Ivory's Addiction

by Teirney Medeiros

Chapter Ten

  “How long has it been since you heard from him?”

  Mickey sat at Ivory’s table with Nana. To Ivory’s surprise, the two of them hit it off, and the retired cop spent more hours than not with her grandmother. Ivory mixed baby cereal into a thick, sticky mass. She wrinkled her nose at the goop before she sat down with Ashley, pulling her high-chair close enough to reach the baby.

  “I haven’t talked to Jax since, uh,” she looked over her shoulder at the rabbit calendar pinned to the wall. “November.”

  “They must be pretty deep, then,” Mickey sighed. “You gonna tell him about the little one?”

  Ivory spooned the thick white substance into Ashley’s mouth; let the child swallow before she shoveled in another bite. “I guess so, and as far as the ‘little one’, no. I don’t think telling him at this point is a good idea.”

  A timer dinged on the oven, and Nana, who’d been sitting quietly at the table, got up to turn the stove off. She checked the bread Ivory put in early that morning when Ashley woke up for her four a.m. meal.

  Mickey tapped his pen relentlessly on the table, the sound bounced around the silent kitchen. “Mary had a rich boyfriend, we know that. He kept her in a nice little home just outside of Boston.”

  Between feeding the baby and the notes she and Mickey were going over, Ivory felt torn. Ashley adjusted well to Ivory’s hectic life. In the mornings, she stayed with Jenny while Ivory went to work. In the afternoons, Ivory picked her up and they went home. From there, it would be meal time, bath time, play time and then bed time.

  Ivory was exhausted. Her hand cramped from the free-hand, and Ashley spit her last round of cereal out, the saliva mixed goop plopped on her bib. “I guess you’re done, huh?”

  Ashley smiled, flung her hands up as she started to jabber. Mickey tickled the baby under her chin, his grizzly beard a source of amusement for Ashley. Ivory stared at the two of them. If Mickey hadn’t come into their life at the right moment, and offered his assistance how he could, Ivory might have had a nervous breakdown by now.

  She and Nathan were taking things slow to find a medium between their differences as individuals, and strengths as a couple. At least, they were. Until Ivory found out about the ‘little one’ as Mickey referred to it. Ivory’s stomach grumbled.

  Focusing back on Mickey, Ivory studied the words she’d written. “So why did she operate out that hell hole?”

  Appalled by the apartment Ashley’s mother had done business in, Ivory wrote several letters to the city of Boston about the state of existence families there lived in, demanding action by the landlords. Of course, nothing happened. Yet.

  Mickey shrugged, his burly shoulders making his neck disappear behind his beard. “I haven’t got a clue. That’s where I dead end, young lady.”

  Ivory mulled over what they knew so far. Mary had a rich boyfriend. Check. She was a prostitute. Check. She was addicted to heroin. Check. “Did anyone ever check her credit cards? See where they went back to?”

  Mickey pulled a sheet of paper from the binder he carried with him. The thing saw better days, and Ivory planned on giving him a new one for Christmas. “Pre-paid. Like those Visa cards you can get at Wal-Mart. Someone covered their tracks very well.”

  “I’ll say,” Ivory muttered. “Who would go so far as to cover their tracks with pre-paids and private realtors?”

  Mickey’s grin took up his whole face, his cheeks puffing out like chipmunks hoarding nuts. “Someone in power.”

  Possible, she thought. Someone in power who didn’t want their name smeared over the newspapers. Someone with money. “Mary was a beautiful girl. Before the addiction. Think it was still going on?”

  Nana piped up, throwing her two cents in. “I wouldn’t be on my back for money if I had a nice gentleman who paid my way. Sounds to me like she cut ties with her lover.”

  Ivory’s ears burned. There was just something wrong with Nana’s crude language, and the image of her still in a fluffy pink bathrobe and slippers, her gray hair styled in a conservative bun. “Well, the peanut gallery has a point,” Ivory said.

  “Or her lover cut ties with her when she got involved with drugs,” Mickey suggested.

