Stark Raving Mad (Chicago's Finest Book 2)

by Vanessa Knight

  There went that idea.

  “So, Brook, when are you going to decorate this office? Clients like the personal touch.”

  “I decorated.” She stared at the stark white walls, adorned only by diplomas, and the shelves lined with books. It wasn’t exactly Hello Kitty vases and M&M dispensers like she had at home, but this was utilitarian. This was who she was here.

  “Where are the pictures of your boyfriend?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard he moved out.” She moderated her tone, barely.

  Everyone knew about Todd. They knew everything. The rumor mill was so damn thorough, they probably knew how many boxes it took to move his clothing.

  Twelve boxes. For the record. Twelve whole really big boxes. And that didn’t even take in account his shoes. He had more clothes than an entire family. And he liked shopping. In stores. In retrospect, that should have been a big warning sign right there.

  “So, what are your plans now that you’re newly single?” “My plan is to work on the Ryder case.”

  “You work too much, Southby.” He angled into a chair in front of her desk. He was staying for a while, or at least long enough that he needed to sit. She should have drank another carafe of coffee to prepare for this.

  “I do what’s needed to be done.”

  “Yes. Yes you do.” Larry’s piercing blue eyes stared right through her. “But there’s more to life than just work. We like our partners to be well-rounded.”

  Well-rounded? Why would that matter? With all the crap food she’d been stress-eating lately, she was working on being rounded, all right. However, she had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant. “I am well rounded.”

  “Really? What do you for fun outside of work? What are your hobbies?” “I don’t think this is the right place for this conversation—”

  “You’re right. Over dinner would be better.”

  Over dinner? She was so tired of hearing about this stupid dinner. And as for discussing her personal life? Nope. Her personal life was off limits. She didn’t get this far by being bullied. Nope. She wasn’t going to go to any damn dinner.

  “Of course.” She smiled. She got this far by playing the game, and this was the game. She generally loved her job, and even if that meant smiling nicely at the other partners, she would do it. If Larry wanted dinner, he’d get dinner.

  She drew the line at dessert, though. Or touching. Or talking feelings. But she was a professional, dammit. She could get his gutterous mind back on work if she had to. Gutterous mind? It might not be a real word, but it worked.

  Brook glanced out her office door just in time to see Mary duck her head and pretend to work on something at her desk. She had heard every word. Dammit. Brook trusted Mary, but this gossip was too good for anyone to keep quiet.

  Brook was having dinner with the boss. She’d just bet phones were pinging all over the building.

  With one word, her reputation would be shot. Brook leaned on her desk and sighed. She’d worked at Biddle and Bosk for ten years and managed to dodge any advances, but he hadn’t been this persistent in the past. Something was up.

  Larry’s latest intern, Autumn Black, sauntered into Brook’s office. “Mister Bosk, sir, you asked me to remind you,” she said in her high-pitched voice. “You have a meeting with Mister Biddle in five minutes.” Her fire-red hair swayed past her hips and onto her ample ass.

  “Did you make those copies I asked for?”

  Autumn’s eyes widened. “I tried, but I couldn’t figure out the printer. It kept asking for a code.” Brook could see why Larry liked her. Young. Perky. And she was cute with bountiful curves in all the right places. Too bad she was confused by basic electronics.

  “You set up the code.” He shook his head. “Do you remember what code you setup?”

  “Ummm…no?”

  Larry’s eyes were stuck to the skintight blue dress hugging every inch of Autumn’s body. It left nothing to the imagination, and given the smirk on his face, Brook had an idea what scenarios his imagination had concocted.

  “Well, maybe Mary can help you, Miss Black.” He shifted in the chair as his eyes raked over Autumn’s shape. Brook fought not to cringe. It was so weird watching his eyes hump Autumn’s body. She didn’t know if she should turn away or offer him a cigarette.

  “Miss Black, I’ll meet you back at my office.”

  Autumn nodded her head and turned, walking out the door. Larry’s lecherous eyes followed her, and didn’t return to Brook until that swishing butt was halfway down the hall.

  “That’s what we need more of in this firm. Well-rounded.” Larry stood up and buttoned his jacket.

