearranged moth-eaten clothes to hide the board before the uniforms pulled up to the curb outside the house.

  ***

  The present….

  Lane stared out the small cabin window at the cops who boarded other trains in search of Jax. Once their cab pulled from the station, the shivers running throughout her body went away.

  Still clad in a stingy towel, Lane was embarrassed but at least dry. She listened to Jax’s strange tale.

  “I don’t get it. Why would your division set you up? Are you sure Raff had nothing to do with this?” She spoke up for the first time since he’d started to unravel his web of deceit.

  “Some guys from the unit warned her to either help or get out of the way.”

  “Why would they warn her?”

  “Raff transferred into the unit. They didn’t trust her.” He put his hands behind his head to rest on them. The man took up the entire cabin couch with his big frame. At the moment, his closeness was a bit much for her to handle. With murder, mayhem, and sex swirling in her mind, she needed to put some distance between them.

  “They warned Raff to leave. Whether she was aware of their plan beforehand didn’t matter much.”

  “Seems arrogant,” Lane huffed.

  “Sure, but they don’t care. The city is theirs to run.”

  “But why?”

  “Why are they arrogant or why are they setting me up?”

  The modest towel tied around his waist inched farther up his muscled thigh. Lane tried to stay focused, but the stress from the past day and uncertainty of the future played havoc inside of her.

  “Both.” She swallowed, afraid she would say something in the way of take off that towel and come here. A good line out of anyone else’s mouth.

  “There are some strange cases I’ve come across. One night, I stayed late doing paperwork when this homeless guy came in wanting to file a report about his friend. I could have blown him off like most of the detectives in my squad would have, but there was something about him.” He shrugged. “So I dug and found a John Doe who matched his friend’s description, but he had already been cremated.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” She had always assumed John Does were cremated if they weren’t claimed.

  “At the time, nothing, but the acceleration of the process threw up some red flags. I kept at it until I found more John Does who matched missing persons’ reports. Most of them appear connected, but I can’t quite figure out how.”

  Lane pushed her hair back and blew out a breath. “This makes no sense.”

  “Unlike other cops, I didn’t have to watch the clock. I could do the work on my private time which must have made someone awfully nervous.” He closed his eyes. He looked wiped.

  “How does any of this tie into last night? You’re on the front page of the newspaper, wanted for questioning in the mark’s murder. A murder you didn’t commit.”

  “I think he was the snitch of one of the detectives I work with.” Jax rubbed his hand across his face.

  “Who, the guy who shot at us?”

  He merely shook his head. Lane could tell by the red in his eyes that the sleep loss had begun to catch up with him.

  “Let’s pick this up later,” she suggested. They would need to work on all cylinders to get out of this mess. “After you grab some Zs you should consider imploring the kindness of your wealthy friends. I think you could use it. I’m going to dry out your clothes the best I can and—”

  Jax was out of his seat and directly in front of her. Fast reflexes. She had no choice except to feel the strength of his body against her needy one. “I’ll understand if you want out,” he told her. “I can send you somewhere safe until this is all sorted.” He held her tight against him.

  Gold flecks twinkled throughout the hazel in his eyes. Jax was so close if he tilted his head just a few inches lower, he could kiss her. A taste of his lips would be enough. But fear shouldn’t have been a good reason to sexually attack him.

  “I’m a big girl. You’ll be the first person I tell when I’ve reached my limit. Besides, I don’t believe in coincidences. One or both of us were marked to die last night. We should find out why.”

  He held onto her a moment longer and stared into her eyes. He searched for something. A truth of some sort, she wasn’t sure. However, if he continued to touch her, she wouldn’t be responsible for her raging hormones.

  She tried to move back but bumped into the cabin wall.

  “Thank you,” he told her. “For saving me back there. You were great, and it was a lot to ask, so thank you.”

  A knot formed in her throat while tears threatened to come. Unable to speak, she nodded. It
had been a long time since she had encountered such genuine kindness from a man, and she didn’t want to ruin it with blubbering.

  Once she was positive she wouldn’t cry, Lane eased past him. “You’re welcome,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Chapter Eight

  Julian Blanchard, captain of the first district in Chicago, Illinois, sat calmly as the city’s mayor chewed him a new one.

