Side Effects

by VK Powell

  She replayed the tape in her head. Rosemary had brought Neela coffee, a nice gesture for her boss. Rosemary had pulled her chair close to Neela’s desk. Strike. Rosemary had opened her legs, straddled Neela’s chair, and moved closer. Strike two. When Rosemary had leaned over to hug Neela, the reception froze. Strike three. Their interaction appeared more intimate than friendly, and Jordan didn’t understand. For her, intimacy equaled sex. So why did Neela encourage such behavior in a professional setting? She’d sprinted across the parking lot and passed Rosemary on the way out of Neela’s office. She wanted to tell her to stay away from Neela. Surely her assistant knew she lived with someone. Jordan was angry with herself for getting so worked up. It wasn’t her job to protect Neela’s relationship or her honor, just her personal safety.

  As Jordan had adjusted the camera, Neela wouldn’t stop talking, trying to connect with her, trying to understand her. She stood too close. Neela’s brown eyes drilled into her until she couldn’t think clearly. And when Neela had pulled her close and kissed her, something inside had snapped. At that moment, she’d wanted Neela’s kiss more than her next breath. It was wrong but she couldn’t stop. Neela had deepened their kiss, apparently unconcerned about her partner at home—the death knell. Was she simply an attractive woman who encouraged flirtations in the workplace and succumbed to the attraction of strangers? Was that why Jordan had returned her kiss? Had it turned out exactly as she’d hoped? Did she need to find a flaw in Neela?

  She’d felt something the day they met and assumed it was a competitive spark, the result of Neela’s defiance. But her behavior today, while it had inflamed Jordan’s overactive libido, had doused any spark of real interest. She could never be serious about a woman who cheated on her partner. Bex would probably be next. The thought was like a roadblock and she stumbled, barely regaining her balance before lurching into an intersection.

  She walked the last block to the capitol and joined the group of Guilford Citizens for Equality protestors gathered in front of the building. Several held signs objecting to Governor Lloyd’s cutbacks to teachers’ salaries and health care. Others chanted about proposed changes to voting guidelines. She hung out in the area between the more vocal group and the organizers toward the front, who talked about strategies and upcoming events. No one mentioned abortions or waved posters on the subject. She’d read all the literature on the Guilford Citizens for Equality group, and everything indicated they were peaceful, more liberal than their Republican counterparts, and supportive of a woman’s right to choose. Her observations seemed to confirm those assumptions.

  She made it back to the car just before five o’clock and settled in beside Bex. “Anything going on here?”

  “Not since you left.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Nope, all quiet. You?”

  “No sign of any radical right-to-lifers around the capitol. If all the protestors are as nonviolent as the ones I saw today, this case could be harder than we thought. They seem like an educated group who have genuine concerns and just want to be heard. Extremists aren’t likely to mingle with the more docile crowd anyway, but it was worth a look.”

  “I’m still hoping the forensic guys recovered some evidence from Doctor Branson or his car.” Bex pointed as Neela walked across the parking lot toward them holding a sheet of paper. “Wonder what this is about? Hope it’s not your report card from earlier because you’ll get low marks on plays-well-with-others.”

  “Shut up.”

  Neela approached Bex’s side of the car and didn’t look at Jordan. Her hand shook as she handed Bex the typewritten note. “I found this on my windshield.” Jordan leaned over to read it.

  Neela Sahjani,

  Branson was only the beginning. Stop what you’re doing or you’ll be next.

  I know where you live.

  None of you are safe!!

  “Not very specific, is he? This could reference anything—stop my stem-cell research, shopping at Target, eating wheat.” Neela’s attempt at humor didn’t hide the frightened look in her eyes.

  “Still think this has nothing to do with you?” Jordan pulled an evidence envelope from the glove compartment and dropped the note inside, using her fingernails.

  “Detective, I could care less about myself—”

  “Right.”

