Breaking Bad (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

S
tevie turned at her captain’s orders and stopped cold. Through the glass door she watched Jack strut into the squad room like he owned the damn place. “Fuck me,” she cursed.

“Say again, Detective?” Captain Russo asked.

Exhaling she shook her head and said, “Nothing,” then pushed the door open and prepared for battle.

As she stood outside her captain’s door, Stevie watched Donna, the squad secretary, puddle on the floor in front of the special agent.

Stevie harrumphed. He
was
“special,” damn it. Desire seeped hot and quick to her nether regions as she gazed unabashed at her onetime lover. How many women had he been with since their one night together? Did he ever think of her?

She drank him in, but would never admit to anyone she liked what she saw. He was taller than her five eight by a good half a foot. His linebacker shoulders supported a wide powerful chest that tapered down into a flat belly that she knew was as hard as granite. Her eyes dipped lower to the rise of his tailored trousers. Jack Thornton had not only been generously endowed but he had also been gifted the stamina of a prize bull. He’d made it impossible for her to entertain the thought of another man in her bed.

It would be a lie if she said she didn’t crave what he did to her. That a night didn’t go by that she didn’t think of the heat of his lips, the dominance of his hands, or the thick pulse of him inside of her. She’d woken more times than she could count, hot, sweaty, and hungry for him. She hated him for it. Hated him for making her ache for him. Hated him for ruining any possibility of a normal relationship with another man. Mostly she hated herself for still wanting him despite his cool dismissal of her.

Donna’s giggles, as she looked adoringly up at Jack, rubbed Stevie in all the wrong ways. Donna was petite, blond, and curvy—Stevie wasn’t. She was tall, brunette, and lean. Donna was sweet and demure, the kind of woman men swarmed to protect. Stevie needed no protection. She was the protector, the kind of woman guys ran from.

When Jack’s smiling eyes rose from the flirty secretary’s to Stevie’s, he grinned and winked. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands. Feeling suffocated in her own squad room, she strode toward him. Two steps before she would pass him he stepped into her path.

“I’d like to meet your team, Detective, and introduce you to mine.”

Stevie slammed his shoulder as she walked by. “My team is actually working, Special Agent Thornton, not cavorting.” Stevie wanted to add,
with the local bimbo,
but she didn’t, because as much as she wanted to dislike Donna for being comfortable in her femininity when Stevie was not, and for allowing the men to see her vulnerabilities, which Stevie would never reveal to anyone in the department, the woman was damn good at what she did.

As she strode from the squad room she pulled her cell out and called her partner Oliveras.

“Damn it,” she cursed when it went straight to voice mail. “Call me asap, Oliveras, I have a few unwelcome updates to share.” Shoving the phone into her back pocket she headed down the hall, bypassing the elevator, and took the stairway down two flights to the rear exit.

As she closed her car door, it was yanked open. Special Agent Jack Thornton leaned in, grabbed the keys from her and said, “Move over.”

“Fuck off, Thorn.”

He yanked her from the car, catching her completely off guard.

“I’m not fucking kidding, Detective,” he ground out.

She slapped his hands away moving back to get into the driver’s seat. “Fuck you.”

“Out of my way or you’ll be disciplined.”

The blood drained from her cheeks as other parts of her flamed. Jack’s form of discipline was sweet torture. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would dare and then some.” He backed her against the doorjamb without touching her. “Go ahead and give me a reason to take you over my knee.” His eyes were hidden by the dark sunglasses he wore, but she could well imagine their intensity.

“You’re not the boss of me,” she squeaked, knowing she sounded like a kid.

“I am when we’re on the clock. And right now you’re going to ride shotgun.”

Stevie swallowed hard, fighting the Jack battle on several fronts. Her pride refused to be bossed around by him while her body refused to settle down in his presence. Once again, she had lost the grip on her tightly held resolve. Stevie Cavanaugh didn’t do breathless disheveled, she did hard-core control.

“Stop fighting me, damn it,” Jack said.

