Ivory's Addiction

by Teirney Medeiros

  Ivory commiserated with her best friend but held in her disapproval. She needed to remain objective, and she couldn’t do that if she bashed Jax Morgan in conversation. He very well could have good reasons for not wanting to care for his niece. “Well, where is Ashley? I’d like to meet the little girl.”

  Jenny continued to knead dough and add in generous handfuls of chocolate chips. “She’s in the nursery. Sleeps like an angel. A little on the thin side, though.”

  Ivory snorted. “That’s what happens when the mom is addicted to drugs. All the money goes into feeding the habit, not a child.”

  Jenny poured milk over her mixture, then pounded on the thick goo. “It’s not our place to judge. We don’t know her story.”

  Ivory jumped off the chair and pushed her hair out of her face. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, she is lower than low. Children are to be protected and loved, not abandoned and starved. I’ll be right back.”

  Ivory navigated the long hallway that led to the nursery. Along the hall, several rooms had been converted to bedrooms and she smiled at the various children listening to music or playing with dolls and GI Joes along the way. At the end, the last door opened into the nursery. Jenny had painted the room in bright yellow. With her artistic hand, she had drawn in a sun and birds, flowers, and even a unicorn along one wall. Ivory loved this room.

  Three cribs sat in the ten-by-ten room, and Ivory knew only one crib would be occupied. Babies were adopted out quickly. She heard a cooing sound coming from the bed closest to the door, and Ivory got her first look at Ashley.

  Her heart swelled instantly with love and compassion for the child. The little girl lay with her arms waving and legs kicking. Her brown eyes wide with long, thick eyelashes stared up at Ivory. “Hello, little girl. My name is Ivory.”

  She reached into the crib, laid her hand across the baby’s stomach. Ashley grinned, her pink gums showed as she let loose a smile. Blonde hair grew on the child’s head, and Ivory picked her up to feel the baby soft skin against her cheek.

  Tiny for her age, Ashley’s low weight made her fragile. The doctors on staff with Heron House had looked her over and given her a clean bill of health except for the weight issue. “But Jenny and I are going to fatten you right up, little girl.”

  Ashley pulled on the strands of Ivory’s hair clenched between her tiny hands. Ivory deftly removed the caught-up hair, although the baby managed to finagle a few strands. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Yes, you are,” Ivory whispered. “I’m going to make sure your Uncle Jax sees your little face because you are too sweet to not want.”

  Ashley blew raspberries. Ivory laughed, the sound causing the child to giggle in return. Ivory bounced the baby on her hip for a minute and wondered when her last feeding had been. She made a mental note to ask Jenny and put Ashley back in her crib. “I’m gonna find you a home if it kills me,” she promised the child.

  Taking one last look at the baby, she made her way back down the hall. A small part of her wanted to take the baby home with her, give her a place she deserved. Nana would spoil the child. Ivory knew the job was starting to get to her when she wanted to take a baby home and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

  She poked her head in the kitchen. “I’m going to head back to the office. When do you want to go do the whole girls’-night-out thing?”

  Jenny, flour smeared across her cheek, glanced up from her cookies. “Um, I’ll have to call you. Tanya is out sick right now, so I’m here alone.”

  Ivory smiled. “That’s fine. When did Ashley eat last?”

  Jenny frowned, glanced at the kitchen clock on the stove. “About two hours ago. Don’t worry, Mama Bear, I’ll get her another bottle in about forty-five minutes.”

  “All right, well, I’ve gotta go.”

  Jenny waved a dough-laden hand as Ivory walked away. Thoroughly pissed at Captain Morgan, she held the file beneath her arm and wished she could whap him upside the head. If she could reach it, that is.

  * * * *

  Five hours after Ivory Black left his house, Jax still stewed in his juices. Every time he pictured her slight curves beneath her take-no-prisoners blazer and remembered her round little ass, his balls drew tighter. He shifted on his couch, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

  He needed a woman to ease the tension gripping his groin, but when he thought about heading out to a bar for a one-night stand, he pictured a petite woman with a pixie face and clear blue eyes. He stared at the ceiling and turned her card his hands.

  Mary, his half sister on his mother’s side, had died of an overdose. His own mother had given Jax up for adoption when he was seven, having claimed that she couldn’t support a child on her meager income. It was the best damn thing the woman ever did for him. His adoptive parents took him in, and although he only lived with them until he was twenty-one, they’d loved him. Right before he took off for the army at the tender age of twenty-one, he’d come home one night while out with his buddies and found his parents gunned down in their own home.

  Manchester seemed like the farthest he could get from Boston without leaving Massachusetts, and he would never have done that. The Irish in him loved Massachusetts. He felt right at home. Mary, on the other hand, their biological mother decided to keep apparently. Her life glared a blaring example of how he might have turned out if his mother had kept him as well. Jax winced at his harsh thoughts.

  His half sister might have led a hard life, but the one time he had met her, he could say that she had seem like a good kid. He wondered what happened to her, how she got involved in drugs. Who her child’s father was? Maybe he should try to track the man down. He couldn’t rejoin his team until the issue was resolved.

