by SJ Bishop
"Coach, I'm sorry. I'm just looking for... something."
Coach cocked an eyebrow at me. "Something?" he asked.
I sighed and slammed the locker door, frustrated. "Something linking Mason to Penny's murder."
Coach Allen shook his head, making little tsk-tsk noises as he came toward me. "Jax, I get it. I really do. If I was in your position, I'd probably do the same thing. But that doesn't make it right. You can't just start going through your teammates' lockers."
"No offense, Coach, but how the fuck can you get it? Have you ever been on trial for murder?" I didn't mean to sound so harsh speaking to him, but I couldn't help myself. It felt like everyone was against me right now.
"No," Coach said. "I haven't. You're right. I can't possibly know how you're feeling, but maybe that's a good thing right now. You need a friend. Someone who can help you see things clearly because you're obviously not able to see them clearly for yourself."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my anger rising by the second.
"It means that you are acting like a moron, Jax!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Think about it! What the fuck were you planning on doing if you'd actually found something in Mason's locker?"
"Give it to the police," I said.
"Do you seriously think the police would believe you found it there and didn't place it there?"
My mind began to spin. I shook my head, feeling like a fool. I'd gotten so worked up when talking to Treena earlier that it had never occurred to me that finding something in Mason's locker might backfire on me.
"Where the hell do you think that would leave you?" Coach Allen continued. "The cops could revoke your bail, you know, if they thought for one second that you were trying to plant evidence."
"Shit," I murmured, the weight of his words sinking into me. "Fuck."
"That's right. So stop acting like a goddam fool and start using your brain. If you really wanna get out of this, then there's only one thing you can do."
"What?" I asked, having no idea what he was talking about.
"Leave town. Now. Tonight. Before it's too late. Go to Mexico or Canada. You've got the weekend before anyone will realize you're gone."
"Wait... what? Are you seriously telling me to flee the country?" I couldn't believe it. I'd always thought of Coach Allen as a levelheaded man, but this seemed like an act of desperation.
"Coach, I just can't flee the country."
"If you don't do it now, you may not have the option later. I've been watching your trial on TV, and things are not working out for you. Have you looked at the jury's eyes? At their faces? They think you're guilty."
"But we've only just started!" I yelled, fear and anger working together to send my heart racing.
"That doesn't mean they think you're innocent, Jax! Wake the fuck up! Get out now, while you still can!"
The athlete in me wanted to stay and fight, but the rest of me began to think that Coach had a point. Once the idea was planted in my brain, it started to make sense. "Fuck," I muttered. My throat had suddenly gone dry. "Coach, I think you might be right."
36
Treena
I was glad work was finally over for the day. Since everyone in the department seemed to think that Jax was guilty—even though it was just the first week of trial, which Jax's attorney anticipated might go on for up to four or five weeks—I had been assigned new cases. A backlog of cold cases had just reached my desk this morning, courtesy of Detective Anderson. I was pretty sure he was just giving me busy work. Something to occupy my time so that he wouldn't have to deal with me.
My cell phone rang just as Emily came up to my desk. I glanced at the number—Jax—and promised myself I'd call him the second I left the station.
"Hey," she whispered leaning in toward me so that no one could hear. "I'll be at the station later, like we talked about. I'll call you when I know the coast is clear."
I nodded, anxious to get out of the station and talk to Jax. I knew he was hung up on Mason being guilty, but I just didn't think Mason was responsible. He was a jerk, sure, but there was nothing in his record to indicate a violent streak or even a jealous streak. He hated Jax, but Jax hated Mason right back. That didn't mean that Jax was gonna run off and kill Mason's mother or something. I'd thought about pointing this out to Jax, but I didn't think he'd appreciate the example. When I came back to him—and his lawyer—with evidence that Anderson was the culprit, I was positive Jax would change his tune.
"Great, thanks. I appreciate it."
"Just remember, if you get caught, I didn't know anything about it."
I nodded, my mind racing. What if things went wrong tonight? Was it worth it? I knew that it was, but that didn't ease the fear I was now feeling. I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder. Outside the station, I jumped into my car and headed to the bank to get some quarters for laundry. I was also desperately in need of food. And a car wash. I realized that I was filling my time with mundane errands, trying to take my mind off of things. It was after seven, and I still had two or three more hours before I was expecting Emily's call.
I got back to my apartment and was unpacking my groceries when I realized I'd forgotten all about Jax's phone call. "Shit!" I held my phone to my ear and played back his voicemail.
"Treena, it's Jax. I'm sorry; I can't go on like this. It just... it's just not working. The trial's going badly. I don't want to go to jail. I don't want to deal with any of this anymore. So, I'm sorry, but I have to leave this...place. Tonight. Goodbye. I'll... I'll always love you."
There was a click, and my heart dropped out of my chest. "Oh my God," I muttered. "Oh shit." I couldn't believe it. Was Jax really going to kill himself? I had to get to him before it was too late. I had to stop him. My mind worked fast, running through the different things I could say to keep him alive. The only one that stood out was the one I'd been least anxious to tell him, but if it meant keeping him alive, then I guess tonight was the night to tell him I was pregnant. Maybe if he knew he had a child on the way, he wouldn't kill himself.
