The Ringer (10 page)

“Old knee injury.” He sighed when he sat down. The governor signaled for him to sit in the chair nearby.

“No offense, Gov, but my trust for human nature has begun to wane,” Jax declined.

“It’s about time,” he grunted. “Personally, Thornbird, but you’re just too soft-hearted for homicide. Maybe you should let your fancy bloodline work its magic on this mess.”

“That’s not how I operate.” Since Governor Jones had a good business relationship with his father, he hoped it would extend toward him.

“It would be a helluva lot better than a bullet to your brain, son.”

The man was right.

Captain Julian Blanchard had dispatched the team of detectives with the thickest disciplinary files to bring him back. “I’m a good cop,” he confessed. “There’s no way this avalanche should roll downhill on to me.”

“What do you want me to say, son? Chicago, it’s a shit storm, makes it damn hard to stay clean.”

He reached into his suit pocket. Jax made a move toward his waistband in case he had a weapon, but he pulled out a cigar. “I guess you
don’t
trust anyone.” He smirked. “Is the lighter okay?” He pointed toward his other pocket.

Jax nodded. He didn’t have a gun; he just didn’t want to appear ill prepared. “You do realize this is an eco ball, right?” He asked, amused by his anti-environmental actions.

“Yeah, by the time this cigar has any lasting effect on the atmosphere, I will be long dead.” He inhaled the nasty pollutants into his lungs and relaxed back into the leather chair. “Look, kid, you’re a cop for one of the most corrupt cities in our nation. Even if you’re clean, the people you work for aren’t.” Governor Jones shook his head. “What is it you think I can do for you?”

It was well known by anyone who read
The Chicago Sun Times
or
Tribune
the governor despised the mayor’s strong-arm tactics in the urban areas. Jax hoped to capitalize on that fact, but he had no real input about how the mayor ran the city.

If the FBI couldn’t help, he didn’t know how the governor could fare any better. In his experience, people with high-profile jobs generally wanted to keep them. “Whatever this is, it’s something big enough to reach the mayor,” Jax told him.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Governor Jones admitted with a grumble. “The old fool keeps getting re-elected. The pollsters credit him with the drop in crime and the cleanup of the city’s homeless. All compliments of your captain I understand.”

A bug of an idea wiggled its way toward the forefront of his mind. “Who told you about Franco and Mortiz?”

“I.A. is close to taking their badges and filing charges against them. A couple of bad confessions here, a few unjustifiable shootings there.” The governor frowned. “I’ve been kept in the loop.”

“Think it will stick?” He knew the answer before he asked the question. In a matter of months, those two would be cleared of any wrongdoing, if not weeks. With the captain’s new appointment to Top Cop, it would be smooth sailing for Franco and Mortiz from here on out. It was tantamount to allowing pit bulls off of their leashes.

The governor shrugged. “Julian will cut them loose if they become a liability to him. Besides, right now, everyone’s focused on you.” He pointed the tip of his cigar in Jax’s direction. “And sitting here talking to me isn’t going to help.”

An aggressive knock at the door signaled their time was up. “The car is ready, sir.”

Jax made a move toward the staircase

“Go ahead.” The governor shooed him off. “I want to at least be able to finish this in peace.” He took a drag from the butt of the cigar. “And it’s the least I can do for your daddy after he sent an anonymous donation to my campaign last year.”

“How did you guess it was him?”

“Those damn family insignias get you wealthy chaps every time.”

Jax chuckled. Whenever his father didn’t want his name down on public record, he would send a note with a monogram.

“There’s nothing I would like better than to see you out of this mess. Good luck, kid,” the governor said behind him.

Jax took the stairs two at the time. Since he knew he couldn’t leave the house the same way he came in he had to escape through the bathroom. Slipping up would have been detrimental to his freedom. He simply didn’t have room for silly mistakes.

The plan had been to spend the night in Miami. But Jax reconsidered after learning about Franco and Mortiz.

He went through the mechanic’s garage and took the private elevator to the third floor, making sure to stay out of the way of the cameras. Even though the condominiums belonged to Maxie’s family, he didn’t want to be careless.

Most of the condos were empty but would soon be busy for the winter. Maxie gave them access to a unit owned by a pair of swingers. Attracted to the nubile young bodies that migrated south, the couple generally only came to Miami for the summer. For their one-night stay, they should be safe.

