Up All Night Long: From Lust to Love (Romance Anthology) (67 page)

Chapter 2

Jon

"Where the fuck is she?" Jon walked into the station, his heart pounding in his chest. He worked hard at staying focused on not losing his shit and letting the whole place know how fucked up he was. He narrowed his eyes on his partner Seth, his voice gravelly as he asked again, "Where the fuck is she, Seth?"

"Hey buddy. You're gonna need to come back here with me. Captain wants to see you, okay?" Seth moved toward him, hands extended. His light blond hair was matted to his forehead, his blue eyes filled with sympathy that Jon didn't want.

"Stop fucking with me. I'll talk to the Cap after I see this bitch."

"Jon. She isn't guilty until proven so. You're one of the good guys. Come on. Come back here with me, man." Seth reached out and put a hand on Jon's shoulder, moving him down the long hall of offices.

The New Orleans Police Department was vast and the building stood empty most nights. Too many crimes to fight out in the streets. Jon let out a slow breath, his chest tight, hands squeezed into fists. Adam was his only brother - his kid brother. The little shit was trouble from the day he could walk, but damned if Jon didn't love him.

"She had his blood all over her, Seth. I've already read the initial report."

"Did Karen send it to you?"

"It doesn't matter how I got it. The girl was covered in his blood and she's a known criminal. She's been brought up on murder charges multiple times. The bitch did it. I want to question her."

"Not gonna happen." Seth stopped and turned toward Jon.

The captain got up from his desk, walking to open the door just behind Seth, the look on his face pensive. "Thanks Seth. Jon, come on in here."

Jon adverted his eyes from Seth and walked into the all too familiar office, taking a seat and clasping his hands together. There was nothing he dreaded more than telling his mother about Adam. He would be the one to identify the body and to find and convict the woman who took his brother's life and that was all part of it, but watching his mom crumble... or even watching her not... He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a minute to gather his emotions.

"I'm sorry, son. There is nothing worse than watching an innocent lose his life, but when he's your family." The captain paused as Jon opened his eyes.

"Not sure if my brother was entirely innocent, but he didn't deserve to be gunned down in the street. Tell me what you know."

"No. You tell me what you know and we'll go from there."

"I want the case." Jon rolled his shoulders, preparing himself for the fight ahead.

"No. Not happening."

"I can handle myself. Let me do this for my mother, Captain. Mike. Seriously. I'll not step over the line once."

"You're too close to it."

"Does anyone know he is my brother?"

"Only a small handful of us, but you look like you're ready to take down the city. I can't put you on this. It's against policy."

"Then don't tell anyone he was my brother. Put Seth with me and I'll keep cool. If I dick this up at all, then remove me and give me a leave of absence."

"That wouldn't do well for your record, son. If you're hoping to rise to the top, then you better keep your nose and everyone around you nose's clean. Got me?"

"Yes. I know this. Tell me I can take the case. Only you, Seth and Karen know Adam was my little brother."

"If you step out of line at all... it's going to be ugly. For all of us."

"I won't. Not in the slightest."

"Let me think on it."

"There isn't time for that. The woman... she's still here right?"

"She's in questioning."

"Then I need to go." He stood and moved toward the door.

"No. I won't allow that yet. You just found out. You go home and chill out for a few days. When the labs come back and we know if she's the killer or not, then you can come onto the case."

"Then it's too late. The trail will be cold." Jon put his hands on his hips, shifting slightly from foot to foot to keep himself from exploding. The fact that Captain was willing to put him on the case was a huge relief, but if he wasn't going to start until next week...

"Then forget it." Mike stood up and pressed his hands to his desk. "You can have the case starting next week on Sunday. Not a minute before that."

"Who's questioning her?"

"Grabousky and Lamons."

"Fuck, Cap. You know those two are morons." Jon sighed and walked to the door, pressing his head to the cold glass and letting out a long breath.

"I don't think this is healthy Jon. You just got off a child murder case. That almost tore you to shreds. Adam was what, nineteen? Twenty?"

Jon turned around and pressed his back to the door, holding in the scream that rose in his chest. He needed to do something. Whoever killed his brother needed to be brought to justice and most likely it was the chick at the end of the hall.

"He was seventeen. What is the story on the girl? What was her alibi for watching the victim bleed out?" Jon moved back into the room, standing behind the small leather chair, his hands gripping the back softly. He would need to remain very calm and methodical in his movements, or Mike would remove any possibility of him assisting. 

