Stark Raving Mad (Chicago's Finest Book 2)

by Vanessa Knight

  “That would be great.” She watched him take another drink of water, waiting for the ignorant comment or the April Fool to come from his mouth. Nothing. Maybe he had changed.

  “I have to go. Job interview.” He stood up.

  “Job interview?”

  “Yeah, sales job over on Randolph. I have to make a living.”

  “Good luck. I should go, too.” She dropped money on the table and followed Ben toward the front. He held open the door, letting her out into the cool spring morning.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him. Their impromptu meeting had gone well.

  “I’ll call your office and leave my number. If you’re interested in the contact in Vegas, give me a call. Oh, and if you could, put a good word in for me when you talk to Julie.” He kissed her cheek and faded into the foot traffic of Chicago.

  Allison stared after him. What in the heck was that?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dennis stared out the window of the coffee shop as

  Brooklyn’s sister kissed a blond-haired scruffy hippy. Those Southby women sure had crappy taste in men. First Allison was with that goofy-looking cop, now she was with some homeless guy.

  She looked like a nice girl, but that was all a lie. There was no such thing as nice girls. Lying whores. All of them.

  Poor cop probably thought his woman was only his. Hah.

  Stupid sap.

  He left the shop and watched the woman stare down the block. This was ridiculous. No matter how skanky this chick was, he hated getting innocent people involved.

  But they didn’t give him a choice. He’d looked everywhere.

  He couldn’t find Brooklyn. He couldn’t find the last piece to the puzzle. Once she was gone, he and his sister could move on. Go far away, and all the crap that happened here would be gone.

  Forgotten.

  He could have a normal life. He just had to find Brooklyn.

  Apparently, Perretti finally managed to hide her. Dennis had followed that black cop, but she hadn’t led anywhere. She even had cops watching her every move.

  So did Allison, but he’d been able to stay out of their way.

  Scruffy dude walked away. Finally. Now he needed to get Allison separated from the cops. Just long enough to make his move. Because if he couldn’t get to Brooklyn, he was going to have to get to the ones she loved.

  * * *

  It was a long, quiet day. Deathly quiet. The only sound the clack-clack of the keyboard as Brook prepared her documentation for the Ryder case. Every now and then, Joe would turn on the TV and watch an old DVD or take the dog for a walk. But otherwise, it was a silent, uncomfortable cocoon.

  “Can I get you anything?” Joe asked for the tenth time. It was nice to be asked, but she didn’t want to encourage him. They’d hit irreconcilable differences. She couldn’t live with someone who didn’t respect her, and he couldn’t respect her.

  Simply incompatible.

  “No. Thanks.” She sat on the couch and continued to beat away at the keys, Bruno leaning his head on her lap in between her and the laptop. She was too busy, too tired to play nicey-nice. She was done. He’d made his stance perfectly clear. It was time she moved on.

  No matter how close he was standing and how delicious he smelled. Dammit.

  She hunched closer to the screen, hoping the smell wouldn’t reach her. Deep woodsy smell. Her nose sucked in the scent-carrying air. Bad nose.

  He sat on a couch next to her. The woodsy scent grew stronger and tickled at her insides. She closed her eyes and willed the dog to fart. The darn dog was generally immersed in a fart-fog, but when she needed it, his ass was silent. Well, he was Joe’s dog—it was obviously collusion. The air was clear, an open avenue for Joe’s manly scent to barrel over Brook.

  So instead, she inhaled the delicious scent of Joe Perretti. She so wanted him. Too bad he was a jerkwad. A jerkwad that smelled like heaven, but still a jerkwad.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. Regret darkened his stare. “For?” Well, this was promising. He was apologizing.

  “This morning. That shit I said yesterday about lawyers.” He shook his head.

  “That wasn’t about you.” “It sure felt about me.”

  “This morning was about you. But, yeah, yesterday was not about you. I was being an ass.” He stood and walked to the window, that far-off look clouding his eyes.