  Ivory picked Ashley up out of the chair, removed her bib and washed her mouth off with the ready washcloth she brought downstairs with her. She paced the small kitchen with Ashley on her hip, her mind still stuck on the facts of Mickey’s case. “I think we need to start talking to the pimp. Find out who her customers were.”

  Mickey gave her a droll stare, conveying the message he’d already thought of that. Ivory shook her head. “All right, the pimp’s got nothing. Did you pay him?”

  Again with the flat eyes.

  “Do we have a picture of Mary before her death?”

  Mickey pulled another document out, handing it over. Ivory studied the five-by-five photograph. Mary had been beautiful with classic features, blond hair and a wide mouth. The green of her eyes made Ivory think of Jax.

  When her thoughts turned to him, Ivory shut the leak off before the pipes burst. She couldn’t afford to wonder about him and keep it together. Ashley, Nana and she had made a good go of it so far, and of course, Jax’s support checks helped out. He actually sent far more than was needed, but Ivory left the remainder in the bank, in case of a rainy day. She petitioned to adopt Ashley through the courts, and Clair helped her with the case, but they needed Jax’s signature and where he was, he didn’t want to be found.

  “Maybe we can flash this around at some of the hotels?”

  Mickey’s raucous laughter echoed through the room. “Kid, I’ve got a lot more years on investigations than you. I’ve covered all the bases, which includes swanky hotels and dirt-bag motels. This woman’s lover doesn’t want his identity revealed.”

  Ivory chewed on her lip, staring at the photograph when the phone jangled. Nana went to pick it up, and Ivory handed back the glossy print. “Do you think Ashley was born before or after the addiction?”

  Mickey’s eyebrows crawled together as he studied the child. “She looks healthy, seems developmentally stable. Chances are Mary didn’t get into drugs until after the birth. Maybe for the pain.”

  A light dawned in Ivory’s head, but before she got a chance to tell Mickey, Nana poked her head around the corner. “Ivory, its Nathan for you.”

  Ivory excused herself, and took the call in the living room. “Hey.”

  “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tomorrow night.”

  Ivory stared down at Ashley as she tried to swipe strings on Ivory’s sweatshirt. “Sure. I think that will be all right.”

  “Good,” he said. “And Ivory?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad we decided to be friends.”

  Ivory said her goodbye, and hung up the phone, strangely awkward with the whole conversation. She and Nathan hadn’t made a move toward a physical relationship, and Ivory feared she wouldn’t want him after Jax. She’d never want any man after Jax. The bastard ruined her, and yet, she still craved him. Her body wanted him, her head filled with the few days they had together on good days. On bad days, she scanned the news for anything out of the ordinary, prayed he’d made it through another day. As long as he was in the world, all would be well. She hadn’t put a call through to Colonel Reagan, and she wouldn’t unless it became necessary.

  “Ivory?”

  “I’ll be right there, Nana.”

  She pushed the invasion of Jax out of her head, made sure he stayed where she put him, in the ‘I’ll only take you out when I can’t not remember you’ box, and locked it. Ashley giggled, and Ivory felt her chest loosen a bit. Ever since Jax left, she repeatedly experienced heartburn and nausea.

  She took a moment to paste a smile on her face for Nana’s sake, and sat back down with Mickey. He’d made a list of their objectives. “Let me have her,” Nana motioned with her hands. “I want to see my baby girl.”

  Ivory handed over Ashley, and Nana took the baby into
the living area. For the brief reprieve, she jumped on the chance to get fresh coffee and a bagel. “So, where were we?”

  Mickey didn’t even look up. “You were going to tell me about the last time you talked to Jax.”

  Ivory spit the piece of stale bread she’d bit into out into her hand. “No, I wasn’t.”

  Mickey sighed loud and audibly. Nana didn’t allow him to smoke in the house, so the old man’s lungs cleared up a bit, the more time he spent with her grandma. “Now listen here, girl. That child is going to need a father.”

