by Dani Wyatt
“It’s time to go. I don’t want to be late. I have to be back here by one.” The terse snip to her voice has the ball of tension in my stomach twisting.
“I’m ready.”
I’m downstairs and in the car on the way to Heather’s husband Mitchell’s law office to go over some new information and discuss trying to come to a plea agreement with the D.A.
The entire hour drive my mother barely stops talking about her upcoming trip to Paris with my stepfather, Walter. They are leaving in a month and if she’s told me once she’s told me a bazillion times how she will not be able to enjoy her vacation if all this trouble isn’t settled by then.
I’m not sure she realizes, although I’ve made it clear on several occasions—as has Mitchell—that having this ‘trouble’ settled almost certainly includes me surrendering to a correctional facility for an indeterminate number of years.
Years.
Not weeks.
Not months.
Years.
The drug laws here are harsh, and the judge on my case is one of the hardest in the sentencing department.
Luck of the draw, Mitchell said.
And bad luck seems to be my middle name.
Inside Mitchell’s office, my mother recounts to him her upcoming itinerary as he gives me a sympathetic smile and my palms nearly soak through the fabric of my skirt where I have them flat on the tops of my thighs.
“So, do you think we can have all this unfortunate business wrapped up by then?” My mother plays with her Gucci butterfly scarf and checks her lipstick in the mirror on the wall of Mitchell’s office. “And kept as quiet as possible. Walter’s so upset the information has already impacted his practice. Drugs are not good for a reputable doctor’s bottom line, especially in his specialty. It’s all just so tawdry. I just can’t believe we are here again.” He looks over at me with a shake of her perfectly coiffed head.
My stepfather is a plastic surgeon, for Christ’s sake, it’s not like he’s the poster child for Doctors Without Borders.
Mitchell ignores her, gritting his teeth, gathering some paperwork and letting out a long breath through his nose before he speaks to me.
“I’ve got the latest statements from Derek and his counsel, as well as some new information from the D.A.” My intestines twist when I hear the lack of any positive tone in Mitchell’s voice.
As much as I have tried to put Torin out of my mind, it’s impossible. Everything that happens, every moment, he’s with me. I long for his hand holding mine, his voice telling me everything will be okay. Something tells me that if he was here, even if it didn’t change the fact of where I’m heading and for how long, I’d be better able to cope with it. I know I made the right choice demanding he stay away, but it doesn’t mean the feelings he etched somewhere on my soul have diminished in any way.
“The D.A. isn’t offering much.” Mitchell starts and cold wraps around my shoulders like a frozen shawl. “Derek is throwing you under the bus. It will be your statement against his, and as shitty as this sounds, he’s the one with the clean record. The security camera footage makes it look like he just had his arm around your shoulders, that you were with him willingly. Nothing shows him putting anything in your purse or looking as though he’s forcing you in any way. The offer on the table now is if you plead guilty, not no contest, the D.A. will recommend a sentence of three to seven years in a federal facility.”
Mitchell sighs as my mother rolls her eyes and takes a seat next to me, crossing her legs and looking my way.
“A federal facility, honey, that’s a relief. It’s practically summer camp from what I hear. If she takes the D.A.’s offer, how quickly will this be wrapped up?”
Mitchell shakes his head and draws his brows together, glaring at my mother.
“It will be wrapped up when it’s wrapped up, when it’s best for Jessie. And I don’t give a shit about your itinerary,” Mitchell snaps, and my mother’s mouth drops open.
“I never—”
“Jessie,” he interrupts her, staring straight at me. “I’ve done what I can do. If you choose to go to trial, I’ll keep doing everything I can. But if you are convicted, it will be ten to twenty years, taking into account your other conviction. How do you feel right now?” He tips his head and comes out from behind the desk to lean on the edge in front of me.
“How do I feel?” I can’t help the laugh that tumbles from my lips. Mitchell has already told me he would represent me pro bono but taking that from him doesn’t help the guilt that feels as though it is pressing in on me from every direction.
“I’m sorry.” Mitchell reaches down to touch my hand. “I wish it was better news.”
“Take the deal. It’s what’s best for everyone.” My mother snaps.
I look from her to Mitchell, feeling the numbness turn to indifference. I barely care anymore.
“If I take the deal, how does that work? When would I have to surrender?”
“If I talk to the D.A. today, you could go as soon as tomorrow.” Mitchell looks like he’s about to cry.
“That would work best.” My mother adds, reaching over to touch my arm. “Right, honey?”
I don’t feel connected to anything. It’s like I’m not even sitting in the chair. I can’t feel my clothes or if the room is hot or cold. It’s like I’m made from plastic and I imagine if I can just keep that lack of feeling for the next three to five years, I might just make it through.
“Call the D.A.” I hear my voice but don’t connect with the reality of what’s about to happen to me. “I’ll take the deal. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”
My mother barely contains the satisfied squeak that slips from her Chanel lips.
“Well, then.” She starts running her hands down the front of her pink and black trimmed blazer. “Let’s put all this behind us then, shall we?”
