by Jami Wagner
When Lennox mentioned it earlier, I had to keep myself from laughing. She’d never have believed it was my idea even I told her.
“Follow me,” Barb says.
“Kids,” she announces to the room. “We have a special visitor today.” Barb lets me through, and all the kids cheer. Lennox is in the back of the room, holding on to a new addition to the home, a little boy who is about three years old. She took to him right away. He’s the youngest she’s ever seen in this home, and I know she’s going to make it her mission to make him feel loved.
“Ho, ho, ho,” I say and do my best mini-bounce to jiggle my belly. Lennox’s attention snaps to me the moment the first “ho” leaves my mouth. Her eyes are wide and she’s failing really badly to not smile. “Merry Christmas,” I say.
“Oh, Santa,” Barb says as I turn to face her. “Don’t forget your bag of gifts.”
She hands me a big red bag that I toss it over my shoulder as I make my way to the seat they have for me. I sit and open the bag. Inside it’s filled with various toys for the kids. I’d taken some of the money from my car to buy them. I also replaced the basketball hoop in the back of the building. It’s not much, but it’s something for them to look forward to.
One by one, the kids sit on my lap and tell me what they want for Christmas. Most of them want the normal stuff, Barbies, trucks, and the occasional cell phone, but my favorites are the ones who make wishes for the other kids.
When the last kid has taken their toy from the bag and joined the rest of the group, Lennox steps up.
“Do I get to make a wish?” she asks.
“You sure do,” I say and pat my knee. “Told you you’d be back in my lap before you knew it,” I whisper once she sits.
Her laugh awakens everything inside the same way it has since the moment I knew I loved her. If it didn’t look really bad for Santa to kiss her right now, I would.
“Did you tell him what you wanted for Christmas, Ms. Lennox?” one of the kids asks.
She nods and then looks at me. “I think I have everything I need right here.”
I nod back.
“So do I.”
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Acknowledgments
Some books are easier to write than others. This was definitely one of those books for me. I wrote this one in less than three months. Granted, the process to get it published took a lot longer. Every book needs those final touches before it’s released.
Publishing a book takes many steps, and the people you choose to be a part of those steps are important. I can and will include them in my acknowledgments, as I am now, but I don’t think I can ever thank them enough.
I believe editing is the most important part of a book. Julie Sturgeon, having you on my team has been absolutely incredible. I like my books when I send them to you, but I love them when we are finished. If you’re a self-published author looking for a magnificent editor, Julie is the woman you need.
Never judge a book by its cover is a phrase that is true in a world outside of books, but in the book world, the cover is the first thing a reader sees and is, in fact, a major key piece to publishing. Hang Le, the cover for this book is amazing. I sent you very minimal descriptions because I wasn’t exactly sure how to describe the look I wanted, but you nailed it. Thank so much! (She also created my promo graphics.)
After editing, I send the manuscript to Casey Dawes. Your fine-tuning of my books has been a game changer. I am so very thankful Julie introduced us.
Once the fine-tuning is done, I send the book off to my mother and Dana Volney for any last-minute corrections. First, I’d like to start by saying, I can’t believe my mother has read all my books (enter blushing emoji here), and she’s loved them! She might have to say that because she’s my mom, but I know she means it. Second, Dana … what would I do without you? I’ve mentioned this before, and because I know that day changed my goals, I will never, ever forget the day you asked me if I wanted to share work. Best decision ever.
I could thank so many more people; Grant, my dad, my sister, Lady Trisha, Christian, Megan, Alyssa, Cindy, Mike, Dax … the list could go on. The support my family and friends have provided me since the day I began writing is nothing I would have ever imagined.
Thank you!
Have you read LOVE MONEY?
Sam. Jett. Clint. Jimmy.
One I need to keep alive. One is stalking me. One has lied his way into my heart.
And the last one ... he’s going to kill me if I don’t give him what he wants.
Someone died because of me.
But this go-around, I could get the girl and solve the case at the same time.
Protecting my heart ... yeah, that wasn’t in my training.
Keep scrolling for the first chapter.
Chapter One
Jett
I fucking hate running.
I sprint in the opposite direction of Clint. I told him he shouldn’t deal on campus, let alone to a freshman. Those young kids have no idea what they are doing. They talk too much and have no idea what the definition of discrete means. Hence, why I’m sprinting from the cops. Well, that’s the story I’ll go with later, anyway. No doubt Clint will want to know how the police got wind of this exchange on campus, and blowing my cover isn’t in my plans. Not now. Not ever.
“Jesus, Baxter, slow your steps!”
I laugh and pick up the pace.
“Every time you make me work for it! Paybacks are a bitch!”
I hear footsteps close behind me and know the exact moment he leaps.
“Fuck,” I cry out, my shoulder bouncing off the dirt and loose gravel finding its way into my mouth. I crouch, spitting some of it out.
“I told you paybacks are a bitch,” Michaels says. “Every single time, you run.”
“I have to make it look real,” I laugh. “Plus, you do have to work for it. I have a reputation to live up to.”
“Your assignment ran in the opposite direction.”
“So?” I ask, and this time he chuckles along with me.
