Jamie Hill Triple Threat (32 page)

Jack grinned. “Oh, and I talked to your friend Mike with the security systems company. I’m going to go to work for him in January.”

“No kidding?” Brady shook Jack’s hand. “You’re really going to do it? You’ve made up your mind?”

“Yes,”
Crystal
spoke for Jack. “They don’t appreciate him at the WPD. I want him to work someplace where he’s respected and admired, as he should be.”

Brady shook his head. “Oh man, they’re respecting him all over the place now. He’s the golden boy after that coup he pulled off. Didn’t he tell you? They offered him a promotion, and everyone’s tripping all over each other to get to be his partner.”

Crystal
gave Jack a look of concern. “No, he didn’t tell me.”

Jack smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my decision. We’re going on our honeymoon, and then we’re going to spend a few weeks enjoying the holidays and getting used to being a family.” He glanced at the boys and said to Brady, “We’ve had a few therapy sessions. I’m sure we’ll have a few more. It’s an adjustment period for everybody. Come January the boys will start their new school and I’ll start my new job.”

Brady nodded and smiled at Jack, then Crystal. “And what about you? What are you going to be doing in January?”

She glanced at Jack and rubbed a hand over her stomach as she smiled up at Brady. “Hopefully getting morning sickness, if things go the way we’d like.”

Brady’s mouth dropped open but he didn’t have time to comment as the judge entered the room. “Jack Dunlevy and Crystal Cartwright?”

“Yes sir,” Jack told the white-haired judge.

Crystal
guessed him to be about seventy. She hoped he still remembered the ceremony.

“Cartwright, eh?” the judge looked at her. “Any relation to Hoss and Little Joe?”

Crystal
smiled and rolled her eyes at Jack as he started to laugh. “No, Your Honor,” she said politely. To Jack, she muttered, “I am
so
ready to get rid of that name!”

“Ready to become Mrs. Dunlevy?” Her husband-to-be grinned at her.

“Very ready.”

Mark and
Devon
stepped up next to them. “We want to become Dunlevys too,” Mark said.

The judge looked at them over his glasses. “Oh yes, I have adoption papers here, for one Mark Edward Dunlevy and one Devon Stuart Dunlevy. I assume you would be them.”

“Yes sir,” Mark answered politely.

“Yes sir,”
Devon
repeated.

The judge looked at Jack and Crystal. “You know the name change becomes effective today, but the adoption isn’t official until the six-month waiting period expires.”

“We understand,” Jack told him, and squeezed
Crystal
’s hand.

Devon
stepped up and spoke to the judge out of the corner of his mouth. “We just want the name change.”

Everyone laughed, and
Crystal
kissed the tops of both boys’ heads. She smiled at Jack, and her eyes twinkled as she looked at the judge. “So do I! Can we get started?”

~ The End ~

Family Ties

Dedication

To Jude Mason for your unwavering support and friendship!

Chapter One

Judging by the smell of the bloated body, it'd been lying in the alley for at least a day. Brady Marshall stepped around a stack of trash cans and squatted next to the corpse. He held his fingertips to the pulse points in the man's neck. As expected, there was no pulse. The gesture was a formality done for the benefit of the crowd gathered outside the Pink Banana Club. "Did anyone call 911?"

"I did." The petite blonde waitress, whose terrified screams had summoned him moments before, stepped forward. "Aren't you a cop?"

"Yeah." Brady stood up and glanced around the alley. "But I'm not a homicide cop."

"Homicide?" The woman repeated.

Her boss moved up behind her. "He's a
vice
cop." The club owner didn't hide the disgust in his voice. He screwed up his face, making the pock marks stand out more prominent.

Brady flashed a personable smile and raised his hands. "Just here for a couple of drinks,
Warren
. I'm not looking for trouble."

Warren Clifton snickered and shook his head at the dead body. "Trouble has a way of finding
you
, Marshall."

"What a thing to say!" Brady feigned indignation. "That hurts,
Warren
, it really does. What do you think about getting these nice people back inside the club, and I'll wait out here until someone comes to take over the scene?"

"Yeah, all right."
Warren
ushered the gawkers back into the building. He looked at Brady one last time, muttering, "Can we try to keep this out of the club, Marshall?"

Brady lit a cigarette and shrugged as he blew a puff of smoke into the air. "Not my case, man. I'll put in a good word for you, but there'll be questions."

"I know." Obviously irritated,
Warren
tossed one last look at the body and stepped inside.

Watching him go, Brady thought about the club owner for a moment.
Warren
was a decent guy. He ran a clean establishment, seemed to treat his help respectably and didn't have many run-ins with Brady's section of the law. There were plenty of clubs in town whose owners couldn't say the same. It was one reason he chose to frequent the Pink Banana on his occasional evening off.

Wailing sirens pierced the air. They brought his attention back to the body on the ground in front of him. He didn't have much information to pass along, but he'd tell them what he knew. He wanted to head back inside, finish his drink and catch a little more of the show.

