Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1) (2 page)

Jack

I’m driving through downtown Louisville, Kentucky, as if I’m on auto-pilot. Twenty years of working this beat as a cop makes it easy to spot anything out of the ordinary. I know these streets like the back of my hand, hell, I grew up here. This is my town.

The place is going to hell in a hand basket, though, despite my efforts to the contrary. It’s been a steady decline, year by year, with no salvation in sight. More than once I’ve heard it referred to as a baby-Detroit of sorts, but I’m convinced that its moral demise is right up there with the Motor City.

There have always been the whores, the pimps, and the dope dealers, but lately it’s getting worse. As I slowly roll down the street, it’s as if a dark foreboding of evil has descended over the city like a shroud.

I pull up at a red light, my car window down out of habit so I can listen to the sounds of the city.
All the better to hear you with, my dear.
I chuckle to myself and shake my head at my lame joke. Around here, Little Red would probably be wearing cheap stilettos and sporting a black eye, compliments of the Wolf himself. With my elbow resting along the open window, my fingertips tap out a lazy rhythm along the upper edge of the car door while I wait for the light to change.

I see her approaching long before I hear her sultry voice ask a little too loudly, “Hey, baby, you looking for a date?” She bends down by my shoulder, revealing ample cleavage that’s barely contained in the unbuttoned shirt that’s tied in a knot in the front. In a voice intended for my ears only, she whispers urgently, “Detective Jack, I need a word.”

I drop my gaze from her impressive rack to the shiny red short-shorts that ride up her thick hips to reveal black thigh highs. There’s no place for subtlety in her line of work.

“You got it. Hop in.” She hustles around the front of my car and slides into the passenger seat. “Buckle up for safety,” I tell her with perfect deadpan delivery, just to see her cut her eyes at me with a look that probably puts all the johns in their place. I chuckle as I drive down to the next block and pull the Crown Victoria into the far corner of a parking lot where low hanging tree branches provide some cover
.
We need to talk but there’s no sense in causing problems for her.

My best information comes from those who live and work on these streets. The hookers or small time dealers usually know more about what’s going on downtown than the cops do. A few of them are willing to talk in exchange for a little cash or a hot meal. The streets have taught me to pick and choose my battles. Rather than locking up every offender for some minor transgression, I do much better building a rapport with the people who see firsthand what’s going on out here.

I roll up my window and turn to face my passenger. “What’s up, Lady?” I ask quietly. Lady Luck prides herself in telling her tricks she’s the lucky charm they need to change their future. Though she’s been on the streets for the last few years, time has been kind to her. She hasn’t aged like so many of the other girls because she doesn’t do heavy drugs, and I have a hard time imagining her letting anybody take a swing at her. She’s adamant that she smokes a little weed and has a drink every now and then, but
none of that
heavy shit
, as she had put it. She’s somehow managed to avoid the usual pitfalls that turn good women into junkies. I’ve seen drugs wreak their havoc, first crack cocaine, then ice. Now heroin is making a comeback. I never get in Lady’s way, but I keep an eye on her from afar.

“I’m worried, Detective Jack. Chineka took off with a trick last night and I ain’t heard nothing from her since.”

“No luck trying her cell phone?”

“I tried everything. You know her old pimp, Willy -- he’s still mad ‘bout her going solo. I’m worried he done beat her up or ‘sumpin.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a pimp beat the shit out of a stable girl for trying to leave and actually make a little money of her own. More than likely, Lady’s right. But I try to reassure her anyway because you just never know. “Listen, I’ll be out here riding around for a while. If I see her, I’ll tell her to call you. I’m sure everything’s fine.”

I don’t have a clue if Chineka’s okay or not. The girls are usually pretty good about staying in touch with each other, but they can also be hard to track down if they get caught up in some shit going down around them. If the right trick with the right amount of money comes along she might get caught up in the moment or immediately move on to the next john, maybe even an overnighter. Overnighters are usually a more demanding gig, but at least it’s a place to stay for a few hours and the pay is better. Hopefully, she’s just somewhere sleeping off the night before and she just hasn’t made it back out to work tonight.

Lady Luck smiles, revealing a gold tooth with an L pressed into it. “You alright for a white man,” she says softly before she reaches out and rubs my bicep, squeezing the muscle seductively. I arch an eyebrow at her and laugh when she drops the sexy act and hoots with laughter, “Ooooh, baby’s been working out! Feel all that!” And for just a moment I get a glimpse of the rare beauty that the street hasn’t touched yet.

