Hitz (Wild Irish Silence Book 3)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Jerith gave her a measured look. She pulled this type of guilt thing with him all the time, but this time he wasn’t going for it. “Yeah, I am, and yeah, I was with her. I tried to call you, but you weren’t here.”

  “Did you even give a shit where I was?” Billy snapped. “Or were you too busy fucking one of the cops that arrested me?”

  Jerith stared at her as anger flooded his veins. He wanted to slap her, his hand tensing with the thought. But he controlled the desire. “Nicky had nothing to do with you getting arrested, Billy. Nobody made you go to a drug house but you.”

  “Yeah, and you dropped me off,” Billy said snidely.

  “Don’t pull that shit on me.”

  “Don’t pull what? You knew I was into the coke again, but you didn’t care, and now you’re trying to blame me for something you knew all about.”

  “What am I, your therapist?” Jerith said tiredly. “Whatever, Billy.” He threw up his hands and shook his head. “You wanna keep putting that shit up your nose, fine. You wanna chase after a guy that dropped you on your ass, fine. But if you wanna screw up everything we’ve worked for, everything I’ve put nine years of my life into, that’s where I draw the line.” He sounded utterly serious, and Billy knew she had better pay attention to him now.

  “You have exactly one month, Billy. You get your shit together, or you’re out, and I mean it this time. No more games, no more bailouts, no more bullshit. You show up in LA one month from today clean, or don’t show up at all.” With that he turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Billy stared at the space where he’d stood moments before. She’d known that one day it would come down to this, and she didn’t doubt his words for a minute. She knew Jerith had meant every word; indeed, nine years of hard work on his part had put the band where they were. Billy knew she’d worked hard too, but it had been Jerith who dragged them through some really rough times. It had been Jerith’s drive that had kept them all going when door after door had been slammed in their face. It was Jerith’s hard work that had gotten them their first record deal, and then the latest deal with Badlands Record Label with BJ Sparks as a producer, the best of the best. They were on their way to great things with BJ, and they knew it. And Billy knew how important this chance was to him, and she knew she’d pushed it too far this time.

  Out in the corridor, Jerith stood leaning against the wall. He couldn’t believe she’d actually started again, but he realized he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew about drug addiction, and how strong it could be. He’d never touched the stuff himself, always afraid of falling into that stereotype of sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll. Jerith knew Billy had a problem, but this time he wasn’t willing to help her through it. He’d been there for her many times, and this time he wasn’t going to be the one to drag her to rehab. If she got there on her own, he’d support her, but he wouldn’t make her go.

  ♫ Seven ♫

  When Jerith picked Nicolette up for lunch, he was obviously distressed.

  “What happened?” she asked, assuming correctly that it had to do with Billy.

  Jerith shook his head miserably. “Billy was at the hotel when I got there, and high.”

  “Uh-oh…” Nicolette knew by the tone of his voice what condition he’d found her in. “She’s using again, already?”

  “Yeah,” he said as he drove, not even knowing where they were headed.

  “Take a left here.” She pointed him in the direction of a park not too far away. She knew he needed to vent, and she didn’t want him doing it in afternoon traffic.

  At the park, she led him over to a large oak tree and sat him down. “Tell me what happened,” she said, her hand on his.

  Jerith told her the whole story, his voice going from angry to depressed to angry again.

  “Think she’ll listen this time?” Nicolette asked skeptically.

  Jerith thought about it for a moment, then looked at her. “You know what, I don’t care this time. I’m tired of being responsible for two lives, hers and mine.”

  Nicolette nodded, understanding what he meant. Her life was like that, but she’d chosen to have a child; Jerith got stuck with one. “It’s a strain sometimes, I know. But are you going to be okay with this?” she said sympathetically. “I know she means a lot to you—it’s not going to be easy to let that go.”

  Jerith leaned back against the tree, staring up into the limbs. It was evident that he hadn’t really thought that far yet. “I have to, Nick, or she’ll drag me down with her.”

