Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1) (14 page)

Jack

Max made it home safe and sound, but Doctor Boy is not, nor will he ever be, off my ‘Not Good Enough for Max’ watch list. Unlike many people, I don’t judge by outward appearances. I’ve seen firsthand what goes on behind the closed doors of society’s elite. It’s taught me that depravity has nothing to do with social status. Instead, it festers in the murderous souls of those who prey on the weak. Max is not weak, not by a long shot. But my years as a detective have made me a very cautious man, and I look out for my own.

Urban Elite is off to a strong start. Any worries I had early on about not being challenged were unfounded. Looks like we’ll have no shortage of criminal cases to investigate, but such is our world nowadays. No longer am I held back by the rules and regulations of the police department. Sure, I’ll abide by the laws that I’ve spent a lifetime preserving, but I fully intend to enjoy a certain…procedural flexibility…when the chips are down. If I want to choke the evil truth out of the fuckers who prey on the defenseless, I have that option now—especially when it concerns looking out for one of my employees. When you understand how predators use the system to their advantage, it changes the rules of the game. I just need to find that line in the sand so I don’t go too far and somehow jeopardize the dream I’m trying to bring to fruition.

My ultimate goal is what it’s always been: to protect those who can’t protect themselves. By launching Urban Elite, I’ve simply taken it upon myself to level the playing field and inject some positive energy into the urban landscape. My own brand of urban renewal, I guess.

The crew I’ll soon be training will be young and inexperienced. They have no idea how the ugly roots of cruelty and sadism wind around the heart of a serial killer, choking out any humanity they may have once possessed.

Our serial killer could be the guy in the next cubicle at work or the neighbor who loves to gossip at the fence. Monsters don’t come with a sign around their neck warning society of who they really are. And they don’t hide in our closets or under our beds, either. They walk among us doing what they do best: blending in. They may come in different shapes and sizes, but they always come…

Max

I want some comfortable clothes and a glass of wine, and not necessarily in that order. I really enjoyed tonight and as charming as the doctor is, I’m still trying to decide how I feel about him kissing me goodnight. He’s hot, and he’s most definitely sexy, but what I want are answers to my questions, not a man. It was a good first kiss, no doubt about it. I’m just not sure if I want a second one.

I approach the mirror and lift my fingers to remove my pearls. My fingers flutter around my neck, trying to deny what my eyes can clearly see. Panic sweeps through me. They aren’t there. Son of a bitch! I unzip my dress, ripping and tearing at my clothing like a mad woman, hoping against hope those pearls have somehow fallen down in my under garments and hung on by some miracle. A sea of emotions coupled with questions flood over me as I try to think where I could have lost them. Myriad tumultuous emotions combine to make rational thought impossible.

I throw on some yoga pants and an old t-shirt. I’m pulling my hair into a ponytail as I race toward the door. I grab a denim jacket and slip my feet into flip-flops even though the night is really too chilly for them. No way am I taking the time to put on tennis shoes. Once I’m safely in my Kia, I peel out of the parking lot and will the gate to hurry the fuck up and open.

Those pearls are priceless. I somehow resist running the red lights that seem to be working against me. Even though the restaurant is only blocks away it feels like it takes forever. I think to call Liam’s cell number. Maybe he’ll remember if I was still wearing the necklace when he walked me to my car. No luck, though – he’s, of course, concerned when I tell him they’re gone, but can’t remember if I was wearing them or not when we said goodnight.
Nice to know he was paying attention. Dammit.

I slide into the parking lot, almost hitting another car. The Kia has barely come to a complete stop when I jump out and start running. Panic courses through me, stealing my breath as I think about losing the last thing my mother gave me before she died.
I will not cry. I will not fucking cry.

I brush past people, practically storming the hostess podium as I fight back tears. The hostess is looking at me as if she doesn’t recognize me and the words that tumble from my mouth sound foreign to my own ears.

“I was just here. I had on a black dress.”

“Um…” It takes a moment for her to remember me as she looks me up and down, no doubt wondering why a frantic, bedraggled woman is demanding her attention. After all, the restaurant is packed and I’m sure she’s seen so many people tonight they all begin to blend together. At last, recognition sparks in her eyes and I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Maybe all isn’t lost.

“I lost a set of pearls, I think they might be here somewhere. They’re a family heirloom. Has anyone returned them?”

Her immediately skeptical expression slowly shifts to downright pity as she considers me. Finally, she gives in. “Let me call the manager.”

As she speaks quietly into the phone, hope soars in my heart at the possibility of running my fingers over them again. Surely in an upper echelon establishment like this, someone would have done the right thing and turned them in to the manager. Wouldn’t they?

A man approaches from the back of the restaurant, clearly heading our way.

“Please, has anybody returned a set of pearls? I wore them earlier and when I got home they weren’t around my neck. They’re a family heirloom,” I repeat, as if the information will make someone reconsider if they were somehow tempted to pocket them.

“I’m sorry, miss, I’m afraid not. I’ll talk to my employees and have them keep an eye out for them as they clean up tonight after closing. You can leave your address with the hostess and if we find them or someone turns them in, we’ll call you right away.”

I reach in my purse and toss a business card on the hostess podium as I turn and race out into the parking lot. Maybe they fell off and I didn’t notice. I burst through the door and run right into the massive chest of my boss, who immediately places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me out of the doorway and onto the sidewalk.

“Max, what on earth is going on?”

Sobs escape me as I try to speak. I believe Oprah would call this ‘ugly crying’.

“I l-I lost my…my mother’s pearls. Oh, God, Jack, they’re the last thing she gave me before she died…

His Plunder

I can practically smell the panic seeping out from her pores as the beautiful scene of angst unfolds before my eyes. I can see her but no one ever sees me. I’m hiding in the best place a person can hide, right out in the open.

My dick stiffens as I finger the pearls. She’s so very pretty, but that isn’t what excites me. She’s sobbing, beating on the man’s chest in between panicked attempts to find the very thing I’m holding in my hands. I roll the pearls between my fingers and smile as I rub them against the crotch of my jeans. I think I could come just from the thought of how good they’re going to feel wrapped around my dick.

My Max certainly has every reason to be upset because, really, this is all her fault. She pushed me to do it. I asked her very nicely to contact me and she ignored me. Fucking ignored me, just like all of these people do when I walk the streets at night, hunting. Always hunting.

I can’t resist tugging at my hoodie, pulling it down over my face as I cross the street. I shuffle down the sidewalk toward her with the pearls concealed in my hand. I stroll on by, close enough to bask in the sound of her weeping and his low murmurs as she’s comforted by her hero.

Neither of them knows it yet, but he can’t save her. No one can, except me…