Indebted

by Sharon C. Cooper

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Indebted

  by

  Sharon C. Cooper

  Copyright © 2018 Sharon C. Cooper

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact the author at sharoncooper.net

  ISBN: 978-1-946172-08-2

  Disclaimer

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Even when he does good, he’s bad…

  Detective Lazarus Dimas doesn’t play by the rules. On the streets, he’s a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous man with a badge and a gun. But he does have a soft spot—the sexy assistant district attorney Journey Ramsey. There is something about the woman he can’t shake. She’s irresistible and off-limits. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself, but one kiss leads to others and well…so much for limits.

  Journey plays by the rules, normally. But she can’t deny the sexual tension that sparks whenever Laz is near, even when he puts her professional integrity at risk. Laz is complex. The type of man fathers warn their daughters about. Yet, there’s a gentle, vulnerable side to him that he lets no one see except her, and she can’t resist him.

  Can Laz prove he’s the man for Journey before a reopened case exposes his true colors? Or will the danger they face show that the love they share knows no boundaries?

  Chapter One

  Detective Lazarus Dimas had no tolerance for anyone who sold drugs—foot soldier or a drug lord—but he wanted to send thugs who beat up and stole from defenseless people to a special hell.

  Scott Buckner, the wiry nineteen-year-old with blond hair and gray eyes stared back at him, defiance in his glare. The moron had been arrested three times for selling weed to kids and had now graduated to beating up and robbing old folks.

  “Come on. Hit me back. I have no weapons on me and there are no cameras in here. You want to fight someone so bad, fight me. Here’s your chance to take out all of your frustrations on someone else.”

  “I didn’t do nothin’!”

  “Then why yo’ ass run when you saw us?” Laz balled his fists and put up his hands. “Now come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Man, you’re crazy! I already told you guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Scott slowly moved away from Laz, only to back into a wall. They were in an old warehouse that Laz used on occasion to distribute his own type of whoop-ass on young punks who needed a little fear beat into them.

  “Do you hear this guy, Ashton?” Laz asked his partner who was standing a few feet away shaking his head. “Scott must not realize that we have video footage of some of his beating incidences.”

  It sickened Laz to watch the videos, but especially the most recent footage. Senseless. In each of the situations Scott could have taken the money without doing physical harm, but no. He either punched, kicked, and in the last occurrence, slammed an old man against the ATM. Laz planned to inflict the same pain on Scott as he’d done on his victims.

  Laz punched him in the chest, and surprise registered on the kid’s face. “What, you thought I was kidding? Come on, fight me back. This will be your one and only time to hit a cop and not get into trouble.”

  Scott glanced at Ashton.

  “Go for it, man. Not too many people get a chance to knock Laz around. It’s now or never.”

  “Oh, I get it. I hit you and you try to charge me with resisting arrest or some shit like that.” Scott shook his head and tried sidestepping Laz. “No way. Not interested.”

  Laz popped him in the jaw. Not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to sting. Then he shot an uppercut to the kid’s lip, drawing blood.

  “Did you know the woman you attacked last week is someone’s grandmother?” Laz punched him in the stomach and then in the face again, connecting with his nose.

  “Man, you need to back up off of me,” Scott seethed, wiping his bloody mouth and nose with the back of his sleeve. “I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to hurt them.”

  This only made Laz angrier. “What did you intend to do then, asshole? Did you think knocking them around didn’t hurt?” He punched the kid again.

  Scott hunched over holding his stomach. “I said I was sorry. I won’t do it again,” he croaked.

  “Damn straight you won’t do it again.” Laz hit him two more times, sending him crumbling to the ground sobbing.

  “All right, Laz. That’s enough.” Ashton pulled him off of Scott.

  “It’s not enough until I know for sure he’s not going to inflict pain on old people again. Who does that shit anyway?”

  It was a rhetorical question, but Laz wished he could get answers on why some jerks did stupid stuff like that. He saw craziness more often than not on the streets of Atlanta, but stealing from the elderly? That was a new low.

  That thought angered him all over again and he released a frustrated growl. “I should hit his ass again.”

  “Stop, man. I said I’m sorry,” Scott groaned. “I’m sorry. Just arrest me already.”

  Ashton grunted and helped the kid up. “Now how are we supposed to take him in looking like this?”

  Laz shrugged. “We handcuff his ass and then read him his rights.”

  “Well, I’m not writing this one up. This is all on you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  Laz and Detective Ashton Chambers had been partners for three years, and friends even longer. Ashton didn’t agree with most of Laz’s tactics, and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit. Passionate about his job and getting as many criminals off the streets as possible, Laz was a by-any-means-necessary kind of guy. Since losing his long-time girlfriend nine years ago to violence, he had made it his mission to wipe the streets clean of as many miscreants as he could, especially drug dealers.