  “That’s possible. But what if she does get into some sort of rehab—will you help her?”

  “If she does it, yeah. But I’m not going to make her go. She has to do it.”

  Nicolette shrugged, nodding. “That’s the only way she’ll kick the habit anyway, Jerith. She has to want to. You can’t make her want it. She probably doesn’t even believe it’s a problem right now. Sometimes they have to hit rock bottom before they know it’s an addiction. Are you willing to let her do that though?” Her tone was for the most part cop, but there was a hint of sympathy there too. She knew this would be rough on him as well.

  Jerith nodded, looking resigned.

  “It won’t be pretty, Jerith. It’s astounding what can happen to a beautiful girl like that. I just don’t want you to have to go through that.” She spoke much more softly now, watching him. She was surprised at how strongly she detested the idea of his suffering because of Billy’s lack of self-control. She had come to care about him a lot in a very short period of time. The look in his eyes made her reach out to him, moving automatically into his embrace. They spent her lunch hour sitting in the park, Jerith leaning against the oak tree with Nicolette in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. When he took her back to work, he told her he’d like to come up with her if it was okay.

  “What for?” she asked gently.

  Jerith shrugged. “I just want to watch you work, kind of a reality check, you know?”

  “For you, or me?” she said lightly.

  “Me. I guess I have to see this side of you eventually, right?”

  “It is me,” she said, nodding. “Okay, park over there.” She pointed to a lot halfway down the block.

  Once inside the building that housed Sacramento PD, Nicolette had to sign him in as a visitor, and then he followed her up to her office. Jerith was surprised by the amount of activity in her section. He was also a little taken aback by some of the looks he received as he trailed behind her.

  Her office was small, but it was her own. She had a few of pictures on the desk, one of Ryan, another of her family, and a third of Ryan and a man Jerith assumed correctly was John Harris, Nicolette’s ex-husband. There were some certificates on the walls, as well as some interesting items on one shelf of her bookcase. He could tell it was drug paraphernalia, and he looked askance at her.

  She grinned. “Souvenirs,” she said, shrugging. There was also a statue of a police officer looking down at a small child who stared back up at the officer with an ever-trusting look on his little face.

  “I like this,” Jerith said, pointing to the statue.

  “Yeah.” Nicolette smiled. “Me too.” She shrugged off her jacket and turned to hang it on the back of her chair. Jerith was surprised to see her holstered weapon at the small of her back.

  “You’ve been carrying that all day, and I didn’t know it?”

  Nicolette gave him a measured look, as if trying to determine whether he was serious or not. “Jerith, I always carry.”

  “But you weren’t the day we went to lunch, or at the concert,” Jerith said, trying to regain his mental balance.

  Nicolette nodded. “Yes, I was.”

  “But… How? Where?”

  “Well, at lunch that first day, I cheated. It was in my purse—well, a smaller version of this one, my backup weapon actually. But at the concert the other night, it was in the exact same place, only better concealed.”

  “Whoa,” was the only thin
g Jerith could think of to say.

  A man came into the office a moment later. He glanced at Jerith, then gave Nicolette a strange look. Jerith didn’t know what that meant, but he was sure it wasn’t approval in any form.

  “Rob, this”—Nicolette nodded to Jerith—“is Jerith Michaels. Jerith, this is Robert Thompson. Robert’s on my team.”

  Jerith extended his hand to the other man. Thompson was slower to reach out, and Jerith noticed that Nicolette narrowed her eyes. Finally Thompson took Jerith’s hand and shook it. Then he glanced over at his sergeant and saw the look on her face.

  “Ah, nice to meet you,” Thompson muttered, then turned to face Nicolette. “I need your signature on this warrant for Harding and company.”

  “Let me look it over first, okay?” Nicolette said. Thompson nodded and handed her the paperwork. After a few moments he turned and left, glancing at Jerith again. Jerith had seated himself by that time, and he leaned back in the chair with his elbow up on the back, his index finger rubbing absently across his lips as he returned Thompson’s glance, narrowing his blue eyes. Thompson continued out of the room.