  “I’m sure you figured out part of this,” he said, “but I lived here with my mom for two years when I was a kid. After my dad left, we had nothing. He took it all. Fell in love with one of his clients, and ran off to start his new life. Mom was never allowed to work before, so she had no job, no money. He took everything but our clothes, her car, and me. Then he dragged her to court.”

  “Court? For what, your toothbrush?”

  “To stop paying child support.” He attempted to smile, but it was a poor attempt.

  “He didn’t pay child support?”

  “He did, but he’d hidden his assets. He supposedly lost them, and then somehow misrepresented his earnings. Or something like that. I was young. I didn’t understand. Hell, I still don’t understand. But none of that mattered, anyway. I just wanted my father back.

  “I listened to my mom cry at night. She tried to hide it, but I knew. And there was nothing I could do. I don’t know, you get burned enough and you just start believing that they’re all the same. All lawyers are out to screw some little kid and his mom. I mean, over the years I haven’t seen anything to prove me wrong. I’ve seen slime-ball attorneys doing anything to get their dirt-bag clients back on the street, while we risk our lives day in and day out to get them off the streets and keep people safe.”

  His drooping shoulders turned toward her, his dull eyes piercing through her already fragile heart. “But then I met you.”

  This was so hard for him to admit. She could tell. And every fiber of her wanted to stay mad. Judging someone based on their profession. Hah. Yes, she saw the irony. But they weren’t focusing on her flaws right now.

  He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. The disheveled hair, slack jaw… He looked so much like the boy on the mantel, the boy who wanted a father figure but was left alone to be the man of the house. A boy who watched his mother cry. And yet he still turned into the man before her, strong, determined protector.

  “Your mom must be so proud of you. All you’ve done. What you’ve become.” “She is.” Red crept up his neck. Cute. He blushed at compliments. Good to know.

  “We’re not all like that. Some of us just want justice, no matter what side of the badge a person is on.”

  “I know. I’ve never met anyone like you. You fight for truth no matter what the cost or how annoying a client might be.”

  “I believe everyone should get a chance to be heard, no matter what stupid crap falls out of their mouths.”

  “You mentioned that. That’s amazing.” He sat next to her, Bruno groaning as the couch dipped under Joe’s weight. “You’re amazing.”

  He leaned into her. She didn’t pull back, couldn’t pull back. He didn’t outright say he respected her, but the awe in his eyes… He thought she was amazing. She could live with that.

  His lips found hers. Soft and gentle.

  Joe’s cell phone interrupted. He groaned and grabbed the menace. “Shit. I have to get this.” He tapped the screen. “Perretti.”

  Brook could hear some of what the person on the other end was saying. “We have a problem... Brook…”

  Joe stood up. “I’ll be right back.” He walked out the front door and stood on the lawn. He paced back and forth under the tree, his hand waving as he talked to whoever interrupted their moment.

  Brook watched as Joe’s face turned from wounded child to hardened cop. Something had happened. She walked to the window and tried to read his lips, but his mouth was moving so fast, she couldn’t even begin to understand.

  She sat back on the couch and waited. And waited. And waited. She waited
long enough to realize patience was not one of her virtues. She picked up her phone and hovered over the buttons. She could call Allison. Her sister would tell her what was going on.

  “Hey.” Joe walked in, body rigid. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t move, didn’t say a thing. Dammit.

  “I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong. Adam wanted to check on you. The man doesn’t shut up.” He ran hand over his head and trailed it onto his shoulder. “I have a headache and it’s crawling down my neck.”

  “I can help you with that.”

  He smiled, or at least he attempted to. His head must be pounding more then he let on. She hadn’t seen him this upset since he’d found out Stark was in Shay’s house.

  Brook wrapped her hand around his and led him down the hall. “I’ve got some cardio we can do. Great stress reliever.”

  She yanked him into the room and pushed him to the bed. Hard abs winked from beneath the rolled up tee as he rested on his elbows. Oh yeah. She couldn’t wait to relieve some stress.