  Yeah.Well-rounded, my ass. Well, he’d probably like Brook’s ass to be as rounded as Autumn’s. It would be all the more eye candy for him to gawk at. But Brook didn’t have an insurable booty.

  “We’ll talk about rounding you out tomorrow at dinner.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” She smiled as she attempted to say that without sarcasm. Given his scowl, she may not have been successful.

  “As am I, Ms. Southby.” He nodded at Brook’s PA as he passed. “Mary, you look lovely today.”

  Brook rolled her eyes as Mary blushed and grinned a goofy, girlish smile. The man had talent. Any woman within a mile radius turned to mush at his sweet words. Except for Brook.

  She sifted through her mail. The usual fluff. She lifted the Lawyer’s Quarterly newspaper, and an envelope slid to the ground. “Brook Southby” was written across the front of the envelope. No address. Nothing.

  She tore open the flap and pulled out a letter.

  How could you fuck up my life? Who are you to lie? Dishonesty needs to be repaid. Blood for blood. Life for life. I won’t stop till your eyeballs are stapled to my bedpost. I’ll filet your lying lips and feed it to my dog. Fuck you!

  Terror slithered down her spine. Eyeballs. Lips. She ran a hand across her face.

  All the parts were still there, and she’d like to keep them that way.

  “Brook?” Mary walked in the door. “Brook, are you okay? You’re an interesting shade of pale.”

  “Uh, yeah, where did this letter come from?”

  Mary took the letter and sighed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let that one through.”

  “Through?”

  “Yeah, we’re supposed to toss these in a file. I just must have missed this one.”

  “One? There were others?”

  “You’ve been getting hate mail for years.” Mary cocked her head sideways. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one. All the lawyers get their share of hate mail.”

  Great. They’d all die together. A bedpost full of lawyers’ eyeballs.

  Chapter Seven

  Eight hours and zero additional death threats later, Brook tipped a frozen mug of craft beer up to her lips. Heaven. The day started out strong, but the end was crap-tastic. Now, as she lifted the frosty glass to her mouth and took another sip, she didn’t care about work, not with those suds tickling her lip.

  Empty. Damn. That went fast. She needed another one. Already? And look, there was a waiter bringing that very thing.

  Bless him.

  Nothing beat a night out with her two best friends. Well, technically one of the women was her sister. But she was still Brook’s best friend.

  “So are you packed and ready to go?” Julie asked. Her short brown hair was angled attractively around her face. The woman had lost her boyfriend, twenty pounds, and over half of her hair. Even though the loss of a boyfriend wasn’t Julie’s choice, it did lead to the other changes, and they looked good on her. She looked ten years younger, which helped when she walked the college campus where she recently started taking nursing classes. It was a total life makeover. Her dumbass boyfriend might not have been the only reason she decided to turn a new leaf—her father was now in jail for trying to kill one of her best friends. That could mess up any girl. But she didn’t have time to mess up. She had a son to worry about.<
br />
  “I’m done packing.” Allison’s face lit up with that happy I’m in-love glow. “Of course she’s done packing. She’s not bringing any clothes. Maybe a sex toy or two.” Brook raised her beer to her lips. If she was a bigger person, she’d be completely, whole-heartedly happy for her sister. Instead, she was mostly happy with a twinge of jealously.

  Well, maybe a scoonch more than a twinge. She was such a bad sister.

  “Brook! I’m bringing clothes. We have a reservation to swim with the dolphins, and we’re going to Kona to tour a coffee plantation.” Allison moved her napkin onto her lap as a server set a raised pizza stand in the middle of their table.

  “Both excursions require clothing.”

  “I thought this was a romantic getaway,” Brook said.

  “It is, sex fiend. We’re going to hold hands as we walk the black sand of Punaluu beach.” Allison’s eyes glazed over. A dreamy stare and goofy grin spread across her face. “We’ll kiss while the sunset paints the sky orange, and stroll arm in arm through the rainforest.”

  “Can I go?” The blissed-out look must have been contagious, because Julie was all doe-eyed and sappy smiles. “I just need the hot guy to go with that story.”