  Nicolette sat down at her desk and opened the file folder, looking up at Jerith as she did. “Sorry about that. They’re real hinky about new people around here.”

  “New people around here, or around you?” Jerith said confidently.

  Nicolette shrugged. “Both, I guess. They’ve been like that since John left.”

  Jerith nodded, remembering Ryan’s comment that if he hurt Nicolette he’d have a group of particularly nasty PD narcs on his ass. Glancing around the outer office, he saw that Ryan’s description was pretty apt.

  He watched as Nicolette read the paperwork in front of her. She got lost in her work, and basically forgot he was there. He was surprised when she yelled, “Thompson, my office, front and center!”

  Thompson walked in. “What?”

  Nicolette held up a piece of paper. “Harlow Harding?” she said derogatorily.

  “Yeah…” Thompson said, trying to figure out what she was questioning.

  “No,” Nicolette said in the same tone he’d answered in, shaking her head for emphasis. “Harold Harding.”

  “No way!” Thompson walked around behind her chair and bent down to look at the paperwork.

  Jerith watched with interest. He could see Nicolette’s look of confidence, and he didn’t doubt for a minute that she was right, but he didn’t understand what difference it made anyway. He expected Thompson to say, “So?” But he didn’t.

  “Sonofabitch…” Thompson muttered, looking very dismayed. “Shit, shit, shit. Sarge, I’m sorry, I… Shit, I’ll fix it.” He picked up the folder and walked hurriedly from the room.

  Jerith looked back at Nicolette; she did look irritated. “I don’t get it.”

  She looked at him as if just remembering he was there. “It’s a little mistake,” she said, shrugging. “But it could easily cost us the case in court down the road. The defense would say we were looking to arrest a Harlow Harding, and we arrested poor innocent Harold Harding instead. The judge’d throw it out on a technicality and Mr. Harding and his meth-making buddies would walk.”

  “On something that small?” Jerith said disbelievingly.

  “That’s nothing. I had a case thrown out once because we had an apostrophe in the wrong place. You wouldn’t believe the crap we have to put up with from the justice system.” She surprised Jerith with her intensity. She was indeed different at work than she was at home.

  Later Thompson came back with the corrected warrant and Nicolette signed it. “Let me know when we get the green light. I want to hit them soon and hard.”

  “You got it, Sarge,” Thompson said crisply, then left the room.

  The phone rang, and, still looking over a report on her desk, Nicolette reached across to pick it up. “Narcotics, Harris,” she said, not taking her eyes off the report. She listened for a moment, nodding.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t comment on that at this time,” she said, her voice all business. She listened again, glancing up at Jerith then, her look measured. “There again, I can’t comment. I’m sorry, Miss… Miss Dobbs. The case is still pending in court, and until it’s settled there, I can’t make any comment.” She listened again, this time rolling her eyes and flipping her pen back and forth in agitation. Eventually she tossed the pen on the desk and leaned back. She stared straight ahead as if she were being hypnotized, her eyes narrowing at times as if the person had said something she didn’t like. After a few minutes, she sat back up, leaning her elbows on the desk.

  “Okay, now see, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t have to make any sort of comment. I wasn’t the arresting officer—it was my unit, but I didn’t make the collar.” She shook her head as the person started talking again. “No, I can’t tell you that either. Look, you’re after a story here, and I can’t give it to you, so why don’t you go peddle it somewhere else. Or hell, make it up—that’s what you people do best anyway, isn’t it?” With that she hung up, looking at Jerith.

  “That,” she said, indicating the phone, “was Channel 9 news. They want to know the status of the Billy Montague arrest…” She trailed off as her expression became more serious. “They’ve heard reports of her stoned at a lot of the local clubs, as well as fighting with a housekeeping maid at the hotel.”

  “Great,” Jerith said unenthusiastically. He nodded and looked up at the ceiling. “Publicity, just what we need on this one.” His voice was calm, but his eyes were flashing in anger.