  The two most powerful men in Chicago sat across from his desk. Everyone pretended they were just in the neighborhood for a friendly chat. However, Julian wasn’t a fool. Years of dedication circled the drain, all thanks to one entitled rich prick named Jackson Thornbird.

  “Captain, we must commend you on the success of your district.”

  Julian nodded and took in the accolades, ready for the other shoe to drop. Wise to the way of the powerful, he had worked very hard to become one of those “elite few.”

  “The crime rate has gone down significantly, and your squad did a marvelous job finding the side-alley rapist,” the commissioner said. Julian noticed he’d begun with a compliment, which meant he would swing down the axe next.

  “Now we don’t want this thing with Thornbird getting out of hand. He’s high society with lots of connections to the upper crust of our fair city.”

  Our corrupt city, Julian didn’t bother to say. Everyone knew about the dirty politicians of Chicago, and he sat amongst two of the filthiest.

  “My suggestion, cut the wild card loose from the unit and let I.A. do to him what they will.”

  Jax Thornbird had a privileged life and, as far as Julian could see, the douche bag merely enjoyed the game of cops and robbers.

  He had given his squad explicit instructions to make Thornbird’s life a living hell. It hadn’t been enough to scare the boy off. “He was at the scene of a grisly murder. “If he’s involved in any—”

  Mayor Ryan held up his hand. He hated anything that resembled actual work. This visit must be killing him.

  “Many of Thornbird’s relatives and close personal friends are big donors. We all have the same goal in mind. Every one of us would like our city to continue running in pristine fashion.

  “It frees our pockets up for the conventions and the summer festivities. To cross one of the wealthiest families in Chicago would not be conducive to what we are trying to accomplish here,” Mayor Ryan finished with a tight smile.

  Both men stood.

  “I.A. can handle Thornbird,” the commissioner needlessly added his two cents..

  “Excuse me, but if Internal Affairs had dealt with this properly, Thornbird would’ve been arrested for the junkie killing on Madison a few months back,” Julian seethed with contempt. Thornbird was damn near untouchable.

  “Don’t want to point fingers,” the commissioner said. “But an open and shut shooting is what you promised.”

  Julian winced at the flat-out accusation.

  “You’re a shoo-in for the city’s Top Cop, son. Don’t blow it,” Mayor Ryan threatened before the two men walked out of the door.

  Julian ran through his options and found he had few where Jackson Thornbird was concerned. He hated the punk and promised to make the asshole pay.

  Chapter Nine

  With only an hour of sleep, Jax sat on a park bench not too far from the Lincoln Memorial. He had spent the last five hours from Chicago to Washington hashing out a plan. To say he was dog-tired was an understatement.

  He had dropped Lane off at a private airport with explicit instructions of what to do if he didn’t show up at the scheduled time.

  “This better be good, Thornbird,” Armand Oswald said. No eye contact. Army wouldn’t hesitate to put him in handcuffs. With a beautiful golden retriever by his side, he took a seat next to him on the bench. The dog popped a squat at the feet of his master.

  He wouldn’t call him a friend, or even a close associate. At the most, Army could be slotted into the acquaintance from college category.

  They moved in different social circles, always aware of one another’s presence throughout those four years. What they shared was greater than what they didn’t share at all.

  At one point, he was even nicknamed Blond Ambition behind his back by the sorority girls. Army’s money came from textiles, while the Thornbird family held the titles to the most prestigious law firms in Chicago and Miami.

  “This walking the dog routine will grant me fifteen to twenty minutes tops. If you don’t tell me something good, I’m going to arrest you in less than ten.” When he headed for local law enforcement, Army went straight for FBI. He believed Army had big aspirations for a political office.

  Fieldwork for the feds wasn’t Army’s passion, but Jax was positive he would do the job to the best of his abilities.

  “Chicago corruption.”

  “What’s new?” Army grunted. He leaned back, relaxed in his suit.

  He couldn’t imagine wearing one of those on a day in, day out basis. Jeans were generally the uniform tattooed on his ass. “I told you local PD.”

  Army shook his head. “Crap move.” At their graduation from Stanford, Army did indeed give his hometown ambitions a thumbs down. He’d also laughed and grabbed his nuts when he said as much.

