A Taste For Danger
A Taste for Danger
Chasing the Taste, Book 2
H.K. Sterling
Breathless Press
Calgary, Alberta
www.breathlesspress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Taste for Danger
Copyright © 2014 H.K. Sterling
ISBN: 978-1-77101-273-7
Cover Artist: Angelique Anderson
Editor: Leona Bushman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Angelique Anderson for her cover art, and thank you especially to Leona Bushman.
Chapter One
Like so many potato chips, Jack Heart had indulged in a spree of blondes, trying to forget the taste of filet. They reminded him of bad memories; yet somehow he took comfort in them. To tell the truth, he was feeling his age.
His filet had been Carolyn Woods, on and off again lover and fellow detective. Only, last year he had ruined it for good. And the doll he ruined it with turned out to be the killer in the case they were both working on.
Can’t get much more ironic than that.
He couldn’t blame the kid. He messed up, and she ran into the perfect man.
How perfectly timed
. He took another swig of scotch.
“Ahhhgh,” he mumbled and pushed the glass in front of him away. He’d had enough. Enough to know that another trip down memory lane wouldn’t end well.
She’s better off without me. I’m ten years older and a hundred more weary.
Carolyn was still young, although her profession made her tough. Jack grudgingly admitted to himself that she had found a good guy.
He and Carolyn stayed in touch still, occasionally. Cases and all. Leads and informants. They were bound to run into each other once in a while. She was still with Evan, the handsome architect she met on the last case.
Our last case together.
He heard they were living together now
. Good for her.
Jack rose from the dining chair in his dimly lit apartment, knees creaking, and fell onto the couch. He rarely made it to the bedroom unless putting the moves on a woman. Most nights, he fell asleep in front of the T.V. Half the time he left cigarettes burning in ashtrays by his side. Sometimes a bottle of scotch or Jim Beam rested on the table. Jack knew he’d devolved into a mess, but lacked motivation for any change.
He managed to clean up well enough when he wanted a woman. Then for one night he could pretend that he was still the rising star. The dashing detective he had once been. Too many tawdry nights though and he felt like a creep. A sorry state of affairs. His professional skills lacked the edge he once exhibited as well. Less and less clients called. He didn’t really care. He was up ‘til 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. watching reruns, dozing on and off, in an alcoholic stupor. Too late to meet with clients early the next day. Like a marble spiraling down the drain, Jack Heart lived on the fringe.
At home tonight, as he often was unless squiring some woman, he foresaw no better future in store. Jack preferred loneliness to the rituals of society. Only in his work did he tolerate others and there, often, he was gregarious—one of the boys. Every cop knew him, and he and other detectives traded stories over drinks. Now he didn’t even have any cases to bullshit about, and he refused to become one of those sad old-timers, reliving the past as if anyone still cared.
One Wednesday, he dozed on and off, snoring on the couch like every other night; only it was just 6:00 p.m. Then the phone rang, and in one minute, everything changed. The caller’s name was Tom, an acquaintance from the old days. Jack barely knew him. A friend of a friend and all that. Tom, however, apparently remembered him.
“Jack, buddy, how’s it hanging!” blasted over the phone.
“Low and to the right,” Jack deadpanned.
Tom must not have heard about my “decline”
Tom got straight to the point. “I have an opportunity, and you’re the first person I thought of.”
“Really?” Jack could think of about a thousand people that would cross his own mind before Tom. But hey, que cera cera.
“Hell, boy, you sound like shit. Are you ok?”
“Fighting off a cold,” Jack lied.
“Ah yeah, the wife’s got one of those as well. Anyway, I have a proposition for you.”
“Really?” he asked again. He couldn’t think of anything to say to this guy.
“Yes, really. Do you think you could take a meeting tomorrow? I’ll explain everything then.”
“Just a second, let me look at my calendar.” Jack walked to his kitchen, opened his fridge, and smelled the carton of last week’s carry-out.
Nope. Gone bad.
He tossed the rancid dinner in the trash. Avoiding a morning appointment, Jack said, “I’m free tomorrow in the afternoon. What time did you want?”
“How about 1:00 pm?” suggested Tom.
“Sounds good.” Tom gave him an address then the two men hung up. Jack looked in his closet for clean clothes. Lots of hardly worn suits left. Yeah, he could make the meeting. He reminded himself he would have to shave the week-long stubble off his face. Then he threw himself on the couch again, careful not to drink anymore, and went to sleep.
Chapter Two
Jack arrived to a swanky building in the middle of the city. Tenants in this building had lots of capital and wanted everyone to know it. Marble floors, marble counters, and deep Mahogany wood filled the lobby. The walls were rich with tapestry cloth in ornate designs. Glad he wore a suit, Jack tried to blend in. An elderly security guard sat behind a marble counter area cornered off with red velvet queues. When he looked around, the security guard motioned him toward the elevators where he found the suite designation sign. The suite number he’d been given was on one of the highest floors. He took an express elevator up that skipped all the lower floors.
The suite belonged to Devonshire, Inc. Jack had heard of them. Everyone in the world had heard of them. They were a centuries old foundation known for insurance and risk management. Old money. Now he understood the building, but what the hell did Tom need him for? He doubted Tom remembered much about him either.
He made his way up to the fortieth floor. Devonshire, Inc. apparently leased the entire floor. . He found himself in another lobby. Smaller, but just as swanky. An effervescent secretary smiled at him.
