The Ringer (2 page)

This woman reeked girl-next-door wholesomeness, but without direct light, he couldn’t place her, underneath the heavy makeup and the two-times-too-small Hello Kitty tank she wore.

“I know you,” she said. It came out in a hushed whisper while they sped down Wacker Drive. The underground tunnel had dangerous twists and turns.

“I-I-I remember—”a bit more panic lacing her voice.

A sedan whizzed past them, missing the sports car by mere inches. Overcompensating for the close call, she jerked the wheel too hard, careening them into a massive spinout.

Adrenaline thrummed through his veins, Jax reached over to grab the steering wheel.

“Put your foot on the brake,” he instructed as they continued to spin in the opposite direction. She didn’t utter a single word, not even a peep, while he maneuvered the car into the slide.

Almost too late to save them, he noted very few cars passed them before they spun out over the median divider.

“I know you,” she wheezed. The woman dropped her head on the wheel.

The car idled in the middle of the road as he tried to calm her down. “You’re going into shock,” he told her. “I need you to take three deep breaths, hold for five seconds, then exhale. Come on, I’ll do it with you. One.” Getting close to her, he inhaled and waited before he released.

After a moment, she followed his lead. Once they got through their first repetition, she had calmed down a bit. “Hot,” she said before she snatched the blonde wig off and shook her dark hair loose. The light from the street caught her eyes. Jax gazed into her dazzling green globes.

“Yeah,” he admitted as he stared at her. “I know you, too.”

***

Five months earlier
….

A wisp of elegance swept across the room. The banquet hall brimmed over with the high society crowd. The Chicago Ritz Carlton swarmed with people made of money.

Society affairs always bored the hell out of Jax. He had promised his father he would attend this one since he’d dodged so many in the past.

A good charitable cause helped take the sting out of most prissy events, but not tonight. The new case on his desk gave him a bad itch. He checked his watch again, frustrated to find that minutes had ticked by from the last time he checked.

“The sheer power of your mind, Jackson, will not make this go by any faster.” His old man, Truman Thornbird, chuckled near his ear before he passed him a stiff drink.

“Power of persuasion, I never thought I’d see the day,” Nathaniel Thornbird chimed in. His big brother slapped him on the back from the other side, eliminating any possibility of a clean getaway. “How did the old man get you here?”

On the tip of his tongue lay a whopper of a lie. He wrestled around with something plausible but decided to settle on the truth. “I picked the Cubs,” he mumbled.

“Against?” Nate pretended to play stupid over last season’s baseball finals.

“The White Sox,” he muttered as raucous laughter erupted from his brother and old man.

“He never learns,” Nate hooted. He wiped the mist from his eyes before he rolled into another bout of amusement all over again. Since his family always got a good laugh at his expense, he decided to wait them out.

“Uh oh, the vultures have gathered in formation.” Their father nodded toward the den of single ladies circling in for the kill.

The trio of Thornbird men must have sparkled like tasty treats in the dry wasteland of the married and the old who attended. The tallest of the three, Jax stood an inch above his brother at a good six-five. With all their teeth accounted for and a full head of black hair, they would win best in show.

Everyone was privy to their father’s longstanding arrangement with the widow Christie, his father’s high school friend. To dodge any unwelcome advances, they pretended to be an item at such affairs.

This alone took his father out of the running for eligible bachelor. Due to Nate’s engaged status, he was also off-limits, which left him to suffer alone.

Too busy with work, he couldn’t help but be AWOL at most of these meat market affairs gift wrapped in a good cause.

“Isn’t that Macy Beitterman?” Nate asked. He could tell by his tone he knew full well it was. “Hmm, maybe tonight will be her lucky night.”

Even as a homicide detective, nothing beat fear in his heart faster than a power-hungry, unrequited crush from middle school yesteryears.

At the precise right moment, his cell buzzed inside his tuxedo jacket. Downright thrilled at the prospect of paperwork, he took his phone out of his breast pocket.

“Don’t you dare—” his father began to threaten him, but Jax held up his finger to cut him short.

