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Chapter Two
One week earlier:
Blake Sebastian had a hard time believing his career had come so far. In the past, he’d served in the Tactical Impact Unit, on the SWAT Team, and in the Fort Lauderdale Criminal Investigations Division, became a Sergeant, and eventually became certified as a defensive tactics and firearms instructor, among other things. After a few more steps up the ladder, he now occupied a position as Major of the Support Service Bureau. And it had all happened overnight.
Where had the time gone? He’d hit his mid-thirties and owned a lovely house he’d bought for a song when prices were low during the recession. He’d filled it with expensive boy-toys, a nice wardrobe and modern furniture. And he drove a very fast Jeep.
Was he any different than most his age? Maybe… He’d made the final payment on his student loans just that morning. And rather than feeling the overwhelming relief he’d thought would accompany his accomplishment, he’d experienced a sad reaction so unlike his norm.
Maybe it was Officer Cowan proudly showing off the baby pictures he and his wife had taken of their new daughter? They’d even gotten their year-old retriever puppy to preen for them beside the infant. The photos were cute. The kid was cute.
So what?
Shaking off the unexpected gloom, he fiddled with his pen, enjoying the few minutes of solitude he’d stolen from an otherwise hectic shift. Psychoanalyzing his minor depression, he faced the problem.
It’s simple. He missed the day-to-day activities of a Sergeant. The on-the-street interactions with his men, and the people they served. As one of the bosses who managed to stay involved with most of the cases, he still craved more action.
A huge list of messages stared at him, creating distaste and a gloomy reaction so unlike his usual carefree nature. He split them into piles and noticed three numbers waiting for him to return their calls – from three starved-for-love women hoping to hear from their occasional lover.
Admitting that refuge in the arms of pretty women lightened the sadness fostered by the many atrocities that passed across his desk every day, he grinned when he read the names. All were gorgeous, two were rich and none were married.
He made no excuses, had no wife to cheat on, and he never fooled around with married women. Everyone needed a way to deal, and he’d found his drug of choice at the age of thirteen.
It happened when a set of twins five years his senior invited him to their apartment on the floor above where he’d lived with his parents. They’d educated him on the intricacies of satisfying every female fantasy they’d ever had.
His schooling had proven effective. He’d never understood how other females instinctively sensed his expertise, but they did. And he’d never suffered from a lack of attention from the ladies.
What they offered, he gladly accepted, making sure they never walked away without a smile on their faces and affection in their hearts. Intuitive, as soon as their eyes began to sparkle with more than the mild affection he’d shown them, he’d set them straight, his explanation copyrighted.
The line was drawn at long-term relationships, and he always warned his victims not to get too involved, too emotional. He loved the single life as much as he liked sharing many nights with various sex partners.
No more – no less.
His phone rang, disturbing his quiet time. A niggling feeling struck, making him hesitate.What the hell?The hair on his neck and arms performed like it did when he faced danger.
Somehow, he knew this call was going to change everything. Should he answer it? Feeling suddenly silly, his hand reached but hesitated before he lifted the receiver.
