Terry’s office door is closed, which offers another clue. “Spill it, lady,” I say to Brenda.
“He’s in there with his attorney.” She points toward Terry’s door.
I’m stunned. “Attorney at Law Terry the Fairy has an attorney?”
Her grin widens at the use of Terry’s nickname. She has worked for Terry for more than ten years. I like her, even though she carries true affection for Terry. In my opinion, he doesn’t deserve her. This, however, does not mean she lacks a sense of humor. “Apparently, he took the wrong woman for a ride and she’s filed a lawsuit and made a complaint to the state bar.”
I don’t like Terry, but I’ve never heard that he forces women. A lawsuit means she wants money. Now, I get the humor. Filing a lawsuit for something outrageous is something Terry would do. Today, he’s getting back some of his own medicine.
“I’m dying to ask what he did, but I’m almost afraid.”
She bites her lip before releasing it and replies, “I’m horrible for even smiling.” She laughs into her hand. “He dropped her.”
It takes a moment for her meaning to sink in. Terry’s thing is plowing women against an outside wall. “Come again.”
“He dropped her on her ass while doing the vertical.”
I’m only able to hold back my laughter because I hear Terry’s office door open. A professionally dressed woman enters the hallway.
“I’ll be in touch later this week,” she says as she walks into the lobby and turns her attention to me and Brenda. She simply nods and leaves the office. Brenda presses the phone system’s intercom and announces my presence. Terry sticks his head into the hallway three seconds later.
“And to what do we owe this great honor that you’ve graced us with your presence?” That’s Terry—a wiseass, a creep, and a great defense attorney who speaks his greeting to my tits.
“My cupboards are bare and I’m hungry.”
He doesn’t look up. “Good, because you won’t like the case I need you for. Step into my office and I’ll go over the details.” He turns to Brenda. “Bring the Connor file in, please.”
I follow Terry into his office and take a seat at his massive cherry oak desk. His office is large and showy. He has invested a great deal of money in the furniture alone. From the desk to the cherry oak bookcases that cover the walls, there’s obviously money in defending scumbags. And right now, I need some of that money.
Brenda walks in thirty seconds later and places the file on Terry’s desk. She leaves without looking at me and closes the door behind her. Strange. She’s never done that before.
Terry glances up and holds my gaze. He opens the file and hands me an eight-by-ten color photo. It’s a booking photo. The young man is badly bruised and chances are good he cleaned blood from his face before the photo was snapped. I can see a small cut above his eye, and I know those tend to bleed a lot.
“Dixon Connor, arrested last night for criminal damage. He had the misfortune to have a small amount of methamphetamine in his pocket when they searched him. He was tagged for one count of possession of a narcotic and three counts of drug paraphernalia, making it a felony arrest. His father is Don Connor, the main pastor at First Methodist in Paradise Valley, which also happens to be the church I attend. At Don’s request, I went down to see Dixon this morning. As you can imagine, he was jumpy. What surprised me the most is that he’s scared shitless.”
I try to absorb the story, but somewhere I get stuck on the fact that Terry attends church. Who knew? I feel no sympathy for a strung out, scared shitless junkie, nor do I find it odd. It makes even more sense given his father’s career. “So where do I come in?”
Terry lets out a small humph of breath. “When I said scared shitless, I mean exactly that. This kid whispered to me as soon as I got in the room with him that he’s one of Alonzo’s boys.”
“Wonderful,” I offer with clear sarcasm. Alonzo is a petty drug dealer and also fences stolen goods for the druggies in this area.
Terry’s eyes go hard, which is unusual. Even in a courtroom, he likes to come across as a nice guy, when in all actuality, he’s a shark. A bit of uneasiness travels up my spine.
“That’s not why he’s afraid.” Terry’s fist hits the desk, which makes me jump. “One of yours is taking payoffs and running Alonzo’s show now…”
I don’t let him finish. My chair flies back several inches when I stand. I point at Terry. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Just because you don’t like cops, it does not mean that they’re dirty. You’re an asshole,” I add.
