Big Bad Easy
Big Bad Easy
by
Ursula Whistler
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Big Bad Easy
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Ursula Whistler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, August 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-993-3
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To the NOPD officer that inspired this story.
Thank you for solving my case.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Ursula Whistler
AND HER BOOKS
BEHAVING BADLY
“The chemistry between Drew and Jessica is off the charts. The sex scenes were hot and steamy. Drew and Jessica are good match for each other.”
~Victoria, Romancing the Book
MAN OF FEW WORDS
“MAN OF FEW WORDS is sexy, fast-paced, and loving, and a good read for beach or fireside.”
~Alberta, Manic Reviews
BEHAVING BADLY
“BEHAVING BADLY set a good pace throughout the storyline. It never once had that overly rushed, or extremely slow feeling to it, and I very much enjoyed the balance between the two. BEHAVING BADLY was erotic and sensual as well, leaving me breathless from the chemistry that both the heroine and hero showed while they were together.”
~Heather, Sizzling Hot Books
Chapter One
Jameson Kelly had an eyeful this morning. A few times a week, usually on a Sunday morning, there would be legs sticking out of short skirts and boobs barely contained by tube tops or halter tops. But this was a Monday, when the hookers weren’t lounging around the station waiting for transfer to central lockup. There shouldn’t have been a well-dressed, tall woman with long, muscular legs making a splash with the male officers who were beginning their morning with a review of cases and a cup of coffee. Yet, there she stood, with an equally muscular ass cupped by a mid-thigh length business skirt.
Without a case to review, he felt free to watch her as she shifted from one high-heeled foot to another. He guessed she waited on the captain, which meant he would have a nice long time to day dream about what the rest of her body would look like in a black lace bra and matching thong. He wouldn’t mind working with her.
Getting a view of those legs each day might inspire him to keep his job as a detective for the New Orleans Police Department. The firm, toned biceps on the woman drew his eye as well. The cap sleeve of her simple white blouse covered her deltoids, but he bet that he’d be able to see the definition there as well. All of the muscles were well complemented by her long dark blonde hair and tanned skin.
He’d never been able to resist a well-built, athletic woman. It was their attitude for life that attracted him as much as their bodies. A healthy physique meant a healthy mind, ready for challenges, changes, and the seemingly insurmountable problems that came with living in New Orleans. That’s why he’d kept exercising well past the age that most men called it quits.
At forty-two, he looked better than some of the younger beat officers. He prided himself in that. What he didn’t have was their enthusiasm for keeping the Crescent City a safe place with less theft, less violence, and definitely less murder. He’d seen too much, too many ups followed by dispiriting downs. Jameson wanted to hang up his gun and holster, permanently.
The woman tapped her foot loudly and leaned over the desk at the entrance in an attempt to get the desk officer’s attention. Jameson snorted. Good luck there, lady, but keep leaning over. His cock stretched his pants with this new view of her solid and curvy ass. The woman had to be an expert at developing her legs from the toned calves to the tight hamstrings. He flexed his hands, wishing he could caress those muscles as he made a slow journey to her strong, round globes.
He shook his head. The captain needed to give him a case. Otherwise, he’d start ogling the hookers on the weekends, and that never led to good things.
Another sergeant, younger, with a developing pot belly, passed behind his chair and gave it a kick. Jameson jolted upright and growled at the cop who’d kicked his seat. “Stop being an ass, Decker.”
Decker grinned. “Stop looking at hers, or go over and make her feel more comfortable. An old guy like you will calm her, you know, with your grandfatherly ways.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jameson pushed his chair away from his desk. He’d show Decker just how he could affect a woman. Her hand wouldn’t be on her hip long. It would be on his chest, then his abdomen, and she’d gasp with delight at the size of his dick. Decker wouldn’t ever know any of it since Jameson wouldn’t ever be that public with his caresses. And, this woman was worth exploring. Those thoughts he’d keep to himself. Maybe he could spend some time with her to keep her calm before the captain showed his face. She had a folder, he noticed. So, he had an opening to talk to her. It couldn’t hurt.
As he got five feet away from her, the captain’s door opened. The lady’s body snapped to attention, and her shoulder-length golden hair whipped about her tanned face. She gave a small smile, but it vanished as she walked to the captain.
Jameson knew that his superior officer carried more woes than anyone else in the district. This one was supposed to be the quieter police district, but lately, small crimes and a few larger ones were making headlines. Despite the work of the detectives, two of the biggest cases were still unsolved. A rapist and a murderer still walked the streets of Uptown.
Based on the tightened mouth of the woman a few feet away from him, he figured she was a victim of some crime. He highly doubted she’d been raped. Nothing about her showed that look—that empty, glassy-eyed appearance of a woman who’d been assaulted. Plus, he bet she could kick any man from here to Sunday if one tried to take advantage of her.
Then, he had a wild thought. Was she here for a job? Transfer from another city? Former military? His heart raced with the possibility of working next to her. Strong, confident, determined. He swallowed hard and tried to think of something besides her hard body next to his as their partnership became more than business related. If he didn’t get his lust under control soon, Decker would have some quip ready about the growing tent at his crotch.