"She claims good Samaritan." The captain sat back down in his chair, his fingers brushing his white hair from his face. A haircut was beyond overdo, but time was a lost commodity for most of them on the force.

"She just happened to be walking by the alley where the victim was shot? That seems a little iffy to me."

"She owns the club where it all happened. The boy was... he was..." Mike paused.

"I get it. Don't treat this like anything other than a case and I won't either. My personal feelings will be kept under lock and key. The boy was gunned down in the alley behind her club. Just say the shit as it happened, Mike. I can handle it. Was she taking out the trash or what?"

"She felt something and went out back to see what was going on. Adam beat on the door of the club and she went out to help him."

"So this older woman felt something? Is she a Voodoo priestess? What the fuck is
felt something
?"

"Read the report. I don't have all the details and we have ten other cases coming in tonight. You're not questioning her. Talk to Karen to get the report tomorrow. Until then... go home."

Jon walked toward the door, grateful for the chance to take this bitch down, but fuming at the fact that he would have to wait. "All right, Cap. Anything else?"

"Yeah, she's not an old woman and she's not timid or fragile. She's a few years younger than you, and even though her record is a mile long, this case is a new trial. She has paid her time for the past. Remember that as you discern the truth."

"Once a criminal, always a criminal?" Jon winked and walked out, letting the door slam behind him. He looked to his left. The need to find the room and choke the questions from her almost overwhelming.

"So... you get the case?" Seth walked up, concern still sitting heavy on him.

"Yeah. No one will know that Adam and I are related. Just me, you, Cap't and Karen."

"Let's go question her."

"I can't. I am officially on the case starting next Sunday."

"What? Why so long?"

"Because Mike is a smart man. He's going to work to prove the girl innocent so that I don't crucify her."

"It's a high possibility that she did it. She had a weapon at the scene of the crime, she has a record that includes attempted murder, and she owns one of the hardest bars in the city."

"I understand all of that. How old is she? I thought she would be older than us, but Mike said no."

"She's twenty-seven, but she looks twenty-two or so."

"You saw her?"

"Yeah. She was pretty filthy." Seth shook his head, his expression pinched.

"Trashy?"

"No, not at all. She was covered in blood." Seth adverted his eyes.

"Treat it like an unknown case so I can too. The procedures are no different. We're going to do our jobs just like we would if the victim was a drug dealer that got gunned down. Someone committed a crime. We're going to find out who."

"I sure as fuck hope it ain't her."

"Why? It would be easier if it was. If she just confessed to what she did then we could be done."

"Because I hate it when the bad guys look so good."

Jon smirked, tilting his head to the side. "She a looker?"

"She's wicked hot, and so innocent looking. I could see myself taking her home and making her scream for me." Seth shrugged and moved back down the hall.

Jon shook his head, emotion pressing at his chest and the back of his eyes. "I need to go. I want a full report on this bitch. I'll meet you tomorrow after church at the cafe on the square. Bring what you know and let's come up with a game plan."

"I thought you weren’t allowed on the case until next Sunday."

"Officially I'm not. Unofficially, I do what the fuck I want." Jon shrugged and turned to walk out of the station. The window reflected his strong features, his leather bomber a gift from his mother a few years back. Along with his dark eyes and dark hair, he almost looked like the bad guy. He reached up and ran his hand over his short goatee, the desire to look his age forcing him to keep it.

Numbness settled around his heart, the world appearing much bleaker without the hope of bringing Adam back from his wicked ways. He had promised his mother that he would go to his grave trying to get his little brother to leave the things that tore him apart, that he would get him to work on being honest and good. Now there nothing left to do...

He had won a small battle in getting the case, but it sounded very much like up next might be a war. Whether it was with the young woman who murdered his brother or himself, he knew not.

Chapter 3

Kate

"Tell us again how you knew Adam." The tall, thin African-American cop hovered over the small table in front of her, his eyes tired, his voice wavering.

"I've already gone over this three times. I'm not doing it again. Actually, I'm not speaking another word about this until I see my lawyer."

"You need your lawyer?" The Italian-looking cop moved in, sucking something out of his teeth.

Kate sat back, her hands in her lap, her expression hopefully stating the obvious. She was covered in Adam's blood. The sticky crimson liquid having collected under her nails and on the creases in her fingers. She adverted her attention from herself and back to the men before her.