“I can’t work with you,” she said, the words sounding like a forced plea. “I just—can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” she blurted.

“Both are choices, Detective. Right now, I’d like you to choose to get into the passenger seat and drive back to the surveillance room with me and bring me up to speed on your case.”

“I’d like you to choose to give me back
my
keys and step aside so that I can drive
my
car to the surveillance room so that I can get back to work on
my
case.”

Stevie held out her open hand palm up. Jack shook his head, but placed the keys in her hand. When she moved to grab them away his big hand clasped around hers, sending wild shards of desire through her. She gasped when she realized he felt it too.

“Because it means more to you to be in control here than it does to me, I’m choosing to give you the keys.” His hand tightened around hers as he pulled her toward him so that their warm breaths mingled. “But never misinterpret this gesture of good will as anything more than what it is. I’m in control, Cavanaugh. You will do as I say. Got it?”

Stevie swallowed hard and nodded.

CHAPTER FIVE

A
s she pulled into the underground parking spot two blocks from where Spoltori lived, Stevie threw the Crown Vic into park and exited the vehicle.

Jack was out of the car and in front of her so fast she blinked. “Ignoring me won’t solve this case, Detective.”

“Yeah, but it will solve me not having to converse with you,” she shot back, as she marched past him.

She hit the car’s remote door lock and headed for the stairway to the lobby floor.

A moment later, her cellphone wolf-whistled that she had a text. Most likely Oliveras. About damn time.

She didn’t recognize the number, but the text left no mystery as to the identity of the person who sent the message.

Looks like now we have each other’s number, Detective.

Stevie smirked. Continuing toward the building, she quickly texted back,
I deleted your number a long time ago, Special Agent Thornton. Don’t text me again unless it has to do with MY case.

She heard Jack chuckle behind her and despite her pissed-offness, she cracked a smile. One thing for sure, the countless boring hours of this case were now a thing of the past. She just hoped she’d survive the force of nature that was Jack Thornton.

“You know you’re secretly relieved I showed up, Cavanaugh,” he said, catching up to her.

“Don’t talk to me.”

“There’s another full moon in two weeks and you don’t have shit to go on. That’s why I’m here. Work with me.”

She reached for the steel door handle at the same time he did. She stiffened. “I’m not Donna. I can open my own doors.”

Jack yanked it open and held it for her to pass through. “Yeah, I know, you’re the baddest ass walking the streets of Oakland.” He grinned and winked, then said, “Who happens to have the nicest ass walking the streets of Oakland.”

“Don’t,” she growled, secretly liking the compliment, damn it!

Jack threw his hands up in surrender. “My bad.” He walked through the closing door ahead of her and laughed out loud when she kicked him in the ass.

Hurrying to climb the stairway with him, not behind him, Stevie mentally grumbled. The very last thing she wanted was to spend her days sitting in the stuffy room on the fifth floor across the street from a serial killing man-whore and watch the paint dry around the elusive Spoltori while her ex-lover breathed down her neck.

Then the image of the three lifeless victims swam before her.

Just before they came to the metal door opening to the lobby level, Stevie stopped and turned to Thorn. “Between myself, my partner Oliveras, and the two other detectives who switch out with us, and one assigned patrol car each shift, we have eyes on Spoltori around the clock. We don’t need you or your men.”

Jack reached past her and yanked open the door. He stood back, a sardonic smile twisting his lips as he indicated she precede him, which she did because despite the fact that she was a woman in charge, she appreciated the gentlemanly gesture. Especially from Jack. “Even including yourself,” he said, following her to the elevator, “and adding your inept partner, and the two other dicks assigned to this case, what do you have to show for the investigation aside from a hunch and some weak circumstantial evidence on Spoltori?”

The inept partner comment stung. Because it was true. Oliveras was lazy and he was a ladies’ man who spent more time sexting than knocking on doors. She carried the load for both of them. The other two dicks were solid and split their time between keeping a watch over their suspect and hitting the streets. But Stevie had more than a hunch; she had concrete links between the three dead women and Spoltori. She also had a plan to flush him out.

