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Focus on getting Frankie out. Screw that cop and the weird way he made me feel.
I wasn’t going to take his deal. I’d find a different way.
With both our parents dead and no other family to speak of, I couldn’t exactly abandon my older brother, especially not when he needed me the most.
When doesn’t Frankie need me?
Frankie was always finding trouble.
And I was always cleaning up after him.
Just like Reed had said.
This wasn’t the first time Frankie’s been locked up. Sometimes I felt as if I was the older sister and Frankie was the younger one because I was always bailing him out of trouble.
For once, I’d like someone to look out for my welfare instead of the other way around.
But could Frankie stick it out until Friday?
The last time Frankie sat in jail awaiting his arraignment, some thugs had beaten him within an inch of his life, right beneath the nose of the jail cameras.
My brother had a mouth on him, which probably hadn't helped, but Frankie also wasn't very popular with certain factions; another reason I was always begging him to turn a new leaf.
I loved my brother. He wasn’t always such a trouble magnet.
But things had gone downhill once Frankie had hooked up with the Riverside gang run by the notorious Terano Rodrigo.
I wasn’t naïve to what Frankie was out doing but was I stupid for hoping that this time would be the one to make Frankie realize that he needed to change?
Detective Reed sure hadn’t pulled any punches in sharing his opinion.
Maybe if Frankie wasn’t so damn reckless all the time…it would be easier to defend him.
I’d never understood the idea behind being “undressed” by someone's eyes but the way Detective Reed had looked at me made me feel naked.
As if he’d stripped me bare right there in the hallway.
That’s why I couldn’t hold his gaze.
It’d been too intense.
Something had crackled between us even though I’d tried to ignore it.
What was wrong with me? That cop was bad news. Obviously.
And yet…I felt…drawn to him.
An odd heaviness weighed me down as if his body was pressed against me, squeezing the breath out of me.
He hadn’t actually touched me but I’d felt his energy mingling with mine, sparking something dangerous, pulling me toward the edge of a cliff that promised a bad end.
Frankie wanted me to sell my car to post bail. How was I supposed to do that and still make it to work?
And if I wasn’t working, how did Frankie expect me to post his bail?
Clearly, he wasn’t thinking straight. That shiner had messed with his ability to form rational thought.
Frankie had said that Detective Reed had hit him. Frankie had been known to embellish but I believed him.
Detective Reed apparently enjoyed bending the rules as it suited him.
I should march back into the precinct and demand to see his superior.
I’d rat him out and see how much he liked being on the receiving end of an ass-kicking.
I could seriously screw with his reputation.
Maybe even get him fired.
But…my feet were rooted to the pavement.
Because if I made that move…nothing would change for Frankie.
What was he asking?
Was I even considering such a brutish exchange? It was beyond my comprehension why I wasn’t screaming my head off, demanding Detective Reed’s termination.
Maybe the same reason why I wasn’t blowing the whistle now was the same reason I hadn’t done a thing when he’d pushed me against the wall in the hallway.
I stood there, bracketed between his arms, inhaling his scent, terrified and…something else, letting him do what he wanted.
Pathetic.
Maybe he was right — I was an enabler.
But that was going to change.
Tears crowded my sinuses and I sniffed them back. I wasn’t going to hold a pity party. I needed solutions, not tears.
Frankie was in real danger. He was mixed up with some bad people and he’d made enemies. The last time…no, I wouldn’t dwell on what could’ve happened.
Without Frankie, I was all alone in this world.
Maybe that made me an enabler, as Detective Reed put it, but I wasn’t ready to face the world by myself.
Frankie was all I had.
And that was the hard truth.
I loathed the idea of selling my car but…if that was the only way to save him…
I guess I didn’t have much of a choice.
Jameson
Maybe all that time in deep cover had fucked with my brain.
I wanted Ivy Callen.
Was pure career suicide.
But my cock didn’t care about such things.
Pure liquid lust drenched my thoughts in a way that'd never affected me before. Hell, I wasn't a fucking saint but I’d never fucked with anyone related to a perp.
As a general rule, I had specific rules about where I dipped my wick.
And yet...
There was something about Ivy Callen that pulled at my cock in a way that I couldn't quite control.
The idea of tasting every secret place on her tiny body was something I couldn't quite shake.
She was sweet and yet feisty — a combination that did weird things to my head.
I could picture twisting a handful of that long, honey-blond hair around my fist as I railed her from behind, that pert ass bouncing and jiggling with each hard thrust.
Maybe I just needed to get laid.
My obsession didn’t make sense otherwise.
Like I said earlier, I liked to fuck.
But the case had gotten in the way of my downtime.
It’d been a few weeks since I’d had any action aside from Rosie Palmer and I was starting to feel the strain.
My partner Hank knocked me in the dome as he dropped into his chair, sour as if he’d eaten a basket of lemons.
“We got nothing on that last raid,” he said, tossing a file to my desk. “All that work…down the fucking tube. Unless that piece of shit in custody has something worthwhile to share…we got zilch.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear.
Six months of undercover work had taken its toll.
Shit, I still hadn’t slept more than four hours at a stretch in the last week.
“All we got was middle men. Not one of them knew anything more than what we already knew about the pipeline.”
I swore under my breath. “We had to make the call. In another day we would’ve been made and it would’ve been fucked either way.”
“Yeah, well, now what?” Hank asked.
“Back to square one, I guess,” I answered, just as pissed as Hank about the case falling apart. That was the shit that movies and television shows got wrong.
Sometimes the good guys didn’t win.
Sometimes shit just fell apart and criminals laughed all the way to the bank.
“Captain is pissed. He lost face on this case,” Hank said grimly. “And you know what that means…shit rolls downhill.”
I knew that.
I was already the captain’s least favorite person — not that I didn’t create that problem myself but whatever, fuck it.
“He’ll get over it,” I said.
“Not likely. He’s getting his ass reamed for our failure to close this case. Six months and millions of resources…yeah, I doubt he’s gonna eat this one for us.”
“We were nearly made. Our case was done no matter what.”
“Look, I don’t want to end up working a beat because this case stinks like a steaming pile of horseshit. We gotta deliver something that Cap can serve up in lieu of a win.”
Hank had a point.
It was a tough pill to swallow and I wasn’t in the mood to choke it down.
Not right now.
I grunted in agreement
as my mind stubbornly returned to something equally dangerous.
“You got a plan?” Hank asked, chewing on the topic, refusing to let it go.
Hell no, I didn’t have a plan. At least not yet. I was too busy thinking of career suicide.
I was officially losing my mind.
The girl had turned my head inside out. That was the only explanation for what was happening to me.
But I couldn’t share that with Hank — the man was already acting like a nervous long-tailed cat in room filled with rocking chairs.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him, lying through my teeth. “I’ll think of something.”
I wasn’t thinking of the case. Not at all. I needed a break from that fucking case.
I wanted Ivy beneath me. Tonight. Hell, right now.
It wasn’t right — I was a manipulative bastard to even suggest it but I wasn’t sorry. A dark thrill chased my thoughts.
I’d never cared much for hard and fast rules. My buddies often joked that if I hadn’t become a cop, I would’ve been the one behind bars.
Maybe that was the trouble…there was still a bit of that rebel pushing at the restraints, trying to break free.
I was restless — maybe this had nothing to do with Ivy and she’d just been at the right place at the right time — but I was like a caged animal, pacing.
My cock ached, needing action.
My brain wouldn’t stop picturing her face, her body.
And I was operating on very little sleep.
Excuses, sure. Call it what you like, I could give a shit.
Or maybe I did care just a little because I was trying to justify what I was putting into play.