  “Damn straight.” Brook moved her mug as the waiter arrived. He took a hot tray of deep dish from the waitress behind him, setting the pan topped with oozing cheese onto the stand. He served each of them a slice before disappearing into the kitchen.

  “Speaking of hot guys…what about you and Joe Perretti?” A know-it-all smirk replaced Allison’s euphoric gaze.

  Which look was more annoying? Brook couldn’t decide. Although the smirk was truly starting to piss her off. There was nothing going on with her and Joe— nothing—no matter how much she enjoyed his company, his kiss.

  It meant nothing.

  “What about him?” Brook threw back a gulp and coughed. Beer foam fizzled up her nose. Damn foam. They were almost as uncomfortable as a discussion about Joe.

  “Please. I saw his lips all over you.”

  “It was one kiss.” A ridiculously hot, soul-melting kiss— but just a kiss—on the lips. She could just imagine those lips all over her body. Damn. “And it was over before it began.”

  “I don’t know. It was pretty intense. I bet if we got the two of you together again, there would be fireworks.”

  “I’ve seen him two days in a row and there wasn’t even a sparkler.” And not one more kiss. Dammit. Not that she wanted one. He was a pain-in-the-ass cop. Sometimes she forgot that part.

  “Wait. Why have you seen him?” Allison slammed her drink on the table. “Spill, sister darling. Since when are you seeing Stud Perretti?”

  Crap. Allison didn’t know about Joe’s visit to Brook’s house, and Brook wanted to keep it that way.

  “Stud?” Julie dropped her hands to the table. “Do I know this stud?”

  “Adam’s friend from CPD. He was at the party last week.” Allison raised her glass of wine. “And he locked lips with Brook over here.”

  “Joe Perretti?” Julie’s eyes widened. “That hot cop who interrogated me during that whole my-dad-was-charged-with murder thing?”

  “That’s him.”

  Julie’s fingers steepled in front of her face. “Are things serious? I wouldn’t mind taking a swing at him.” She tapped her fingers together like some evil villain focused on taking over the world. Or at least taking over some gorgeous detective.

  “Swing? What is this, baseball?” Brook rolled her eyes as she picked up her half-empty mug. Half empty? How did that happen?

  “Are you saying you aren’t curious about the size and ability of his…bat?” Julie glanced at her through fluttering eyelashes.

  “He does look like he would have a good stance. You know, hit it out of the park every time,” Allison said.

  Julie hummed. “Maybe even a grand slam.”

  Brook set her mug down with a thunk. “Remember when I was the one with the sex-addled brain? When did you two become sex junkies?” She picked up her water glass, and wet, boring water hit the back of her throat. Definitely not the same.

  “You’ve rubbed off on us, dear sister.” Allison laughed.

  “And that man is edible.”

  “The way you talk. What would Adam think?”

  “I have the best looking stud at home. But Adam would think I’m not dead.

  And Joe is one fine piece of—”

  “Allison!” Brook laughed as she dug into the piece of stuffed crust pizza on her plate. Overall, the night had been a success. She had a giant slice of cheesy goodness on her plate, and her friends were here. She hadn’t thought about work in over an hour. Or nasty letters.

  Now if she could just stop thinking about Joe.

  Of course, their conversation hadn’t helped. All she kept thinking about was his bat. The size. The ability.

  Whoa. She needed either another beer or a cold shower.

  * * *

  Brook drank in the cool April air blowing through the open car windows. The crisp breeze whipped her hair into gentle strokes along her face. The soft touch reminded her of Joe. That kiss, his fingers sliding down her face. Heat pooled in her belly.

  Joe.

  She couldn’t believe the man had slept outside her house last night. He’d looked so uncomfortable, but delicious. So sweet.

  Was Joe waiting?

  She drove up to the alley behind her house, but her car didn’t make the necessary turn. It stayed straight until it turned onto the street. If his car was staking out her house, she decided she just might invite him in.

  She didn’t think she was in mortal danger, but why take any chances? There were dangers all around her, rakes that she could step on and might pop her in the face, or coffee that could spill on her lap. Who better to guard her body from the scary catastrophes of the world than Joe?