Terry rolls his eyes. “And just because you think cops walk on water doesn’t mean they’re clean. You’re naïve, Mak. You have no idea what truly goes on. You weren’t on the streets long enough. In cop years you were just a baby when you left the force.”
My blood boils. Terry is always mouthing off about officers lying under oath. That’s his best tactic when it comes to getting his clients off. A cop’s word on the stand is what we live by. It’s our reputation. Sure, we make mistakes and when we do, defense attorneys are like flies on rancid meat.
The daily stress and lack of sleep from doing shift work don’t help. Add in the need to appear in court the morning after an all-night shift and mistakes happen in testimony. The defense attorney changes your words around to confuse you, asks a single question in several different ways, and basically tries his best to screw up your story. I know—I’ve been there. Now, Terry’s trying to say there’s a crooked cop at the Wendell Precinct. The men and women I worked with may no longer include me as family, but to me they are, and I’m no longer taking Terry’s shit. Eating is highly overrated; I’ll find another avenue to drum up cases. I’m unwilling to spend a minute more of my time with this jackass. I turn on my heels.
“Kennedy,” Terry huffs out.
I freeze for a moment before turning around and taking my chair again. “Fuck.”
“Exactly.” Terry steeples his fingers on the desk. “You know there’s a good chance this isn’t bullshit, Mak.” So many things whirl through my head. I do not like Craig Kennedy, never have. He has his own code as far as street ethics are concerned. I was warned early in my police career to stay clear of him. That was before he made my life a nightmare whenever he was around. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. No, I wouldn’t go out with him. No, I wouldn’t let him cop a feel, and no, I wouldn’t fuck him. I refused to date the cops I worked with is what I told him. And especially not married cops like Kennedy. Just no! When I finally threatened to go to a supervisor, he backed off and gave me the stare-down whenever he could. I’d just roll my eyes. I heard rumors from other officers that Kennedy walked a thinner blue line than the rest of us or that he often straddled it. Most of these rumors related to him getting aggressive during arrests. I stayed out of the gossip and away from Ken
I blast through my workout in record time and head back to my apartment for a quick shower. After washing my hair, lathering all my body parts, and drying myself, I take an hour to style my hair, apply makeup, and doll myself up for Fiddlers Bar and Grill. It’s located outside Sunnyslope’s Wendell district and outside the Cactus police district. It’s also where both groups of cops gather in plain clothes to unwind. I want to look my best and get a feel for what’s happening in the blue world. I park Sally in the side lot with five other vehicles and enter the dark and cool interior of the bar. After completely ignoring the sign on the door that reads: No Guns Permitted, I take a booth in the back corner. I guarantee everyone in here is carrying and not just the cops. I scout out the crowd and see only a few vaguely familiar faces. The majority of the police crowd will start drifting in shortly. I came a bit early so I could take the back booth and see who enters the bar. The cops I k
He’s certifiably crazy. Through gritted teeth, I warn, “I don’t like repeating myself and I won’t press charges if you leave. Now.” His smile disappears. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, pull your gun.” I close my eyes in frustration and then realize what I’ve done and open them again. My gun isn’t the problem; his damned guns aka ripped arms, are. No one involved in crime should have a body like Moon’s. His cologne drifts over me and I inhale deeply. Somehow he’s found that perfect match that accents his natural man-smell. Add in his blue eyes, which capture everything going on around him, and I’m having heart palpitations that have nothing to do with my apartment being broken into. I pull in another long breath to gain a small semblance of control. I’m unwilling to stand and point a damn gun at him now, and that pisses me off. He removes his cell from his pocket, backs a couple of feet away, and speaks to whoever’s on the other end. “Order for two from El Tiempo and pick