  Chapter Thirty

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Joe’s foot slid in the dewy grass as he hid the cord for the video camera along the wooden siding of the house. He hated sitting here doing nothing. And this was nothing. Tying cellophane-wrapped antique video cameras into the cracks and crevices of the cottage was nothing.

  He should be out there, out there looking for this guy. When Shay called and said Allison was missing, he wanted to head back. He wanted to help in the search. He wanted to find this asshole and make him pay.

  He wanted to do anything but sit on his ass and wait. Waiting was the hardest part, waiting and wondering if they found him and if they were looking in the right places. He just wanted to be part of the action. Instead, he was playing Home Alone, devising booby traps and hanging cameras, so they could sit on their asses some more.

  But Shay was right. No matter how much he wanted to be out there, he needed to be here. He needed to keep an eye on Brook. Keep her far away from that asshole. After all, Stark took Allison to lure her out. At least that’s what the note Adam received this morning said. He pulled up the picture on his phone.

  Let’s trade. Bring Brook to N Michigan and Illinois St. 5PM tonight.

  Five PM. It wouldn’t be too dark, so Stark wouldn’t be able to hide in the shadows of the city, but the streets would be flooded with rush hour traffic. Cars and pedestrians would swarm that section of the Magnificent Mile. It was easy to get lost in the urban sea, just disappear.

  Stark couldn’t get in or out by car, too much traffic. Train? Could work, but he’d have to get to the train. He’d need a way around the throngs of people. Maybe a building or tunnel…

  Joe sighed. Not that it mattered what he thought. Shay and Adam had things covered in the city. Joe’s job was to keep Brook safe. Make sure she didn’t get in the way. Make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

  And if he told her what happened to her sister, she’d do something stupid and get in the way. She’d run back to the city without looking back, without thinking about the consequences or thinking about her own safety. The woman felt indebted to her sister; she’d never let her stay in Stark’s custody.

  That was the reason he’d hid Brook’s phone. Well— misplaced it. Misplaced sounded a hell of a lot better than hid. Misplaced was accidental. Hid implied thievery. Yeah, he was having a hard time buying that story, too.

  Shay swore there would be no news coverage and that any call she made to them would be ignored, but he couldn’t take the gamble. Not that Shay agreed with his tactics. She thought he should level with Brook, put it all out there. Tell her about the abduction and the note. But Shay didn’t know Brook the way he did. Brook would never stay put after she found out. Hell, in her situation, he’d never stay put, either. He didn’t like wagering Allison’s life against Brook’s, but Allison had a better chance of survival. She was the innocent in all this. She had nothing to do with Stark or his case. She hadn’t wronged him. There was a chance he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Once the ass had Brook, Joe would…

  No. He couldn’t let Stark get to her. Joe couldn’t handle seeing pieces of another person he cared about stuffed in a box. And, for it to be Brook… His stomach flipped and his head spun.

  No. He couldn’t tell Brook about Allison, no matter how much it hurt him to hold it back. Adam and Shay would get things under control. They’d get Allison. They’d get Stark. And then Joe could take Brook back home to her job, her friends, and Allison. They just needed to wait it out.

  Too bad he sucked at waiting.

  Bruno nuzzled his hand. “Hey boy. How’d you get outside?”

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Brook stood against the front door, blonde hair sliding along her back. Her soft, milky legs stood bare, the only thing covering her body his T-shirt.

  The impure thoughts writhing through his mind would cost a hell of a lot more than a penny. “Just a penny? I would think inflation would have hit the thoughts racket. A dollar. Maybe five.”

  “Depends on the thought.” Her eyes darkened as she tilted her head to the side. Her neck was wide open, begging to be nibbled. “And whether you’re willing to act it out.”

  Willing. His jeans tightened around his growing interest.

  Very willing. And ready. He looked at the camera in his hand. It could wait. The woman who turned around and flashed her naked ass couldn’t.

  Maybe hanging in the middle of nowhere distracting a beautiful woman wasn’t the worst way to spend the day. If only he could get that annoying niggle of—no, not guilt— worry to stop poking the back of his neck.