She punched the fifth-floor button. The doors immediately opened and they stepped in. Jack hit the button, the doors closed, and up they went.

Dander up, Stevie turned, catching Jack’s irritated expression. All personal feelings aside, the one thing she could never take away from Jack was his dedication to the job. Jack’s single-minded tenacity had been evident in the way he instructed at the academy. His street cred on the mean streets of Oakland was legendary. His tenure had been short, but had made a hell of an impact on the crime rate within the city limits. Jack Thornton was his own wrecking crew who had his own brand of dishing out justice, one that didn’t normally agree with the General Order. But he always got the job done. His choice to go into the FBI had always puzzled her. If anything, she thought the feds would keep him on a short chain, not the longer leash of local police work.

“I’ve got more than a hunch.”

“I’m looking forward to your brief.”

The elevator doors opened. Stevie strode down the hall to the surveillance room. Taking out her key she unlocked the door and stepped in. As she did each time she entered this room, no matter how many times a day she did, her eyes were drawn to the large storyboard with the pictures of the three victims prominently displayed. Their lifeless eyes staring at her, a constant reminder of why she was there. Why she endured the ceaseless hours of boredom staring through a camera lens, the interminable hours on the computer haunting chat rooms under assumed names, and why she wore out the soles of her shoes on the street looking under every rock for a clue.

She didn’t sleep. She had to remind herself to eat. She had a suitcase in the corner with fresh clothes and her toiletries at the ready in the small half bathroom that came with the office, for God’s sake! This was
her
case. She lived it 24/7. And she had failed to produce enough evidence to get even a simple search warrant. They couldn’t even get Spoltori for spitting on the sidewalk or throwing a candy wrapper out his car window. He was slick, and she knew after his little show earlier that he was on to her. And if he was on to her, then her nose was on the right scent.

She
did
need help, damn it, but not from Jack! Anyone but him. And not because of their history . . . Well yes, totally because of their history. Because she hadn’t moved on, and because she hadn’t, it would interfere with her investigation.

With her back to him she let out a pensive sigh, and then slid her hands into her pants pockets. She turned around and faced him fair and square. “Jack, please, pull yourself off my case.”

Cocking his head he chided her. “Can’t stand a little heat? What the hell kind of cop are you anyway?”

Something inside of her snapped. Dumping her backpack on the floor she got into his personal space. “The kind that has some integrity and refuses to put up with an egomaniac, ex-lover who’s bent on making her nothing but miserable.”

His jade eyes flared a challenge. “Chicken.”

“Taunting me won’t change anything, Thorn.” Inclining her head toward the window she continued, “I’d rather spend the day with Lothario over there and take my chances. At least with him, I’d be in control of the game.”

Jack laughed, the sound husky and deep. Her skin flushed beneath the percussion of it. Her reaction to it while she was so pissed solidified all the reasons why she could not work with him. As controlled as she was in everything in her life, she had no control of this one aspect. It maddened her that she was still susceptible to his pull.

“I don’t play games, Detective.” He leaned into her. “I play for real.” His nostrils flared when a small gasp escaped her lips at the intensity of his nearness. “That POS killed three women, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let our history prevent either one of us from getting him before he does it again.” He pulled her around and pointed to the wall of death. Dead eyes stared back, begging to be put to rest.

“I’d work with the fucking Taliban if it would bring those victims justice.”

Stevie elbowed him in the ribs as she turned around to face him. “My responsibility is also to the victims as well as their families. But how the hell am I supposed to do my job with you breathing down my neck like a dog denied?”

Jack’s lips twitched as he rubbed his chest where she’d elbowed him. “Consider it an adverse condition and deal with it.”

“With no hazard pay? Forget it.” She was joking, of course, but if she accepted her new working conditions
and
her new partner, she was opening herself to a world of hurt.

“No hazard pay, just the hazard of working with me.” His eyes darkened. “Besides, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me, Jack.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this case will help wipe the slate clean between us.”

