PAYBACK (A Bad Boy Romance) (21 page)

I
awaited
Frankie in the receiving area usually reserved for meetings with the inmates’ attorney or loved ones on visiting days.

Frankie, shackled and wearing the orange jumpsuit of shame, flopped into the hard plastic chair and scowled when he saw me.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“We have a common interest,” I said.

“Yeah and what would that be?” Frankie asked with a disbelieving sneer.

“Your sister.”

Frankie stilled, his sour gaze narrowing. “What the fuck are you talking about? Stay the hell away from my sister, you piece of shit cop.”

I ignored his posturing and leaned forward. “For reasons I can’t understand your sister seems to think you’re worth saving. Of course, I’ve tried to tell her otherwise but she’s stuck on some notion that you’re not a total waste of oxygen.”

“You touch her and I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Careful, our conversations are monitored and threatening to kill a cop is a felony. Maybe you might want to tone down your attitude and hear me out.” I smiled, adding with a shrug, “However, I give you props for acting the part of the indignant older brother looking out for his kid sister. If I didn’t already know that you were a drug addict loser, I’d say, I could’ve bought it.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship with Ivy. Leave her out of this.”

“Didn’t you beg her to sell her car to bail you out? Doesn’t seem like you’re leaving her out, why should I?” I pointed out.

Frankie’s shackled hands clenched into tight fists. “What the fuck do you want? Get to the point.”

“How much do you love your sister?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.”

Frankie glared, the bruising of the shiner I’d given him fading to a motley yellow and purple. “I love her,” he answered mulishly.

“Good. Then you’ll want to keep her safe.”

“That’s what I do, cop,” Frankie spat. “Why do you think I do what I do? Because I love the lifestyle? I keep her on the straight and narrow because she’s a good kid and deserves better than we got.”

“She’s not a kid,” I corrected him, rolling the pen idly back and forth across my notepad. “Ivy’s a full-grown woman.”

Maybe it was the way I said it but Frankie seemed to harden with rage. “You fucking stay away from her,” he said, straining against his shackles. “I swear to you, if you touch a hair on her head…”

“You’ll what?” I mocked. “Spread terrible rumors about me behind bars?”

Frankie rocked back in his chair with a snarl because he knew I had him over a barrel.

Maybe if I was a total bastard I’d tell Frankie how I’d fucked the shit out of his baby sister and obliterated her cherry.

But even I wasn’t that big of a dick.

Besides, my purpose wasn’t to simply torment Frankie Callen. I needed to put plays into motion if I was going to salvage this case.

“Calm down. I need answers and right now you’re more valuable to me on the outside than here so get ready to make yourself useful.”

Frankie settled with a glower but at least he seemed as if he were listening.

“Who knew we were cops? Someone blew our cover. Who was it?”

Frankie shrugged. “Why would I know?”

“Cut the shit. Who knew? Something went down, something tipped them off.”

“Maybe you’re just obvious.”

“Bullshit.”

Frankie smirked but held his cocky silence.

“All right. Here’s how this is going to play. Your sister seems to care more about you than she should. She mistakenly thinks that you’re worth saving — but you and I know different, don’t we?”

Frankie waited to see where I was going with this. I indulged him with a cruel smile, saying, “If you’re not interested in playing nice, then your sister will play in your place. She’s got the look that draws people — bad people — and I can guarantee you, after I put her to work on your behalf…she won’t stay a good girl.”

Frankie’s lip whitened with rage as his breathing became shallow. I had him. Ivy was his weakness. And I wasn’t above exploiting it, for, you know, the greater good and all that shit.

“What do you want me to do?” he finally bit out, the hatred in his eyes hard as cold steel. “I’ll be your bitch as long as you leave Ivy out of it.”

I regarded Frankie with curious interest. “Why do you care so much?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

He was right and it didn’t matter anyway. Frankie had agreed to play ball and that’s what I’d come for so I could stop digging into their personal life.

But I wanted to know what bond Frankie and Ivy shared that they were so loyal to one another.

I wasn’t loyal to anyone but myself.

I wasn’t an only child but my half siblings were spread from here to creation and I didn’t have a relationship with any of them.

It was better this way. Most of them were worthless anyway.

Except Katie.

My baby sister.