Mitchell licks his lips and looks down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. I’ll call the D.A. later today and let you know what’s next.”
Chapter 13
Torin
“He’s a fucking bully and a coward.” I stuff three French fries into my mouth as Gerald eyes me with doubt.
“You said you wouldn’t go after her. You said it would hurt her more if something happened to you.”
“I’m not fucking going after her.”
That’s a straight up lie. Of course, I’m going after her, there was never in any doubt, but I’ll do it in my way. In my time. There’s no fucking way I was ever letting this go.
Letting her go.
Never.
I know where she is. I’ve kept tabs on her since the day of the arrest. I’ve made sure she’s safe. I even had a tracker on her phone from the second day we were together. I’m her stalker; I’m just fucking good at not being found out.
“You could get yourself kicked off the force. You realize that? If this doesn’t go exactly the way you want, it could be your job. That’s exactly what Jessie didn’t want.”
“That’s not going to happen. Have I ever screwed up a deal before? Have any of my cases come back to bite me?” I throw the next round of French fries back onto the tray and lean back in my chair, running both hands through my hair as I take a breath. I don’t give him a chance to answer; I do it for him. “The answer is no, Gerald. No. I’ve got this.”
“Okay, my friend. Then I’ve got your back. What do you need from me?”
“Nothing. Just keep anyone from looking for me for the next few hours. Keep tabs on the D.A. Let me know any news that comes in. The timing is tight, and I’m going to need her as soon as I get things in place.”
“Check.” He sips from the straw in his Dr. Pepper as I tap out a text on my phone to my contact, making sure things are still on target.
I look up, feeling my heartbeat pound in my temples. It’s starting to rain, dotting the windows at the diner where we’re sitting with thousands of clear droplets, each one reflecting Jessie’s face back at me.
/>
“Good luck, brother.”
I nod at Gerald, drawing a deep breath through my nose and then stand, making my way out the door and to my car. All I’ve done since her arrest is work and plan how to get her back. Work on our future, because we will have a future. Every moment not at work I’ve been putting things in place.
Quietly.
Methodically.
Some of them could end my career, but that’s on me, not her, and I’ve been around enough to know where to push and when to pull. It’s the law of life, not the law of the land. I’d risk it all for her because my life is already forfeit if she’s not going to be in it.
It’s a short drive to where it’s all going to go down. I’ve spent the last eight or so weeks playing this game of chess. Getting within two moves of the checkmate I need.
But two moves are two moves.
And nothing is for sure until the king falls.
In my car on the way to the meet, I pull up the tracking app and see she is at her mother and stepfather’s house. Earlier, she was at her attorney’s, and that makes me nervous as hell not knowing what’s going on. She doesn’t go out much. Which makes me sad, but also keeps me from losing my mind any more than I have since we’ve been apart.
If she was out, moving around, going places, I’d be hard pressed to get any work done, and my new position has had me buried in cases and supervising staff. Sleep has become a thing of the past, but I’ll gladly give up all of my earthly comforts to be sure she’s safe.
In the small hours of last night, I sat outside the house where she’s staying. Looking at her window. Thinking of her soft body laying in the bed alone. Wondering if she thinks of me. If she touches herself. Remembers how I touched her. How I loved her.
As my thoughts wandered, a low light came on in the room. I sat up in my truck, trained my eyes on the low glow of the window and saw her form move about the room. Her movements were meandering as though she was wandering through some meadow, unsure where she should go.
At last, she’d come close enough to the window for me to see the outline of her body. Desire and anger collided inside of me. I wanted her, as much or more than ever before.
But rage boiled up that someone else could be looking. That any other fucker could even place eyes on what was mine would send me into the depths of darkness, ready to rend their eyes from their skull, so they never touched her again.
As she stood there for longer than made sense, I freed my erection from my pants. Imagined her soaking cunt wrapped around me and her lust-filled words filling my ears.
Tugging and violently releasing what belongs to her outside in the truck as I’ve done almost every night since she left gave me a mere moment of relief, but my heart remained lost. I want her flesh as much as I want her heart and I cannot separate the two for her or myself.
I’ve never used my position for personal gain before. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I’d move heaven and earth to make things right for her. For us.
I found out everything I could about her former case.
I found out everything about the current case and the little fuck who set her up.
Because she was set up. What I found is that history has a funny way of putting things together, and it was only a matter of time before the puzzle pieces fit, and I had my plan.
Outside the bar where my first meeting of the day is set up, I run over my plan and make my peace with the laws I’m about to bend.
I straight arm the door and let my eyes adjust inside the dim room. It stinks like cheap perfume and a mixture of a bathroom that needs cleaning and the scent of someone that couldn’t hold their liquor.
Taking a seat in a corner table, facing the door, I settle in to wait. One thing that I’ve earned in the ten years I’ve been on the force is favors. I’ve rarely called any in until these last few weeks.
Five minutes later, the door opens, and two hoodies with jeans hanging below their asses stumble in. The taller of the two men shoots a glance my way, then quickly looks away as they take two stools at the bar. He knows my face. The other one, the one whose name is Les, doesn’t.
