The Ringer (18 page)

“But I’m having cravings, and I want the brownie,” she growled through gritted teeth. She ignored his complaints and went for it again, but this time he hip checked her, and she dropped the dessert on the floor.

“Could you show us our room?” he asked before she could pick it up. “I don’t want the wifey to tax herself.”

“Wifey is about to—”

Sweeping her off of her feet, he whispered in her face, “Trust me, baby.”

He grinned before he kissed her hard. Heated from the mere touch of his mouth, Lane decided to go with the path of least resistance.

“Well damn.” Shelly fanned herself with an oven mitt. “Let me show you that room.”

***

On bare feet, Lane tiptoed across the cold floor to the antique armoire and sniffed at the froufrou décor. Someone’s soap opera taste deemed wrought iron and Chantilly lace appropriate for their newlywed suite.

“The truck is well out of sight and the room’s paid up for a week.” Jax walked into the room.

“What’s our name again?” She finished unpacking her bag and started on Jax’s clothes. She folded his shirt and placed it in the armoire.

“Lana and Clark.”

“Kent.” She hoped, suddenly wanting to bone Superman.

“Franklin,” he said. Lane snapped her fingers at the missed opportunity while he gave her a curious look. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He took a Snickers out of his pocket and tossed it on the bed.

She tore into the wrapper, not the least bit amused by his poor substitution for the brownie. “If you think this is going to get it, buddy,” she complained.

“There is the cutest corner store at the end of the block.” He stripped off his jacket. The T-shirt underneath hugged his muscled arms just right. “This place is really like any small town U.S.A.,” he joked. “Everything right down to the pot-baking grandma.”

“No kidding!” she mumbled over her tasty mouthful of chocolate, caramel, and nougat.

“Yep. We almost left in search of somewhere else. The last thing we need is the DEA raiding this place.” He flopped down on the bed.

“What did Raff say?” she asked, wanting the scoop on what he found out before he drifted off.

“Either Tara or your mark, Johnny Mac, were blackmailing the Lockland’s.” He yawned. “For months, Dustin Lockland took out lump sums from his account but stopped around the time Tara went missing.”

“Which would point to her being the blackmailer,” she suggested.

“Not really. It could have been your mark. He probably grew scared when Tara went missing though,” he grunted. “Life and death. The stakes got too high.”

Lane continued to put their clothes into the drawers. He crooked his finger in her direction. Tilting her head, she considered his request for a moment before she bounded over to the bed.

“Tomorrow, I’m meeting with Army.” He pulled her on top of his body. The mattress creaked under their weight. “And see if he can do anything with what we found.” Jax gave her a sweet kiss that didn’t push for more—not that Lane would have minded.

“Everything we found is good enough to clear you.” She rested her hand on his chest. The strong beat of his heart calmed her.

“It’s a whole lot of circumstantial,” he murmured before he closed his eyes.

She wiggled from beneath his arm, positive he’d gone to sleep since his breath had grown shallow.

“Don’t you dare go downstairs and get one of those weed brownies,” he grumbled.

“How did ya…? Oh, forget it!” When he flipped her on her back, tickling her until she couldn’t breathe, she peeled off into a fit of giggles. It conjured about the same uncontrollable spiral that falling in love with him would.
Gravity-defying helplessness.

“What?” he asked.

“I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Uh….” Too afraid to admit it out loud, Lane chickened out. “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Go back to sleep.”

“For a minute, I thought you were going to say something about us,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping closed again.

“We’re an ‘us’?” She held her breath in anticipation for his answer.

“Of course, we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”

She smiled in reply before he grabbed under her arms to pull her up to his lips.

The next day, Jax tried to figure out how to get concrete proof he’d been set up. He had the why; he just didn’t have the how.

While Lane helped the elderly B&B owner wash their dinner dishes, he snuck out to meet Army. Cloaked within shadows, he waited for him in the backyard.

The Watergate feel of the whole thing became laughable. But the threat to their lives wasn’t.

“Thornbird, what do you have to tell me that couldn’t have been relayed over the phone?” the fed complained with no discernible emotion on his face.