I dialed Jax's number as I jumped into my car and sped toward his house. "Jax," I panted into the phone when his voicemail clicked over, "don't do anything stupid. Don't kill yourself. I'm on my way. I need to talk to you first. Please, just hang on. For me."
I hung up and tried to keep the tears in my eyes from clouding my vision and wetting my face. They fought their way out, though, and soon my cheeks were wet and my lips tasted like salt. I stopped at two red lights before deciding that was a bad idea—I was wasting too much time—and flicked the sirens on my dashboard. That was one of the great things about being a detective—I didn't need to be in a police cruiser to use sirens; I had them right here in my own little Corolla.
I blew past three lights and a couple of stop signs before reaching Jax's street. I turned the sirens off, afraid that if he heard them, he'd think the police force was coming for him to throw him back in jail. Who knew how he'd react? I parked my car in his driveway and got out, my heart racing at the idea of what I might find. Even if Jax was still alive, the idea of telling him I was pregnant sent me into a tizzy. I tried opening his door, but it was locked. I was grateful there weren't any reporters out here as I began frantically ringing his bell and banging on his door. They'd all decided that covering Jax at his trial was much more interesting than covering him as he sat in his living room, never coming outside.
"Jax!" I cried, punching his doorbell again. "Jax! Can you hear me? Open up!" I was pounding my fist against his heavy door when I realized the small side window to the right of his door might be better. It would certainly break easier. I pounded against the glass, making it rattle. It was reinforced, though, and wouldn't break. I took out my gun. If I shot Jax's lock, I ought to be able to get his door open. I'd shot a few locks off doors in my time as a cop and knew it worked as easily as it did in the movies.
I was about to pull the trigger when the door opened. Ja
x stood there, his face a mask of worry.
"Treena? What's wrong?"
I threw my arms around his neck, kissing every inch of his face, finally landing on his soft, supple lips. The scent of the outdoors filled my nostrils, electrifying me like a pot of coffee. I lowered my hand to his ass and squeezed as he pressed his core to me. His arousal was obvious.
"Wow," Jax murmured. "Now that's a greeting."
I smiled against him, our noses pressed together. "I'm just glad I'm not too late," I said.
I felt his body stiffen. He stepped back. "You got my voicemail," he said.
I nodded. "And Jax, no matter what might happen, leaving like that isn't the answer."
He shook his head, his dark golden hair, rustling against his forehead. "Treena, I love you and I'm glad you're here, but you're not going to change my mind."
I took a deep breath, knowing this was it. "Jax, please," I said, my voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears rushed over me. "I have something I need to tell you." I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and refusing to let go. "I'm not ready to say goodbye. There's something you need to know." I inhaled deeply. "Jax, I'm..." But a sudden fear gripped me. What if I was wrong? What if telling Jax I was pregnant was what sent him over the edge? One more thing to pile up on his stress heap? I'd been so sure it was the answer, but now doubt flooded me. I had to feel him out better before telling him anything. "Jax, please don't kill yourself. I don't know what I'll do without you." I kissed his lips. I felt resistance from him.
His breathing paused. "Kill myself?" Jax asked. "Is that what you thought?" I looked into his face. His eyes were almost laughing.
"Wait... that's not what you meant?" I asked. He shook his head. "But you said you were leaving this world. Tonight."
"I said I was leaving. As in leaving New York. I'm going to Canada."
"Canada?" I asked, relief washing through me. "Jax, you can't go to Canada. You'll be fleeing the country. You'll never be able to come back."
"I know, and I don't care."
I bit my tongue. "Jax, seriously. You can't go. Even if you made it through the border, they'll just extradite you later."
"Not if I go to Venezuela," he said, smiling.
"What?" I asked, dumbfounded by this entire conversation.
"From Canada, I'll go to Venezuela. They don't have an extradition treaty with the U.S."
"You've done your homework," I said. This was bad. He'd really put some thought into this.
"Yes," he replied. "And there's one more thing. Now that you're here... I can't lose you again. Treena... come with me."
37
Jax
"No!" Treena cried out. "I don't want to go to Canada or Venezuela! And neither do you!" Her eyes widened, and her lips curved up into this half-snarl that on anyone else would have been off-putting, but on Treena it was wild and sexy.
"I'm already packed," I told her. Treena stared at me a moment before running to my bedroom. My suitcase lay on the bed. Treena popped it open and started pulling things out. I followed her around, taking back whatever she removed and returning it to my suitcase. We went around like that for a full five minutes—Treena pulling things out, me putting them back in—before I finally grabbed her hand and pulled her close. We were standing so close to each other I could feel her breath on my face. It was warm and sweet and smelled of roses.
"I won't let you go," she said.
"Treena, you can't stop me."
In response, she pressed her mouth to mine. Our tongues twirled together, a hot tornado of kisses as we let the energy possess us. She was irritating the hell out of me, yet I wanted her more now than ever before. My hands worked their way under Treena's shirt, cupping her breasts in the palms of my hands. They were soft and moved almost rhythmically as she began to grind her pelvis against me.