  “You gotta do something about her, Jerith,” Nicolette said seriously. “The press’ll crucify her.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  He spent the next two hours watching Nicolette work, surprised by the changes in her. She was very businesslike; she was also in charge, and it showed. Eventually she glanced at her watch, then stood up to stretch, looking over at Jerith. “You ready to go? Or would you like to soak up some more atmosphere?”

  “I think I’ve learned all I’m going to for today,” he said, grinning.

  When she turned to get her jacket he saw the gun at her back again, and was once again astounded that he hadn’t even known about it.

  On the way home in the car, he kept glancing over at her, as if searching for something. Nicolette was staring straight ahead, but peripherally she could see him looking at her. “Quit doing that!” she said finally, gritting her teeth, her voice low.

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve been carrying a gun the whole six days I’ve known you and I haven’t known about it.”

  “It isn’t like I was keeping it a secret,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, okay, but you knew what I do for a living.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. But I guess I didn’t know cops carried guns when they aren’t working.”

  “We’re required to carry off duty,” she said patiently.

  “Required? Why?”

  “I’m a peace officer twenty-four seven, and that means I need to be able to protect myself or the citizens of this fine city at any given time of day.”

  “Okay,” he said, his mind still working. “How come I didn’t notice you were carrying a gun the other night at the concert?”

  “You didn’t touch me much at the concert, Jerith.”

  “Right… but how do you sit with that thing in your back? Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

  Nicolette grinned. “I’m used to it.”

  “Carrying a gun?”

  “Yes, Jerith. It’s my job.”

  “Have you ever had to use it?” he asked, looking straight ahead.

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  “Yes,” she said, her tone changing just slightly.

  Jerith had noted the change. “Whoa… really?”

  “Yes, really. About seven years ago,” Nicolette said evenly. Jerith could tell she didn’t really want to talk about it
.

  “Have you ever been shot?”

  “Been shot at a lot, but I’ve only been hit once. A slight graze, nothing serious. Now if you want to talk about injuries, that’s a whole other ball game.”

  “Injuries?” Jerith glanced at her again. “Like what?”

  “Well, let’s see.” Nicolette narrowed her eyes, as if she were tallying them up. “I’ve been kicked, hit in the head, knocked down, punched, bitten, scratched—oh yeah, and knifed.”

  “Charming profession you have there,” Jerith said sarcastically, shaking his head.

  She shrugged. “It pays the bills, and it keeps me interested.”

  “Interested?”

  “It’s not boring, that’s for sure. I mean, look at what you do. It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but no one tries to kill me while I do it,” Jerith said teasingly.

  “Oh, come on now. I saw the way some of those girls were trying to grab you. Are you going to tell me you’ve never been hurt?”

  “Minor stuff, yeah—chains ripped off my neck, hair yanked out, even a small scuffle with some guy once that got me cracked ribs, but nothing like being knifed or shot.”

  “So my job’s a different kind of dangerous,” Nicolette said, shrugging. She eyed him. “Cracked ribs, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Jerith said, waving aside her interest. “Some guy got mad because his girlfriend was coming on to me at an after party. He started a fight; I finished it.”

  Nicolette grinned. “Did you get the girl in the end?”

  “I didn’t even want her in the first place,” Jerith said, shaking his head.

  They arrived at Nicolette’s house a short time later. When Nicolette walked in, she knew something was up; it was too quiet. She stepped aside to allow Jerith to enter, then proceeded down the hallway. She glanced into Ryan’s bedroom and saw her son and Mandy on the bed, making out heavily. Mandy’s shirt was unbuttoned, Ryan’s shirt was off, and his jeans were unbuttoned as well. It was obvious from their focus on each other that they had no idea anyone was in the house and that they intended to have sex. Nicolette heard Jerith walk up and glanced over at him. His lips twitched when he saw the anger in her eyes. He couldn’t get Ryan out of this one. He walked back into the living room and sat down on the chair in the far corner.