Ruthless (7 page)

Your sergeant is quite hot, Jess. I bet he’d be a handful. Maybe I’ll find out.

Terror exploded in her veins but the white-hot fury that immediately descended won out. Her hands shook with the urge to send Spears a message for him to go to hell or something equally clever… but that was what he wanted. He wanted her to react.

She threw her phone on the sofa. “I’m not playing anymore, Spears.”

All she needed was one more shot at getting close to him, and then he wouldn’t be playing anymore, either.

Wednesday, August 18, 7:31 a.m.

J
ess sat on the toilet and stared at the spotless panty liner.

“Start, damn it.”

Since her last pill packet had gotten screwed up she couldn’t pinpoint with any certainty what day this was in the oh-my-God zone, but at least day three. Maybe four. Each day that passed pushed her closer to a certainty she was in no way prepared to acknowledge this morning.

“Fine.” She went to the sink to wash her hands. “It won’t be the end of the world,” she told the woman in the mirror with the raccoon eyes and the new wrinkles that weren’t there yesterday. “Lil managed to get two kids through high school. How hard could one be?”

Agony or desperation or something on that order groaned out of her. If only it was that easy. But it wasn’t. Not at all. Lil had her husband. Jess… oh God. She groaned. She had Dan, no question. He loved her and she loved him but… they weren’t ready for this. They were
just now taking baby steps in their relationship. They were miles away from this milestone.

How did she tell him? Would he really be as prepared as he’d looked on Sunday at his niece’s christening? Looking all starry-eyed while holding someone else’s baby was entirely different from staring in the face the fact that a baby with your name stamped in its DNA was on the way.

“Just stop.” She braced her hands on the sink. There was no need to say anything yet. They both needed to be focused on work right now. Besides, she didn’t even know for sure. Finding out one way or the other would be easy enough. All she needed was an at-home test.

Jess stared at her reflection and tried to breathe past the surge of anxiety that jammed into her throat. If she didn’t take a test she didn’t have to face what came next… just yet. It would actually be easier to get through the rest of the week, particularly with two cases hanging over her head—three, if she counted Captain Allen still being MIA—without having to deal with anything else.

However it turned out, she could do it. What woman didn’t want to be sitting at her child’s high school graduation when she was sixty? Jess shuddered. “Don’t think about it.”

Period or not, she had to get to work. She ran the brush through her hair. Harper would be here before she was ready, and explaining to him that she might have managed to be on time if she hadn’t been so busy bemoaning the absence of her monthly visitor was not an acceptable excuse.

“Ha.” If she mentioned anything related to menses he’d probably rush back home and send Lori to pick her up. Bring up tampons or anything remotely related to the
subject, and the strongest tough guys were out the door. Men were wimps when it came to discussing the female reproductive system.

And yet from puberty until the day they died it remained their top priority.

Jess sighed. If she were completely honest with herself, men—the good ones and the bad ones—were the bane of her existence. There was Dan and her ex Wesley and Spears and this Man in the Moon. And the missing Captain Allen along with his pal drug kingpin, Leonardo Lopez. She was miss popular when it came to man troubles, it seemed.

Then again, if she didn’t stop thinking like that she might just end up single and alone the rest of her life. Her favorite high school teacher, Frances Wallace, had warned her about thinking she didn’t need anyone else. Sometimes it was best to let someone else be the strong one.

“Enough with the psychoanalysis this morning.” She tossed the brush onto the sink as she reached for her freshly laundered dress. The brush hit the floor and skidded across the vintage black-and-white tile, taking the toothpaste and mascara with it.

“Damn it!” She forgot the dry cleaner’s plastic over her dress and reached for the junk scattered on the floor.

“That’s what happens when you hit the snooze button twice, Jessie Lee.” Frustration wiring her nerves, she jammed the toothpaste and the brush behind the faucet to prevent it from going off the edge of the pedestal sink yet again. “And then linger too long in the bathroom as if sheer force of will would garner a little cooperation from your womb.”

She scrambled past the toilet in search of the runaway mascara. “Get over it,” she muttered. She’d been through
a lot these last few weeks. Changing careers… moving back home. Stress screwed up periods all the time. She was overreacting in a big way.

“Gotcha.” She nabbed the mascara and braced to push up from the floor. Something dark and round near the baseboard between the toilet and the claw foot tub captured her attention. Had she dropped something else?

She touched the object but it wasn’t a thing… it was a tiny hole in the floor. Leaning closer she tried to get a better look. She needed her glasses.

Pushing back from her knees to her feet, she stood and padded to the table where her bag waited. She dug through the mass of notes and junk to unearth the eyewear that appeared to be more and more necessary to daily life.

She jammed them on her face and hurried back to the bathroom. On her hands and knees, she peered at the spot. Definitely a hole. Perfectly round. No matter how close she stuck her face to the floor, she couldn’t see if the hole went all the way through to the garage below or not. Maybe the plumber had made the hole with one of those special drill bits. It wasn’t that far from the water supply line which also came up through the floor.

“Nothing a little caulk won’t fix.”