  Ivory’s cheeks burned. That child. Like a bastard child. “He or she will have Nana, me, Jenny and maybe Nathan.”

  Mickey’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You ain’t got sense God gave a baby goose, and he only gave him a teaspoon full. Girl, Jax is gonna flip when he gets wind.”

  Ivory thrust her chin out, one hand on her hip. Her stomach was still fairly flat, thanks to the first two months of morning sickness, but lately she’d noticed a bit of a bump. “Jax isn’t going to find out. Right now.”

  “Do you love him?” Mickey asked point blank.

  Ivory stumbled back from the force of the question, the blow too close to home. “I didn’t love him. I was addicted to him. To his personality. His body. Nothing more.”

  Mickey’s raspy chuckle made Ivory smile. Well, if she could fool no one but herself that was just fine. As long as she believed in her own lies, then she would be fine. Mickey motioned for Ivory to take a seat. “He’ll be back, Ivory. Don’t go jumping into something when you know Jax will be back. He doesn’t know it, but he will.”

  Ivory patted Mickey’s cheek, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to get ready for work, now that I’m on desk duty, my days are easier,” she said with a wink. “At least that’s one good thing about being pregnant.”

  * * * *

  Jax buckled himself into the Blackhawk helicopter, his mind clear. The orders were simple. Extraction. At all costs. They were headed into the nest of combatants they’d been doing recon since August. Jax’s team gathered Intel on the weapon’s dealers as they made trades and transactions, provided ammunition to several factions of non-governmental military operatives. Luke and two others went on a recon when he’d been captured. Outnumbered, Luke went willingly while Shooter and Ace returned to base for back up. No demands on the American Government had been made, and Jax knew they wouldn’t. Luke was just an American to kill.

  He palmed the St. Christopher medallion he wore on missions, kissed it. In his head, he held a picture of Ivory, her black hair and blue eyes his prayer.

  October felt no different in the jungle than it did in the summertime. Sweat rolled down his cheeks, his neck gritty with the dust and dirt the rotor blades on the military helicopter took off. Ax, Blade, Charlie and BJ were on the extraction team. Jocko, Shooter, Gabe, Daniels and Ace were on the ground perimeter.

  Luke’s rescue fell on Jax’s shoulders. If Jax had been on the mission when shit went down, Luke wouldn’t be in hell now. His night vision goggles aided him in the ability to scan the grounds, but only flashes passed by. The further they got away from base camp, the sparser the area became. They would be dropped a mile out as not to alert the captors of their plans.

  When they reached the landing zone, it was clear. “All right, boys. Jump.”

  Jax followed his men out, dropped quietly on his knees, his body pressed against the ground, his head smashed against the ground. Charlie’s arm and leg interlocked with his, and on down the line as their combined body weight aided on the severe vortex of air as the helicopter blades passed over them.

  Jax jumped up, kept his body low as he searched their immediate area. “All clear.”

  Single file, they moved as a unit. They’d have to jog the mile in, and Jax took point. Less than ten minutes for the pack to move up to the perimeter fence. Jax looked around for the tell-tale signs of his men. To the naked eye, they blended in with the landscape so well, you couldn’t tell man from stone, but Jax knew what to look for.

  A slight disturbance in the surroundings. Nothing major, just enough. “Blade. Report.”

  “All clear, Sir,” came the reply.

  Jax studied the layout over and over in the tents, but now the plan was in action, and there could be no fuck ups. “Charlie. Move up. Get in position.”

  Jax never saw the man move.

  “All clear, Sir.”

  Jax crouched behind a bush, peering through the branches. The building was one story. Easily accessed from the ground. It smelled like a trap. Ax and Blade moved up. Jax brought up the rear, his heart steady, his mind clear. He scanned the immediate area. “Jocko, you good on perimeter?”

  “Yes, Sir. All quiet. Too damn quiet.”

  Jax’s sentiments exactly. “I’m moving’ boys. Watch my six.”

