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Authors: Ursula Whistler

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BOOK: Big Bad Easy
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“To be fair, mine has more than my information in it. I’ve been, uh,” she cleared her throat, because she felt some guilt over doing someone else’s job. In the military, that usually caused problems. “Well, it, uh, has four other cases of robbery in it, sir.” The official address slipped out of her. She never could dismiss all of the training that the military drummed into her. In this man’s presence, she thought she should salute him, scream “sir, yes, sir,” then drop to give him twenty.

“Good job, soldier.” He smirked.

A damn good one, too. The only thing that had kept her from serving longer was the slight hesitation she had about pulling a trigger. One firefight caused it, one afternoon of terror as their base dealt with a suicide bomber and insurgents trying to fight their way into the perimeter. She couldn’t re-enlist with the worry that she’d fail her fellow soldiers at just the wrong time. Civilian life seemed better, safer in a way. She could organize a damn good retirement party, or family reunion, or conference with no one’s life being on the line.

She shivered at the loss of community and connections when she left the Army. The one great thing about New Orleans was no matter what, she was never lonely in the city. Something always happened. People always gathered. Still, she longed for real companions, someone equal and with thoughts like her own. With a tight smile, she faced the grizzled officer in front of her. On to finding the shithead who stole her credit cards, ID, and cash. “Glad you think so, but you should look at it first.”

“Coffee, then.” He gestured with his hand to the other side of the street, where a door stood open to the mild fall morning. Large lips and a tongue were painted on a sign hung beside the door, yelling, “Come in!”

He walked beside her, and even with these ridiculous heels, he topped her height by a few inches. With his jacket on, she couldn’t gauge what was muscle and what might be bulk, but he filled the sport coat—arms, shoulders, chest, and back. He had to live in a gym when he wasn’t doing his job. That brought a new concern. Perhaps he spent more time in the gym than necessary, meaning she’d drawn the short straw for the crappy cop thanks to her endless phone calls to the captain. Her foot tapped under the table as he brought cups of steaming brew.

“Should I look at that foot as an anger meter?”

She grunted a half laugh. At least he paid attention to non-verbal clues. “Yes.”

“Damn. I was hoping it was only a nervous tick.” The small chair creaked under his weight as he sat.

She shouldn’t have, but she imagined his heftiness atop her and how his hips would press into hers. Damn, she needed sex, but not from a slacker cop. Problem was she hadn’t met anyone she’d invite into her bed, which meant too many nights with only her hand to sate her desire.

“What made you angry, and what just changed?”

“Huh?”

“Ms. Robinson, your foot stopped. Something made you happier. Or…” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Do you like the idea of working with me?”

She berated herself for thinking of sex, and for the increasing dampness growing between her legs as Sgt. Kelly raised his brow at her. She could imagine him flashing the same look as he asked, “You want to go tussle now?” And, tussling meant naked wrestling that led to hard thrusts of his cock into her pussy.

“I was thinking,” she snapped in the deep voice that had gained her more respect from her fellow soldiers. This man, with his time in the police force, would get that tone.

He grinned, causing the lines around his eyes to deepen and the ice blue to sparkle. “I meant in regards to your case, not to life in general. I don’t think I could fix that.”

You could fix my need for an orgasm
. She groaned. She had to get back to her real reason for being here with this hunk of a man, a police man, a sergeant whose task it was to figure out who stole her wallet. “I know. I had a thought about something, on the case,” she added hurriedly. With that white lie behind her, she flipped open the folder. “I think these are all by the same guy. Take a look.”

He squinted at the papers before her, which at first glance were more thorough than the thin folder the clerk had passed to him before leaving the station. This woman had done her homework. She must have been a damn good soldier. He’d let her do some more work so that the foot at the end of her gorgeous legs remained still. “Why don’t you sum it up for me? Give me the highlights, and I’ll take in the details later. I’m assuming you’ll hand that over to me.”

“I will, since you guys don’t seem to have all the facts, and because it is a copy.”

From the look on her face—nose wrinkled, mouth down-turned—he knew he’d be walking up a steep hill with her. She had her mind set that the cops didn’t care and wouldn’t do much to help her. In one instance, she was right. Resurgence in violent crimes in the city had all the brass focusing efforts of the big, bad crimes.