  Neela glared at her, and Jordan turned toward the basketball court. Probably best, since she couldn’t look at her without thinking about that damn kiss. She had to get off this case, or she and this woman would shred each other. The chemistry between them was too intense.

  “As I started to say, I’m concerned this person knows where I live and is brazen enough to put a threatening note on my car in full daylight with the police only yards away. I wasn’t really concerned at first, but the other letters were never specifically directed at me. Now my home and my family are being threatened.”

  The hairs at the back of Jordan’s neck stiffened. Neela sounded so damned sincere. Where was all her concern for her family when she was flirting with Rosemary earlier and kissing her?

  “I understand. We all want to feel safe,” Bex said. “Let’s get you home and make sure everything’s okay. That’s our first priority. Tomorrow I’d like you to park in front of the building, not in the employee lot at the rear, and use only this entrance to come and go.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.” As Neela started to walk away, her cell rang. She held up a finger, asking Bex to wait. “Hi, Liz.” She shook her head like it wasn’t who she was expecting and turned her back. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t tonight. I need to go home.” She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Can we talk about this later? I really have to go.” Neela hung up and faced Bex again. “I’ll see you at home. And I will be breaking the speed limit.”

  Jordan shook her foot and stared out the window as Bex tried to keep up with Neela’s car on the interstate. “You drive like a grandma. She’ll be home, finished with dinner, and ready for bed by the time we get there.”

  “And then she’ll be our relief’s problem, won’t she? I called the guys and told them to meet us at the house.”

  They’d been quiet on the ride, which meant Bex wasn’t happy with her. “So, who do you think Liz is?”

  Bex pursed her lips. “I don’t give a happy horse shit, and you shouldn’t either.”

  “I was just asking, making conversation. It certainly wasn’t the little woman at home.”

  “Why do you sound so smug? Is the whole point of this exercise to prove Neela Sahjani is a cheating, lying partner? It’s not our business, Jordan. And even if it’s true, it has nothing to do with our job. What is it with you and this woman?”

  Bex was right. It shouldn’t matter. Why did the thought of Neela’s possible infidelity annoy her? “I tried to get off the case. I told you we wouldn’t be a good fit. Our personalities just clash. It happens.”

  “That’s not all of it though. Something else is bothering you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You can spread that bullshit as thick as you want, but I’m not buying it. You’ve been irritable ever since you started seeing that therapist, Molly. She’s bringing up stuff about your past in the orphanage, isn’t she?”

  Jordan forced her foot to stay still. She didn’t want to appear as rattled as she felt inside. Molly had dug open old wounds, and they never seemed to stop bleeding. Every scab she picked only led to a deeper injury. Jordan was starting to believe the numbness of denial was far better than this constant dose of painful memories and recurring nightmares. “It’s all right.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s affecting your work and your life. But I won’t push it right now. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

  Jordan couldn’t imagine talking to anyone else about a childhood that would make even the most seasoned officer cringe. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Bex pulled in front of Neela’s house, but their relief hadn’t arrived yet. “We need to make sure the house is secure before we go off d
uty.”

  “Yeah. Let’s sweep the outside first.” They made their way around the brick residence checking windows for security and the ground for disturbance, and then Bex knocked on the front door. When Neela answered, Jordan stopped at the corner of the house and listened.

  “Mind if we come in and make sure everything is all right?”

  “We?” She looked both ways, and Jordan stepped out of the shadows and up onto the stoop. Neela pulled the door almost closed behind her, leaving only a small crack. “Everything’s fine. I’ve been through the house. No need to waste your time.”

  Jordan couldn’t stop staring. Neela wore a pair of jogging tights and a top that hugged her shapely body. Her breasts were perfectly proportioned to the small waist Jordan’s hands had encircled earlier. Her fingers tingled with sensory memory. Without her heels, Neela seemed almost diminutive, but her presence filled the doorway. She seemed fiercely protective of her home and whoever was inside. Jordan swallowed hard, unable to imagine what it would feel like to be the recipient of such concern. But Neela’s devotion didn’t coincide with her earlier indiscretion.

