by Carsen Taite
“Since always. My granddad was a collector, and I inherited his coin sets when he died. Nothing like this, but I’ve done a lot of research on international money.”
“I don’t know what to do with it. I wouldn’t have taken it if I’d realized what it was at the time.”
“You can’t just give it back. It’s a sign of disrespect. You have to find some appropriate way to return it.”
“I don’t have a clue what that means. All I know is for some reason, Petrov’s focused on Bingo and he thinks I have some input there.”
“Are you sure he’s not really after Diamond and he’s using the rest as a cover? He’s got to have a vendetta for her.”
True. He could have seen me with her. Wasn’t like we’d been hiding that night. Still, why bring up Bingo? The Russian didn’t strike me as the indirect type. “I think he would’ve just come right out and said so if he was looking for Diamond. I think she may be involved, but I think it’s more complicated than that.”
“You worried about Bingo? You want me to have someone run by and talk to him?”
I was worried, but I had a feeling that cops running by to check on him would drive him deeper into trouble. “No, but you can help me get a line on Amato and Picone. I have a feeling if I can find them, I might get some answers.”
“Tell you what, you give up your lead on the prescription and I’ll help. We’ve seen a lot of these fake meds showing up lately and I’d love to catch some of that action.”
Diamond would be pissed. Didn’t matter what she said about the exchange between her and Laura, I knew better. She’d gotten that prescription bottle, and it had something to do with the case she was working on. Not my problem. If she couldn’t be bothered to tell me what was going on, well then, I’d just pass on whatever information I had to law enforcement who was interested. Good citizen that I am.
“Deal. How do you feel about going to a strip club tonight?”
*
Thursday nights are big in the world of strip clubs. Maybe folks like to start their weekends early or maybe it was that wives expected their husbands to be home for Friday night date night. Whatever the reason, I was glad Slice of Heaven was hopping since that made it less likely I’d be noticed.
In any event, Petrov didn’t make a habit of hanging out in his own clubs. If he wanted a new woman or women, he would send one of his goons over to the club to pick one out. I knew this because Diamond had been one of the ones selected for him, once upon a time. And that was how she managed to infiltrate his inner circle and lead her team to arrest Yuri’s brother for the murder of the head of a rival family. I didn’t know how things would go down tonight, but I’d bet a fistful of those fancy gold coins the Russian handed out that I wouldn’t run into Diamond here tonight or ever.
I’d shown up early, to get the lay of the land before John arrived. I’d been here once before, but a mostly naked woman in my lap had distracted me from the geography in the rest of the place. The waitress had already confirmed that Candy was working tonight. She’d be on stage around ten. I considered trying to pay her a preshow visit, but stalking the dancers in the back would draw too much attention. Better to let her do her thing, earn some money. She’d be in a better mood to talk once she had the hard part over with. I ordered another beer and settled in to wait.
No amount of beer could have taken the edge off what I saw next. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. John stood behind me, grinning like a dog with a bone. The bone was a few steps behind him. Chance.
She was looking at the stage, not at me, so I took the opportunity to mouth “what the hell?” at John who lifted his shoulders and whispered, “She wanted to come along. What was I supposed to do?”
Uh, not tell her? I didn’t bother stating the obvious. She was here and I suspected he’d told her everything. Note to self—don’t trust John with confidential information. But secretly I was relieved. Jess knew what was going on, and I hadn’t had to stumble over my feelings to tell her. I waved the waitress back over and motioned for them to sit.
John slid into one of the seats and then punched Jess in the arm and pointed at the other. She looked at him like she’d just realized they’d come here together and then sat down. She had yet to look at me.
“Hey, Chance. Heard you had a busy day today.” My way of letting her know that John’s inability to keep a secret went both ways.
She shot me a death stare. I hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction, and I sure didn’t think I deserved it. I did a mental rewind of the events of the past few days, but I couldn’t think of any way in which I’d pissed her off. I decided to blow it off. Maybe her anger wasn’t about me. “You get a night off from the doctor? She know you’re at a strip club?”
Daggers. Okay, maybe the anger was about me after all. Only one way to find out for sure. “What’s with the death ray? Mind explaining why you’re so pissed off at me?”
We locked eyes. John cleared his throat, but neither of us turned toward him. She’d been acting strangely since last Saturday. Well, she’d been acting strangely toward me, anyway. I was done dancing around the subject. If she was mad at me, she could just say so.
“Dr. Deveaux is fine, no thanks to you.”
Talk about out of left field. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m supposed to think it’s no coincidence that days after you’ve started fucking a federal marshal, the FBI showed up on my doorstep, wanting to question my girlfriend?”
She’d just said a lot of really important stuff. Stuff I needed to wade through, process. But only one word stuck out. My internal sensors were completely broken, so I said, “She’s your girlfriend?”
“Did you hear a word I said?”
“I heard everything you said.” I wasn’t sure that was true, but I plunged ahead. “How long have you been dating? How can you call someone your girlfriend when you barely know them? When your friends barely know her? What did the FBI want with her?” The last question was probably the most important in the scheme of things, but not to me. I didn’t get how she and Deveaux had gotten to the “we have to give what we’ve got a name” stage of their relationship before I could even process they had a relationship. Crazy. That’s what it was.
