I push through the bathroom door to join everyone standing around a table with a huge cake in the middle. They’ve gone so far as to wear fucking party hats, complete with the rubber bands that fit under the chin to hold them in place. So not a good look on anyone.
“Hey, you guys went all out. You must really love me.” My tone is sarcastic even though there may be an element of truth in what I’m saying. I direct my attention to my partner—or ex-partner now. She’s looking at me like she just lost her best friend. I wonder if it’s because nobody ever looks forward to breaking in a new partner or if she’s really going to miss me. My instinct urges me to take her in my arms and kiss all the sad away, but we’ve agreed to keep things discreet. I can only give her a moment of eye contact that goes on slightly too long before I turn my attention to the rest of the crew. I’ll miss these guys too, and the experiences that forge the kind of close bonds that only cops understand. But the plans I have for the future have me excited about moving on.
“So what are you going to do with yourself now, old man?” one of younger detectives says as he slaps me on the back.
“Oh, you know, fishing, hanging out at my cabin in the woods, sleeping late.” I’m such a fucking liar. I’ll be deeper in the trenches of these streets than I’ve ever been before.
“Well, you’ve earned it, buddy. Get off these ugly streets and do something for yourself.”
“Yeah, I guess so, sounds good,” I say as I shake his hand and do that one-arm man hug before moving on to speak to someone else. I spend the next couple of hours milling around and saying my goodbyes, even though my mind is on anything but cake and ice cream. It was nice of them to do this but I’m ready to move on. A voice interrupts my thoughts as I make my way into my office to grab the box I’ve packed up. Twenty years of memories in a cardboard box. Ain’t that some shit.
“I’m going to miss you around here, partner.” I look up to see Valerie leaning against the door jamb. I let my gaze move slowly over the luscious curves and sleek lines of the only woman who has ever captured my attention and held on to it. She’s the most strikingly beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on with her model good looks. Her long blonde hair, blue eyes, and legs that go on forever have caused many a man to do a double take when she walks by, but she only has eyes for me. Working closely together has created so much more than a sexual bond between us, although that connection remains hotter than hell. We’re best friends. She’s the only person in my life I trust.
I set the box on the desk and brush past my partner to close the door. As I prowl across the room toward her, I notice a strand of hair has escaped from her ponytail. I twirl it around my finger briefly before tucking it behind her ear. My lips trace along the shell of her ear as I whisper, “So tell me -- you gonna miss me, or are you just gonna miss all those intimate stakeouts?”
“Both,” she answers in a heated whisper, tilting her head to the side to give me easy access to the smooth column of her neck. The little minx knows I can’t resist the soft skin just behind her ear, so I let my lips and tongue take a long, leisurely trip down to her collarbone. I smile against her skin when she moans and presses closer to me.
“It’ll be easier to see each other like this,” I murmur. “We won’t have to hide because of work—no worries about being written up for fraternization.” I rub my five-o-clock shadow against her face as I breathe in her scent. I kiss her lips and sigh regretfully as I pull away. “I’ve got to go but I have a surprise for you later.” I step away reluctantly, hefting the box under my arm as I make my way out the door before I’m tempted to stay.
Chapter Two
Jack
My mind drifts back to two years ago when the chief informed me that, after years of working alone, I was getting a partner.
“I don’t need a fucking partner, Chief, I roll solo. You know that.”
“One of these days you’re going to realize you work for me, Jack. Your temper is getting you in trouble. You can’t just bust people upside the head when they don’t give you the information you want. Things have changed over the last twenty years. There’s a magnifying glass on detectives nowadays.”
“Yeah, I get that. What I don’t get is why you’re convinced a partner will improve my prickly personality.”
“You’re a sarcastic son of a bitch, Jack. Listen, it’s done. Non-negotiable. Now come on and meet your new partner.”