I kissed her neck, tasting the sweet-salty flavor of her skin. She kissed my neck back, sucking me until I was certain she'd left a mark. Treena reached down and stroked my cock through my tight jeans. My heart fluttered, and I knew I couldn't take this foreplay much longer.
I pushed the suitcase off my bed. It fell to the floor and half my clothes fell out, scattering on the hardwood like they were trying to run away and hide.
"This won't change anything," I breathed into her ear as I laid her gently on the mattress. "I'm still leaving."
She smiled softly. "I know. But I want you anyway." I pinned her arms up over her head, pushing her pants down to her ankles. Her pussy was already hot and wet. My belt came off in a flash, and my erection worked its way between her thighs, spreading her legs wide as I pressed my tip against her opening.
Just then, Treena's phone rang. Her eyes shot open.
"Shit," she said, squirming under me. "I need to get that."
"What?" I panted, unable to believe she would stop now to take a phone call.
"I'm sorry, Jax. It's important. I've been waiting for that call."
I let out a long sigh and let Treena up. She grabbed her phone, and my balls began to ache.
"Emily?" she asked, pulling her pants back up.
My ears perked up. Emily? Why was talking to Emily suddenly so important? Treena was nodding her head. "Thanks," she said. "I'm on my way." She hung up and turned to me.
"I need to go," she said, running down the stairs as I followed after her. "Can you promise me you won't go anywhere until you hear from me?"
I hesitated. "Treena..."
"Please," she insisted, her liquid blue eyes looking even brighter and more watery than normal. "I might have something in the works that will help you. You might not have to run."
"And if I do?" I pressed. "Will you come with me?"
I could see the conflict in her eyes. "I... I don't know. My family's all here. If I leave with you, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to see them again."
"Goddammit, Treena. Your family is great, but they don't need you. Not like I do!"
She pursed her lips. "I promise to think about it. If you promise to wait. Just a little while. Just give me tonight."
My heart rejoiced at the idea that she might actually go with me. "Tonight, and then tomorrow I want your decision." She nodded fervently, her face glowing.
"Alright," I sighed. "I'll wait."
She threw her arms around me and pressed her lips to mine. My cock throbbed below my waist. "You're leaving me with a serious case of blue balls, you know that, right?"
She grinned. "I'll make it up to you later. Promise."
I exhaled, trying to steady the blood pulsing inside me. I grinned back at her. "I'm not sure Coach Allen would approve of letting you change my mind, but then, he isn't the one who gets to kiss you and fondle you in inappropriate ways." I pressed my mouth to hers once more, but she pulled away.
"What do you mean? About Coach Allen?"
I shrugged. "It was his idea for me to get the hell out of Dodge while I still could."
Treena's eyes glowered. "Well, Coach Allen is an idiot then. The next time I see him, I'm gonna tell him so too."
"I bet you will," I said, snickering. "I'd like to see that. Coach is one tough guy."
"Well, I'm one tough girl."
"That you are."
38
Treena
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I sat in my car outside the station, breathing deeply. I texted Emily. I'm outside.
A minute later I got a text back. The coast is clear. Just give me a minute.
Suddenly, a fire alarm blared into the night. It was almost eleven, and even in New York, people slowed down at this time of night. The station began to empty out, handfuls of cops trailing into the streets, but not nearly as many as if it were still daylight. I got out of my car and snuck along the side of the building. I saw Emily get ushered outside along with the rest of the cops who were on night shift. She caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up.
I moved quickly through the doors and into the building. There was so much happening right now
, it was doubtful that I'd be noticed. Even if I was, it wasn't as if I couldn't be here. I worked here. I could come and go as I pleased. That wasn't the point of the distraction. Emily hadn't pulled the fire alarm so I could get into the building; she'd pulled it so I could get into Anderson's office undetected.
I opened his door and peeked inside. Empty. I shut the door behind me as I stepped in. I didn't know how much time I had, and I didn't intend to waste it. I started at Anderson's desk. It was a quarter the size of Captain Murphy's, but seemed to have just as many papers. A desktop computer sat at one end. I started pulling open drawers, not sure exactly what I was searching for but knowing it had to be here. If I couldn't find anything then it would be up to Emily. She'd have to search his apartment the next time she was there.
The middle drawer held nothing but pens, paper clips, and assorted rubber bands. One deep drawer seemed promising at first. There was a metal case inside it with a locking mechanism. It popped open without the key, and I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world, but inside was nothing but Alka Seltzer.
I shut the drawer and put my hands on my hips, wondering if I should search his filing cabinet next. Or maybe his computer? It was probably password encoded, and I had no idea what his password might be. I'd been in his office maybe five or six minutes, and I could hear the rest of the cops starting to filter back in. They would have realized it was a false alarm by now. I just hoped I could sneak out of here undetected. If I needed her to, I knew Emily would pull the alarm again. I came around to the front of the desk, deciding that I would go through the file cabinet at the back of the room.
Suddenly, the door opened and Anderson came walking inside. His eyes widened when he saw me. He looked pissed.
39
Jax
"Hello. My name is Jax, and I'm an alcoholic." I gripped the sides of the podium like it was a shield.