“Oh shoot, I gotta take this.” He feigned disappointment as he rushed off to beat the crush of women headed in their general direction. Laughter from his father and brother followed him across the hall and into the men’s washroom.

Out of view, he tucked his phone back into his suit and dumped his drink down the sink. He had no intention of staying any longer than need be, so he had set an alarm to go off about a half hour after he arrived. Amused by his own craftiness, he whistled his way to the urinal, grateful to have the rest of his evening free.

When he unzipped his pants, his Spidey senses went off. Jax peered over his shoulder while he chastised himself for missing the obvious. A sexy brunette sat upon the porcelain lid in the stall behind him.

“Don’t let me stop you, please continue,” she told him with a sly wave.

“Did I make a wrong turn?” he asked, surprised but amused. “When did the ladies’ room get urinals?”

“No, you’re in the right place. Believe you me, the women’s restroom needs them worse than you guys. These wealthy ladies of sophistication are slobs.” She had a raspy, smooth voice, not light and airy like the debs who hosted these things. “Did you take a good gander at The Daughters of the American Revolution table?” She opened her eyes wide. “With their hair, sequins, and makeup shellacked up to here for days.” The playful woman held her hand high above her head. “I’m just saying.”

Surprised he had begun to smile at the woman with all her splendid candor, he tried to catch himself. If he allowed the tug of attraction to grow, he would be in trouble.

An off-the-shoulder red dress clung to her full breasts, complementing her creamy skin. Straight dark hair fell to her waist, setting off her amazing emerald-green eyes.

This woman doesn’t belong here
.

“You got a name?” he asked the washroom intruder.

Her eyes flashed with humor before she opened her red-painted mouth.

“Lane,” a masculine voice called out. Someone opened the outer door to the men’s room. The playful look on the beauty’s face disappeared. “Lane!” he said again, a touch angrier than before and very close.

Jax wouldn’t have described her expression as panic, but her brilliant face became pinched, conveying a sense of urgency he had seen many times. He put his finger to his lips to silence her and reached for the stall door. Nodding as he pulled it, she raised her stiletto-covered foot to keep it closed.

“Lane!”

“Parker!” he groaned aloud. A throwback to another time and place; one he kind of hated. “Longtime good not to see.” He nodded at his high school nemesis. “Still trolling the men’s bathroom, huh, Park?”

“Jackson Thornbird.” The spoiled man’s face twisted into a sneer. “I haven’t bumped into you at a function in ages. Then again, I can’t imagine you could afford the ticket. Did Daddy foot the bill?” Parker leaned against the wall, the condescending expression he’d perfected since high school smeared across his face.

“Pops is a sucker for a good cause, and it gives us a chance to catch up. Unlike your old man, my father likes having me around.”

Jax grinned at his childhood enemy. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the dark slime the little shit brought along with him.

The antithesis of good and evil, and not just in looks, Parker Lockland didn’t carry an air of middle class in his blood. Close to his height, the blond Parker hailed from an impeccable lineage, pure blue blood all the way for the Lockland clan.

“How is the field? Oh, what is it?” Parker pretended to study his Rolex watch. “Public servant? Mailman, right, how’s it working out for you?”

“Better than twisting those old ladies’ faces tighter than a corkscrew,” he shot back, criticizing Parker’s skills as a plastic surgeon.

Gnashing his teeth, Parker pushed himself off the wall. Silently congratulating himself, Jax waited for the petty son of a bitch to spill out something ridiculous, while he fought off the urge to rabbit punch him in the throat like he’d always wanted.

“Parker!” his brother interrupted them. “Father would like a word.” The younger, and better tempered, Lockland walked into the restroom.

“Maybe next time we can throw one of these fancy shindigs for your skimpy civil servant paycheck. Later, Thornbird,” Parker said.

Dustin nodded in his direction and took off behind his brother.

After a few beats, he gave a quick wrap to the stall. “The coast is clear,” he said before he pushed the door open.

“Geesh, you two have a hard-on for each other and not the good kind,” the woman he identified as Lane said with a big, infectious laugh. She uncurled herself from her spot. Jax held out his hand to help her down off the porcelain lid.