I enter the room ready to hate whoever this intruder in my life is -- until I look up and stop breathing. Slack-jawed, I look into the face of a blonde, blue-eyed angel who looks more like a model than a cop. I swear, someone sucked the air out of the room and I can’t catch my breath. From the moment I lay eyes on her, I know I’ll never be the same.
My thoughts are still on Valerie as I pull into the motel parking lot. The realtor, Shelly, is already there. She steps out of her sedan, being sure to give me quite a show of shapely leg before she stands and straightens her skirt, smoothing the fabric over her ass and thighs as I pull into the parking space next to her. I get out, hoist my box under an arm and click the “lock” button on my key fob as she approaches with her hand extended. I pocket my keys and give her hand a brief shake – all too brief, from the way she hangs on to my hand a little too long. Down, girl.
“So, Jack, it’s the big day! Are you ready?” Shelly asks in her bubbly, cotton candy voice. She’s young, maybe 25, with long brown hair and the requisite sexy-businesswoman suit, complete with the overly snug pencil skirt and -- betraying her youth and completely ruining her carefully crafted professional facade -- platform heels. She’s beauty pageant pretty and curvy as hell, and in another time I might have been interested in doing a little personal business with her on the side, but not now. I’ve got my hands full as it is. So much more than a handful, I think with a smirk. Shelly’s trying way too hard, as usual, and I have no patience for this right now. I just want to get this deal done.
I look over the roof of the car at the drab motel façade and question my sanity all over again. Then I walk briskly toward my new office with Shelly prancing along behind me, struggling to stay perched on those heels as she tries to keep up. My heart rate quickens as she unlocks the door to the place that will house the crazy idea I’ve come up with. I gesture for her to enter first, then follow her in. After I put the box down on the edge of the desk, I pause and take a look around.
Yeah, I’m pleased with what I see. The previous owner was kind enough to let me in last weekend so I could get some preliminary improvements made. I enjoy doing that sort of thing myself. I’ve already finished painting and moved in some furniture. My pride and joy is the expensive, generously proportioned burgundy leather chair that sits behind a large oak desk—finally, a chair big enough to hold my large frame. Hell, the thing’s big enough to hold me and Valerie, and I can’t help but grin as I think about all the dirty things we’re going to do in that chair.
The bookshelves that cover one wall are filled with criminal law reference books and a variety of fiction novels—Valerie and I are both avid readers. This office will be my baby and I’m looking forward to having my favorite books nearby, even though I don’t plan on having much spare time for reading.
Clients will sit in the two burgundy leather chairs positioned opposite the desk. I painted the walls hunter green and cream, with a burgundy strip running along the middle. It’s a masculine, warm look that speaks of professionalism and class. Yeah, I’ve been smart with the money my parents left me and I think they’d be pleased to see me using a little of it to get my new business off to a good start. Losing them both at the same time in a car accident a couple of years back is something I’m still working through. Valerie has been my saving grace in the midst of overwhelming loss. Suffering through the deaths of my parents with no siblings or extended family to lean on would have been even more of an ordeal if not for the soft warmth of that beautiful woman in my bed.
“Ready to sign your life away?” Shelly’s overly bright voice s
hakes me from my thoughts. She smiles flirtatiously as she sets the paperwork in front of me, with several pages marked with colorful tabs for my signature.
“’It’s now or never,” I say, taking my father’s platinum Monte Blanc pen from my shirt pocket as I begin signing one page after another.
“Damn, you’re so classy and so--” the realtor’s breath hitches when I look up at her sharply. It’s obvious that she slipped up and spoke her thoughts out loud—“um, you know, for a cop.”
“My mother was big on upbringing -- etiquette, first impressions, that sort of thing. I guess going to private schools with society’s elite left its mark on me.”
“What was it you said your father did?” she asks, and I frown when she bats her eyelashes at me. Women still do that?