“Captain, don’t even try to reschedule.” Her voice and the accompanying scowl wiped away all imaginings of sex with her. Shrill, angry, and laced with bitterness. Not what anyone wanted to hear first thing in the morning. She took a few steps toward Captain Usner and shook her file folder at him. “You’ve put me off for weeks, and I’m not leaving until I get an officer assigned to this case.”
“Certainly, Ms. Robinson.” Usner didn’t even try to hide his exasperation.
Jameson figured she must have called four times a day or more. The captain had complained about a shrew constantly bothering him. With a glance, he sized up the lady again. Banging hot body, pleasing face, bad attitude. He’d retreat now. Maybe the captain wouldn’t notice him. He most certainly didn’t want to work with her.
“So,” her foot tapped again, “who?”
The captain pointed right at Jameson’s face. “Sergeant Kelly just cleared his case load on Friday. Three solved in one day. He’s all yours.”
Jameson cringed. Too late. He’d barely turned to hide at his desk when the captain called his name. Not willing to catch the ire of his boss, he stuck out his hand to the lady. “Ma’am. I hope I can be the one to help you.”
“Me, too.” She tossed her hair in what Jameson took as a sign of triumph. “Zara Robinson, and I’ve been waiting weeks to hear something from you guys. Shall we begin?” Her grip of his hand matched his expectations, firmer than many men’s.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the captain back into his office with a grin and a wave. “Sure. Let me get your case file.”
“No need.” She shook the well-worn folder at him. “It’s all here. Where’s your desk?”
From the sound of Decker’s snickering, Jameson knew he didn’t want to hear what she had to say within ear shot of anyone at the station. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee at the cafe across the street? Better than what we have here, and it gets you out of a place you don’t like so much.”
“Fine.” She adjusted her shoulders downward, relaxing some tension. “That’s a good idea. I don’t like this place. At all.”
One mark in his favor. Of course, he was fighting her image of New Orleans’ cops, which surely involved laziness, excessive force, and general sloppiness in their work. “Let me get my jacket, cover all this hardware.” He patted his firearm that hung around his shoulders on a harness.
“I’ll wait outside.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think you can ditch me, though.”
“Ma’am, I wouldn’t even think of it.” He’d solve her case and leave the force with a good taste in his mouth. This would be a parting gift to his captain, keeping Zara Robinson off his voicemail.
As he passed Decker’s desk, he kicked the man’s chair, mostly to stop the man from laughing so loudly.
“Kelly, if you get some from her, make sure you use a gag. That way you won’t hear her complain.”
“Shut the fuck up, Decker.” He had to get a better come back for the man. Of course, the best retort would be to get a taste of Zara Robinson’s body. It would be for his satisfaction only. He sure wouldn’t share that with a prick who couldn’t keep in shape.
Chapter Two
Zara tried to stop her foot from tapping as she waited underneath the tall live oaks that fronted the second district police station, but her annoyance wouldn’t be assuaged with the knowledge that someone would now focus on her case. Instead, she tapped it in rhythm with the sound of a basketball hitting the pavement. Even at nine in the morning, someone played a three-on-three game at the court next to the police headquarters.
She understood the need to move. She had the same addiction, but hers was jogging and her own form of boot camp. Ever since she left the Army, she had to keep going, never stopping, never getting slack muscles or a soft brain. Too many of her friends from her days in Iraq had let themselves go physically and mentally after service. She wouldn’t let that happen. Ever. No matter what.
Which, she realized, was why her guts were wound so tightly today. Not only did she have to make a personal appearance to get someone’s attention, she had to forgo her morning exercise to make it to the police station and then to work. The tourism industry never stopped in the Big Easy, and her job as an event coordinator for a French Quarter hotel kept her busy. The logistics training she had in the Army gave her a leg up on the others, along with her degree in management. She’d become assistant manager in a mere four months on the job.
Damn! What is taking him so long?
She grunted and headed back to the goddamn police station. As she tugged open the thick wooden door, she collided with a rock of a man. His hands grabbed her shoulders to steady her, and she leaned into his chest, relishing the firm pecs that her hands momentarily groped.
“Ms. Robinson. My apologies.” His voice filled her ears as if he were a soul singer. Deep, sonorous, sensual, and he’d only issued an apology.
“Sergeant Kelly.” She nodded and mourned the need to push away from his solid body. With a reminder that she was angry at the shoddy police work, she burst out her frustrations. “I was coming to find you. Did you have trouble getting on your jacket?” He might with shoulders like those, broad, strong, and drool-worthy.
“Got a phone call. Sorry about that. I know you’re unhappy, but I mean to change that. Plus, it gave the clerk time to find the case for me.” He held up his own folder that was crisp, unbent, and clear of fingerprint smudges, unlike her own. “It’s woefully thin compared to yours. I’m not used to being outmatched.” He nodded and let a smile reach the steely blue eyes that peered out from beneath thick, dark blond eyebrows.
She took the recognition from this grizzled veteran of the force, because he had to be if his appearance was any indication of the years in the field. A buzz cut added ferocity to the lines around his eyes and mouth. Thick stubble shaded his cheeks, but it too was blond. Darker hair would have made him scary, but with the lighter hue, Sgt. Kelly was only gruff, manly, and worth a good long stare.