  In Scott’s case, there was still a chance to save him from the streets. Getting arrested over and over, and then released just as fast, hadn’t taught the kid anything yet. Maybe now he’d think twice before beating up or stealing from anyone else.

  While Ashton escorted Scott to the unmarked police car that Laz had parked inside the warehouse, Laz re-holstered his 9mm gun. He also pulled the gold police badge, hanging from a silver chain around his neck, out of the collar of his long-sleeve T-shirt and let it drop against his chest. Now he was ready.

  Ashton shook his head, climbing into the passenger seat. “You know you got issues, right?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  This wouldn’t go well with their sergeant, but Laz didn’t care at the moment. The video of this guy punching a sixty-five-year-old grandmoth
er over and over in her face, ignoring her cries, kept flashing through his mind.

  Laz knew his actions weren’t right, but he’d deal with the fallout when it happened.

  *

  “Laz! In my office. Now!” Sergeant Duane Ford’s raspy, smoker’s voice carried across the bullpen from his office door.

  Laz tried not to groan, but one slipped out and he didn’t miss the knowing glances and smirks coming from other detectives sitting at their desks nearby. He garnered a speech at least once every other week about his arrest procedures. As far as he was concerned, his actions in all of his cases were justified.

  “Why does he always call me into his office and not both of us?” Laz asked Ashton, sitting at the desk facing his. “We’re partners.”

  Ashton chuckled. “Because you always push the limits. One of these days, man…” Ashton didn’t have to finish. Laz knew. His sergeant always went to bat for him, but there was going to come a time when Laz wouldn’t be able to talk or negotiate his way out of the messes he willingly created.

  “Go get your scolding and then hurry back. We need to follow up on that downtown store robbery.”

  Laz stood and shoved his cell phone into the front pocket of his jeans. “If I’m not out in ten minutes, come and interrupt.”

  A tingling started at the base of Laz’s neck and crept higher. He didn’t have to look around to know the cause because if that hadn’t signaled him, the stirring in his gut would have. It never failed. Whenever the tall, leggy prosecutor was within thirty feet of him, whether he saw her or not, his body responded. Atlanta’s assistant district attorney Journey Ramsey had an impact on him that he’d never experienced with another woman.

  And there she was, as gorgeous as ever.

  She followed a short distance behind another detective to one of the interrogation rooms. Her graceful, long stride enhanced her seductive walk as she strolled through the bullpen. Everyone took notice.

  Laz willed her to look in his direction. Just one look.

  As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned her head slightly and their eyes met. Air lodged in his throat and his pulse did a giddy-up as he took in her dark almond-shaped eyes that enhanced her smooth, lovely face. After her gaze lingered, she gave a slight nod at him before diverting her attention.

  Despite her being clear across the bullpen, they were so attuned. Every nerve in his body came alive whenever she was around and it was as if he could feel her. He couldn’t explain it better than that. The experience was baffling and fascinating at the same time.

  “Lazarus! Get in here!” his sergeant yelled again, ruining the moment.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,” he mumbled, his attention still on Journey as he glimpsed her perfectly round ass and those long legs that he’d dreamed about having wrapped around his waist. He was a leg man and hers stood out beneath her fitted skirt, tapering down to a pair of tall, sexy-as-sin shoes.

  Today her footwear was royal blue with a thin strap around the ankle, pulling out the royal blue accent color on her flawless tailored black suit. He had never been so fascinated by a woman’s footwear and how they made her legs look until Journey came along.

  Always dressed to the nines, she commanded attention not only in the courtroom when prosecuting a case, but also at his precinct. She never failed to have every man in the building, married or not, taking a second look.

  “So have you seen the ADA’s shoe collection up close and personal yet?” Ashton whispered, now standing next to Laz. “Seeing that I haven’t seen her wear the same pair twice, I’d say she has quite the collection. At least a hundred pairs.”

  Laz pulled his gaze away from the ADA and gave his head a slight shake, as if that would loosen the fog the sight of Journey always caused. What the hell was it about that woman? For the past few years, just the sight of her did something to him.

  He wouldn’t call them friends, exactly. They had more like a working relationship. A history. Though most encounters with each other resulted in arguments regarding her accusing him of jeopardizing her cases, there was still a mutual sexual tension that sparked between them. He never pursued her, but he’d often thought about it.

  “Well?” Ashton prompted.

  Laz frowned. “Well, what?”

  Ashton looked at him as if he was crazy. “Uh, the shoe collection. Have you seen it?”