  Jax belly-crawled up to the power unit, cut the electricity. If the captors had NVG’s then so be it, but if they didn’t, at least Jax and his men had that advantage. He moved inch by inch across the rocky ground, his elbows digging in. He slung his weapon his back, his blade in easy reach should he encroach on an unknown.

  It took him thirty minutes to crawl five yards. The guards were asleep at their post, and Jax knew they would have to be taken out. He gave the signal for Charlie and Blade to move in. With the guards out of the way, Jax moved toward the only window in the squat cement building.

  Carefully, he peered over the window sill, looking for traps or alarms. The whole fucking camp would be on them like bees on honey if he tripped up something. He climbed over the sill, swung one leg out from the wall. Softly, he touched his foot down. Less than a minute and he was safely inside the room.

  Luke lay on the floor, his arms pinned. Jax saw Luke Gerard a lot of ways, but never slumped, beaten and passed out. Agony ripped through his chest at the sight of Luke’s mauled face, broken nose, and swollen eyes. Blood shown darkly on the floor, and Jax bent down, not close enough to get struck should Luke react to his wake-up call.

  “Luke.”

  His best friend twitched. “Wake up, man. Time to go.”

  Luke struggled against his binds. Jax took out his knife. “It’s Jax.”

  “Jax?”

  “Time to go. Chopper’s here.” Jax set to work on the binds, but when he finally cut through the thick rope at Luke’s feet, Luke reached out, stopped him.

  “This place is wired. I don’t know how much explosives.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He suspected the wires, but he couldn’t see them. “Where?”

  “The floor boards, pressure trigger.”

  Jax nodded, let his friend go long enough to retrace his steps to the window. Wherever the trigger was, it didn’t blow. “All right, man. Let’s go. Can you walk?”

  Luke got to his feet, and Jax bared the brunt of his friend’s weight as they stepped lightly over the same path he’d taken. When they reached the window, Jax helped Luke over before swinging one of his legs over when he heard something click. He only had milliseconds to get away.

  “Fuck. Run Luke. Run!”

  Jax took off, dove for cover. He felt a wave of dragon’s fire behind him. They beat feet as they made it out of the fireball. Team members rallied, provided protection as the explosion triggered a swarm of combatants to flee their camp right toward Alpha Team. Jax nearly made it to cover when something hit him in the lower left side. He jerked, but sprinted as they crossed behind the invisible lines of freedom.

  Ax and Blade cursed in unison and Jax realized the thing he’d felt hit him must have been a bullet. The volley of bullets sprayed back and forth roared in his ears. Jax lost blood, but Luke had to be taken care of first. “Get the chopper here. Now.”

  The crackle of radio signals invaded his ear, and relief washed over him as he heard the faint whop-whop of the Blackhawk. Mission completed. “The LZ is hot,” he heard Blade communicate with the pilot.

  Once the helo landed, the three un-injured men helped Jax and Luke into the belly o
f it. Jax only relaxed when he heard “All clear” filter over the waves. His team got away. He felt shock take over his body, his heart rate slowing. Cold sweat poured down his face, and a chill racked his body. When he spoke, his tongue felt like lead. “Is Luke all right?”

  Blade looked down at him, while Ax put a pressure bandage on his entry and exit wounds. He sucked in a hiss of air when they tied the knot on the temporary fix.

  “The Lt. Colonel is fine, Sir. Doing better than you. Just dehydrated and mal-nourished. A few scratches,” Blade assured him.

  When Jax could no longer fight the pull of slumber, he passed out.

  * * * *

  “So, what’s the word?” Luke asked.

  Jax sat up straighter in the chair he’d occupied since dawn. His side hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. The bullet tore through the muscles and soft tissue, missed his spine by fractions of an inch. Although, it did nick a few organs on its exit, namely his kidney. He was lucky. Again. The docs fixed him up good, but they’d ordered him to take medical leave, give the tissue they’d stitched together time to heal. He’d already been in the hospital for a month. December first was just around the corner.