  When she found out he kept this from her…

  He rubbed the ache lodged in his head. He couldn’t think that way. He was doing the right thing. All he had to do was picture her fingers lying in a flower box. Those fingers that slid up and down his body as her mouth melded with his.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let Stark near her. That fear, that Stark could somehow get to her, was enough to keep his mouth shut. He needed her safe, no matter what the cost.

  “You coming?” She stood in the doorway, all white skin and curves. Her breasts pointed upward as she rested her hand at the top of the door and leaned against her arm.

  Her head tipped and she slid the tip of one of those fingers he was protecting into her mouth. He would lay down his life for those fingers and the things they could do to him.

  Dear Lord.

  “You’re naked.”

  “I know. A little obvious, but I had to make sure you understood. Because apparently I was vague before—no one followed me inside. So, these are my thoughts and I won’t even charge you a penny for them.” She turned and wiggled that rounded ass. Another body part he’d lay down his life for.

  Who was he kidding? He’d lay down his life for any one of those body parts.

  He watched her ass disappear around the corner.

  He dropped the camera on the porchand ran in the door. He understood, all right. He was just having trouble wrangling his thoughts, keeping his mind off the troubles back home.

  But the troubles weren’t here. Not yet. He needed to shift his attention. He just had to focus on the woman in front of him.

  She jiggled again as she ran down the hall. And focusing on her would not be hard to do.

  * * *

  Brook slapped Joe’s ass as she jumped out of bed. His face was nuzzled into the pillow, his ass sticking in the air. What other option did she have but to smack it? “I’m hungry.”

  “I think we still have some cereal.”

  “Cereal? I was hoping for something a little more substantial.” The afternoon sun drew rainbows on the wall above the bed. Pretty, but it didn’t help the hole that had grown in her stomach over the past couple hours.

  “Substantial…like?”

  “Your uncle’s pizza. Would he deliver this far out?”

  “Sure.” He slid from the bed and walked to the bathroom. “Decide what you want.
”

  What did she want? What did she want? “What do they have?”

  “Normal stuff,” came through the closed door.

  “Fine.” She threw on a shirt and jeans before going to the living room. Bruno was sprawled on the couch. His head flew up as she walked in the door. Watchdog. Hah. Probably heard they were getting pizza. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

  Bruno’s ears perked and his tongue lolled to the side. Yeah.

  She didn’t know either. But Joe’s uncle had to have a website. She went to the table where she left her phone. It wasn’t there.

  Dammit. What did I do with it? She turned her head, checking all the flat surfaces. The past few days had been a complete memory drain. She’d accidentally sent her assistant the wrong documentation yesterday. Now her phone was MIA.

  It had to be here somewhere. She lifted papers and anything not nailed down. She checked the refrigerator, the evil beast that liked to hide her stuff. At least back at home it did. When she’d put her water bottle in the fridge at the end of the work day, she’d often just drop her keys, her phone—one time her purse—onto the shelf with the bottle. So now it was the first place she checked when anything was missing. Sad but true.

  She checked floors and any other surface as she went from the kitchen back to the living area. Grrr. Nothing.

  “Bruno, fetch the phone.” He jumped from the couch and sat at her feet. “No sit, fetch. Find? Locate? What command works for phone retrieval?”

  Stupid phone. Her stomach growled. She didn’t have time to look for the prodigal lifeline.

  She headed back to the bedroom. “Can I use your phone?” she yelled at the bathroom door. Joe grumbled from behind the door, the sink running.

  She picked up the phone and it sparked to life.

  Still haven’t found Allison.

  A text from Shay. Found Allison? Was she missing? When was she missing? Brook opened the texting app and starting following the texting trail.

  Let’s trade. Bring Brook to North Michigan and Illinois Ave. 5 PM tomorrow.

  Stark had Allison, and he was holding her hostage until he had Brook. Oh no, Allison. Brook had to help. She needed to get to Chicago. Joe could drive her. But…