Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Jess: I’m going to come. It’s coming.
Me: One second. Let me catch up. I want to go when you go. Can you do that for me?
Jess: I’m waiting. Hurry up!
I grinned, chuckling.
Me: One more stroke, baby. For me.
Jess: Okay. Going . . .
Me: Are you coming?
Jess: Yes!
Two more jerks of my own and I was blowing. I let it out, finishing with a few more strokes to get everything, and then I leaned back against the counter.
Me: Did you come?
Jess: Yes. You?
Me: I did. How are you feeling now?
Jess: Weird.
I grinned.
Me: Seems to be the theme tonight?
Jess: Just hard doing this with you but without you. And to type one handed. I tried kissing someone tonight, forcing you out of my mind.
I hit dial, and she picked up a second later, breathless. “Hello?”
“You did what?” I growled.
“It didn’t work.” She sounded drowsy and sad at the same time. “He wasn’t you. You’ve ruined me for men. You don’t get it.”
I quieted. “What don’t I get?”
“You and me, if we do this . . . everything changes for me. Everything.”
Yeah. I was getting that. “The alternative is to go mad because that’s where I’m at, Jess. Are you?”
She didn’t answer.
I didn’t push her, but it felt right to be standing bare-ass naked in my bathroom, the shower on and waiting for me, listening to her breathe through my phone. I was in no hurry to put an end to this.
“I choose you, and I’ll lose everything else.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“It does, and you know it. It is how it is, so the question should actually be for you: Are you okay knowing what it’ll cost me to have you?”
She hung up after, and it took me a long time before I pulled the phone away from my ear.
A long time.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
JESS
Weird things happened over the next week.
One, Trace stayed away from me. No contact. No texts. No calls. Anthony made a point to share that “he” wasn’t in the building and wouldn’t be during my shifts. The other thing: my parolees were perfect. They were almost gentlemen to me. The women weren’t. They still wanted to claw my eyeballs out, but the men: one accidentally shut his door in my face and was so apologetic afterward that I’d had enough.
I shoved into his apartment, the door banging shut behind me.
“Hey!”
I yelled through the door, “Give me one second, Officer Hartman!”
“What?”
“One second. Please.”
I could hear her grumbling. “Really fucking weird, but okay. One second. That’s all.”
“Uh, Officer Montell, I don’t want any trouble.” He was backing up, his hands in the air. He was a giant of a man, easily outweighing me by two hundred pounds, and he was pure muscle. And his attitude was a total changer because he’d recently come out of prison, and he’d not been one to take advantage of the many resources that were available to him on the inside. Sometimes that was an indicator how cooperative they’d be with us on the outside. This guy did nothing and had had an attitude every time I’d met with him since.
“What the fuck gives? You are my seventh parolee with a magical attitude change about me? What? Christmas Past come to visit you all? I want to know what’s going on and why.”
He took me in and frowned. His whole face twisted up in confusion before he dropped his hands. “You serious? You don’t know?”
“No. You’re going to fill me in.”
His eyes bulged out, and he was starting to look for an exit route.
“Now!”
He jumped at my bark. “Word’s out on you. You’re protected.”
I lowered my head, my eyes trained steadily on him. “What does that mean?”
“West Mafia. They put it out there not to touch you. You’re considered theirs.”
“Theirs? Explain that.”
His head inclined back, and he was giving me a once-over but not in a sexual way, in a way suggesting he wasn’t recognizing who was standing in front of him. “What are you talking about? You know what that means. It means you’re in their pocket, or you’re fucking one of them.” He took a step to the side, eyeing his own patio door. “Gotta admit, I never saw that coming from someone like you. Thought you were all straight and narrow, that sort of shit.”
I was going to murder Trace.
“I am,” I snarled. “I don’t know why the fuck this order is out, but it’s wrong.”
He lowered his arms, his head still inclined all the way back. “Wait. You’re saying they’re doing this to jam you up?” He relaxed and whistled under his breath. “Can’t believe they be doing that to you. You’re known as a tough bitch. I was warned about you but figured I’m likely to still do what I’m likely to do. Though, this new order came through, and the West Mafia are tight with the Waldens, and I don’t want any of that trouble. You feel me?”