Hot Mess (An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance Book 5) (5 page)

T
he insistent ringing
of the phone jolts me from the soundest sleep. According to the clock on the nightstand, it's five a.m. An ungodly hour for anyone to get up, especially on Labor Day. This better be serious.

"Yeah," I growl as I pick up the phone.

"Well, excuse me for waking you up." My mother's voice drips with sarcasm. "Your police captain is looking for you. I told him you just ran out for fresh bread and milk." She chuckles. "I'm not sure he bought it, but just the same, he said you were to meet him on the double on A1A by the peer."

"Thanks." Now I feel like shit for barking at my mother. "Sorry about that. I hope you can go back to sleep."

She snorts. "No chance. Captain Stevens caught me as I was walking out the door. The hospital called ten minutes earlier. Ernest, brace yourself. It's seems it's a carnage your being called to. Another race gone terribly wrong."

Her answer startles me and suddenly the light switches on in my brains. Fuck me sideways! I should have known. I'm such an idiot when I let my dick rule my thoughts.

Last night, Kristal said she had delivered one envelope before Earplugs grabbed her. It sounded as if she had dropped a file at a lawyer's office, but for all I know, it wasn't a file. It was a fresh supply of
Biker's Dream.

A Biker's nightmare is what it is.

Cursing under my breath, I throw on clothes and rush out the door. Riding the elevator down, I remember I drove Kristal's car here last night. Shit, I hope Earplugs made good on his promise to bring my bike here.

Sure enough, he has. The keys are on the console table in the monitor's room. I don't even take the time to check on Kristal. It's so early, I'm certain she's fast asleep. Lucky girl.

The ride to the shore is quick at this time, especially since today is a holiday. There's practically no traffic until I reach A1A. One officer in uniform is rerouting inland the only car I see. I stop to identify myself and while he looks at my shield, I ask, "You're alone?"

"Nah!" He points to his colleague I hadn't seen. He's bent over the side of the road. "It's his first week on the job and he's taking it real hard."

I nod and remember how shitty I felt after my first corpse. Lately, after several years of crime scene visits, there's really not much that shakes me anymore. Well, nothing but the smell of rotten flesh and the age of the victims. Young ones get to me.

As I reach the scene of the accident, the first thing that hits me is the smell of gasoline. It's overwhelming. The two lanes of the roads are covered with shiny spots. Pools of oil and pools of blood would be impossible to distinguish without the bugs. They are attacking in swarms. This is Florida after all. Nature always takes the upper hand.

I count six bodies covered with tarps and two teams of paramedics working on another mangled one with a machine. Captain Stevens is watching. The expression on his face reflects my feelings. Pity and rage. We can't fight stupid, but we sure can feel sorry for it.

Now I do love speed as much as the next guy. Probably more. It's heady and once you've tasted it, you're hooked. Yet I'm not suicidal. I don't drink and ride, and in my wildest days, I never smoked and rode.

Captain Stevens shakes his head and sighs.

"I called them," he tells me as I come closer. That explains the presence of the local television station reporter.

He's picking up a conversation we started a week ago after the last accident. While we usually keep the press at arm’s length during our investigations, we were debating calling in the local news people to let them shoot footage of accidents caused by this new drug.

"If the horror of it doesn't knock some sense into kids or scare the parents to death, I don't know what will."

He's gonna take heat from the brass. They frown on anything that can tarnish the picture perfect image of our blissful little town, but at this point in his career, the captain doesn't care anymore. The worst they can do to him is pressure him into an early retirement. He used to dread the idea, but now that he's got a new wife, the idea doesn't seem to scare him as much.

* * *

H
ours later
, I escape from the media circus, stop by the station for a bit, and return to the Styx in a foul mood. Kristal has to cooperate. If she doesn't, I may lose my legendary cool.

The delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee greets me as I open the door. In the ground floor kitchen, there's a full pot and a box of donuts. I have no appetite for the sweet pastry, but coffee is a godsend. I pour myself a cup and walk to the garden looking for Patricia. She's by the pool, wearing a tank top and shorts, going through her morning Tai Chi routine.

Her movements are fluid and graceful. Observing her is relaxing. So, instead of rushing to Kristal's room to confront her, I take a moment to watch Pat's precise motions. I badly need this cooling off period. Drinking my coffee slowly, I wait for her to finish. When she does, she picks up a towel from a nearby chair and strides to where I'm standing.

"You seem serene and happy," I tell her.

She smiles at me as she answers. "Why shouldn't I be? I've got my health, enough money to live comfortably, a job I love, and a pet I adore. Life is good."

Patricia walks into the kitchen and returns with her own cup and a sugar-powdered pastry. She bites into her donut, slowly chews and washes it down with coffee before asking, "What about you?"

Serene. Fuck no! Happy? I'm not sure. I shake my head and ponder. I do love my job, and so far, I've sincerely enjoyed my comfortable bachelor's life.

I used to think I would never want anything more.

I thought it was perfect.

Not anymore.

Lately I've been taking a long hard look at my life and realized I've changed.

"I'm sorry," she says, misunderstanding my silence. "It's a stupid question to ask. I saw your father last week. I understand he's close to the end. I'm sure it's hard on you."

"Yeah, there's that," I admit. "Plus I'm wondering about a lot of stuff."

"Like getting a home?" I nod. Life at the Styx is great. I love it here. It's peaceful and convenient. So much easier than having my own place, but some days I realize it's not an acceptable long-term solution. Especially if I remain on the police force.

"This place is not suited for starting a family and such," she says as if following my line of silent thought. I nod again and strangely enough she opens up. Patricia usually keeps her cards very close to the vest.