I swallow, my heartbeat steady, and rub my lips together, giving them a few minutes to get a drink in front of them before I move.
I push down the rage. It doesn’t serve me right now. I need the cold calculation of the game right now not the heat of revenge.
That will come in time.
I push back my chair, see the way my contact flicks his eyes my way at my movement and stands, making his way toward the back hall as we’d planned.
As I replace him at the bar, he changes direction, and he’s out the front door, and I raise my eyes to the bartender who nods, turns away, walking around into the back room and leaving me alone with the filth who is about to understand the way his new world is going to work.
I grab the back of his neck before he knows I’m there, slamming his nose down onto the wooden bar and stifling the growl that rips through my chest.
“What the fuck!” he spits out along with a spray of blood.
Before he can get his hands up, I give his face another meeting with the bar, pull my Rueger from the back of my pants and settle it against his temple.
“Shut the fuck up. Your job is to listen until I ask you a question. Then your job is to answer.”
I pull him back up and lean in to see the purple swelling already taking over his nose as a stream of crimson flows over his lips.
My phone goes off as I expected and I ignore it, knowing exactly what it means. It tells me my next move is in motion and I have about two minutes to get this fuck ready for his part in my little play.
“Your buddy Derek Melrose is going to walk through that door. Your friend, the one who bought you that drink, is going to be with him. The door is going to be locked, and the three of us are going to have a little conversation. Then, you and Derek are going to have a little ‘come to Jesus’ with a detective who is waiting to take a statement from you.”
As I’d done my investigation, found out that Derek and Les were connected. I knew it was a sign. What are the chances that those two would be partners? Les was the piece of shit that set Jessie up out of high school.
It was pure coincidence that Derek walked into the bakery that day and Helga set him up with Jessie. What happened after that, somehow Derek told Les who his date was and they took advantage of knowing her past and used that to get her to make a run for them. Only, they got caught and for the second time in my sweet girl’s short life, she got the blunt end of the stick.
The world is small, way smaller than most think but having these two be connected only made my job easier.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I exhale and grip the back of his neck again, and he raises a hand. “Okay. Wait.”
I’ve learned a few things in my years on the job. One, is this guy and Derek are not in this for the lifestyle. They’re not hard. They’re here for an easy buck and to pose.
Both of them have the same schtick.
They prey on weak, naïve girls, either by tricking them to carry for them or getting them somehow to fall for them and coercing them into doing their dirty work.
Either way, they are bullies and bullies are easy to drop. They have no real skin in the game besides the paycheck. As well, they have other weaknesses, and I know what they are.
The door opens, and Derek comes in, followed by my guy who does as planned and turns to lock the door behind him with the key the bartender gave him at my request. It draws Derek’s eyes, but as he turns to see what his buddy is doing, he gets a sidelong glance my way, and I make sure he sees what is held at his partner’s head.
“Have a seat.” I nod toward the table closest to us, then reach over and grab the arm of the guy next to me, jerk him off the bar stool and toss him toward a chair. “You too,” I order and watch as they look at each other than comply, keeping their eyes my way.
“This is going to be simple.” I
start holstering my gun and crossing my arms. “You,” I nod at Derek, “are going to have a sit down with the D.A. today. You will waive your right to counsel, you will give a new statement that you planted the package of coke in Jessie’s purse.”
Derek laughs. “No fucking way.” He shakes his head, and I’m not sure whether to sigh or cheer. Part of me was hoping we could do this the easy way, but part of me wants what’s coming.
I reach out fast, giving him no time to react, and give his face the same treatment on the top of the table as his buddy had with the bar. The crack of gristle against wood is satisfying, even if we’re wasting time I don’t have.
“Not your turn to talk.” I shake my head. “You will do what I say. Because,” I pull up my phone and tap a video, starting it playing. “I have evidence of you accepting delivery of a pound of pure cocaine and about fifty videos of you selling it out the back window of the house you two share on Cooper Avenue.”
“I want my lawyer.” Les starts, and I raise my eyebrows.
“Sure. I’ll call your fucking lawyer. I’ll also make sure your baby mama goes down for distribution. You know where that’s going to leave your daughter?”
His eyes tell me he’s right where I want him.
“That’s right. Foster care. The system.”
I’ve done my homework. He cares about his daughter. That’s his weakness, and it’s my job to exploit it.
“And you, you piece of shit.” I turn to Derek. “You won’t last a day inside. See, the last girl you had run your shit for you?” He looks up at me with fear in his eyes. “Yeah, you know the one. The young one. She’s the fifteen-year-old granddaughter of Salvatore Como. Happens to be an acquaintance of mine. She’s waiting and ready to go to her grandfather and let him know what you made her do for you. All the things you made her do to you. That you told her if she didn’t, you were going to turn on her, give her up with a half-pound in her purse the same way you did to Jessie. Won’t matter if it’s true, you two have a pattern and Mr. Como, see, he loves his granddaughter. So even if you make it to prison, don’t think for a second, he doesn’t have a long reach. All the things you made her do to you are going to feel like a ride at Disneyland compared to what waits for you.”