Two cars, their red lights flashing, pulled into the alley, one a marked police car and one unmarked. Brady took one last drag, before dropping his cigarette and crushing it under the toe of his boot. He approached the unmarked car and smiled at the tall, buxom brunette who emerged. "Hey, Mel. Looks like your lucky night."

Detective Melanie Curtis glanced at him before she sought out the body. "What are you doing here,
Marshall
?"

"Having a drink. A waitress took out the trash and hollered when she found our friend, here. I had her call it in, and said I'd stay with the scene until you showed."

"What's it look like?" The detective took a step closer to the corpse. "A bum, a drunk?"

Brady shrugged. "Dressed pretty nice to be a bum, but he doesn't smell so great. I didn't touch anything other than checking for a pulse on his neck, but I believe I detected a small bullet hole in front of his left ear."

Curtis dropped to one knee and peered at the body. "Son-of-a-bitch! So much for getting home at a decent hour." She looked up at one of the uniformed officers awaiting her orders. "Cordon off the area and start searching the alley." To the other uniform she said, "Get the medical examiner over here. You'll need to knock on the doors of surrounding businesses and take statements. See if anybody saw or heard anything. Find out the last time anyone from the club was out here." She looked at Brady. "You're welcome to stay and help."

He grinned at her and shook his head. "No, thanks. It's my night off, and I've had a couple drinks." He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. Mel was a good looking woman, though she usually wore nondescript, dark pant suits when she worked. She kept her thick brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

Brady had worked several cases with her, and they were friends, nothing more. She sometimes gave him the feeling she'd be interested in pursuing a relationship, but he'd never thought office romances were a good idea. He faced the door to the club. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a couple more drinks."

"Thanks for nothing,
Marshall
," Curtis called after him.

Brady didn't turn around, just waved as he walked back inside the club. He felt a twinge of guilt, but it was unnecessary. Off duty and drinking, he had no business working a case. "Speaking of drinking," he muttered to himself, noticing his clean, empty table. There was a brand new bourbon and seven in front of him before that waitress—
what was her name?—
Julie, that was it, before Julie discovered drop-dead Fred in the alley. He scanned the room, but Julie was nowhere in sight.

"Excuse me." He reached for the arm of another waitress.

The dark-haired woman whirled around angrily, jerking away from his grasp. "What's your problem, buddy?" Fury sparked from her shiny brown eyes.

Brady was floored. He'd never seen such an attractive combination of goddess and hellcat as the woman standing before him. She was tall, just an inch or two shorter than his six-two build. Her curly black hair, fair skin and rose-colored lips reminded him of a gypsy princess. But the scorching look she flashed made him think she might deck him at any moment. "Whoa!" He lifted his hands. "No problem, really, other than I left the table for a few minutes and my drink disappeared."

She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. "You a cop?"

"Is it stamped on my forehead, or something?" He tried to flash her one of his patented smiles but she continued to glower.

"Yeah, actually it is." She took a step closer. "Oh, sorry, that says 'asshole', not 'cop'."

Brady crossed his arms and looked at her patiently. He realized waitresses in places like this, must get groped and hit on regularly, especially ones who looked like her. "I'm sorry I grabbed you. I didn't mean anything by it."

She stared at him another moment, then licked her thumb and ran it across his forehead. "Well, I'm sorry, too. That was a smudge. Maybe it didn't say 'asshole' after all."

Brady laughed and the woman's lips curved up, seemingly against her wishes. She was pretty when she scowled, but she was a knockout when she let herself smile.

He tried to compose himself. "I haven't seen you here before."

She rolled her eyes. "Wow, that's original. Want to know how many times I've heard that line?"

He grinned. "It's not a line, it's an observation."

Nodding slowly, she added, "I've only been working here about a week."

"Name's Marshall, Brady
Marshall
." For some reason he stammered, and the realization bothered him. He paused to take a calming breath. "Brady."

"I don't think we'll be friendly enough to be on a first name basis, officer."

"Detective," he corrected. "I don't see why not. I'm a regular here. Your friends can tell you I'm a decent guy."

She shrugged. "I don't have many friends in this place, Detective. Come on, where would you like to sit? Up front by the stage?"

"Back here is fine." He snagged a table closer to the bar than the stage and swung his leg over a chair.

She stopped and looked at him. "You can see the show better up front. There are plenty of tables."

"This is fine." Brady leaned his chair back so it touched the wall. "So what do the friends
you do have
call you?"

She finally allowed a smile. "Gina."

"Gina," he repeated and nodded. The name suited her. Tiny butterflies fluttered around in his gut and he tried to ignore them.

"What were you drinking, Detective? I'm afraid I tossed your first drink when I came on shift. I'll get you another, on the house."

"Well, it wasn't my
first
drink. But I'll take bourbon and seven when you get back around."

"Anything to eat?"

"Not now, thanks."

"Be right back." Gina walked off toward the bar and Brady watched her go. She was definitely the most interesting woman he'd run across in a long time. Something about her intrigued him, in ways he wasn't sure he understood. The beginnings of an erection tented his trousers and Brady shifted in his chair.
That
he understood.