“I’m here for a 1:00 meeting with Tom...”
Um shit, I don’t know his last name.
Jack paused.
“Are you Jack Heart?” The secretary asked, then smiled again behind her custom-made
Parnian
counter desk.
“Yes.”
The secretary rang someone on her phone. A minute later out stomped a strapping, beefy man with red cheeks and hands. “Jack! Good to see you again.”
Jack had no memory of this man. He reminded Jack of W.C. Fields. “Nice to see you again too,” said Jack, shaking hands.
Tom led him into an opulent office with a tufted couch, a mahogany conference table with high back chairs, a few more tufted chairs at the desk, and a picturesque view forty stories high. The rotund man took his seat behind the desk and gestured for Jack to sit down. On the desk sat a brass nameplate that said,
Tom Stokes,
and underneath,
Deputy Vice-President.
Jack settled into one of the decidedly expensive, yet surprisingly uncomfortable, chairs.
“If I know you, Jack, I’ll bet you want to get right to it!” The man almost bellowed when he spoke. Jack pictured him on a ranch in Texas, barbequing ribs on the spit. He seemed the type.
“Sure,” said Jack.
“That’s what I thought. All those niceties and games are for other people, not for straight-shooters like us, eh Jack?”
“Absolutely,” answered Jack, convinced he was sitting in front of one of the biggest bull-shitters of all time.
“Oh, hold on a sec.” Tom made a grand production of getting up to close the office door, even looking down the hall each way before he did so.
“What can I do for you?” asked Jack, after he returned to his seat, which was a large, Italian, high-back leather chair with brass wheels.
Would probably pay my rent for six months.
“It’s what we can do for each other,” exclaimed Tom. His eyes gleamed and he looked at Jack as if he wanted to eat him.
“I’m listening.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “I’m just not sure what a Deputy Vice- President needs from me?”
Tom pshawed the question away with a wave of his hand. “Our firm has dozens of divisions and dozens of Deputies and Vice Presidents.” Then he leaned forward over the desk as if to bring Jack in confidentially. “We’re having some in-house problems. We’d like to bring you on as a member of the team.”
“You want to hire me as an employee?” asked Jack, startled. Client cases were drying up, and it had been years since he’d been given a full-time job offer.
“Yes. Like I said, we’ve been having some in-house problems, and although we already have a loss-prevention branch here for certain things, the problems aren’t going away. So we figured it might be best to bring in someone from the outside. You came with high recommendations.”
Jack wondered whom Tom talked to. Someone still had his back, and for that, he was grateful. Before saying anything, he asked the same question he always asked when offered employment of any type: “What’s the job?”
“It’s one of the best opportunities you’ll ever get, if I do say so myself,” said Tom. He scrunched his shoulders over the desk. “At first you simply need to fit in. You know...get to know everybody. Then start nosing around some. I know you have a nose for trouble. You’re one of the best detectives out there. That’s why we’re not offering you a contract or a single case. We want to bring you on board as part of our team. Look out for our interests.”
“I see,” said Jack. “But what am I looking for?”
“I can’t tell you that until you accept the job and sign the privacy agreements,” said Tom. “Let’s just say a little house-cleaning may be in order, and leave it at that.”
“I would report to you?”
“You’ll be part of the loss-prevention team. They have a supervisor. But you’ll update me on what you find. It’s a very good opportunity. Before you answer, take a look at the salary and benefits.” He handed Jack a few official-looking papers.
They included a job description, which Jack guessed was for show, benefits galore, and a salary that was more than he made in the last two years. Tom was giving him the hard sell. Something must really be wrong. Jack still couldn’t believe he was actually sitting here.
The big man was done. “Take those with you and think it over. If you’re game—and you’d be crazy not to be— call me at the number I wrote on the bottom, and I’ll set everything up for you. Got it?”
“Got it. Thanks for this opportunity.”
“Hey, we only want the best,” Tom declared with his bullhorn voice. He stood up. Jack took the cue and stood also, walking to the office door. “Look forward to hearing from you,” bellowed Tom again as Jack stepped into the hallway.
Jack took the papers and headed toward the nearest bar. He had a lot to think about. Three scotches and half a ballgame later, he decided he would take the job. It was probably too good to be true, but he’d find out soon enough. In the meantime, he could use the salary. Heading home he considered it lucky that he never wore his suits. They hung pristine in his closet. This didn’t seem like a casual wear kind of job.
He called the number Tom gave him. It was around 5:00 pm now, but Tom was still in the office. He roared his congratulations over the phone and gave Jack an address to show up to the next day. No time for dilly-dallying. That was fine with Jack. It wasn’t like he had a heavy calendar.
Chapter Three
Jack arrived bleary-eyed the next morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp. This building sat in a different part of town with lots of warehouses and industrial complexes nearby. The place itself was nice enough, though not swanky like Tom’s, and it sat in the middle of the business district. This building had ten stories and a broken elevator. Two others still worked. Jack hopped on one of the working lifts and rode up to the seventh floor to find that Devonshire occupied the entire level, only these suites lay behind locked doors. Cipher locks on the doors and Aiphones at each entrance. Jack had been to government facilities before. He knew someone inside currently stared at him through the camera next to the phone.
High tech. What are these people into?
He picked up the phone and someone on the inside buzzed him in. He guessed he’d chosen the correct door.