“Considering I’m not the one hiding in the head, I’m guessing you hate him, too.”

She touched his palm with her fingertips, forcing a brush of warmth to slide right through him. Taller than he believed, and curvy in all the best places, he noticed stepping back to let her out.

“I served him with divorce papers about twenty minutes ago.”

“Burn,” he exhaled, choking on her lack of decorum.

With no signs of visible nerves in sight, she popped the top to her small purse and pull out a tube of lipstick. “No coming back from that right? I didn’t want to pay for a process-server, and my lawyer advised me to do it in a public place.” She sauntered over to the mirror in the waiting room and refreshed the dark red color on her lips. Once she’d finished with her mouth, her eyes sparkled an even more brilliant shade of green.

“Who would have guessed he’d act like such a….” She screwed the cover on and threw the tube into her bag.

“Cry baby,” he offered.

“Bitchy baby,” she corrected. “But yours wasn’t too far off.”

“How long have you been married to Parker?” He volleyed into her corner.

“Long enough.” Lane sighed before she tiptoed her way up to the door. She shrugged. “You wouldn’t be familiar with a good way out of this joint?”

“What, no round two?” he asked, entertained by her.

“Honestly, I don’t have enough fight in me. I guess I never did for Parker.”

Jax filled the space between them. A whiff of a spicy perfume warmed his nose. With a Cheshire cat smile, the bombshell of a woman tilted her head up to look him in the eyes.

“After your smart comment about the Daughters of the Revolution, I’d imagine you can fight the best of them.” He elicited his first genuine laugh from her. “Go right down the hall until you reach the employees’ exit. This floor isn’t locked, so it will take you to the stairway. Head down to the third floor. That door will lead you toward the back of the hotel.”

“Should I ask how you’re privy to this top secret information?”

“Good luck, Lane.” He smiled before reluctantly taking a step away from her.

“Nice meeting you, Jackson Thornbird.” She pulled open the door and glanced both ways before heading into the hallway.

“It’s just Jax,” he told her before she got away.

“Okay then,” she said with a peek over her shoulder. “Goodnight, just Jax.”

The present
….

The rapid beat of her heart increased her panic. Jax had managed to maneuver her from the driver’s seat. Unclear how it happened, Lane found herself riding shotgun.

Gears ground together before the car jerked them back onto the road. He shifted the BMW sports into reverse to pull it off the median.

“You cut your hair,” he noted.

Her tresses hung a couple of inches beneath her shoulders. Lane touched the soft layers around her face. Edgy is what she’d wanted but received a new do on the shy side of sweet.

Lane had lopped off almost a foot for Locks of Love charity. She’d also done it for a much sillier motive, not at all altruistic—breakup spite. Both reasons had seemed good at the time, but she still suffered from the slightest bit of insecurity about her cut.

“It looks great on you,” he told her with a wink.

Heat tightened her chest while she fought off the strange sensation of a crush. Her mind wandered to places best left alone.
I’m a grown-ass woman
. Which did not change the fact one good-looking man flirted with her.

Trying not to stare, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Everything about him set fire to her already singing nerves.

Lane resisted the urge to reach for the tips of his hair hitting his shirt collar. Big in every single way, he oozed sex appeal, a trait Parker never possessed.

Almost-instant guilt seeped into her. Her ex, Parker, a good-looking man, didn’t hold a candle to Jax. Even though women took notice when Parker walked into a room, Lane never once wished her clothes would spontaneously combust off her body.

A super-steamy relationship wasn’t in the cards. Her cheeks heated from embarrassment from her moment of weakness, but Jax even had a damn strong jaw.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His politeness was probably a cautionary measure to make sure there would be no more freak-outs in his near future.

“I’m not going to fall apart on you,” she murmured, still raw. She tried to close her ill-fitted blazer over her too-small T-shirt. After her little panic attack at the bar, Lane believed she couldn’t have come off worse. Uncomfortable in her own skin, she just wanted to go home.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Uh no!
  She wanted to say, but instead she took a deep breath, trying to get her bearings. It seemed like the beginning of her evening had taken place a year ago instead of a mere hour.