“This required your undivided attention,” he said through gritted teeth. Unfortunately, Army wanted to draw out the sting of it. “I found out the ifs, ands, and whys of this whole mess.”

“Perfect. Where’s the evidence?”

They stared at one another.
Twist the screws harder
. At this point, his old college competitor most likely knew more about this case than he did. “Still looking.”

“Great, well when you find some….” Army turned to leave.

He grabbed his arm to stop him. Right now, his life was difficult enough without the theatrics of a temperamental FBI agent. “Trust me, this shit goes wide.”

“I believe you, man.” Army shrugged his hand off of his overcoat. “I’ve got someone in Chicago poking around for me. This could be a career-defining case, but I can’t do anything without concrete evidence, Thornbird. You’re aware of this.”

Pushed to the limit, he punched the air. “Give me a week,” he said once he exhausted himself.

“What difference will a week make?”

They stared one another down in the yard of a Midwest town. Jax anticipated the other would take a swing. Army would have loved for him to take the first hit, but he couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“At this point, Thornbird, I’d be more inclined to arrest you. It would probably be the only thing to keep your thick skull alive.”

With the simple truth spoken, Jax began to let his guard down.

“Look, man, the Chicago P.D. will back off the minute the FBI gets involved,” Army told him.

Tempted, he considered a deal. The agent could take him in on the contingency that they would place she into protective custody to keep her safe. On the verge of suggesting the ludicrous deal, the object of his desire came out the B&B’s door. Thankfully, she interrupted them.

“Hot toddy,” she offered, all smiles. She balanced a tray of drinks in her hand. Her hair fell into her face in the most seductive way as her full breasts and hips came closer to them.

If he could make it through this and out to the other side, he would make Lane his. Her beauty became his ammunition not to cave.

“Army, this is Lane, Parker Lockland’s ex-wife.”

“Hey, Army, you want a drink?” she asked.

By the way Army couldn’t take his eyes off the knockout, he was pretty sure by the way he stared she’d mesmerized the jerk. Army took the drink without a single snarky comment. “Thank you.”

“And you, sir,” she tempted him.

“You’re buzzed, aren’t you?” He smiled, barely resisting her offer to accept the alcoholic drink.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted, laying her hand on his chest. “And working my way toward drunk if Maw Maw Alma keeps this up.” She jerked her head toward the B&B. “Besides you wouldn’t let me have a brownie.”

Jax laughed in spite of himself and admired her perfect backside as she worked her way into the house.

“Huh, now I get it. She’s not your usual, Thornbird. How do I put this?” Army took a drink from the hot concoction of liquor. “You’re into flighty, and she’s more of a free spirit.”

“Isn’t that a nice way of saying stupid?” he asked dryly.

“In your case, yes, but not hers. She’s more like an open book type of gal.”

Finding the urge to defend her even though she didn’t need it, he couldn’t help but brag. “She shot out the tires of two psycho cops at seventy miles per hour.” Jax wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off of the FBI agent’s face.

“Well, hot damn. Your witness slash lover has just been upgraded from hot to sexy as hell.” Army nodded at Lane on her way to the house.

With a mild touch of admiration twisted into a strange amount of respect he had never experienced for the guy, he had to agree with him.

“You got a week” He drank every last drop of the hot toddy she had given him.
Just like old times
. Army handed over the empty mug. “After that, I’m going to arrest you for your own freaking safety.” He took off in the opposite direction of the house. “Hey!” he mock whispered halfway to the fence past the shed. “What was wrong with the brownies?”

“The old lady who runs this place laced them with marijuana.”

“Not surprised,” he shouted. “She’s growing the shit over here.” He pointed at something Jax couldn’t quite make out by the limited light. “I’m thinking busting grandma would make a better case than what you got.” The FBI agent laughed and worked his way over the fence.

Jax hitched his thumbs in the loops of his jeans and wondered if Army was right. Maybe the pot-pushing granny was a better bust than his homicidal squad in Chicago.

