MASON (Second Chance Novels Book 2) (4 page)

"You have no idea how good I look in a negligée," I say plainly. They both chuckle at me.

Seeing their connection makes me wonder if I'll ever have that. My brain might be too fucked up to love someone with every cell in my body, but maybe someday.

I get my head out of my ass long enough to announce last call. Twenty minutes later I'm ready to lock the back door, but I see Dig's car pull up. With a wide smile I greet her with a simple, "Hey."

She smiles wider, I swear it, then walks directly behind the bar and serves us both.
Shy
is not in this woman's vocabulary. She pops off both bottle caps and clinks her beer with mine.
 

"To Miller rotting in hell," she toasts.

"You know, part of me wants to take the chains off and pulverize him before breakfast. Put me in front of this guy and it's done," I say plainly.

"Wow, are you arrogant," she grins at me.
 

"That's not arrogance, that's confidence," I point out.

"Fine, but Miller's a weak douche. What if I put somebody with combat training in front of you?" She's fishing for information as much as she's goading me. That's fine.

"Same outcome. He's done."

"So is that arrogance?" she asks with attitude.

"No, that's experience," I say, no longer smirking. "Now didn't you want to toast to Miller rotting in hell? Because I can drink to that. For a starter, anyway."

Dig takes a long pull from her beer and nods. "That man is an ass," she says after taking another long sip. "He's strutting around like the biggest cock on the walk since IA let him go. The sergeant still sees him as the polished-up senior detective who is recovering from such an
unjustified investigation
," she quotes in disgust, "which takes my standing down too many notches to mention."

I take a swig and look at her appraisingly. "So how does that translate to your time on shift? I can't imagine the partnership is working at all. Why don't they reassign you?"

"Honestly? I think they're biding their time and looking for an excuse to demote me back into my old uniform. These few misogynistic pricks aren't big fans of women who aren't barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen."

"I'm sure they hate the knowledge that you could kick each and every one of their asses."

"God, would that be fun," she says shaking her head. She takes another long pull from her beer bottle and sets it loudly on the bar. "So are we doing this?"

"Now? I thought you would need to go home for your beauty sleep," I say to piss her off.

"I'm fucking beautiful enough," she says plainly. "Now get me in front of that board. We should start today. No reason not to."

I gesture her in front of me as we walk toward the back entrance and then, just for fun, I twist her arm and try to get her in the same hold she used on me the night before. However, before I could buckle her knee, she back-sweeps with her foot and maneuvers out of my hold. Just for fun, I'm sure, she dead-legs me on the way around with her other hand. Not wanting to turn this into a genuine sparring match in the back area of the bar, I let her go with a laugh. Apparently I shouldn't chuckle, because she quirks her eyebrow at me right before she hooks her finger
in my mouth
and pulls me easily to the floor by the inside of my cheek.

Fuck. Me. Twice.

"Nice try," she smiles as she lets me go and makes a show of wiping her finger on my shirt. She turns toward the door again and I smirk. Unable to stop myself, and not really wanting to stop myself anyway, I check out her ass as she walks away.
Damn
.

A few short minutes later and we're standing together staring at the web that represents what we've gathered so far. Her eyes scan through the information, focused and determined. Working with her is effortless.
 

 
I plop my ass into my chair and she sets herself on the arm. She crooks her leg up to rest her foot on the seat beside me and I can see the shape of her legs even through her subtly-classy black pants. I need to stop noticing these things. Getting my mind back to the task at hand, I stare down the picture of her partner detective. "So, you said your sergeant is knee-deep with him?"

"Sure seems that way," she says. "In his eyes, Miller can do no wrong. He closes nearly every case, but that's because he's a power-hungry jackass. He does what he
needs to do
, so he says."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"I've seen him come back from his 'personal time' with scuffed knuckles and suddenly-acquired, crucial information more times than I can count."

"And your sergeant's reaction?"

"He's happy as fuck that his team has one of the highest close-rates in the city. He's got his eyes set pretty high up the food chain, too. Miller and Simms are quite a pair, like two little symbiotic jackasses," she says with disgust. I can see why she hates her partner so much. "And more people get sucked in all the time. Take Joseph Wells for example."

"Who's that?" I ask.
 

"From the City Treasurer's office. He's a standup guy in the office, but put a drink in his hand…"

"Then how's he connected?"

"First, Miller covered him for a DUI. Then Simms saved him from a drunk and disorderly. Then favors get owed, of course…the web widens, funds are discretely reappropriated, and bigger players get woven in. The original speeding ticket is the first domino. At this point, so many have fallen that they've smoothed over an assault charge for Wells, and no one will fuss because they're all roped in with him."

"If you're dealing with both Miller and Simms, who do we take down first?" I ask, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two.
 

We debate for the next several minutes the pros and cons of each as our primary target. When we get to the top of our priorities list, so to speak, we decide on Simms. As satisfying as it would be to knock Miller off his self-appointed pedestal as quickly as possible, we can do more overall damage by taking out Simms.
 

"Pin Simms front and center," she says, still shrewdly scanning the web of idiocy in front of us.
 