  “We’ve checked the outside and can’t find any evidence of trespassing or tampering,” Bex said. “We’ll give our relief the information about the note. Sure you don’t want us to check inside while we’re here?”

  “That’s really not necessary.” Jordan saw a female figure cross behind Neela in the background. She craned her neck to get a better look, but Neela was already closing the door. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Talk about rude,” Jordan said as they walked back to the car.

  “You’re one to talk, mate.”

  “Wonder why she wouldn’t let us in?”

  “Why should she? It wasn’t a social call, and she was confident everything was okay.”

  “Did you get a glimpse of the mystery woman?”

  “No, but I wasn’t trying. Why are you so concerned about who Neela’s sleeping with?” When they got back in the car, Bex blatantly stared. “Well? Has she ignited a little interest in your indifferent ass? If so, that’s good, but she isn’t the kind of woman you want to mess with. She’s got a family, a stable life.”

  “And I’m what, a reject looking for a thrill?” Bex’s words stung, but she wasn’t about to let the pain show. She’d earned her reputation as a player, but it still hurt when even her best friend couldn’t see beyond the façade. So she’d learned to act the part, never show her true self because she was certain that would hurt even more. “I’m just saying I could hit that.”

  “I didn’t say you were a reject. But I get the feeling Neela’s the kind of woman you hit once and stick to for life. You just don’t seem interested in domesticity right now.”

  Jordan retreated to the familiar. Bex already thought Jordan was incurably horny, but wasn’t every twenty-five-year-old? “You up for the bar tonight?” She really wanted to strip and let the fresh night air peel away the memory of Neela’s body pressed against hers and the feel of her lips hungrily returning her kiss.

  “We haven’t been to the bar since last week. Damn skippy I’m in. I wouldn’t miss a master class in seduction Bishop style. Ten o’clock?” When Jordan nodded, she fist-pumped the air. “Sweet.”

  “Will you drop the note off at the lab? I need to run by the apartment and take care of something.” She wasn’t about to tell Bex she’d temporarily adopted the stray collie she’d dodged in the road. She’d get a lecture on being a responsible pet owner, which she didn’t need. She’d already taken him to the vet to be checked for injuries, shots, and registration, and she’d named him as well—Blue, at least until she found out his real name.

  The vet said her new friend was unusual because most collies were mixed colors, not totally white, and larger than Blue. She’d promised to take care of him until his owner could be located. It was the least she could do after almost running over him.

  “No problem. By the way, Phil and Harry want to know if we’d alternate some days and nights with them. You up for that, so nobody gets stuck pulling graveyard all the time?”

  “Whatever. Just let me know.”

  Bex stopped beside Jordan’s Ducati while she got her helmet out of the backseat, pulled it on, and rode away.

  *

  It was three in the morning before Neela settled softly onto the bed next to Bina. The four-day treatment protocol she’d received in Panama three days ago had left her anxious and exhausted, but she was finally asleep, and Neela breathed a thankful sigh.

  After the incident with Jordan, her day at work had been packed with meetings and personnel dramas, and at home with personal dramas. She hadn’t had time alone to process what had happened between them.

  The first part was easier to address. She’d kissed Jordan. And she kissed me back. “And she kissed me back.” Hearing the words aloud, Neela stared at the ceiling, trying to understand why she’d kissed a woman who’d ignored and insulted her since they met. Jordan Bishop was rude, unprofessional, distant, sarcastic, and judgmental. What kind of masochist am I?

  Her feelings were much easier to decipher than the reasons for them. The world around her receded until nothing existed except their kiss. Jordan had seduced her with the softness of her mouth and the workings of her exquisite tongue. Jordan had kissed her with undeniable passion, as if searching for something. She would’ve gladly dragged Jordan into an office, locked the door, and surrendered to her on the worn carpet. She’d ignited like flash paper and just as quickly been extinguished. When Jordan had pushed her away, she felt she’d failed a test and disappointed her in some way. “That was so wrong.” What had she meant?