John cleared his throat again, and we all looked up to see the waitress waiting with our drinks. John paid and the table was quiet while she carefully arranged the coasters and drinks, showing off her stuff to John the entire time, undoubtedly hoping to earn a bigger tip. I think he finally gave her an extra five just to make her go away.
The air at the table had chilled. As much as I wanted answers to my questions, I was done talking. I’d done all the talking. If we were really friends, Jess could see fit to let me in. I hoped she would. That despite the acrimony between us in this very moment, she could find her way to sharing details about her life with me and that I would let her, even if I didn’t approve.
“My friends do know her.”
Sucker punch. Like any unexpected blow, it happened in slow motion and took what seemed like hours, but was really only seconds, to sink in. “Your friends?” I picked up my beer and drained it, and then slammed the empty mug on the table. “Your friends?” On some level, I knew I was saying the words out loud, but they were a constant chant in my head. Since when did her “friends” not include me? So Nancy knew? Gail knew? Probably everyone on the softball team, everyone she worked with, everyone who mattered to her. Except me. Why not me?
“I’m not your friend.” I’d meant it to be a question, but that’s not how it came out. Good thing, because I didn’t want her to answer. I was scared of the answer. I stood, reached into my wallet and pulled out a ten, and threw it on the table. I turned to John. “The one you want is named Candy. She’s supposed to go on at ten.” I leaned over and pressed the bottle Laura had given me into his hand. “Take care of her.”
He’d know who I meant. Without another glance at either of them, I stalked off. Angry,
hurt, raw. I couldn’t get away from these feelings fast enough.
I made it out the door before I had to stop, bend over, and catch my breath.
“Hey, lover, you okay?”
A hand settled on my back and I glanced up into kind eyes. And enormous tits. She spoke again before I could answer. “I’m early for my shift. You want to go somewhere and get a little private show?”
I straightened and mentally counted the contents of my wallet. I could afford a private show, and there was no shame in paying for it. Right? While I considered my options, the pressure on my back switched from her gentle touch to a rough hold.
“Fuck off, she’s busy.”
Jess?
“I was here first.”
“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t have to pay me.”
Jess stared down my potential date until she raised her hands in surrender. “Fine, bitch. I got plenty to work with inside. Don’t need to fight for it.” She lifted her chin and pushed through the doors of the club, leaving me and Jess standing in the growing crowd of customers, her hand still on my back. She pulled me to the side of the building.
Once we were alone, she moved her hand to my face, cupping my chin, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “What is the matter with you?”
“What is the matter with you?” Childish repetition is all I could manage.
“Don’t you want me to be happy?”
Wow. Loaded question. I started to say “of course,” but held back. Sure, I want you to be happy, but do you have to be in a relationship to be happy? Do you have to be in a relationship with her? And what kind of trouble is she in, exactly? Finally, I drilled down to the real question. “Do you have to shut me out to be happy?”
She sighed and hung her head. “It’s complicated.”
“You’re a chicken-shit.”
“You don’t understand. How could you?”
“What? I can’t understand your little happily ever after fantasy? Oh, I understand it all right, but I also get it’s a fantasy. If you don’t get that, then you’re in for a world of hurt.”
“I’m happy, Luca.”
“Really? Shutting me out of your life makes you happy?” I watched pain dull her expression, but I couldn’t read the source. Maybe I couldn’t read it because it was me. Did I cause her pain? Now that she’d found love, whatever we’d had probably seemed tarnished, trivial. But painful? I turned away as I spoke the next words. “Then go. Be happy. But don’t think you can come back when the doctor doesn’t get your late night need to drown your sorrow in a good strong fuck. When you don’t feel like talking—you know how relationships are, they are all about the talking—and you just want to feel the press of naked flesh, hard, fast, rough. When the nightmares are so intense that you just want to blot them out, and tender kisses and talk about tomorrows isn’t going to do the trick. When you feel the need so fiercely, don’t you dare fucking call me.” I punctuated my remarks by punching my finger into her chest. “Don’t you—”
Her mouth was on mine before I could get out the last word. Against a lifetime of instinct, I pushed her away, but she held on tight. She surged forward and slammed me back into the wall, her tongue never leaving my mouth. My fight was fake, and within seconds, I surrendered to the familiar feel of Jess against me, in me. As close as she was, I wanted her closer.
I jerked out of her kiss and growled, “Touch me,” in her ear. She knew exactly what I meant and slid her hand to my crotch, gripping hard, then stroking fast. I bucked with need and rode her hand while seeking her lips and tongue with my own. But she had a different idea. With her free hand, she tore at the zipper on my jacket and then ripped my shirt out of my pants, yanked it up to my neck. I groaned as she twisted one nipple while she sucked the other one to a hard point.
As weak as she made me, I wanted, needed to share. I pulled her closer and wrestled the buttons on her fly. I slid my hand down, between the rough denim and her soft panties. She was dripping through and I couldn’t wait. I nudged aside the cloth and slipped two fingers in. Then out. Then in again. Her moans were magic. She was so ready for me—so open. And she had me so close—one more stroke. “Not yet,” I panted in her ear.