He said, “I’m sure there’s a file for these others, but there probably isn’t much in it.” He shifted in his chair, already tired of the chit chat. He wanted the facts, something to go on, and he’d deal with anything corollary later. “Look, get to it. Tell me what’s going on so I can do something to remove some of that chip on your shoulder.”

She sneered at him, and for a moment, looked like she might clock him. With the muscles she had, he bet she could give him a pretty deep bruise. He smirked that he’d gotten under her skin. The woman needed to be taken down a notch. Petty crime, like the one against her, sat on the bottom of the tall shelf of really bad cases for the NOPD. The city still dealt with murders, drugs, and rapes. Even in his sleepy district, these cases took precedence over a car being broken into.

“Early morning, always, guy breaks into cars. Smashes the windows, grabs the wallet, purse, whatever, and is gone.” Her voice was tense and her words were terse, pushed out through a tight mouth.

He appreciated that she kept it clipped and to the point. “Men? Women? Who are the victims?”

“Me and three other women. I don’t know about any men falling victim to this asshole, but that may be because I haven’t talked to any of them. The women at the park tend to stick together, especially after all this has been happening.”

An idea formed in his head based on who she said had been victimized. Some creep must be targeting them, watching, knowing they’d leave a purse behind. “Any of you suspicious of a particular person at the park? You’re meaning Audubon, right? Not the Fly?”

“The Fly? I don’t know what that is.”

She hadn’t been in town long. “Called Riverview Park officially, but we all call it The Fly. It’s that place along the river behind the zoo. Got ball parks, soccer fields, a hill for kids to play on.”

“Right. I know the place. I use the hill for training. None of this happened there. We park near the golf place, do exercises or walk, whatever to keep the pounds off.”

“Not something you have to do, keep the pounds off. You look like you spend a good amount of time working out. Doing a good job.” Praise would put her off guard, maybe even relax her. The woman hadn’t smiled at him yet, not even a tiny pull of her lips, and they were lovely ones, pink, no lipstick, full. Worth some attention and certainly worth a smile.

And, he got one. Her eyes brightened, and a faint blush rose on her cheeks. “Thanks, Sergeant. It’s leftover from the Army. Can’t stop moving. Makes me feel lazy.”

“Good. I got that affliction, too.” With her relaxed, he focused on the case again. He’d like to keep focusing on her. Because despite her attitude, she had a body to worship. However, he had a job to do, and he’d get it done. “What time of the morning?”

“Eight to around nine for all of us. All the times are approximate, though. You never know exactly. No one ever sees it happen, which amazes me, since there are always people around there.”

“These guys are quick. Probably learned it in junior high and have been doing it ever since. How much did he get from you?”

“No cash, just credit cards, and he took my driver’s license, too. Bastard.”

A worse idea entered his head. “Same with the others?”

“Only one other lady had her license taken.”

Jameson relaxed a bit. Probably not a man looking to get into their houses, then, but he’d have to check it out, going by the homes of Zara and the other woman. Could be a way to catch the guy, if it was a guy. “Window smashed or door jimmied?”

“Window smashed. Two-fifty worth of repairs not covered under insurance, or at least the deductible I have.”

“Yeah, that sucks for sure.” He reached for the file in front of her. “How many credit cards for you?”

“Just two, and he used both of them.” She stopped his hand with hers, a quick slam of her palm, trapping him between hers and the cool plastic table. Calluses on her fingers gave testament to the weights she lifted. Warmth spread up his arm, and he enjoyed the spark that her touch ignited.

He didn’t move his hand. Neither did she. Their eyes locked. The two of them were having a standoff over a file in a tiny coffee shop. “Thought you said I could have the file.”

“You can, but let me show you something.” She lifted her hand and tugged the file from under his. “I wrote down what he spent and where.” She pulled out one sheet of paper. “I helped the others figure it out as well.”

Strong body, strong will, and a helpful hand, too. “What made you do that?”

Her shoulders dropped, and she frowned. “Because no one was doing this at the police station. You guys have messed up with this, sitting on it, doing nothing. Weeks. It’s been weeks, and nothing.”