I indulge her, even though we both know she remembers discussing that during our first meeting. No need to put her on the spot by calling her out. And I’m proud of what my father accomplished so it’s no hardship talking about it. “He owned thoroughbred horses. When he won the Kentucky Derby several times, everyone wanted a piece of him, so he decided he’d let them have a piece – for a price. He bred horses and did quite well for himself. I’ve never had an interest in Equestrian, myself. My heart’s always been on the streets. I enjoy the adrenalin rush of hunting down criminals and looking out for the good guys.”
“You just don’t normally see that in detectives and street cops. You know, the whole coming from high society thing.”
“It takes all kinds, now, doesn’t it? Okay, here you go,” I say as I slide the signed paperwork back in her direction. She dangles the keys off her finger with a smile that makes it clear I could have so much more if I just say the word. Not interested, sweetheart. Run along, now.
This deal means one hell of a commission for her and a big leap of faith for me. I just bought a motel for the sole purpose of housing and training young crime fighters. They will live here while they train to be an elite team of private investigators. With no bureaucratic red tape bullshit to worry about, their training will take them far beyond what they could ever receive in a traditional setting.
I came up with the idea a few years ago and had expected Valerie to talk me out of it, but she loved the idea – so much so that she wants to be involved from the ground up. Eventually she’ll be moving in with me here to help out. Who knows, if things go well she may be retiring early to join me full time. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard of something like this being done and I fully intend to succeed. Shelly’s voice again pulls me from my daydream as she strolls over and shakes my hand before she leaves.
“I’m afraid I have another appointment, Jack. I’d love to hear from you sometime, you know, if you have any questions.” She lingers in the doorway as she looks back over her shoulder at me. “And, Jack, good luck in your endeavors. I, for one, am glad to know you’ll still be nearby, keeping an eye on things around here.”
I smile blandly as I reply, “Thanks, I get the feeling I’ll need all the luck I can get.” I shake my head as she teeters across the parking lot to her car in those heels. As her headlights fade into the dusk of early evening, my mind reverts back to cop mentality. Good thing she’s getting out of this neighborhood before dark. The monsters come out at night.
Chapter Three
His Prey
She’s so beautiful, not like the other two housed in my downtown home—well, really it’s an abandoned building I broke into, but it’s like home to me. The streets of Louisville are an odd place. It’s rich in history but also has the feel of a college town. People mill through the streets, touring the different historical homes or upper echelon boutiques during the day. At night it’s a different world. That’s the world I like: the dark, heavy mixture of fear and temptation that hovers in the atmosphere. The desire to do something evil and the trepidation about getting caught -- pushing through that barrier is a high like no other.
I just happened upon this woman when I saw her walk out of the Hyatt Regency. I could see her through the glass sitting at the bar, trying unsuccessfully to pick up one of the men here for one of the out of town conventions. I watched her until she gave up and left. Of course, she never noticed me because I’m not important enough for a high class whore like her. I don’t have on a designer suit with a Rolex watch that speaks of a fat wallet and a lofty station in life. She’ll ignore me just like they all do, simply because of the clothes I’m wearing.
And she’ll regret it, just like they all do.
The sun is down now. There are no comforting sounds of crickets or wind rustling through the trees, only the sounds of the city at night. The cars making their way through the streets carry the pathetic masses looking to feed their pathetic addictions. The wail of a siren in the distance breaks through the steady hum of the city’s nightlife. I focus on the sights and sounds, homing in on my target. The tapping of her heels hitting the concrete, the fluttery sway of her dress against her thighs, and those silky smooth, toned legs. When the glow of a street lamp hits just right, I can see the intimate lines of her curves through her sheer dress.
But she still doesn’t notice me as I follow behind her. I stay far enough back to not raise suspicion – but, really, she isn’t being very careful for a woman out walking alone. After tonight she’ll wish she had thought twice about going out at all.