"Up to now, I've never wanted kids," she says. She pauses to drink. "I'm not sure I want any, but one thing I'm certain of is that it's nice to have someone." She winks and adds, "Who knew monogamy could have so much charm."

I laugh and raise my cup to her in a mock toast.

"To monogamous bliss."

She gently knocks her cup against mine.

"I'll drink to that," she says. "I'll go up and leave you the free run of the place for now." As she walks away, she turns and squints as if wondering whether she should say what's on her mind. She decides to go for it and her last remark is, "You've got good instincts, Everest. Trust them."

* * *

K
ristal is
fast asleep and perfectly naked when I enter her room. She's on her side, wrapped around the light comforter, hugging it as she would a lover. I take a minute to enjoy the sight and regret that we didn't meet under different circumstances. Her back is on full display all the way to her luscious ass. Her curves are so appetizing, that for an instant, I almost forget why I'm here.

Scolding myself for getting distracted, I pick up a terry cloth robe from the bathroom and stand by her bed.

"Get up, Kristal," I say with the harshest tone I can muster. "We need to talk."

Startled, she sits up in the bed giving me a glimpse of her magnificent heavy breasts before hiding them under the quilt. She frowns, blinks a few time as if trying to remember where she is. Despite myself, I feel sorry for her.

"Where's your father?" I ask.

She tilts her head and snorts.

"What sort of cop are you?" Her tone is insolent. It's my turn to frown. What kind of question is that? The answer comes soon enough. "Does the right hand not know what the left hand is doing?"

She gathers her courage to snatch the bathrobe from me. Her hands are shaky, but she tries to hide her fear and throws me a nasty look.

I turn without actually giving her the privacy she silently requests. Quite the opposite since I now face the large mirror which decorates the adjacent wall. While enjoying the show, she puts on as she slides out of bed and into the robe, I wonder what to make of her answer. Does she believe her father is locked up?

I checked when I drove by the station. Her dad did get arrested three weeks ago, but he got lucky and drew a "get out jail free" card. He was released on a technicality by a clever attorney. Good stroke of luck for him since he was already on parole and would have fallen hard if the charges had stuck. His file indicates that before he got arrested, he'd already missed his last appointment with his parole officer and that puzzles me.

My initial thought was that he was playing his daughter out of pure greed, but now I'm considering another angle. He could be in actual trouble. That doesn't make him less of a bastard for selling out his daughter.

"If you're referring to your father's latest arrest, I have news for you, young lady, he got released ten days ago," I tell her without turning around.

Unaware of the fact that I'm watching her reflection she glares at me. If looks could kill, I'd be shredded to pieces.

She opens her mouth like she wants to snap back something nasty but holds back. She's opting for the silent treatment.

"Fine, if that's the way you wanna play it," I tell her. "You need to get dressed ‘cause I'm taking you in for some serious questioning."

All the color drains from her face and she leans on the edge of the bed. I turn and study her expression. Yep, I'm sure she has no idea what she's done.

"Is it about what was in the envelope?" she asks. Her tone has changed from aggressive to defensive.

"Do you have any idea what you were delivering?"

She shakes her head. "All I know is that I was asked to deliver two envelopes. One in Miami and one in Point Lookout."

"And you didn't even check what it was you were asked to deliver?"

"Of course not. The envelopes were sealed and I was returning a favor for ... someone."

I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Instead, I take a big breath and attempt to get her to understand how she got into that mess.

"Listen, Kristal, you're in serious trouble. The drugs the Tornadoes confiscated yesterday got people killed last night and--"

"No!" Her eyes are spread wide in horror as she interrupts me. She shakes her head vigorously. "You can't pin this on me. Like you said, they confiscated what I was delivering so even if it was drugs..." She's so distraught, she can't find the words to finish her sentence.

"And what about your first delivery?" I bark at her.

"The papers for the lawyer?"

"What lawyer?"

"My father's lawyer."

"What's his name?"

She bites her lower lips and looks at her feet. I do too. They're very cute feet. The toenails are painted ruby red. The same color as her hands.

"John Smith," she whispers her answer so low I almost miss it. She looks up to me, and I can read in her eyes the sad realization that she got played.

"Where did you meet him?" I ask.

"I didn't." I gesture to urge her to give me more information. "I dropped the envelope at his attention at the reception of the Point Lookout Central Hotel."

"And that didn't strike you as strange?"

"No. Not really 'cause, you see, when I drove to his office on Friday, I ran into his secretary who was locking up. She told me she was closing early and that her boss had gone up north to Point Lookout for the holiday weekend." I roll my eyes at her and she sighs. "Well, I was driving to Point Lookout to deliver the second copy of the file to a private detective, anyway, so I was the one who offered to deliver it to him there."

"I see. So you spontaneously came up with the idea to drop it at his hotel." This doesn't make sense. Unless of course, she thought that what was in the file was so urgent that it couldn't wait until the lawyer returned to his office on Tuesday morning.

She closes her eyes and concentrates. When she opens them again, she's not all that certain anymore.

"The secretary sort of volunteered the name of the hotel and she may have suggested that if it was an emergency, I should drop it at his attention."

Oh, she got played all right. A babe in the woods.

I need to decide now what I'm going to do with her. I can take her in right away and let Captain Stevens throw the book at her. The man is so angered by the senseless deaths of the day that I'm pretty certain he would show no mercy whatsoever. The second possibility is to keep her here and see what sort of damage control I can do.

Why do I even consider this? I'm not sure. There's something about her that calls to me. I want her more than any other woman I’ve ever met. I stare at her, wondering what it is about her that is so special, and I can't figure it out.

Obviously, I'm not thinking straight, ‘cause I decide I'm going to leave it up to her. My course of action will depend on the answer she'll give to my next question.

* * *