The chime of Moon’s phone stops him from answering my question. He places his glass on the small side table, twists up a bit, and takes his cell from his pocket. He checks the screen and like a teenage pro, sends a message. He looks up at me after sending it. “Alex is here with our food.” At the thought of El Tiempo, my stomach rumbles. Moon cocks an eyebrow. Hell even that’s sexy. I stand up when I hear a soft knock at my front door. “Sit. I’ll get it and bring everything over here,” he says as he heads to my door, like he owns it, and opens it for Gomez. Moon takes the food and I see Gomez peer at me over Moon’s shoulder. I can’t identify the exact look he gives me, and I tell myself that I don’t care. So what if Gomez is impressed with the way I handle myself. That and a dollar will buy me an ice-cold Slurpee. Moon closes the door with his elbow while holding the bag in one hand and a six-pack of Corona in the other. It reminds me that I was being observed inside the bar. It’s s
I stare at the dark television for ten minutes. This solves nothing. I check the sliding glass door that leads to my very small patio. It has a broken broomstick in the bottom rail so it can only slide open after removing it. The locking mechanism, which I check too, is a piece of crap. I head to the front door and lock it. I walk to my bedroom to go through my pre-sleep ritual. After a quick shower, I slip into one of my large shapeless tees. Brushing, flossing and moisturizer are next. I lie down in bed and turn off the lamp. When I close my eyes, I picture Moon—his reticent smile, his intense eyes, and his sexy as hell bod. My girl parts are ramped up and it’s all Moon’s fault. With a groan, I roll over and grab the purple wonder from the drawer beside my bed. I hit the switch and then lift and spread my knees. I place the vibration against my clit. The purple wonder twirls and vibrates, hitting the spot perfectly. I slide it through my folds and back to my clit while imagining Mo
Sweat drips down my brow and my tee is soaked. My brown BDUs are damp too. I need water, so I walk back to Sally for my water bottle. It was completely frozen when I left the apartment earlier. It’s lukewarm now. I take a healthy swallow. I search for Mama Kane for an hour, but I can’t find her. A homeless man I’m unfamiliar with tells me she’s at Veterans hospital. Her goat went with animal control. I head to the hospital and receive bad news. Someone assaulted Mama Kane and she’s in critical condition. A nurse tells me that no one has visited her and that I’m the first to ask how she’s doing. It’s so incredibly sad. As a cop, I was limited in what I could do. The homeless are considered a problem. It was my job to keep them in line. Don’t get me wrong, I helped where I could. It’s never enough, though. The nurse tells me that the cops want to know when she dies. This should make me angry, but I know it means the detectives have a suspect. If Mama Kane dies, the charges will chang
Moon has pulled me so close that his face is inches from mine. “I locked it after I opened the door so it auto locks and I don’t have a key,” I say on a slow breath. “I have a key. Christ, you smell so good,” he murmurs and runs his nose across my cheek. I would tell him the same thing, but the information about him having my key stops me cold. “You made copies of my keys?” I knew he must have, I just didn’t expect him to admit it. His hand glides down my body until he cups my ass. He ignores my question. “I just needed to see you for a moment and do this…” His lips crash down on mine. He isn’t gentle. I forget about the keys. Hell, I forget that I’m outside in my short shorts. The kiss is hungry and wet, dominating and sexual. He tastes so damn good. He backs off and runs his tongue across my lips. “I’ve fantasized for the past two nights about you, like this.” He deepens the kiss. His tongue slips around mine and I moan. He pulls me closer and presses his erection into my lower
I don’t recognize the voice right away. “Mak, please.” It’s Penny Dandridge. “What’s wrong, Penny?” I ask her softly. She sounds desperate and it helps clear my foggy thoughts. “I need you to pick me up,” she says between tears while gasping for breath. This isn’t good, and I’m rethinking a cement foundation for her soon-to-be ex-husband. “Okay, have you called the police?” “No police.” Pure distress is clear in her answer. “Don’t call them, please. I just need you to pick me up.” Well, hell. I will most likely change my mind and call the police after I discover what condition she’s in. “Are you safe?” “Ye…yes. I’m safe. I’m in Heber. At the cabin in Heber. I need, just need a ride.” “Okay,” I get up and head to my desk. “Give me your address. It’ll take about two hours to get there.” I scribble the address. “Thank you, Mak… I’m so sorry.” She hangs up. Her voice sounded incredibly sad. I, on the other hand, am pissed off. If I had my hands on Harry Dandridge right now, he’d