  Jax dug around in his bag for his address book. He’d clipped the card he searched for to the inner jacket, never actually thinking he’d need his old friend’s services. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed the number engraved on the ivory card.

  “Hi, this is Jax Morgan. I need your services.”

  “Sure, man. What can I do for you?”

  “My half sister overdosed, left a six-month0old child behind. I need the father found.”

  Mickey, a private investigator and former Boston police officer coughed, sounding like he’d hacked up a lung. “Sure, kid. What do you know?”

  “Mary Kissinger. I don’t have a photo of her, but I’m sure you can get one from the PD. She was an addict. I don’t know anything about her habits, where she lived, or who she hung out with. I only met her once.”

  Mickey hacked again. “All right. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “Thanks, Mick. How much will this cost?”

  “No cost. I owed your father. He saved my butt once. I’ll get back to you soon.”

  Jax hung up the phone and took another swig of his bourbon. He let his thoughts drift toward the child and wondered about her, which led to more thinking about Ivory Black. Jax flipped open his phone once again, dialed the cell phone number on her card, and tapped the card against his palm while the device rang.

  “Ivory Black.”

  “How did you get your name?”

  Silence met his question. “Mr. Morgan?”

  “Jax.”

  “Okay, Jax. I don’t know exactly. My mom died before I could ask her. Did you need something, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Jax,” he repeated. “And yes. I want to talk to you. Are you busy?”

  Another pause filled the line. Jax took a breath, held it in. He hated being baited. Her silky, soft voice filled his ear again.

  “No. I’m just leaving my office. Would you like me to stop by?”

  He could tell by the tone in her voice she didn’t want to drive to Manchester again and Jax wanted to get out of his silent house. “No. Do you know where Magruder’s is?”

  “On the wharf?”

  Jax smiled at the disbelief in her tone. “Yes. On the wharf.”

  “I’m glad I’m carrying,” she muttered over the phone. “When would you like to m
eet?”

  “In an hour.”

  He hung up.

  * * * *

  Magruder’s Tavern notoriously hosted the underbelly of Boston. Ivory wrapped her jacket tighter around her and darted for the door. Smelled like snow would be coming at any moment, and she didn’t want to be alone outside. Inside, stuffed, mounted, trophy fish stared at her from various places on the dingy walls. Men wearing fisherman’s hats and leather played pool, drank cheap beer, and ate fried wings.

  Smoke filled her nose, and she choked on the stale scent. Besides the bleached-blonde-haired woman tending bar, she remained to be the only female in the place. Ivory patted her coat to double-check that her weapon still resided at her hip, carefully concealed.

  She picked what looked like the cleanest bar stool she could find next to the jukebox. No wonder. The harsh music coming out of the speakers made her ears ring, and Ivory winced with every rip of a guitar. Give her good, old-fashioned rhythm and blues any time of the day.

  The bartender sauntered over. “You look a little lost, honey,” she said in a thick Boston accent.

  Ivory gave the woman her best smile. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  The woman’s voice turned raspy. “You a cop?”

  “No,” Ivory said. “I’m just meeting someone.”

  “Watch your back, honey. Can I getcha anything?”

  Ivory glanced at a menu pinned to the corkboard behind the scratched bar. “An Irish Coffee will be fine.”

  The lady moved off to get her drink. Ivory trained her eyes on the door, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. She hoped Jax showed up soon, because she wouldn’t wait ten minutes longer than she had to.

  Chapter Two

  Two minutes before her mark to leave, Jax walked in. Even in the dim light, she could see him scanning the room, visibly marking each person with his gaze. His tight, black T-shirt and ripped jeans set off the deep tan he had. Although he never actually looked directly at her, he zeroed in and settled on the stool next to her.

  The barmaid approached them. “Why, Jax Morgan, I haven’t seen you in ages,” the woman rasped. “Been off doing your secret squirrel thing again?”

  To Ivory’s surprise, the cougar sitting next to her smiled. She noticed another scar just behind his ear, running down the length of his neck. How had she missed that earlier?

  “I’ve been on a mission, Trixie, no squirrels involved. Give me a bourbon, straight up.”

  Trixie, the suddenly gushing, gooey barmaid, planted a glass of bourbon right in front of him.

  Ivory stared at the man sitting next to her. “Why did you call me, Captain?”

  Jax sipped his drink and grimaced as he swallowed, the muscles in his throat working as they pushed the liquid down. The defined cuts of his biceps and forearms suggested something other than a gym for his workouts, and Ivory’s mouth went dry. Just what did he do in the Army?

  “We both need something. I need to get back to my men, and you need to find a home for the child,” he said. “I’ve called a PI to find the father.”

  Ivory’s hackles rose, her hands clenching on her mildly liquored coffee. She stared at the mug. The whipped cream had begun to disintegrate in the hot brew. “Yes, but seeing how the state hasn’t found a father for Ashley, I doubt you will.”