She seemed a half decent kid — through some miracle — but I hadn’t seen her in years. She was probably around seventeen by this time.

Yeah, what’s your point?

I shook off the tangent in my head and refocused on Frankie.

“I’ll arrange for your early release. If anyone asks, boast that we didn’t have enough evidence to build a case. That ought to keep people from digging too deep.”

Frankie nodded mulishly. “You know this is going to burn me,” he said.

“Yeah? My heart is breaking,” I returned with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “I’m doing you a favor — the people you call friends are shitbags.”

“And you’re one of the good guys,” Frankie countered with an equal tone. “Spare me.”

No sense in arguing that point.

I rose, satisfied with the exchange. I’d gotten what I wanted.

“I’ll be in touch. Be available.”

The look in Frankie’s eye said ‘fuck you’ but he remained silent. Maybe Frankie wasn’t so dumb after all.

Now to snare the pretty little kitten…

R
oxy brought me home
, fluttered and fussed around me like a mother hen and then after insisting that she wouldn’t leave me along until I’d eaten something, I forced food down my throat.

I didn’t want Roxy there when Jameson showed up.

I wasn’t in the mood to explain why Jameson felt it was necessary to make house calls and I certainly didn’t want Roxy imagining that something was going on between me and the dirty cop.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to spend the night?” she asked, worried. “I’m sure Ricky wouldn’t mind. He likes you.”

The fact that Roxy had to ask permission to be someplace other than home rubbed me wrong but I wasn’t going to pick at that argument.

Not tonight.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, just wanting some quiet time. “I’m probably just going to go to bed early. No sense in sacrificing your evening just to watch me snore.”

That seemed to mollify her a bit. “Well, if you think you’ll be okay…”

“Yes,” I nodded, relieved that she seemed ready to leave. “You’ve been amazing. Thank you so much for everything. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me nothing, sweetheart. You’re a good kid. I hope they find that shithead gets serious time instead of a slap on the wrist for what he’d done.”

“Almost done,” I corrected her mildly but Roxy shook her head.

“No, just because he didn’t rape you, he still put marks on you and you’re never gonna be the same, honey. Every shadow you’ll wonder if he’s there, every sound will make you jump.”

I quieted, sensing that Roxy was speaking from experience. I swallowed a lump in my throat. I didn’t want to pry so I simply accepted her advice in the spirit it was given.

Roxy roused herself with a forced smile. “Well, thank your lucky stars for that cop. You ought to see if he’s single. That’s the kind of man you hold onto.”

Oh, hell no. Roxy, if you only knew.

“Thanks Roxy,” I said, yawning to reinforce my earlier statement. The fatigue wasn’t an act but I knew I wasn’t going to hit the sheets as I’d told Roxy. “You’re a good friend.”

“Damn straight I am,” Roxy agreed but her touch on my cheek gentled. “You call me if you need anything.”

I promised I would and Roxy let herself out. I breathed a sigh of relief and sank into the sofa.

I tried not to dwell on bad things. But sometimes, even as much as you push away the memories, they climbed up your throat and lodged there like a sticky glob of phlegm, refusing to go down.

I could see that kid, smell his cologne.

I could feel his hands on me.

Tears sprang out of nowhere and tracked down my cheek. I know I was lucky. I know others weren’t so lucky but I couldn’t stop the tears from falling like a river.

I sobbed for an hour, unable to believe how narrowly I’d escaped being raped, but I also cried because I’d given my virginity to a man I despised to save a brother who might be unsaveable.

Stop it. That’s Jameson’s voice in your head. Frankie is a good man. He’ll change. He just needs a fresh start.

I rose and rinsed my face at the kitchen sink just in time to see headlights in the front drive.

My heart skipped a beat and my hands were suddenly clammy.

Maybe I’d hoped he would change his mind.

Worse, maybe I hoped he wouldn’t.

I poured a glass of wine with shaking hands and took a fortifying sip before answering the sharp rap at the door.

Jameson took the wine glass from my hand. “You shouldn’t be drinking,” he said shortly, walking past me to pour the wine down the sink.

“What are you doing? You don’t get to dictate what I do on my own time,” I said, irritated that he’d wasted an expensive wine that I’d won in a raffle because I’d never spend so much for my own indulgence.