“I’d apologize, but I didn’t even know this had happened. Sounds like the responding officer never logged it.” Now, it was his turn to frown. Could the beat officer be covering for someone, a relative? “Shit,” he muttered. One more thing to worry about. They’d thought they finally purged their district of the officers with deep family ties to crime.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He couldn’t have her knowing about his suspicions. “Just remembered something I had to do.”

“About this case?” She leaned forward, exposing her chest and the simple bra she wore.

“No.” Lying was easier than laying it all out there, especially if his worries were unfounded. This woman already held a negative view of the cops. He wouldn’t add to it. “So, back to the credit cards. Did the perp spend big amounts? Little? Lots of places?”

“Four places, like fifty bucks each. See?” She pointed at the amounts typed neatly on the paper. Her fingernails were short, unpainted. Straightforward woman. No need for elaborate jewelry either. She didn’t even wear a chain around her neck. The woman wasn’t about shiny things. He liked more and more about her the longer he spent with her. Under any other circumstances, he would have already asked her out to lunch.

“That points to someone who’s done his research.” Likely a career criminal, probably older, like late thirties, he would guess.

“Why do you say that?”

“The thieves who are just starting out, they charge up big amounts, sending flags to the credit card companies. They get one charge, and then the card won’t work the next time due to a block. Spend small amounts at normal places along a road, and it looks like a person is doing errands. Nothing out the ordinary. A ways back, a woman spent four hundred on some lady’s card buying diapers, formula, food. That kind of stuff, and no one said a thing.”

She sat back. “So. This guy, if it is a man, has done this before?”

“Either that, or he learned it from someone. All kinds of people in this world, and more than a few you don’t want to know.”

“Guess you get to experience those people.”

“Sadly, yep, but it’s all in the job, if I last much longer.”

“Giving it up?”

“Maybe.” He was ready, more than ready to take some time, relax, go to full-time weight-lifting at the gym, maybe even become a trainer. Hell, he could get a few clients from the cops at least. “I’ll find your perp, get him tied up with a bow for the DA, and sign off for good. If everything goes smoothly.”

“As long as you get him. I don’t want to see another break in. I hate that. It’s hard for some of us to get back into exercising.”

“Did a number on you, huh? How long did it take you to go back?” He wouldn’t have pegged her as a worrier.

She laughed, followed by a small shake of her head. “Are you kidding? The next damn day. I wasn’t going to let him keep me away.”

“Good for you. Thanks for the file. I’ll read it today, follow up with the other ladies, get their stories, and see what I can find. If we’re lucky, one of these places got the guy on camera.”

“I hope they did. That will make it easier.”

He let her think that. Truth was, if the thief was a career guy, he knew to wear glasses, a hat, anything to obscure his face from cameras. He had a snowball’s chance in New Orleans of finding the guy unless he struck again.

Chapter Three

Not often did Jameson get to integrate his daily exercise with work, but today he got to do both as he jogged around the park path under the towering live oaks. He planned to take a good look at all the people exercising at this time of day.

All the robberies had occurred around these hours, which meant the perp knew the patterns and probably the cars of those exercising. None of them happened in the afternoon or at night. Whoever was lifting purses from cars either liked the thrill of stealing in the daylight, or he had a night job that kept him busy in the evening hours. Either way, Jameson needed to get a feel for who inhabited the park in the morning, which is why he’d dressed the part, shorts, muscle shirt, and running shoes.

He had parked at the side of the park and not in the normal lot since his standard issue sedan looked like either a grandmother or a cop drove it. He didn’t need that giving him away so early. He was undercover, dressed in shorts and a loose-fitting tank top. A few at the station had snickered, including Decker, who ribbed him about his workout gear. How an ass like that had been promoted over him astounded him every fucking day, and he couldn’t even hide his dislike.

He jogged clockwise, while most everyone traversed the path counter-clockwise. Allowed him to look at everyone’s faces. Moms with strollers. An ROTC class, probably from one of the universities near the park. Looked like some of them would breeze through basic training once they got there. The others, though…Whew! Jameson silently wished them good luck at training their minds and bodies to take it further and faster.

BOOK: Big Bad Easy
3.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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