  “I’m being set up,” Jax confessed.

  “Yeah, I came across something to the effects of a murder last night, small time shit. Also an investigation by I.A. You’re keeping busy I see.”

  “Internal Affairs wanted me to turn snitch on my captain. He’s been dabbling in a bit of everything for some time now, but they can’t catch him. If I come up with something solid, then they will kick my inquiry,” Jax admitted, setting all of his cards on the table.

  “Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Sounds like your career is over, Thornbird. Maybe you should hop onto one of your daddy’s yachts and sail out of here until the heat dies down.”

  “I need you to trace the serial number off this gun.” He turned over his iPhone, which held a copy of the evidence from his wrongful shooting. For days, he’d used burner phones to keep in contact with the most essential people.

  “You mean the weapon they can’t find?” Army took the cell and slipped it into his coat pocket. He pulled a ball out of the same pocket then let his dog off the leash.

  “The gun is from evidence. I need the name of who checked it out.” The retriever ran across the park to grab the ball Army had tossed and returned with her treasure.

  “What if someone stole it from evidence,” Army said. “Then what will you have to go on?”

  “Is there any way you can access the vault’s footage from downtown?”

  “Legally?”

  “No,” he said. “Just tell me who took it. No warrants needed.”

  “Your ex-partner, Sherman Jones.”

  Jax wasn’t surprised Army came back with an answer so quickly. Army would never have put his future in jeopardy by helping a fugitive.

  “This morning I caught a call from dispatch. A shooting in Sherman’s building. Did Sherman—”

  “Yep, your ex-partner has been admitted into intensive care, prognosis critical,” Army relayed in a dry, emotionless manner, as if he were reading a menu.

  He couldn’t be too upset by the fed’s demeanor. Army wasn’t friends with Sherman or his family, but Jax was, and he felt crummy.

  “Do you think he helped set you up?”

  “No,” he confessed. “Sherman probably saw something and that’s what got him hurt.”

  Couples with babies strolled through the park. People with pets walked across the grass to enjoy the peaceful fall afternoon. Meanwhile, his life continued to turn upside down.

  “Ten minutes, Thornbird,” Army said, reminding him of the small amount of time remaining to plead his case.

  “I want to clear my name.”

  “For what? Your career in Homicide is finished.” Army threw the toy up and down, testing his animal’s self-control. “Even if we cleared you, you’re untouchable with the I.A. thing hanging ov
er your head. Like I said, take a vacation.” He chucked the ball, allowing the retriever to break free and chase after it.

  “Everyone will think my family influences got me off. I worked too hard for that to happen.”

  The dog trotted back with the toy in her mouth and dropped it at her master’s feet without encouragement. She watched him intently, waiting for a kernel of attention.

  Army had always been a control freak. The complete and utter devotion of his pet was a requirement, not an endorsement for companionship.

  “You know what your problem is, Thornbird? You always underestimated your place. A rich dude pretending to be one of the guys, dare I say normal?”

  “What’s wrong with normal?” Jax asked.

  “It’s overrated. Life goes much easier if you stay right where you belong, breeds less resentment. Face it, Thornbird, you spend more time trying to fit in than actually doing your job, which I’m guessing you were probably good at.”

  A pair of giggling joggers made their way past them more than once. The third time would be the charm. his time was up.

  Not immune to the flattery of female admiration, Jax realized they both had their fair share just sitting on the bench. Odds told him those women would stop to speak to them, and he couldn’t afford the attention.

  Army wore his rich boy arrogance with privilege. If he didn’t want the women to remember them, he needed to motor. With the belief nothing had been accomplished, he stood.

  “Give me the captain.”

  He opened his mouth to remind him it would be impossible, but Army cut him off.

  “Snagging your captain is worth my involvement. Taking him down could net me a few points on my resume. It would bump me out of agent faster than the petty drug shit on my desk.” Army snapped his fingers. “Get me something concrete, and I’ll help clear your name.” He put his dog back on her leash and left Jax to mull over his offer.

  Chapter Ten

  Lane wiggled her little piggies in the plush shag carpet and sank into heaven. She had never been on a private plane before. The opulence of this particular jet boggled her mind.