Her steps slow to a more relaxed pace as she continues up Fourth Street toward Central Park. The uppity bitch must live in the historic district. An odd stew of contempt and fascination courses through me as she takes the steps into a home built of stone masonry. The building is probably made up of apartments like so many of the homes in this area. This is where the yuppies and the spoiled college kids live, and occasionally those who have gone through a divorce and don’t want to live in a bad neighborhood. Maybe my little target is a college student, hooking her way through school. She could even be a businesswoman looking for the adrenaline rush that hooking on the side provides her, not to mention the extra money a john or a sugar daddy could mean for her bank account.
In my world there’s more than one class of hooker: you’ve got the street whores that’ll suck your cock in an alley for twenty bucks, and then there’s the high class whore who aspires to be a ‘kept woman’ by the men she traps in her easy cunt. The way I see things, I’m doing the community a favor by getting these money grubbing, gold digging whores off the streets.
I crouch behind a large bush. My athletic shoes are sinking into the soft earth and I make a mental note to dispose of them later on so the prints can’t be traced back to me. I’m smart when it comes to hunting and soon the whole city will know just how intelligent I am.
My cock jumps and I sink to my knees as the woman with the long black hair undresses in front of the window. Slut deserves to die. I rub my hand over my now hardened cock and briefly contemplate pulling it out of my jeans and pumping it in my hand. She’s so beautiful—I bet she’s deliberately tempting me.
She leaves the room briefly and returns with a glass of wine before reclining on the bed with a book. She flips through the pages of the book until her wine is gone and her eyelids are heavy. She reaches over, turning out the light.
Showtime...
Now it’s only a matter of minutes until she’s mine.
I shift my feet in an effort to get comfortable as I squat in the softened dirt, using the bushes as cover. My legs are going to sleep and I have to resist the urge to hurry things along. But you really can’t rush special moments like this. I can’t risk her screaming out. I finger the syringe in my pocket that will ensure she doesn’t resist when I pull her from the safety of her nice, warm bed. She’ll never know what hit her until she awakens to a life that is no longer her own.
Chapter Four
Jack
“Ah, Mister Jack, how are you doing this fine evening?” the man behind the counter of the corner mart asks me. When I set my coffee on the counter and reach for my wallet, he shakes his head. “Keep your money
. You know I don’t let cops pay for coffee. It keeps you guys in here, keeps the thieves out there.”
“Well, I’m officially retired now, Reggie. My last day was today.”
“Ha, so you think! Not true, Jack. Once a cop…always a cop.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that. You be careful, now,” I say as I walk to the door and push it open. As the bell over it jingles to announce my exit, I raise the cup up in his direction in salute, “Thanks for the coffee, Reggie.”
“You’re welcome. And don’t be a stranger, Jack. Just because you ain’t working the streets anymore doesn’t mean you don’t stop by to see me.”
“You’ll still see me around. I have a feeling I’ll be busier on these streets than I’ve ever been.” I leave, grinning at the confused look on his face; he’ll find out soon enough.
I head back out to the parking lot and open the driver’s side door of my SUV, slide in and place my coffee in the cup holder. I’m enjoying driving my new ride instead of the Crown Vic I drove for so many years for my job. Yeah, I like this bad boy much better. It’s tricked out, complete with Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. I even went so far as to have bulletproof glass installed. I may have gone a bit overboard, but like any other grown little boy—I do like my toys.
With the hair on the back of my neck bristling, I whip over into a darkened parking lot behind a strip joint. I turn around and glare at my unexpected passenger in the back seat and silently berate myself for not locking my goddamn car. This is no time to start being careless.
“Alright, Max – So how ‘bout you tell me what the fuck you’re doing in my car?”
“You won’t talk to me, Jack, so…”
“Seriously? Jesus. Fine, I’ll drive, you talk.”
“Okay,” she says, climbing over the seat.
“Watch the leather, Max,” I growl, referring to the cream-colored leather seats in my baby. She ignores me, strapping on her seatbelt and folding her hands over the notebook she carries everywhere.
Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1) Page 2
