Covert Craving
Authors: Jennifer James
Covert Craving
By
Jennifer James
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This book is a work of fiction. The names,
characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously,
and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely
coincidental.
Published By: Unbuttoned Press
http://www.authorjenniferjames.com
Covert Craving
© 2013 by Jennifer James
Cover by Leah Kaye Suttle
Edited by Tonya Cannariato and Rachel Firasek
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and
reviews.
First Unbuttoned Press publication July 2013
Dedication
For Milly Taiden
An amazing
friend who knows when to kick ass, and when to be a shoulder to cry on. You’ll
never know how much your support means to me. I wish you all the success in the
world.
Acknowledgements
As always,
thanks to my crit partners. You guys have helped me polish many stories and
spent countless hours of your time helping me improve my craft. I’m so excited
to share your writing journeys, and know that wonderful, amazing things are in
the future for all of you.
The Smexy Fab
Four: Jennifer Wedmore, Iris Montalvo Pross, Bad Barb Hicks, and Sheri Spell.
Thank you for spending your time and energy training me to lean on my street
team and ask for help. I know it’s frustrating, but I promise, I can be taught.
The Unbuttoned
Babes! My wonderful street team. I love you guys. You’re hilarious, and each
and every one of you is an important, valuable member of the group. Arianna K.
Gray, Kirsten Lamberton, Rachel Hunt, Buffy Kennedy, Heather Wood, Jessie Stockton,
Susan Platt, Megan Root, Rachel Evans, Tina Connor Myers, Beverly Gordon, Johvanna
Caltzontozi, and Nickie Busco.
Tonya
Cannariato, thank you for editing the first half of this book so well,
proofreader Sheri Spell demanded more. You have an amazing capacity to love the
people around you and I am privileged to call you friend.
Rachel Firasek,
thank you for talking me off ledges, being a huge support, and always making
time for me, despite your own challenges. You’re an incredible woman.
Sheri Spell,
you’re the best type of friend a writer can ask for: the kind who cares enough
to point out a problem. Thank you for having the guts and heart to give me an
honest opinion.
And last, but
never least, huge thanks to my readers. Thank you for waiting for this book despite
it being a month past its original publication date. I hope you enjoy the first
book in the Project Genesis series.
There she was again. For the third time this week,
hugging the edge of a building, barefoot and wearing an oversized trench coat despite
the ninety-degree heat. Jacob Greiff wondered if the bottoms of her feet burned
on the cement. His ex, Sharon, wouldn’t have been caught dead without a
pedicure. Not this one. She must not care much about prissy crap like that. He
liked that idea, a woman who wouldn’t mind getting a little dirty. A small tilt tugged the corners of her lips up
as she observed the pandemonium of the crime scene.
He examined her from out of the corner of his eye
and wondered if she would disappear like last time. Probably one of the crazy
lookey-loos who enjoyed hanging around and pretending they were watching a live
episode of
Law and Order
. Hell, for a partner as hot as Marishka
Hargitay, he’d play along. But this woman kept showing up; she’d watch them put
the latest collar in a squad car, and leave before the suspect’s head cleared
the top of the door. It didn’t sit right.
A simple breaking and entering didn’t warrant much
from the police department. Rapes, murders, and drug dealers overwhelmed their
holding cells and man power. Most victims had to settle for filing a report and
cleaning up the mess. But recently, this neighborhood had gotten itself what
Greiff liked to think of as a “concerned citizen” with a serious idiot streak. The
movies and press liked to romanticize vigilantes, but he figured it wouldn’t be
long before one of these perps got the better of this guy. And he would put down a twenty that the tiny,
trench-coat-sporting woman knew something.
The temptation to file her away as a hallucination
niggled at him. In the past twenty years, he’d seen only a few things in color,
and she was one of them. A guy at a gas station when he was fourteen, and a
girl in the airport on his return trip from overseas at the end of his last
tour of duty were burned into his memory. And now this woman.
A trip to summer camp at age twelve had left him
color blind—real color blindness; the world passed him by in black and white.
Growing up an Army brat exposed him to several countries and more doctors than
he wanted to count. No one had an answer for why a healthy kid would lose the
ability to see normally.
By seventeen, he’d had enough and refused to let
one more specialist run endless, meaningless tests. To his surprise, his mother
supported his decision, and his condition was rarely brought up. Life went on.
He learned to compensate and used his other senses more fully—especially his
nose.
He returned his attention to the crowd of gawkers
and let his stare settle on the anomaly in the crowd. Even with her wind-blown,
brown hair and feet poking out from under the edge of the enormous coat, she
should have disappeared into his sub-conscious as just another person. Plenty
of weirdos went around wearing more remarkable outfits. Nothing striking about
her that he could see from across the street, except for the whole peachy skin
thing making her face and hair a bright splotch he couldn’t ignore. The tug of
awareness and feeling of recognition in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t go
away. It had led him to more than one arrest, had even saved his ass out in the
desert. Greiff wasn’t about to ignore the sensation now, even though he
wondered if she were real at all.