***

Chest deep in bubble bath, Lane decided cozying up to the inn owner had its perks.

“This stuff isn’t going to make me smell like a girl, is it?” Jax moaned from the opposite end.

Bigger than a regular tub, the porcelain claw-foot accommodated both of them. Of course, it wasn’t at all comfortable, but at least they could be in it together.

“Not the suds, but the rose oil Alma let me borrow is a whole other story.” She wiggled her purple painted toes as he massaged the sole of her foot. The hot water and even hotter man gave her a heady rush she could relax with.

“Want to go over it one more time?” Lane resisted the urge to climb on top of him and change their spa moment into something a touch more lurid.

“Nope,” he sighed. “It’s getting us nowhere.”

Ever since he had met with Army, he’d been quiet. She couldn’t put her finger on his new contemplative mood, but defeat came to mind.

“We don’t have the evidence, and they won’t stop hunting us unless they’re locked away.”

She squeezed a healthy amount of bubbles from the big sponge. She waited for him to finish his thought while he switched his massage technique to her other foot. Unable to resist, she relaxed against the tub and sank into his touch with a moan.

“If I can cut a deal with the FBI to take you into protective custody—”

“No. No family should ever go through what Nancy Szohre has gone through.”

“Or us,” he added.

“Then it’s settled. What do we have?” She tried again. This time she didn’t allow herself to get caught in the pools of his hazel eyes.

“Raff poured over text messages and voicemails between Tara Penske and Johnny Mac. They were hatching some sort of a plan to run off together. Raff seems to think Tara and Parker’s brother, Dustin Lockland, had a fling. At some point, she decided to use Johnny Mac to extort the family after Dustin dumped her.”

“So, where’s the evidence Johnny Mac had?” she asked.

“From what Raff can tell, no one has found it.”

Distracted, she tried to yank her foot from his hand as he started to play “This Little Piggy” with her toes one by one. Unbelievably ticklish, she slipped under the water to pull free from his tight grip.

“Sorry.” He chuckled without appearing the least bit apologetic. She splashed back in retaliation. “Hey.”

“I figure they haven’t found the evidence because Franco and what’s his name…Maurice are still after us.”

“Mortiz,” he corrected her. Jax continued to rub the suds out of his eyes. “And you’re probably right. Here, let me.”

Since she had failed at cleaning her back he took her sponge. When she turned around in the tub, she fought to look dainty.

“If you think about it,” she continued, leaning forward to allow him to drip hot water over her skin, “the police have combed through this guy’s whole life by now. His house, job, but not his—”

“Car!”

“Yep,” she said, confirming his discovery, “but not his car. Do you think it’s still where you left it?” She pulled her hair up, so he could reach her neck.

“It’s on one of the Thornbird properties.”

“Great, all you have to do is call Raff and have her—”

“Nope. The parking attendant is already doing me a solid hiding the car. He would never give the keys up to Raff.” Once they knocked one problem out of the way, another always managed to pop up. They sat in silence for a while. “We have to go back.”

Right into the mouth of madness
. “For cover, we’ll need something big,” she told him. “An event. Something huge enough to pull on the city’s resources.”

She twisted around to see that familiar pinched cop look on his face.

“You’re good at this,” he complimented. “Are there anymore ideas in that head of yours?” Jax kissed her shoulder.

“A few,” Lane told him. “But you’re going to be in debt to Maxie for the rest of your life.”

“Not Maxie,” he muttered while he worked his way up to her earlobe and took a nip. “Anything but her.”

Lane stood on the front porch of the B&B, hugging Alma good-bye.

“You drive safe, dear,” the tiny woman said.

“And don’t forget these.” Maw Maw handed over a Tupperware full of pastries.

“Oh, Alma! You didn’t—” she set out to scold the tiny woman.

“No, no, dear.” Her face crinkled in amusement. “These are clean.”

“Well, then, all right.” She gave the older woman another quick squeeze before she bounded down the porch and to the truck. It had taken them the whole week to construct an event big enough to close down the city of Chicago. Nate and Maxie’s engagement party would be the “it” function of the year.