"Tomorrow, Dig," I say. "If I remember correctly, you may not need your beauty sleep as you are 'fucking beautiful enough', but you still have a full-time job to attend. I'll rearrange all this tomorrow before my shift."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," she nods. "I'll try to catch a nap before I get here, but that means you'll see me in my jeans instead of my detective-wear."

"I can live with that," I say simply before I don my ornery grin. "Maybe I should dress up so at least one of us looks decent."

I smile at her and walk her to my front door and open it for her. She starts to walk through and then stops directly in the doorway and turns to look at me in an expression which is serious in a soft kind of way.
 

"Thank you," she says with more sincerity than I've ever heard from her. "I've been letting this shit eat me up for too long without doing anything about it. You reminded me."

I simply nod because I understand completely. The whole mess with Cam reminded
me
, and I'm so grateful to be doing something good again. Whatever kept Dig from fighting back, she's already conquered it, simply by diving into this with me. She fucking gets it. I breathe deeply as I close the door behind her. She really fucking gets it.
 

I walk straight to my new favorite wall, knowing I'm obsessing, but thrilled to obsess over something again. My brain has been far too idle for far too long. I'm an action guy, and I'm tired of fighting my need to do something.
 

As I promised Dig, I spend some time rearranging the board. I jot a few idea notes I had, but I'll wait for Dig to go through everything. She's my partner on this and I'll be damned if I treat her like anything but an equal. She's had too many no-dick alpha-male wannabes keeping her from doing her job for too long. That won't be me, not in any way.
 

The next night, Dig shows up in denim as promised. Goddamn, that woman can work a pair of jeans. The denim is hanging low on her curvy hips, showing off her flat tummy. Her clingy t-shirt just skims along her belt and I find myself hoping for a glimpse of her olive-complected skin. I would love a chance to see her belly button. I can imagine how sexy she would look in those jeans and nothing else.
 

And I need to stop this line of thinking immediately. Not only do I have Shelby, but I also need to focus on the board in front of me. Dig and I need to strategize a way to get Simms taken down.

"You know him better than I do," I say still staring straight ahead for every reason.
 

"Wait," she halts with her voice. "There's something wrong here."

I scan the board again, wondering what mistake I made in rearranging our information or priorities.
 

"You promised to dress up," she says with a hint of an ornery smile.
 

I chuckle. "Yeah, about that. Me and 'dressed-up' don't get along very well."

"I'm disappointed. I hoped for at least a pair of Dockers."

I smirk, flattered she thought about me at all. "My attire aside, do you agree with the new web? Some of this may hinge on Simms"

"My chief? I'm certain he's a stand-up guy."

Dig nods and moves closer to the board. Her ass is even sexier than her tummy.
 

"Simms," she points, interrupting my errant thinking. "I don't know of any specific vises. I'm only certain he trades favors. He fancies himself a fixer, but that's only by reputation. I don't know the specifics."

"I like how this is setting up," I nod, moving toward the board with her. "Without the fixer, the people up top will have a harder time covering their corruption, which puts them in prime position for a personal introduction to the two of us."

I smile at the thought. Dig nods and our conversation turns from strategy to personal stories about dealing with corruption and our own philosophies on the various definitions of power. I'm not at all surprised that our thinking patterns fall along the same lines. We also sit and peruse credit card receipts, phone records, personal schedules, and any other bits of intel we gathered. A wish-list of information gets started so now we have specific goals for our surveillance and computer work.

Eventually we make our way to the living room and talk over a couple of beers. We end up talking for nearly two hours. Dawn is blushing the sky and Dig looks at her phone suddenly. "Shit," she says. "Next time we set an alarm. If I keep this up I won't be able to focus at work, and you know I have to keep it sharp. If I'm going to catch bad guys
and
my commander…"

She yawns once and stretches. Her tummy has out-sexied her ass again. Damn.
 

"Saturday morning?" I ask. She nods and waves her goodbye on the way out my door. Her ass wins again.

While I wait for dig just two mornings later, I'm staring at the board again before I sit down, ready to get real with this. Strategy and planning are two important parts of the process, but I'm ready for some action. I open the door for her when I hear her car.
 

I notice she's dropped her fashion choice from jeans down to a simple pair of black leggings and a loose, long tank over them. Yep, sexy fucking legs on her, too. Her strength is obvious in that outfit, but I have a feeling she could wear thermal overalls and I'd still be in awe of her figure. She sits that firm ass down in
my
chair and I smack her upside the head for doing it. "Get out of my chair," I say directly, feeling playful from my excitement over the project. Well, I tell myself it's over the project.

"I got here first. It's not my fault you're slow," she remarks. She sets her coffee on the end table to cool.

"Got there first? What are you, twelve?"

She shrugs and stays in my spot. I couldn't care less about the chair, but there's no backing down now.
 

With swift efficiency and a smile, I get behind her and grab her under her arms. I jerk her entire body up and over the back of my chair, then drop her unceremoniously on the floor so I can swing my legs over the back. I plant my ass right where I want it.
 

I'm feeling rather smug until I'm in a headlock and losing my oxygen. I'm sure she's feeling rather smug herself, so I reach one arm behind me and lock it over the nape of her neck. I snap myself forward and roll her to the floor. She hangs on tight and rolls me down with her. I've got my knee on her chest in less than a second, pinning her arms down and smirking over my little victory.