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“Really, really!” She giggles again, and I flop my head back to sigh hotly. “We’ll go over everything in detail during lunch. Give you a chance to get over the jitters.”
I laugh, shake my head, and excitement bristles under my skin. God, my own classroom! Finally! I’d gotten lucky to be accepted into this school in my first year of teaching, and I won’t let that luck go to waste!
CHAPTERSIX
Jack
Jimmy:Got an update
I get a better look at my phone screen after putting my hand on the stripper's arm to keep her from shaking her ass in my face. She climbs off of me, content to squander a few seconds on my dime. Frowning, my thumb briefly hovers over the keyboard, circling.
Jack:Come up and tell me.
Jimmy is a nutcase, I swear. I close my eyes and pat the spot next to me, leaning back against the sofa. The stripper, whose name I don't know, sits quietly beside me. The stench of her body butter can’t overpower Heather's sweet, intense scent.
This strip club always smells strange, a combination of various sprays and lotions and the essence of salty, Atlantic water from the bay. The issue with opening a waterfront establishment is that everything stinks of whatever's in the bay.
I crack open my eyes to look over at the stripper, and she raises her brows expectantly. Jutting out my chin, I grunt. “What about you, huh? Do you think this place stinks from the bad beer, the bay, and all that shit you slather on yourself?”
“I don’t really think about it, honestly,” She answers casually. That’s not a very satisfying answer at all, is it? Noticing my sour expression, she shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve never heard anyone complain about it. The bay, particularly.”
“Right,” I reply, unimpressed. There is a knock at the door, and I jerk my head towards it. “Leave.”
The stripper stands up and walks away, allowing Jimmy to enter. He doesn't say anything as he saunters over to me, nudges the door closed with his hip. Setting a few frosty beers on the table, Jimmy cracks open one for me. I take a sip, allowing the cold sting to wash away the intense pressure that threatens to crush me.
“So,” Jimmy says before falling back onto the sofa with a groan and kicking his legs up onto the settee. He sniffles, sinking into the cushions and taking a gulp from his bottle. I would be aggravated if this sensation of graveness didn’t take up all the room. “First thing’s first. We finally got into Heather Lewis’ emails. And due to that, we planted the shadow tracking app remotely onto her phone. It’ll let us see everything she does, turn on the camera, hear everything she says even if she’s only in the range of the phone’s mic.”
"Good," I say, a sigh of relief running up my spine. I raise my beer to my lips to hide my smirk. When she runs, it will be easier to catch her, and Heather will run. The thrill of that certainty pushes the heavy density in my chest away. “What’s she doing now?”
"She's at Home Depot getting new locks," Jimmy chuckles, and I lick my teeth eagerly. When I blink, Heather's sexy, full-body flashes in the darkness, and I quickly shake my head.
“What is it you really came up here for, anyway, Jimmy? You could’ve just texted me about Heather.”
“That’s why I said ‘first thing’s first,’ Jack,” Jimmy says pointedly, cocking a lopsided grin at me. It fades quickly, though, as graveness flashes in his eyes. “Markee intercepted a phone call from Mayor Shaw.”
“You should’ve fucking led with that, you dumbass.” I snap before standing up to pace.
“I thought I’d open up with the good news before dropping the bad one, boss,” Jimmy says, holding up his hands in surrender. I growl, deep in my throat in aggravation. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I pause my pacing and take a calming breath. “Shaw was just on the phone with an unregistered line, but we managed to get her side of the conversation. She was talking about bailing on the city contract she awarded us. The one with the bridge.”
“Do you have a transcript?” I ask impatiently, and Jimmy shakes his head. Beginning to pace again, all my thoughts of Heather fly out of my ears. She’s replaced with a far more disgusting image— Mayor Fran Shaw. The fucking cunt. “Give me the long version.”
“That is the long version,” Jimmy replies, and I stop short to look at him through narrowed eyes. He doesn’t seem perturbed by my glare, and I work my jaw in irritation. “Like I said, we only got her side of the conversation. And that side was basically ‘I’ve decided to bail on this project, but I can’t tell anyone else. What do I do?’ Then, there are a lot of hums and grunts. Obviously, the person on the other line gave her detailed instructions, which brings me to my next point.”
“That little bitch owes me everything!” I hiss nastily, a ball of fire raging off my ribs. Red seeps into the edges of my vision. “If I hadn’t backed her, let her access my resources, she wouldn’t have ever climbed out of the shithole district she worked. She owes me her position, her fucking life, or did she forget that after two years in the mayor’s chair?”
“Which brings me to my next point,” Jimmy reiterates, and I stiffen as he frowns at me. I shuffle back to my seat and grab my beer, draining the dark green glass. He waits patiently, and I run my hand through my hair before nodding. “One of my girls in Mayor Shaw’s office contacted me; the one that worked covert ops for the CIA.”
“May Beth, right? I remember her.” I answer gruffly, and pleased satisfaction stretches Jimmy’s expression.
“That’s her. Anyway, she contacted me a few days ago saying she saw Shaw meeting with some people and couldn’t figure it out. Still, she knew she recognized them from somewhere. Her job is to keep tabs on Shaw, so I brushed it aside, but when she heard about the call, she recognized the number. It’s a secure FBI informant line,” Jimmy pauses as I tense, my ears ringing. The heat seeps out of my body, and I clench my hands into straining, trembling fists. That fucking bitch! My vision blurs as a wave of anger rolls over me before Jimmy clears his throat, drawing my attention. “May Beth said if she’s got that line, she’s an official informant.”
“If May Beth recognized them, they might recognize her,” I struggle to think straight amid the fierce storm of my thoughts.
Covering my mouth to hide my grimace, I cross my knees. My foot bounces in wild agitation, and I glance over at Jimmy. “Pull her. She’s valuable. I hope she’s not too attached to her face, though. Send her to Wallace and get her a new one.”
“Aye, aye, boss,” Jimmy answers, touching two fingers to his forehead. “Do you want to send in a replacement?
“You deal with that. You’re more familiar with them than I am. Let me worry about Fran Shaw.” I demand, and he shakes his head with a grimace.