“You’re still on pain meds,” he said by way of explanation as he walked my house, committing to memory every room, noting every small detail.

Jameson was intensity on steroids at all times, it seemed.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Because we have things to talk about,” he answered, dropping onto the sofa when he was satisfied with his perimeter check. “The terms of our agreement have changed.”

“No they haven’t,” I disagreed. “I already told you I wasn’t going to whore for you.”

“No one said anything about whoring yourself,” he returned with irritation. “But if you want to save your brother, you’ll shut up and listen.”

I wanted to tell him to get out but I didn’t. Instead, I took the furthest seat away from him with a glower and said, “I’m listening.”

“Frankie is a low-level dealer but he has connections to the pipeline I spent six months trying to take down. The shit comes in from China and then filters out through the various channels in different cities. Here in L.A., the pipeline is run by the Cobalt Vipers, a vicious street gang led by Terano Rodrigo.”

“And what does this mean to me? I don’t see how I can help. I don’t know any Terano Rodrigo.”

“No, but your brother does.”

“If Frankie was low-level like you said, what makes you think he can get close to Rodrigo?” I asked, confused.

“Because your brother is like a cockroach, he can get into places no one else would think to look.”

I didn’t like the insult. “Are you always so mean?”

“This is me being nice,” he deadpanned.

Oh good grief.
“Your nice routine needs work,” I grumbled. “All right, so I still don’t see how I can help.”

“My cover’s been burned. I need someone who can get in without rousing too much suspicion. Your brother already has an in, which means, he can get you in.”

“That sounds dangerous,” I said, biting my lip. “What if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” he assured me but I didn’t believe him. “Look, nothing is going to happen to you. All you’re doing is getting close to Terano so I can find out when the next shipment is coming in. There’s supposed to be a big drop in a week or so but the location has been under wraps. If we can bust the players when the shipment comes in, we’ll have what we need to take Terano and the Cobalt Viper operation down.”

“I know what happens to Confidential Informants,” I said, scowling. “They die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

I shivered. “And how will you be able to stop it? You can’t go near the Cobalt Vipers without getting made. I’d be dead and gone long before you could do anything.”

“That’s where your brother comes in. If he’s so protective, he’ll find a way to put himself between you and harm’s way.”

“And what about my brother? What if he gets hurt?”

“Not my problem.”

“But it is my problem,” I countered. “I love my brother and I sure as hell don’t want anything to happen to him just so you can get your man.”

Jameson held my stare for a moment then said, “Last year, the Cobalt Viper drug lords were responsible for the death of three kids, ages 12, 13, and 15. The kids were used as mules and couriers. The 12-year-old died from overdosing when the drugs they’d stuffed up his anus exploded. The 13 and 15-year-old were shot and killed during a drug exchange. It’s not just about my record. It’s about getting assholes like the Cobalt Vipers and Terano Rodrigo off the streets and behind bars where they belong.”

Stories like those were common but it hit me hard just the same. Frankie was the reason I’d never been sucked into the lifestyle. Although Frankie had fallen, he’d always made sure that I was nowhere near it.

And now Jameson wanted me to waltz into that world.

“If I do this…will you leave me and Frankie alone?”

The pause caused my heart to flutter. Why wasn’t it easy for him to just agree? Was it possible that Jameson had feelings for me?

Good God, that was ridiculous. What would make me think that was even a thing?

But as Jameson’s stare heated as he pinned my gaze, I felt skewered to the wall.

“Come here,” he said in a low tone that rippled with authority. I shuddered, determined to refuse but my feet moved on their own accord.

I knew that look.

It was the same look that stole my breath — terrifying and exciting at the same time – and I was helpless against it.

There was something so dark and alluring about Jameson, something addictive.

And like all things addictive…dangerous.

He pulled me into the cove between his legs and slowly undid my zipper. I held my breath, all the voices in my head stilling with anticipation.

Jameson shimmied my jeans down, revealing my white lace panties. His smile spoke of approval and I softened with feminine awareness.

Gripping my behind, he drew me to him. I steadied myself with his shoulders as he buried his nose between my cleft, inhaling my personal scent through the thin fabric.

I gasped as my senses awakened with a start. I was consumed with a violent need that was both foreign and exhilarating.