“Yeah,” she replied, and then she raised the bar by shoving her hand into my pants, not bothering to tease. She delivered long, hard, fast strokes against my dripping clit, while she kissed and nipped at my breasts. I could barely stand, and when the rush of climax crested, I arched from the wall, pulling her tight against my chest. She kissed my neck, sucking hard while I kept up my steady pace of penetration with my fingers, and rubbed her clit with the pad of my thumb. She would come with me. It was imperative.
The hitch in her breath told me she was on the brink, and I plunged in one last time to bring her home. She exploded and took me with her, linked by something far stronger than the physical hold we shared. I held her as she shuddered against me, kissed her hair, her face, her lips.
Finally, we both sagged against the wall. I pulled my shirt down and buttoned my fly. Jess was quiet. I didn’t know what to say either, but the silence seemed dangerous, like the mend we’d just shared was floating away and now a bigger rift was building between us.
I slid my hand into her hers. She didn’t react. She didn’t squeeze my hand. She didn’t pull away. Nothing.
Took me a minute, but I finally realized this, whatever it was, had meant nothing more to her than it ever had.
I slowly pulled myself off the ground. I’d walk funny for a few days, but the memory would be more painful than the soreness. She didn’t even look up at me. Really, was I that much of an embarrassment?
I had to get out of there. Fast. I took two steps and stopped. I had to say something. To at least acknowledge what had just happened, even if she wouldn’t.
I opened my mouth to say something nice, but true to my nature, I protected my own pain with my parting words. “At least you didn’t have to pay me.”
Chapter Ten
Friday morning came way too early.
I rolled out of bed and stiff-walked to the bathroom. I only knew two ways to soothe this kind of pain. Engage in the same exercise or die.
I wasn’t going to be fucking Chance again anytime soon, and dying would mean she’d won. Guess I’d have to run off my pain. I pulled on a pair of sweats I was certain hadn’t been on the floor more than a few days, grabbed my keys and a five dollar bill, and creaked out the door.
Instead of running in my neighborhood, I drove to White Rock Lake and took to the trail. It was as close to nature as I could manage, and for some reason I wanted to pretend I wasn’t in the city.
A mile in, the physical pain subsided some, but I was still angry. How dare Chance start acting all holier than thou? Look at me, I’m in a relationship, but I can fuck my best friend outside of a strip club and act like it means absolutely nothing.
What pissed me off the most was why I even gave a shit. We weren’t a thing, not the kind of thing she seemed to have with Deveaux, anyway. But we’d always had our own thing, undefined, but solid. She was there when I needed to talk, needed help, needed release. She’d always been there. And now she wasn’t.
I could talk to Maggie, I had other friends on the force who could get me out of a jam, and the bars were full of willing women. So if it wasn’t just about her availability, then why did I care so much that she was pulling back?
Because it was Jess. She’d cradled my broken body when I’d made a rookie mistake and gotten myself shot months out of the academy. She’d stood up to the veteran cop who blamed me for the incident. She remembered I liked my coffee black, and she could make me come in sixty seconds or sixty minutes, whichever I needed most. And she always knew what I needed most.
But my needs weren’t her concern anymore. Yesterday, when I’d come to her for help, she was helping Deveaux. She was probably making coffee for Deveaux right now. She’d probably made slow, tender love to her last night after refusing to even hold my hand after we’d fucked.
> I ran harder, trying with each footfall to drive these thoughts from my head. I didn’t want to be this person. This jealous, possessive person. I wasn’t this person, but I couldn’t shake this fear that I was losing her. Was I losing her? And what did that mean?
Intent on my thoughts, I’d barely paid any attention to other runners on the path. When a hooded jogger nudged me, I practically growled.
She didn’t flinch. “You look like you’re in a bad mood.”
I knew that voice. “Good morning, Marshall Collier. Find many fugitives here at the lake?”
“I’m taking the morning off. Looks like you are too.”
“Nope. I’m working.” She pissed me off being here, all sporty in her matching running suit, not even panting. I wanted her to leave me alone.
“Have another jumper on the loose you’d like me to help you catch?”
I hated her cheery voice. “Trust me, help from you isn’t what I need.”
“Uh, oh. I guess your cop friend got you all bent out of shape.”
She had no idea. And neither did I. “What are you talking about?”
“Dr. Heather Deveaux?”
I should’ve had some coffee. My body was awake, but my brain was still on slow-mo. I kept running while the cogs fell into place. Jess had gone running to the doctor yesterday because Deveaux had gotten a visit from the Feds. Jess had been mad at me, like it was my fault the FBI was on Deveaux’s tail. Why was that? Then I remembered my little game with the Feds the other day. I’d only been joking around when I’d taken pictures of her car. Had my tail turned their focus on her because of my stunt? Was there really a connection?
I was curious, but not enough to get involved. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She grabbed my arm, but I wrestled away. She wasn’t giving up so easy. “Luca, you want to tell me how you know the doctor?”
I stopped and walked off the path. She followed. I crossed my arms. I might not be able to shake her, but I didn’t have to have this conversation. “I don’t.”