  Yeah, he could guard her body any day. And there were so many other things he could do with her body. But that’s not why she was inviting him in. Hell, no. She didn’t want his body on hers. It was a humanitarian mission. She didn’t want him to get a crick in the neck while protecting her. After all, she had a fabulously comfortable couch he could use.

  She inched down the street, searching for Joe’s SUV. All the nervous excitement of an unopened gift lodged in her throat. Would he be concerned enough to be her guard again tonight?

  Lines of dark cars, empty cars, sat along the curbs. She pulled up next to a dark blue SUV, the soft light from a smart phone glowing from the front seat, highlighting his face. Even with the serious scowl lining his features, he was downright edible. Maybe this was a bad idea, inviting him in.

  He spun his head toward her and his soft lips turned up into a smile.

  There was no “maybe” about it. This was a horrible idea. Yet her body hadn’t received that particular memo. Watching Joe slide out of the car—his black shirt hugging the muscles in his chest and arms, his jeans snug and inviting—her hands wanted to wrap around his behind.

  And it was such a nice behind.

  She licked her lips. Heart speeding. This. Was. Definitely. A mistake. A horribly awful, totally avoidable mistake. Yet, as he walked over to her window, she couldn’t remember why it was a mistake.

  * * *

  “Son of a bitch!” Dennis swore as Brooklyn’s car passed by him. She could have seen him. He could have gotten caught.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Dennis pounded the steering wheel as Brooklyn’s car stopped in front of her house. A man jumped out of an SUV. The streetlight lit the man’s face. Definitely a cop.

  Not just any cop. He recognized the man. The hair was longer, and his face leaner, but it was him. The cop from the trial. That ugly asshole.

  Joe Perretti.

  It didn’t matter that Joe saved his ass back in the day, not if he was going to stop Dennis from finishing his goal. Nothing and no one could get in his way. No matter what the cop had done for him in the past.

  “She’s
working with the damn cops.” With that cop. Why that one?

  Joe walked around his SUV with a goofy grin spreading across his dopey face. He leaned into the window of Brooklyn’s car, his gun glistening under the streetlamp’s glow.

  Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Dennis slammed his fist into the dashboard, heard the crunch of plastic and did it again, and again, and again. Warm, slick blood rolled down his hand. A small price to pay for attempting to screw up his whole plan.

  How long had she been whoring herself out to him? Since court? She probably set him up. That bitch.

  Anger slithered along his spine. That bitch was going to pay. She was going to suffer. Suffer like he did for the past eight years. Suffer like she made him suffer. But not tonight.

  Yeah. Plans change. He brought his hand to his lips and sucked the oozing blood from the wound.

  Retribution could start later. Fast and final.

  When he was done with her, she’d be begging for fast.

  Chapter Eight

  Joe ran his hands along the edge of Brook’s open car window and leaned in. A giggle formed on her lips—an actual giggle. Nice. He leaned closer. He couldn’t help it. The scent of vanilla and mint met his nose and drew him in. She not only looked good, she smelled amazing, too.

  “Meet you around back.” She angled toward the center of the street and drove down the block. The scent lingered for just a minute, but he couldn’t turn around until it was gone. He hated to admit it, but he was getting use to her, her scent, her laugh.

  What a sap. When did he become whipped?

  He shook his head, and the cool, smoke-tinged air cleared his thoughts. He inhaled. No vanilla, no mint, the only smell was barbecue. The neighbors were cooking on the grill. Thank goodness. His mind was his again.

  He walked the skinny sidewalk lining the side of the house to Brook’s backyard. Dark. Quiet. No Stark sightings. Dammit.

  Joe was hoping the jackass would show up again. No matter what Brook believed, he was sure Stark had been in her house last night. But why? Why would he be in the house? No answer to that was acceptable. No reason wasn’t scary as hell. Joe just wanted him to make another appearance while Brook was at work. He wanted to deal with that crazy SOB once and for all. Not that a personal invitation into Brook’s house was a bad consolation prize. If he couldn’t get immediate gratification by punching Stark, he would settle for spending time with Brook. Although he didn’t feel like he was settling.