“Suspect one in custody, Michaels. What’s your location?” comes through loud and clear on his shoulder mic.
“This is my favorite part,” he says to me before answering.
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. My job is nothing short of exciting.
“Suspect is face down in the dirt and cuffed,” Michaels says with another laugh.
“Serves him right,” the other voice, who I know is Wade, chuckles.
“Let’s go,” Michaels says, handing me his cuffs. “You’ve got less than sixty seconds to put those on before Wade pulls the car around.”
“Can I just get in one punch?” I ask.
“No.”
“Come on. I need to make it look like I put up a fight.”
“Nope.”
“You’re so boring,” I say, latching the metal behind my back. Michaels nods in approval and elbows me in the gut as the cruiser pulls up.
“Bastard,” I say, bending over.
“And you thought I was boring.” He laughs, shoving me into the back of the car next to Clint.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Clint says. Not even an attempt to whisper that to me. I catch Wade’s eyes as he twists to face us.
I grin.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” I ask.
He shakes his head and turns back to focus on the road.
I fucking love my job.
At the station, Wade puts the car in park and pulls both Clint and me from the back. He leads Clint toward the jail cells, and Michaels points me in another direction. Clint starts to curse at Wade, while Michaels and I laugh.
“Eventually, Wade is going to be pissed we always make him take the grunt work,” I say.
“I think he secretly enjoys the f
ight.”
“We should get him on the inside,” I say. “I think he’d do great.”
“I agree, but that’s not your call to make,” Michaels says, uncuffing me as we step through a set of double doors.
“We’re about fifteen minutes behind schedule, thanks to you and your race to fun,” he says, pointing at Captain’s door. “He’s waiting for you.”
I nod and head that way.
“You’re late,” Captain snaps, dropping a yellow folder on the desk when I walk through the door. His dark eyes stare me down. I’d be nervous if I didn’t know the man for the past seventeen years, six of which I’ve worked on his team. He’s six feet tall, bald, and has arms almost the size of my hips. Working out with this man is a fucking challenge.
I pull out the chair across from him and sit, nodding.
“It’s all part of my new persona,” I say with a Cheshire smile. “You know, campus drug dealer takes his sweet time, yadie, yadie ya.”
He lets out a chuckle. “I’d call bullshit, but, you’re one of my best, so I don’t actually care as long as you’re getting the job done.”
“I always get the job done.”
Except for that one time—the first time. Which, technically, I still put my target in jail, so I guess that means it was a success. I just wouldn’t call it that. When someone dies, it’s never a success.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” he adds and glances to the folder. “That’s new information on your current assignment and a glance at the next one, assuming you still finish this in the next two weeks.”
Getting ahead on the next job is always a safe bet to make in this industry. Especially when most assignments blend together and finding information on the upcoming task during the current one happens more often than not. I slide the envelope my way and peek inside.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, standing to lean against his desk. “Another drug dealer with a history of violence and assault. I swear, everyone at work thinks I’m capable of nothing else when it comes to working undercover.”
“Like I said, you get the job done. That’s our goal here.”
“Maybe next time we can spice it up a bit,” I say, not joking in the slightest. I’m sick of these petty jobs. I want more action. Bigger challenges.
“Why change up a good thing?” Captain asks.
I grunt, stepping behind the brown leather chair that sits across from him and resting on the back of it with my forearms. “You and I both know I’m capable of so much more. You can’t call me your best and then toss the crap jobs my way.”
“Maybe next time, Jett. For now, research the papers right here.” He taps the folder. “And tomorrow night we can have a small online debrief on our target.” He stares at me, his eyes daring me to argue with him. “Oh, and before I forget, Jimmy Kincaid instigated a yard fight and escaped from the state’s prison late last night. Keep your eye out.”
“Jimmy Kincaid, as in we-still-have-no-idea-where-he-stashed-his-millions Jimmy Kincaid?” I ask. Every officer I’ve ever met has worked on the Kinkaid case at one point in their career. It was the first case my father couldn’t crack. It was also one that cost him his life.
“That’s the one. He and Clint used to work together. If there is a chance he seeks out your assignment, I want to know about it and get him back in prison without drawing attention.”
“Hold up,” I say, physically holding my hand up as I process this new information. This is big. Huge. Every cop with time to spare will want a piece of this action.
Captain tilts his head and leans back on a deep breath.
“Don’t go getting any ideas, Jett. You’ve got that same damn look your father used to give me.”
“It’s not an idea; it’s a plan.”
“Oh, here we go,” Captain says, leaning forward now to give me some speech, but I cut him off.
“If Jimmy reconnects with Clint, and I’m still around when he does, we could use this to find the money.” This is a fact he already knows. I’m just warming up.
“It’s impossible and too much of a threat to leave him walking free,” Captain says. “You’re my youngest undercover officer, Jett, and losing your life at twenty-six isn’t an idea I’d back up.”
“Just hear me out,” I tell him, ignoring his comment. Again, he opens his mouth, but I beat him to the punch. “If he’s out of prison, that money will be his only option to keep out of sight. The more he has, the less likely he will be found because his resources with that money will be unlimited and he can stay hidden. All we need to do is find Jimmy, and he will lead us to the money. If he makes contact with Clint, I will make it happen.”