Wipe the slate clean between them? What slate did
she
have to wipe clean? Stevie made a sound similar to a snarl. He was impossibly obtuse. The most stubborn man on the planet. But also the sharpest. Sharper than even the illustrious Sheriff Cavanaugh.

She glanced at the lifeless victims again. She was their voice now, their champion, and as much as she didn’t want to work with Thorn, she wanted to nail Spoltori more. No one deserved to die like those women had. So she would suck it up, pray she wouldn’t fall too hard and hurt too bad when it was all over, because she
was
going to work with Jack Thornton on this case. But on her terms. Stevie smiled blithely and gave Jack a sideways glance.

“I have three conditions.”

He raised both brows, as if skeptical that she had any say. But she did, in fact, have a say. A lot.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m team captain.”

Jack started to shake his head, but she quickly put her hand up in the stop position. “We work out of my house, not yours. Your men report to me as they report to you,
and
take orders from me without asking your permission first.”

“That’s four conditions.”

“I’m a woman; it’s my duty to change my mind when it suits me.”

“I’ll give you
co
-captain status, but understand my word is the final word.”

Stevie ground her teeth, but kept silent.

“My house has more advanced technology and a larger support staff.” When she didn’t argue he continued, “My men will report to us both and after we have consulted and agreed on a mutual order of business, feel free to order away.”

She opened her mouth to counter when he put his hand up in the same stop position she just had. “I have a few conditions of my own, Detective.”

Stevie exhaled loudly, crossed her arms over her chest, and said, “I’m listening.”

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and clamped it shut for a thoughtful minute before he finally spoke. “No going behind my back.” He leaned into her when she pursed her lips. “For
anything.
We are to be one hundred percent transparent with each other. We’re a team, Detective. It will serve no purpose if we’re counterproductive.” When she didn’t speak, he stepped back.

Surprised when he didn’t keep going, she asked, “That’s it? No more conditions?”

“One more.” He looked directly at her. “There are to be no references to our history. It has no relevance to this case.”

Stevie’s heart slammed high in her throat. His words hurt. She knew he hadn’t given her a second thought when he never once contacted her, not even a text to say, “Hey, you were a great lay, now it’s time for me to move on. Have a nice life.” But for him to say their past had no relevance stung deep.

The sting galvanized her resolve. More importantly it closed the one door she had kept open in her mind. The one that welcomed another meeting with Jack in the hopes of furthering their relationship the second go around. Now she knew. That door was closed. Had been as far as Jack was concerned. It was past time she accept it. She inhaled deeply, then let the exhale go, long and slow.

“I have one more condition, Special Agent Thornton.”

“You have some balls, Detective.”

“I accept your conditions. All of them. Just so long as you understand that if you so much as lay one finger on me, I’ll take you down so fast your head will spin off your neck.” The faint lines at the creases of his eyes crinkled. He thought it was funny? Grabbing a handful of her breasts, she smirked at his sharp intake of breath. “These are mine. I only share if I want to. I don’t want to share them with you, now, or ever. Look at them or touch them, even by mistake, and I’ll fucking geld you.”

Jack threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and mellow. Truly amused. “Oh, Cavanaugh, I trained you well.”

“You have no idea,” she threw at him before she grabbed her pack up from the floor. As she set it on the small table by her chair, the office door opened and another suit walked through it.

“Detective Cavanaugh, meet Special Agent Deavers, our resident IT specialist,” Thorn said.

Stevie extended her hand to the tall, handsome agent. “I’d say I’m glad to meet you, Deavers, but under the circumstances, I’m feeling a little cheated.”

He nodded and shook her hand, then gave Thorn a knowing look. “We get that a lot.”

Stevie released his hand and gave Thorn a sideways glance. “I know you guys have better toys, but ours aren’t that archaic and we have a designated room for this investigation back at HQ, not to mention we’re close to city hall. I suggest we not dismantle what we’ve built for your convenience. We have room for your technology.”