He turned to his partner. “Hey, I’m going to get a
coffee. You want anything?”
Anthony Spetrino shook his head no, put his phone
in one pocket, and made a show of looking him over from top to bottom. As
usual, his partner was sharp, no doubt color-coordinated, tie high and tight to
his neck. Spetrino opened his mouth and Greiff rolled his eyes. He knew what
was coming.
“You’ve got on a red shirt, green socks, and a
grey suit jacket. You look like a fucking Christmas nightmare.”
Greiff glanced down and shook his right leg so the
cuff of his pants draped back down over his sock and hid it. “Save it. We’re
here to figure out who the joker is that’s tying up jack-offs like our friend
here and calling the cops before taking off.”
“Without witnesses, it’s gonna be tough. Our
friendly neighborhood dumb ass knocked this one out with a frying pan. He’s got
a hell of a lump on his head. And the neighbors all say they don’t know
anything.” Spetrino popped a piece of nicotine gum into his mouth and started
chewing.
“Well, we did learn one thing this morning.”
Greiff glanced over to see if the short brunette still leaned against the
building across the way. Yep.
“What’s that? You like walking around wearing
clothes that make you look like a drunken monkey dressed you?”
“Fuck you. No, we learned that you’re old lady
catnip. Ms. Kowalski definitely has a thing for you.”
Spetrino bit out a laugh. “Whatever, man. I’ll
meet you back at the station in a while.” His partner walked away, but paused
long enough to throw a comment over his shoulder. “Any elves start following
you, let me know. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Greiff rolled his eyes and double checked the car.
Spetrino had a bad habit of leaving the thing unlocked. Time to take a walk and
talk to the brunette. Probably just a whack job from one of the other apartment
buildings in the area—if she didn’t spring out of the tangled mess in his head.
Shit, she had to be real. Had to be, going around
barefoot and wearing a trench coat in August. He wouldn’t imagine that.
Besides, she was attractive from what he could
see. Petite, with a pert nose and large eyes. Of course she would be pretty,
the crazy ones always were.
***
Chloe Saunders knew the cop watched her and that
she should have left already, but seeing them bring out one of the creeps she’d
busted proved too irresistible. It was the only time she felt like she got any
use out of her curse. New York held lots of opportunity to blend into the
fabric of the city. There were weirder people to look at than her in a huge
trench coat in summer. He shouldn’t have noticed her.
But he had.
The police pushed the burglar into the back of the
patrol car and she snickered. He’d been in the middle of helping himself to a
single mom’s stash of emergency cash when she had knocked him over the head
with a cast-iron, grill pan. He’d taken a swing at her, and the pan was the
closest thing available. To be fair, having a naked woman appear out of nowhere
and whisper “Hey asshole, put that back” in your ear could freak a person out.
So the punch didn’t offend her. But that didn’t mean she had to let him hit
her. The rat went down on the kitchen floor after the knock to the noggin and
she almost peed herself. Getting that close to him hadn’t been one of her
better decisions, but seeing the jerk going after what little money the
homeowner had stashed really tripped her switches.
Life for a single mom was hard enough without low
life losers ripping them off. People needed help where they could get it, and
she didn’t have anything else to do during the day. As a customer service rep
for a credit card company, she worked from home with a dedicated phone line and
laptop in the evening.
She had bound his wrists and ankles with a pair of
panty hose and a nice scarf from the closet, and wedged an apple in his mouth
to keep him quiet. Which was pretty ballsy; the human jaw is powerful. One good
snap of his teeth, and she’d have lost a finger for sure. Re-growing limbs
hurt, and then what if he’d swallowed it? She couldn’t risk leaving bits and
pieces behind. A call using the cell in his pants pocket to the local police
station and he was busted.
The irony of calling the cops with the perp’s
phone gave her great joy. Her ruminations were interrupted by the realization
her observer was still interested in her. In fact, the cute, dark-haired cop
stared at her while he pretended to study a spiral-bound notebook.
She turned to head back toward her place a few
blocks away. Daisy Mae, her roommate, didn’t know she had borrowed the jacket,
but if she knew Chloe was commando beneath it she’d probably swoon in
excitement. Daisy Mae gave plenty of unwanted advice about the state of Chloe’s
wardrobe, most of it centering on the theme that Chloe dressed like she’d been
left alone in the pitch-black basement of Goodwill.
A glance over her shoulder revealed hotness with
handcuffs was headed her way. Looked like he’d grown tired of pretending to
read.
Aww…shit and fiddlesticks. The jacket tangled
around her feet, and she hitched it up with both fists. She considered waiting
for him and seeing what he wanted, but discarded the idea. What if he took her
to the station and offered to help her with the coat? And there she’d be.