“You make it sound so much simpler than it is, but I still don’t like it.”
“Okay, okay, how about this,” I say. I’m not giving up. “I make it happen; I get to pick my jobs from here on out. If I can’t make it happen, you won’t hear me complain about a job ever again.”
Captain raises his brows and he smiles. “It would be nice to hear you talk a lot less.”
“So it’s a deal then?” I ask.
He sighs and his chair creaks as he leans back. “The original case was your father’s, and I just want to be sure that this isn’t some plan you want to move forward with for revenge purposes is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I keep my voice firm and refuse to drop my eyes from him.
I let my emotions take over in one case, and as I said before, someone lost their life. Becoming attached to a job for personal reasons is a bad idea. I worried so much about wanting to keep her alive that I forgot everything I’d learned in training. Bringing feelings into a job will never happen again.
Ever.
“This is probably one of the worst decisions I’ll ever make, but yeah, we got a deal,” Captain says, and I nod.
We shake on it, and I head out before he can change his mind.
“But I want reports, and I want updates each time you come in contact with Kinkaid. Got it?” he shouts when I’m halfway out the door.
“Got it.”
I’ve busted my ass for five years. It doesn’t sound like a long time, but fuck, Clint will make twenty-one felons I’ve put behind bars in that short time as an undercover officer. Despite what others may think, I’ve fucking earned a chance to prove how much better I can be. Now I have the opportunity. I’m going to find Jimmy Kincaid and I’m going to find that money. Nothing is going to get in my way.
Charlie
My butt hurts. We split the drive into two days, but still, after four hours, I can’t wait to stretch my legs.
“Get your feet off the dash, please,” I say, flipping my blinker up, and Sam groans.
“Why?” he asks.
I’m not sure if this is a thing for eight-year-olds, but that one word, why, is his favorite question these days. Every single time without fail, I tell him why and then he explains why he thinks I’m wrong. I sure do miss the good ole days when he actually listened to me.
“Because it’s dangerous, and if we get in a wreck, you could be injured pretty bad.”
“We aren’t going to wreck because you drive like a grandma,” he says.
“Oh no!” I shout and fake like I’m going to swerve. He jerks upright in his seat and his feet hit the floor mat.
I laugh.
“That wasn’t funny, Charlie. You scared me,” he says the words, but he can’t even say them without laughing himself. “Fine. I get your point.”
“And think, I only had to tell you a hundred times.”
“It was like ten, don’t exaggerate,” he says.
I reach over and scruff up his hair, and he swats my arm away.
“Stop it,” he says.
I take advantage of the motion and move my hand to his side where I pinch playfully.
He cracks up and scoots away from me as far as his seatbelt will let him.
“How much longer?” he asks. “I can’t handle you picking on me anymore.”
“Don
’t lie, you like it.”
“Really, Charlie? What kid likes being picked on by their aunt of all people.”
He rolls his eyes and so do I.
“Stop,” he says again.
“Stop,” I say.
“Seriously, don’t.”
“Seriously, don’t.”
“Ugh!” he says, but he’s still smiling.
“We’re here,” I say and pull into a vacant spot in the parking lot. Actually, I take up two since the U-Haul attached to my red Honda takes up one space on its own.
Adjusting to look at the building through the front window, we stare up at the white apartment complex that is, from this moment on, our new home. Wyoming has always been where I belong. Leaving was for the best at the time, yes, but it’s time we came back.
With a deep breath, I get out of my car. A light breeze hits my face, cooling the warm air from the late July sun. I don’t have to guess that the fresh cut grass smell is coming from the guy with a ball cap sitting on the mower one building over. Across the street is a park with a full playground, basketball court, and tennis area. There is an elementary school one block west from me. A mother, father, and daughter ride their bikes behind me on the sidewalk around the parking lot, and their laughter confirms everything I’m thinking. This was the right neighborhood to choose. It’s calm, it’s quiet, and most of all, it’s safe.
“What’s our number?” Sam asks.
“We are 325,” I say and lift the tailgate.
I grab a box and Sam starts to dig through the back, for what I have no clue. He was pretty picky about how he packed. I only went with it because it reminded me of my sister, and seeing him take after her is nice. I just hope that these are the only kind of traits he takes after.
Pulling the keys from my purse, I adjust the box and head for the stairs.
My parents were killed by a drunk driver when I was thirteen, leaving me under the custody of my sister, Kenzie, and Kenzie died at the hands of her boyfriend when I was just shy of seventeen. She left Sam to me, but since I was so young, we moved from Wyoming to Arizona to live with my grandmother. That’s where we’ve been the last five years. Grandma passed away two months ago, and Wyoming was where Kenzie wanted to raise Sam. The decision to move back wasn’t hard, but it does scare me. The idea of doing something my sister always wanted is comparable to that moment you take your bra off at the end of the day. I’m really looking forward to it. But there’s another side, the one that wants to leave the bra on because of the control I have with it. Leaving Wyoming meant people couldn’t harass Sam or me. I hope five years was long enough for them to forget we even exist.