  When Jordan had walked away, Neela had struggled to catch her breath and restore her equilibrium. She’d always meted out her pleasures in small, manageable servings and buried her ravenous desire under the responsibilities of her life. But the cravings Jordan Bishop conjured in her defied management, and that scared her more than the possibility of caring for her.

  In spite of her reservations, reliving their kiss had aroused her. She slid her hand into her pajama bottoms and stroked the tight mass of nerves aching between her legs. Would Jordan be a passionate, assertive lover driven by the demons Neela had seen in her eyes? Or would she submit to the seduction of a gentle woman who could touch her heart? She stroked again and Bina shifted beside her.

  She’d made promises to Bina and their life together and needed to concentrate on her priorities. Slowly withdrawing her hand, she rolled over. Sleep would be an elusive partner tonight.

  Chapter Five

  The neon lights of the marquee flickered, and the Q Lounge became alternately the Q Long. Jordan had met and subsequently been dumped by several women here while new lovers waited in the wings. She didn’t want to be here, but the place drew her in with the promise of mind-numbing drink and free, easy sex. Drastic times required drastic measures, and today had been one of those days. A familiar calling pulsed insistently between her legs, and this was the only place it could be soothed with no questions or expectations.

  She took a deep breath and pulled on the heavy metal door. An old eighties disco ball cast glitter light around an otherwise dark room, and ghostly figures danced to a thumping beat. When her eyes adjusted, she spotted Bex at a table already holding court with four other women. Bex’s preference was of a type—medium height, feminine, large breasts, and red or auburn hair. The two blondes were obviously meant for Jordan.

  Sometimes their pick-ups felt too hetero-meat-market for Jordan, but if the other woman was agreeable, and neither of them wanted anything serious, it worked temporarily. And she only had a short game.

  “There she is,” Bex said as she approached. She gave her a jock hug, slapped her on the back, and whispered, “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

  “Needed some action tonight.” Her response sounded like the Jordan Bex expected when they were cruising. She could be a recluse, so her horniness gave her an excuse to ap
pease Bex by being sociable.

  “Wait till you see what I’ve picked for you.” Bex pulled up a chair and waved to the women seated around the table. “Ladies, this is my best friend, Jordan. Jordan, meet the girls.” They didn’t bother with names unless the chemistry was right. If one of them used the woman’s name, it meant she was heading for a hookup and not to wait around.

  Jordan nodded to the women and perused Bex’s choices, impeccable as usual, but tonight she wasn’t looking for her usual type. She wanted something different. Either of the blondes would’ve been fine for an evening, and they both seemed interested, but she wasn’t. She scanned the room while half listening to the conversation. The scene was too familiar, the outcome too predictable, and she was too ready for a real change. She leaned toward Bex. “I’m going for a drink. Anybody want anything?” Everybody seemed content.

  Jordan had just gotten her vodka tonic and taken the first sip when she spotted her across the room—petite, olive skin, with long, flowing dark hair. She was wearing brightly colored clothes that sparkled in the sea of darks and whites under the black light. Jordan’s drink dribbled down her chin and her clit twitched. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared. It can’t be. As she stared, the woman walked straight toward her. It’s not.

  “If what you’re drinking is good enough to wear, I’ll have one, please.” The high-pitched voice wasn’t what she expected, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk.

  “Sure.” She motioned to the bartender for another. “I’m Jordan.”

  “Lilly. Do you come here often?”

  Jordan hated these trivial games of “let’s pretend we want to get to know each other.” She especially didn’t have the patience for one tonight. Up close Lilly was attractive and her eyes glinted with promise. After a couple of drinks, Jordan would see if she was agreeable to some private time. She chugged her drink and ordered another.