Naked. Crap on toast.
The painful thump of a collision captured her
attention and she faced front. An angry vendor threw the remains of his ruined
hot dog into a nearby trash can.
“Watch where you’re goin’, would ya?”
“Sorry.” Ketchup, mustard, and onions smeared
Daisy Mae’s coat. Her roommate was going to be really pissed. No hiding she’d
borrowed it now.
Another glance over her shoulder revealed the cop
jogging to catch up. She ran, skirting two shuffling old ladies and a guy so
absorbed in his Blackberry that he nearly clothes-lined her with one
gesticulating arm.
There was a subway entrance to the right about ten
feet ahead, and she flew down the steps as fast as she could without going ass
over tea kettle. She took a hard right at the bottom, chucked the coat at a
homeless guy, and plunged into an alcove. The closet sized nasty, little
hole-in-the-wall took her out of the foot traffic and allowed her to observe
some of the station. She’d found the recessed area while scouting for emergency
hiding spots.
An unknown substance stuck to her flesh and the
soles of her feet peeled up off the floor as she scooted around. She pressed
her back against the cinderblock and let the instinct to melt into the old,
dingy paint take over. The stone retained a chill and the disconcerting worry
of what contaminants clung to her feet flitted through her head, but neither
was as bad as the thought of the cop catching her. She shifted and craned her
neck enough to peek around the corner. A deep breath filled her lungs with the
stench of human waste, mold, and sweat, but she let it out with a slow,
controlled exhale. The cop would pass by without incident. No one would come in
here voluntarily and bump into her unless they wanted to pee in the corner. She
contemplated that scenario and bile rose up her throat.
The homeless guy checked the pockets of the coat
for loose change and scowled at the cop’s approach. The ambient noise of the
station drowned out a short conversation between the men that ended with the
exchange of what appeared to be a twenty for the jacket. Damn, why hadn’t enhanced
hearing been in her modification package?
She remained so still, even her breathing slowed
to an almost imperceptible rate. The effort to hide from him and hope he’d walk
past without discovering her proved futile.
The cop gripped the coat in one hand and gaped at her
with something that could only be fascination bordered with disbelief.
Holy shit. He could see her. Naked, totally,
completely, naked.
She was screwed.
Please God, let her die.
***
Greiff couldn’t believe it. There she stood; five
foot nothing, short dark hair, upturned nose, and huge doe eyes. A really
nicely rounded woman, naked and plastered against the subway wall, and even
better looking close up than he’d imagined. The first time he’d ever seen a
naked woman in color and sweet mother was she gorgeous. Her small, high breasts
tipped with tiny, dark pink nipples and the womanly softness of her tummy sent
all the blood straight to his groin.
He swallowed, hoped his erection didn’t show, and
cased the commuters milling around the station. None of them paid any attention
to her. It didn’t make sense. A damned attractive, young, naked woman, right
there. Right. Freaking. There. Great breasts, firm thighs, and pretty, smooth
skin.
A group of twenty-something-year-old kids passed
not three feet in front of her. More commuters walked by, and not a single one
looked at her. Or they looked toward her, but didn’t notice her. Nobody did,
except him. Bizarre.
He shook out the coat and decided to go through
the pockets. She watched him do it, not saying a word. He got the distinct
impression she skirted the edge of panic. So, why not let it ride a bit? See
what happened.
Every pocket was empty. Not even a set of keys.
The woman surveyed him, every muscle in her body taut with tension. He strolled
closer, took in the view from heels to head and licked his lower lip. She was
short, but sexy. As he closed the distance, she dragged her arms over her
breasts and bent her right leg to shield her groin.
A few more steps and she spun and presented her
back to him. Muscled thighs met the bottom of a plump, perfect ass, and gave
way to the curve of her waist. Gravel crunched under his feet in the entrance
to the alcove as he shuffled closer and opened his mouth to speak. He thought
better of it, and turned around to face the platform with the trench draped
over one arm. The reek of the alcove she stood in damn near choked him. He slid
the cigarette free of the pack, lit it, and spoke quietly around the filter
between his lips.
“Are you really there?”
The patter of her feet scuffing on the cement met
his ears, but nothing else. So low, he wasn’t sure he’d even heard the movements.
Maybe he was losing his mind and trying to talk to an imaginary, naked woman.
As far as hallucinations went, it wasn’t bad at all. He took a drag and turned
his head to look at her scrumptious body again. He’d always been an ass man.
The urge to swoop down on her and bite each cheek flooded him, and he pinched
the bridge of his nose. She squirmed around until the front of her body
smooshed to the wall. Her left arm
covered the side of her breast. Damn. Small, but he wanted to fill his mouth
with the tender globe and suck on it just the same. He smiled around the
cigarette and looked back at the platform.