When he walked inside the condo, the night skyline was the first thing to greet him. He headed straight through the contemporary, sleek home in search of Lane.

Surprised by the crisp lines of the white and gray furnishing, Jax had to admit he had imagined a strange S&M setup before he even opened the door. From their pictures, he’d pegged the couple to be around their mid-sixties.

“Lane,” he called out as he rounded the corner. A stream of light shone down the hall, guiding him closer to the back rooms. “Whoa!” The floor fell out beneath him.

“Star Trek circa 1967.” She shrugged. “Freaky environmentalists.”

She took off her makeup in front of the bathroom mirror in the barest of clothes. A bounty of leaves covered her full ass and breasts, while crystals covered the rest of her exposed areas. All thoughts about their personal safety went to a quiet place in the back of his mind as he admired her beautiful body.

He pulled his gaze from her voluptuous shape up to her face. “Damn it, Maxie,” he groaned. Lane sported the biggest bruise he had ever seen. “I’m gonna kill her.” He left the bathroom in search of ice.

“It’s just a small owie!”

It took him less than a minute to find a Ziploc bag in the kitchen. He loaded it up with ice and took it back to the bathroom.

“You came out much better after the shooting at Paddy’s,” he told her. “Trust me, it’s bad.” Jax held her face in his palm. “This is going to sting, but not anything like that hit you took—” He held the cold ice bag to her chin.

“Argh!” She hissed.

“Did Maxie show you how to not take a punch?”

Lane’s emerald eyes sparkled with glee. Humor followed the sexpot, which helped in the worst of situations. “You should see the other girl.”

“No shit,” he congratulated her, amused she hadn’t run at the first sight of trouble. She pushed back onto the granite vanity while he applied the cold bag to her face.

“Right hook, I think is what they call it.”

“Good job.” He smiled, pleased she could take down her opponent. He wanted her around, which was selfish on his part. She should be out of this mess, but he felt more centered near her.

“How did your meeting go?”

He couldn’t look away from her pretty, painted mouth. It was the same brilliant shade of green as her eyes. Tiny sugar crystals embedded on top of her lips matched the illuminating clarity of her skin. She had washed the rest of the makeup off but hadn’t gotten to her lips yet.

“Oh, the governor.” He shook his head to control the lustful ideas wanting to break free. “He wasn’t much help, I’m afraid.” Jax lowered the ice to take a look at her bruise. “Does it hurt?” He studied the brownish-blue tinge along her jawline.

“A little. So he wasn’t helpful?” she asked with a shadow of a frown.

He placed the bag back on her chin, realizing it was too late for him to prevent the punch she’d taken. At least he could ease a bit of the swelling.

“You’re zero for two, Thornbird.” Jax chuckled. She was right; every turn went down a dead-end. “The people who could afford to help don’t want to.”

Lane’s gaze didn’t waver. She looked him straight in the eyes. He found himself pulled closer to her field of energy.

“Rich people want to stay rich,” he admitted. “Maybe you’re right. I should ask for help in other more unlikely places.” Jax took the pack down one last time before he placed his lips where she had been hurt.

“What’s on your pretty mouth? Sugar?”

“Uh huh,” she agreed. “Even the lipstick is edible and environmentally safe.”

“You don’t say,” he murmured. “Did I thank you for earlier?”

Lane slipped her panties past her hips then pulled herself farther onto the vanity. Instantly hard, the view allowed him the perfect peek at her landing strip.

“No, I don’t believe you did.” Her eyes softened; he had seen that look quite a few times in the past twenty-four hours.

She twirled her thong around her big toe before she kicked it away.

He easily scooted her bare behind across the counter and closer to his crotch. He flicked his tongue over her sugarcoated lips. The grains dissolved in his mouth, mixing with the apple-sweet flavor of her lipstick.

He would have to remember to thank the environmentalists for the inflated sexual boost. Eager to taste more than her lips, he attacked her neck with vigor. He tried to yank off the leaves stuck to her breasts, but they were tough to pull with any finesse. He grunted with the belief his reward would be well worth it once he got to the prize underneath.

Button…zippers…teeth
.