  “Never make the mistake of doubting me, Miss Black.”

  He delivered the statement with such precise coolness, Ivory shifted farther away to avoid the backlash. The heat she sensed in him earlier dissipated and arctic cold surrounded the man now. This was the soldier she was dealing with, not the man.

  “Duly noted,” she mumbled. “Still, I don’t see how—”

  “I have my resources. You have yours. I suggest we work together to get what we both want,” he interrupted. “You named the girl Ashley?”

  Ivory’s neck hurt from the whiplash in the abrupt change of his tone. She dealt with child-molesting perpetrators, gun-wielding stepfathers, and junkie mothers, but the man she sat beside now deserved his own category. Like death. That fit his personality. “My friend, Jenny, did.”

  “Where is Ashley now?”

  “Heron House.” Ivory fidgeted in her seat, crossed and un-crossed her slender thighs. Despite the aura of lethalness that came off Jax, she felt better with him present than before he’d come. The crowd gave him a wide berth, and in turn, her.

  “Is she safe?”

  Ivory sipped her coffee, her eyes glued to the abused bar. “Yes. Heron House is very secure.”

  “Good.”

  Ivory couldn’t find a way to pick up the stilted conversation. Jax wore an impenetrable force field around him she had no way to break through. The man threw her off balance. He turned his eyes on her, and instead of the icy gaze she’d seen earlier, emerald heat pummeled her chilled skin. Her breath came faster.

  “Is there anything else?” Her hands turned to butter, and she gripped the cup in her hands tighter. She didn’t dare raise it to her lips otherwise Jax would know just how nervous she felt.

  “Not about Ashley.”

  Appearing to be cool, calm and collected, he leaned against the high back of the barstool, but at the slightest movement, Ivory knew the man would coil into action. “I want to know more about you.”

  “Me?” Ivory’s droll tone earned her a disapproving bearing of his teeth.

  “I think that’s what I just said.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the sound of the loud jukebox and raucous patrons. She focused on staying calm because if she didn’t, she might bolt for the safety of her Jeep. She wasn’t quite sure if she needed to be safe from the patrons at the bar or from Jax and his pheromones.

  He studied her, his thick fringe of eyelashes lowered slightly, and Ivory felt a curious tingling ascend her spine. “Are you always rude?” she asked.

  Jax’s lips pulled into a smirk. He tapped his finger against the bar in time with the hard rock. “I don’t see many people, babe, except through the end of a scope.”

  A chill crashed over Ivory. A scope, as in sniper’s rifle? She clenched her drink harder. More than the little bit of knowledge he’d given her, the alpha male sitting next to her made her body react in a way she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time. Not since college. She felt heat coat her stomach, flames lick the center of her core in time with the rips of a guitar. She sensed his need and her body responded. The last time she’d given herself to a man, he’d broken her heart.

  He leaned in, the heat of his skin so close her flesh grew warm. She drew in the scent of his cologne, something airy, like cool water. How could a man be so hot and cold at the same time? She bit down on her lip.

  His smirk continued to taunt her. “Don’t worry, Miss Black. I don’t bite” He took a sip of his drink then pushed the glass away. “Unless you ask me to.”

  He rose to his full height, tossing down a few bills. “Trixie, for both our drinks, and you,” he called out, his deep voice loud enough for the woman heard him from the other end of the bar.

  Ivory felt too hot as he stood, gripped her elbow, and steered her toward the door. The light pressure of his fingertips against her elbow burned all the way to her core. She clenched her thigh muscles against the growing need. She never had a one night stand in her life but Jax could make her want it. Oh, God, he could make her want to do things she had never wanted to do before and that was the problem.

  Outside the bar, the sudden quiet made her ears ring. Instead of leading her toward her Jeep, he pushed her deeper into the shadows. Ivory dug her feet in, but he tossed a look over his shoulder. He propelled her toward the wharf, the docks.

  The smell of dead fish didn’t bother her, but the man taking her away from the safety of light and her car did. She felt around for her weapon again. “Where are you taking me?”

  “I need some air.”

  Ivory yanked on her elbow and pulled her arms out of reach. He stopped half-way down the dock, turned to face her. Ivory tilted her head
back, stared up into those blazing eyes and nearly melted. Had a man ever wanted her the way she sensed he did? The way he looked made her toes curl, her womb throb.

  How could he make her feel this way with just a look? On principle, she didn’t even like the man. She had no respect for anyone who could turn a back on a child. On top of that, he killed people. He killed people. Ivory took a step back.

  “Going to run?”

  Ivory felt for her 1911 again, confidence in the cold piece of steel strapped to her body making it easier to breathe. Her lungs seemed to work again. “I don’t run, Captain.”

  “Jax.”

  Ivory notched her chin up at him, clamped her lips shut. He took a step forward, and they danced that way. She retreated. He advanced. She felt the rough wood of a fishing shack at her back and glanced up. No lights. No one around. The bar music vibrated on the wind. If she screamed, no one would hear her. But oh, man, she really did not want to.