  “Like I’d ever tell.” Laz weaved around desks and chairs, heading to his boss’s office. He knew Ashton’s question had more to do with whether or not he and Journey had gotten naked yet, more than it had to do with her shoe collection. If anything juicy ever transpired between Journey and him, that would be one secret he’d keep close to his chest.

  “You wanted to see me, Sarg?”

  Sgt. Duane Ford tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his office chair that squeaked, protesting his weight. “Close the door.”

  Laz did as instructed and turned his attention to his boss. Ford folded his arms across his chest. If he knew how much the move brought attention to his protruding beer belly, he’d probably stay hidden behind his desk.

  “You want to tell me what happened to Scott Buckner’s face? It looks like he slammed into a wall, several times.”

  Laz shrugged. “Hey, ask him.”

  “I did.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said he fell. But I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. Have a seat.”

  Laz dropped into the rickety wood chair in front of Ford and braced himself for the tongue-lashing he knew was coming.

  Chapter Two

  Frustration drummed through Journey Ramsey as she stuffed her tablet into her oversized handbag. She’d been in the interrogation room for the last twenty minutes, prepared to offer a deal to a suspect, but hadn’t been able to take her mind off of Detective Lazarus Dimas. The man was a thorn in her side on most days, but damned if he didn’t make her body quiver whenever he looked at her.

  “Sorry about having you make a wasted trip down here, counselor,” Detective Jones said when they left the interrogation room. He pulled the door closed, leaving his suspect cuffed to the metal table. “I thought having you present, with the promise of a deal, would get him to talk.”

  Journey shrugged. “You tried.” They discussed next steps with the case. Again, Journey tried giving him her full attention, but knowing Laz could still be nearby had her anxious to get out of there. Not because she didn’t want to see him. On the contrary. She loved looking at him, everything from his wind-tousled hair to those hazel-green eyes that seemed to look right through her.

  No, she was ready to leave because if she happened to run into him, she might end up telling him something she had no business telling him. Something he needed to know, but coming from her could jeopardize her job, law license, and compromise the DA’s office.

  She said her goodbyes to the detective and moved through the bullpen where a nest of desks and cops were on the telephone or pecking away on their computers. It took all her willpower not to look in the direction of Laz’s desk. She didn’t want to give anyone a reason to think she was interested in him even though she was seriously attracted to him.

  Who wouldn’t be? The man was not only fine, but he had that intense, bad-boy vibe rolling off him in waves. The disheveled hair, muscular body, and that self-assured walk did something to her.

  A door slammed to her left and she slowed. She couldn’t stop her gaze from going in that direction even if she wanted to and…

  Her breath hitched at the sight of Laz storming away from his boss’s office. From the strong set of his jaw and the way he ran his hand through his dark hair, he wasn’t happy. But God, was he beautiful to look at.

  Laz glanced up and his piercing gaze locked on hers, diverting Journey’s plan to keep walking toward the elevator.

  Damn those eyes.

  They bore into her like a heat-seeking missile charging toward its target. With the intensity behind his stare, it was a wonder she di
dn’t trip over her feet. His gaze always seemed to take in everything around him, while also making her feel as if all of his attention was solely on her.

  “Heading out?” he asked, his baritone voice like a whisper against her heated skin. He held the door open and then followed her out.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled trying to ignore the way his long-sleeved T-shirt stretched across his wide chest and hugged his thick arms. Even fully dressed, she could tell he was all muscle without a lick of fat anywhere.

  Warmth spread through her body as he fell in step and walked down the hall with her as if they’d planned to leave together. Normally when they talked, or argued about a case mostly, it was out of earshot of others. Right now, she wasn’t sure why he had followed her out.

  As far as she was concerned, they had nothing to discuss, especially since in the last few minutes, she had made up her mind that she wouldn’t share the information she’d learned less than seventy-two hours ago.

  “Hey Laz, got a minute?”

  Journey and Laz turned simultaneously toward the deep voice coming from where a police officer stood in the doorway of an office.

  Laz turned back to her and moved in close. “Don’t leave yet, all right? I want to talk to you,” he said, his tone serious, his gaze unwavering.

  Journey swallowed hard and watched as his easy gait carried him away without giving her a chance to respond.

  Has he already heard about the investigation? No way. He wouldn’t be this calm. Then again, maybe he’s heard and wants to question me.

  Journey shook the thought free. There was no way he knew.

  She stepped out of the middle of the hallway, toward the elevator, debating on whether to leave or to wait for Laz. If by chance he’d heard what was going on, she didn’t want him asking her any questions, especially since she couldn’t tell him anything.

  But Laz had a way about him. A way that made her want to succumb to his will. She hated the out-of-control feeling that seized her lately when it came to him.