Lane shoved at his pants while she nipped at his skin with tiny seductive bites. He worked harder to get those stupid leaves off. The sight of her full breasts bouncing free made him hard.

He gently rolled her nipples between his fingers, and she moaned. Anxious to be inside of her, he shoved his pants all the way down. Lane threw her head back while he pushed into her warm and wet body.

He rode her hard.

A cute hiccup from the sexpot changed into a sharp intake of air, turning him on further.

Intoxicated with Lane, Jax wanted every bit of her. He reached down between her legs and massaged her mound. Once she cried out, he increased his speed. A tight buildup of adrenaline intermingled with ecstasy propelled him forward to fall into the abyss and let go.

***

A gray fog fell over the city. Julian walked on the dead grass at the campus of North Western University. He drank his coffee near one of the research facilities well before any of the early morning classes began.

The sudden, frigid autumn temperatures made him wonder if it would be a hard winter. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and took solace in the beautiful academic scenery.

Fewer murders happened in the winter, and the break would give him time to play catch-up in his new role as the city’s Top Cop. Even with a few unexpected bumps, Julian would be head of the entire Chicago police force.

Professional in the worst of circumstances, Julian found himself short-tempered of late. Sleep had evaded him the previous night. He tossed and turned, worried about Detective Jackson Thornbird.

“Captain.”

Julian didn’t bother to extend his hand. He had no use for this spineless twerp and being seen together would be detrimental to his promotion, almost more than Thornbird’s MIA status. To pretend he enjoyed Parker’s company would have been a farce beyond the best thespian’s abilities.

“Lockland,” he grunted. “Why am I here?”

“I’m guest lecturing. In other words, I’m too busy to come down to your filthy precinct.”

“Who you…. For what?” Julian asked, incredulous anyone would want Parker Lockland around impressionable youth.

“I am a surgeon.” He huffed out his credentials.

“You forgot the word plastic in front of the word surgeon,” Julian reminded him, already bored with his company.

The smug expression fell from Parker’s face. “Have you found my wife yet?”

Straight to the point
. Rich guys didn’t usually tackle personal matters in such a way.

“You mean your ex-wife, Lane?”

“Not yet. She believes the final papers have been filed, which means I can still use her. Perhaps you wouldn’t be sweating bullets if you hadn’t lost her to begin with.”

Julian didn’t bother to respond to the privileged idiot. Anger fueled jerks like Lockland. He had no desire to give him what he aimed for.

“If you don’t want everything to come crashing down on your head, Captain, I suggest you find my wife.”

Invincible—guys like him always convinced themselves that they were. “You have just as much at stake as I do,” he mentioned over the top of his cup of coffee. “If I were you, I wouldn’t issue threats my ass couldn’t cash.”

There was an urge to punch the blond fool in the face and then haul him to county lock-up on some trumped-up charges. Parker Lockland wouldn’t last an hour in there, and the idea thrilled him.

“Where are you from, Captain? Rat-hole Detroit?” Parker stepped closer. “When this all goes to shit, who do you think they’ll believe? Not you. No, you’re just an errand boy.” Lockland poked him in the chest with two fingers. “While I get off scot-free with my fancy lawyers, you’ll be rotting away right along with the trash you put in there.”

Lockland stood over him by more than a couple of inches. Perhaps he believed his height would give him an advantage. Julian could have snapped Parker’s neck in two. However, coeds started to trickle onto the campus, unnecessary witnesses.

“You let Jackson Thornbird get too close. I don’t care what you do with him, but I want my wife back.”

“Detective Thornbird is still in the dark—”

“We can’t take the chance he’ll be in the light. The longer he’s with Lane the sooner he’ll put everything together.” Lockland took a step back with a look of pure contempt on his face. He probably used that same expression to intimidate various house servants who displeased him. Julian wasn’t moved by his sissy-boy dramatics. “Fix your fuck-up,” Lockland said with a sneer before he turned away.

“Don’t forget your baby brother,” Julian reminded him. Parker’s back went rigid. “He is the real reason we’re in this mess after all.” Satisfied he’d gotten his attention, Julian body-checked him with his shoulder as he passed him. “If I go down, it won’t be alone.” Julian left Lockland on the Big Ten campus to wade in the muck of his own threats.