"I need a shower. This is disgusting. Would you guys like to sit in a room and be questioned to death for helping someone while covered in their blood?"

"In your victim's blood?" The Italian one snorted.

"I don't think she's going to give us anything else." The African-American cop leaned against the wall. "I'm going to check on processing. I think we're almost done here, Miss Jarret. We will be following up with you once the results of the DNA samples are in."

"And we'll be watching you like a hawk." The other cop leaned in, his breath smelling of stale coffee.

"Like a stalker? Should I file a report now or wait until you show the level of inappropriateness that I'm starting to think you're capable of?"

"You better watch your mouth, pretty girl. You think because you tried to clean yourself up and get a real job that we don't know who you are? The file on you is thicker than most of the thugs that we bust and send to the slammer most nights. You're no different. Trash... just trash and we're going to find out what you did." The Italian cop shrugged and moved to the door, holding it open for his partner. "Want to rethink your statement?"

"Nope. Your opinion is simply that. Go find the fact and then come back to me." Kate shrugged and looked down to her fingers, picking at the blood under her nails as if it were so much more important than their accusations.

They left the room with resounding chuckles. She waited until they were gone to let her shoulders slump, the weight of the night riding her hard. Losing Adam in front of her was enough to emotionally cripple her, but to be suspected of his murder? He was a kid. He was a dumb kid, but still just a teenager nevertheless. They had smoked together a few times and she knew he had a horrible crush on her, but nothing else. She cared for him like she would if he were her own brother, Kate having grown up an only child.

He was just thirteen when they met, a kid on the run from a hard life with no dad and an overbearing Jesus-loving mother. He had mentioned a brother, but she hadn't gotten the chance to meet him, not that she wanted to. He was supposedly Billy-bob do good. Always bringing out the worst in Adam and leaving the poor boy to feel like the piece of shit everyone thought he was.

"Wonder if he even knew how much Adam loved to draw?"

Kate looked up as the door opened, a portly brunette nodding at her. "You can go. They will be in touch as soon as all of the DNA results are back and they've finished the investigation. You might have a few people stop by your club over the next few weeks with follow-up questions."

"Not during the hours of eight pm to four am. It's too busy." Kate stood and moved toward the door.

"That's not for you to choose, toots. They come by when they want to. You’re implicated in the murder of a young boy. I'm pretty sure your desires and wishes aren't at the top of our list." The lady laughed and moved down the hall slowly. Kate kept her pace, slowing only when she reached the counter. She could assume Adam died on the way to the hospital, but needed to hear it.

"Did the boy live or is he gone?"

"You don't know?"

"I can assume the worst, but I'd rather not."

"He died in the alley with you. The ambulance couldn't resuscitate him. Too much blood loss. Did you not know that you needed to apply pressure to the wounds?" The woman rolled her eyes, her lip lifting as she snarled.

Kate lifted her hands, palms out to the woman. "How many hands do I have?"

"I'm not in the mood for games."

"Me either. Give me my shit and answer my question."

"Two, obviously." The woman sat down in her chair, the small thing groaning with her weight.

"Right, and he had five bullet holes in his chest. I'll let you do the math. You seem bright." Kate took her wallet, her keys to the club and her license. "Where is my gun?"

"It's state’s evidence until you're told otherwise."

"That's bullshit. I just bought that. I need it."

"Well, sorry Missy. You're out of the killing business until it gets back from forensics." The woman shrugged and turned her back to Kate.

She would never outlive her reputation, her file forever labeling her a villain. She took her stuff and walked out of the police station, the streets quiet around the highly illuminated building. She needed a ride home, but no damn way she was asking one of them. Glancing to her right, she thought about walking the twelve miles, but her face was too well known in the narcotics circles, her past choices having pissed off a few too many people.

She had made peace a long time ago with living in constant danger, but to stick her hand in the viper’s mouth and taunt him... never. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted Marcus that she was free and would be at the small diner across from the station.

Looking left and right, she jogged out into the street and moved toward the small restaurant. The open all night sign on the front door ushered in a sense of relief. Nothing was worse than being out on the streets for anyone and everyone to see. She paused before slipping into the shop, a dark figure on a motorcycle seemed to be looking in her direction. Did she know him?