I closed my eyes as Jameson removed my panties. I knew I should make him stop but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

Suddenly, Jameson rose and in one fluid movement, hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom as if I were a prisoner of war and he was taking his due.

“What are you doing?” I managed to ask but he answered with a firm slap to my bare behind. The sting shocked and aroused me. Then he tossed me onto the bed.

The hunger in his dark eyes was enough to render me speechless.

No one had ever looked at me the way Jameson did.

It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be the one who made me feel this way?

Alive.

Desired.

Needy.

He yanked my pants off, along with my panties, feasting his gaze on my private places as if he owned every inch of my flesh.

“Jameson—“

“Quiet.”

I bit my lip, intensely aware of how wet I was becoming. That voice — as hard and unyielding as that giant erection I knew was hiding behind his zipper — did terrible things to my resolve.

I’d never known such weakness, such abject eagerness to open my legs and feel him stretching me.

But that was the ugly, shameful truth.

I wanted him.

And he knew it.

Somehow, deep down, he knew that my protests were an act. That my secret self couldn’t stop thinking about his touch, that even though in my waking hours I might hate him with everything I was, when I closed my eyes, he was there doing unspeakably dirty things to me.

Was I irrevocably broken and it only took Jameson to reveal that truth?

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his eyes hot. “Spread your pussy lips and play with your clit.”

I blushed hard. I wasn’t used to someone talking to me like that. But my fingers tentatively did as I was told. I closed my eyes as I found the aching flesh between my folds and rubbed it gently, my breath hitching as my nipples pearled beneath my bra.

I wanted to be naked as he watched me pleasure myself but somehow I sensed that he enjoyed my frustration and would punish me if I stopped to strip.

Everything was about power with Jameson.

He took my power but held it carefully.

I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

How I knew this, I don’t know. Something inside me whispered the truth of it and I accepted the knowledge even if I didn’t understand.

Jameson slowly stripped, enjoying my show. But as I came close to my finish, he stilled my hand and pushed it away.

I groaned, needing that release but his growled, “Not yet” explained everything.

He wanted to be in control of when I came.

I shuddered with understanding.

“Suck my cock, baby girl,” he instructed as he stood at the end of the bed, his thick erection jutting out, seeking the warmth of my mouth. I rolled over and took his shaft in my hand, secretly loving the hot steel of his rigid member and closed my mouth over the fleshy head.

Tiny drops of saltiness met my tongue and I lapped it up, enjoying that even though he seemed in control, I had this effect on him.

His hands threaded through my hair as I sucked, his grunts of pleasure arrowing my womb with sensation as I followed his lead.

Why did I enjoy this so much?

It was despicable that I caved so easily, that I was so swayed by the promise of toe-curling pleasure but I was caught in his spell and there was no fighting it.

He stopped me when he came close and helped me out of my shirt and bra. He paused, his knuckle gently caressing where that kid had punched me.

I tried not to cry. I must look horrible, I realized.

“Don’t,” I begged, looking away.

But he wouldn’t let me. He snagged my chin and kissed me with the sort of tenderness I would’ve expected from a lover who actually cared about me and it messed with my head.

I couldn’t deal with the possibility that Jameson had feelings for me because he was also black-mailing me into doing what he wanted.

It was fucked up and manipulative — which wasn’t love in my book.

I pushed his hand away and he seemed to understand and agree.

Neither of us wanted feelings.

If I was willing to grudgingly admit that sex with him was electrifying, that was as far as I was going to go.

Nothing else was an option.

Jameson stalked to my dresser and jerked it open. He found a pair of panty hose that I hadn’t worn in forever and quickly tied my hands together, drawing my arms above my head and holding them there as he towered above me.

I trembled but there was something about being so helpless, yet completely safe, that turned up the arousal to a scorching level.

“You’re mine,” he said, holding me captive as he instructed, “Keep your arms up, baby girl. Do you understand?”

I nodded and he released my arms to spread my legs.

My breasts heaved as I gulped air, crying out the minute his hot tongue breached my folds. He masterfully drove me to the brink and then yanked me back, only to drive me again.

I was soaked with my own juices as he continued to torture me with sweet pleasure.

And then, when I couldn’t hold back any longer, he shocked me when he breached my behind with a finger as I came. Everything clenched in wild abandon as waves of pleasure crashed around me. I lost my ability to see, hear, or think.