Something else to ask her landlord about… or maybe she’d just pick up some caulk and take care of it herself. Dear old Mr. Louis had already hired an electrician to accommodate her hair dryer. No need to bother him with this. She crumpled and rolled a square of toilet paper into a little ball and chunked it in the hole.

“That works for now.” She dusted off her hands and went back to the business of removing her dress from the dry cleaner’s plastic.

She slipped into the blue double-breasted button-down and belted the waist with her favorite wide leather belt, which matched her black Mary Jane pumps. As she cinched the leather, the idea that her waist could be expanding even now made her flinch. She swallowed back a new gob of emotions trying to clog her throat.

The warning that she had company and the inevitable rap on her door saved her from going down that depressing road all over again. She pulled her hair free of her collar, straightened her lapels, and grabbed her shoes. She dragged on one and then the other as she made her way to the door.

She’d unsecured the dead bolt when that little voice she ignored more often than not warned her to check the monitor.

Annoyed with herself and the situation, Jess strode over to the monitor sitting atop the fridge. With her apartment being just one big room, table and counter space were a premium. Harper was supposed to be picking her up, and there was a cop outside watching her place. Both of which were irrelevant. She knew this. Spears was too clever for her to pretend he might not devise a way to get to her.

The face staring back at her on the monitor took her by surprise. Not Harper.

“What in the world?”

Ignoring the straps of her shoes she’d yet to fasten, she stamped back to the door, unlocked and opened it. “Mr. Louis, is everything all right?”

With her luck he was here to kick her out. The hole in her bathroom floor flitted through her mind, but she dismissed it. What sane human wanted a tenant in their backyard who came with her own personal police stakeout?
She wasn’t about to complain about something as trivial as a little bitty hole.

He stared at her from beyond those thick-lensed glasses of his. “Everything’s fine. I just came over to say good morning.” His lips lifted into a small, bashful smile.

Who was she kidding? George Louis was far too nice to even ponder the concept of kicking her out. The man was always doing something to help her out. The lovely antique glider on the landing outside her door… the sensor on the porch light that ensured it came on at dark.

He was truly a very nice man. And she was so, so late this morning.

As if the universe wanted to kick her stress level a little higher, Mr. Louis presented her with a brown bag—the ones some folks still used for their lunches. “I was in the mood for home cooking this morning. Home-ground sausage and biscuits—my sister’s special recipe.”

Before she could say a word, he added, “There’s enough for you and the young fellow who picks you up. I’ve already given the gentleman outside a sack full with coffee. I think I have a fan for life now.”

Jess somehow kept her smile in place. How could she not? “You are too kind, Mr. Louis.”

“George,” he reminded. “You’re supposed to call me George.”

“George, thank you so much.” The alarm warning of yet another arrival chimed. “That’s probably my ride now.”

He nodded. “Enjoy your day.”

“Thank you again, George,” she called after him.

While he and Harper exchanged greetings as they passed on the stairs, Jess fastened her shoe straps.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Good morning, Sergeant.” As Harper closed in on the door Jess shoved the brown bag at him. She had no appetite. “Let me get my bag and keys and I’m ready to go.” She and Harper had to talk about that text she received last night.

“What’s this?”

“My landlord made you breakfast.” She grabbed her keys and slung her bag onto her shoulder as she hurried to the door. “He called you a young fellow.”

Harper grunted. “Smells good.”

After locking up, Jess headed for the stairs. “I’m sure it is.” The barbecue she’d had with him last week had been the best she’d ever eaten.

In the driveway she hailed a good morning to the officer sitting in his car with a biscuit in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

What was she going to do with George Louis? She couldn’t decide if he was getting too attached, was extra nosy, or plain old lonely.

You have spent too much time with the depraved, Jess. Some people are just nice.

Jess thanked the officer before settling into the passenger seat of Harper’s SUV. Her stomach felt weird. Not quite nauseated… just unsettled. Didn’t mean a thing, she assured that little whiny voice that wasn’t prepared for motherhood. Could be that pizza she had last night.

They were scarcely a block away when Harper groaned in pleasure. “The old man makes a killer biscuit.” He chewed some more. “The sausage is…
wow
. Did you eat one of these?”

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“That’s a shame. This is…”

He made another pleasurable sound that explained his feelings, Jess decided, far better than the words that might have completed his statement. Next he’d be expecting Lori to whip up biscuits from scratch. Oh yes, and to grind their sausage. That was what Publix was for, to Jess’s way of thinking.

She dug out her phone and checked her calendar for the day. Dan and his PR guy, Trent Ward, who was back from parental leave—was everybody having babies?—were taking care of any media issues so Jess and her team could focus on the case. She assumed that was more about keeping her out of the limelight than anything. Suited her just fine.

Despite being disappointed he wasn’t assigned the Man in the Moon case, Deputy Chief Black had agreed to be available for consultation if Jess needed him; otherwise, he remained focused on coordinating the BPD’s resources with the Bureau in support of the Spears investigation and overseeing the Allen case.

The rustling bag drew her attention back to Harper, who was struggling to dig out another biscuit.

“Here, let me do that.”
Before you run us off the road,
she kept to herself. She opened the bag and reached inside. There were three more biscuits in there. How much did the man think they could eat? She unwrapped the foil from one of the biscuits and handed it to Harper.