She waited a few more seconds to see if he would make a move in her direction, but he simply watched from the darkness. Unable to make him out, she was done watching for awareness or recognition. Whoever he was, he was either interested in her, or knew her. Neither was good in her book.

Only a few minutes passed before the roar of Marcus's black mustang caught her attention. She stood up from her seat, dropping a few dollars on the table and walking toward the door. Several cops in the restaurant pinned her with their stares, her appearance ridiculous at best. She looked like she had taken a bath in blood and forgotten to dry off.

She slipped out into the night, pulling off her black t-shirt and slipping out of her shoes and pants before opening the door to the car. In nothing more than a white tank top, her bra and panties, she got in. His eyes moved along her, his hand reaching out to take hers.

"Are you okay? Fucking cops. You go outside to help someone and they drag you the fuck downtown without letting you wash off?"

"I'm fine." She leaned back, covering her face with her hands as she fought back tears. With a shaky breath, she gathered herself and reached down to bunch up her clothes and move them to the floorboard in the back seat. "I'm sorry about the car if anything gets on it."

"Hush. Don't worry about that shit. Tell me what happened. I called Paul. He'll be by tomorrow to work with you on whatever you need."

"I don't want to talk about it, Marcus. Tomorrow I'll fill you in." She squeezed his large hand, releasing it and turning to look out the window as he put the car in reverse. She pulled her legs up, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on her thighs.

"They didn't hurt you did they? They didn't touch you, right?"

"No. I'm just tired. A long night at the club, then watching someone I cared about bleed..." She paused, warm tears spilling over onto her cheeks as her voice broke. "... he was just a kid. He didn't deserve that shit."

"Katie. You know the world we live in, baby." His hand rubbed her back slowly, the sensation comforting as she fought through the horror of watching Adam die over and over again in her head.

"That doesn't make it any easier." She looked up, wiping at her eyes with the palms of her hands, trying not to smear blood on her face.

Marcus reached back and pulled at his shirt, the black cotton tee slipping over his head. He extended it to her. "Use this."

She took it and pressed the soft material to her face, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

"Awwww fuck, Kate." He laughed and she chuckled, her tears slowing as he moved his hand from her back onto her arm.

"How likely are they to pin this on me? They wanted it to be me so bad. I could feel it in the air. They were digging and suggesting. I hate those fuckers."

"It would be easy if it were you." He shrugged, moving his hands to hold the steering wheel, his arms locked, thick muscles bunching up.

"I know. I just wish I could be normal. Have a normal life without being worried all the time about who's behind me waiting to slit my throat or bust me for something I didn't do."

Marcus glanced over at her, his hand reaching to brush the back of her hair. "You want to go home with me tonight? Stay with me and let me hold you?"

"No, that doesn't help. Just makes me think about things I can't have."

"Kate."

"I don't want to have this conversation. I just spent the night being interviewed for gunning down a teenage boy that was in love with me. I'm not talking about your commitment issues and my unwillingness to accept an open relationship. Not happening."

"Fair enough. You sure you want to go home?"

"More than sure." She turned to look back out the window, not wanting to cry in front of him again. They had enough hurt between the two of them that they didn't need to hurt each other again. They would never be anything and she was honestly good with that, but on a night like this one... how badly she wanted companionship, a man to hold her who loved her. Someone to protect her from the world, from the cops... from herself.

They pulled up to the club, Kate reaching back to grab her stuff. She dug her keys from her pants pocket and opened the door.

"You want to get dressed first?"

"No. I'm just going up to the apartment. No one will pay me much attention."

Marcus turned and looked out toward the street, tons of people moving about. "You're kidding me right? It's packed out here. There are people everywhere. The number of horny men outweighs the number of fish in the sea. You're not getting out like that."

"Good night, my friend. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. We can go over the numbers and make orders for the next two weeks. Don't let me forget Mardi Gras is upon us. Let's stock up for that."

"Kate. I'm serious. I'm as hard as a rock because you're in your fucking panties in my car. You're not shaking your ass in front of Bourbon Street."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, her fingers brushing over his thigh and by his erection. A smile lifted her lips as sadness beckoned her to pale away from anything warm.

"You're not my daddy and you don't care enough to be more than an occasional lover, so you don't get a say in what I do." She kissed his cheek again and got out of the car, the growl following her of no concern at all. They would fuck when she needed him or he needed her. It was their arrangement, or his rather.

He made his bed with her and now he could lie in it - alone.