“Don’t you mean I’m alright for a cop?” I ask as she climbs out of my car. She makes a show of straightening her clothes for anyone who might be paying attention. It’s not unheard of for local law enforcement to partake of the services offered on the streets, and I don’t mind if Lady sullies my reputation if it helps her out. Hell, from here on out, after today, I couldn’t care less.

“That, too,” she says over her shoulder as she sashays away.

“Hey…Lady…”

“Yeah?” She answers, turning and slowly walking backwards to face me when she catches the somber tone in my voice.

“You be careful, sweetheart. These streets are gettin’ mean,” I say in all seriousness. My concerned scowl quickly turns into a lopsided smile when she rolls her eyes.

“Don’t I know it, baby,” she says wryly before turning back to the sidewalk and disappearing around the corner, working those shorts the whole damn way. I stare after her for a moment or two before I shake my head to clear it and swing my car back onto the street. I’m not at liberty to tell her that some working girls have gone missing recently and that there’s speculation that we may be dealing with a collector, someone who enjoys kidnapping and keeping women, or a killer who is targeting working girls. We haven’t found any bodies yet, but people don’t just go missing with no explanation—even if they are street people. If it’s true and we’re looking at a kidnapper/killer, she’ll hear about it soon enough. The streets have eyes and ears; they always reveal what’s going on sooner or later.

Jack

It’s my last day on the job—as a cop, anyway. I haven’t shared my plans for how I’ll be spending my
retirement years
with any of my colleagues—or anyone else for that matter, no one but Valerie, my partner. She’s the only one who won’t think I’m crazy for what I’m about to do, and maybe I am, but I’m still going to do it. Even when I second guess myself about it, she has faith in me. When you work beside someone in situations that randomly deal out life and death like a deck of cards, you connect—and, damn, have we ever connected.

I take a minute to check myself out in the bathroom mirror, running my hands through my thick salt and pepper hair. It’s hard to believe I’ve been doing this long enough to officially retire. I’ve managed to keep the physique of a much younger man due to rigorous workouts at the gym; not that I was ever out of shape, but I’ve stepped it up in the last six months and it’s really made a difference. My dick gets hard as I think about the more intimate workouts I get on a regular basis.
Yeah, hard fucking is the new cardio.

It isn’t just about aesthetics for me, though, it’s about being strong enough and fast enough to take down criminals. I’ve never understood why cops give in to that ‘coffee and donuts’ bullshit when they know that someday they’re going to be chasing some asshole down an alley. There’s nothing worse than huffing and puffing while you try to explain ‘the one that got away’. It’s never happened to me but I’ve seen it, and a cop never lives that shit down. That’s why I’ve given up the donuts – now, the coffee? Well, that’s not up for discussion. I’m never giving that shit up.

For my last day on the beat, I’ve paired a baby blue button down shirt with a contemporary tie and slacks for the professional look I pride myself in. But, since I’m going for a more relaxed look today for my retirement party, my sleeves are rolled up and the cufflinks I usually wear are stashed in my trouser pocket. I take one more look in the mirror. All things considered, I’m not looking half bad for forty-three -- at least, that’s what I’m told. There’s plenty of time to settle down and maybe have a couple of kids, but for now I’ve got something else in mind.

I grit my teeth when one of my dumb ass colleagues bangs on the door and shouts, “Hey, numb nuts, how long does it take to get pretty? In case you’ve forgotten, this retirement party is for
you
.”

“I’m coming,” I growl in the direction of the bathroom door. I’m convinced half these guys never made it past puberty; they still act like they’re in high school. Yeah, well, they’ve got their way of dealing with the horror they see on the streets day in and day out, and I’ve got mine. They want to laugh it off? Good for them. I fuck it off. Works for me.

I push through the bathroom door to join everyone standing around a table with a huge cake in the middle. They’ve gone so far as to wear fucking party hats, complete with the rubber bands that fit under the chin to hold them in place. So not a good look on anyone.

“Hey, you guys went all out. You must really love me.” My tone is sarcastic even though there may be an element of truth in what I’m saying. I direct my attention to my partner—or ex-partner now. She’s looking at me like she just lost her best friend. I wonder if it’s because nobody ever looks forward to breaking in a new partner or if she’s really going to miss me. My instinct urges me to take her in my arms and kiss all the sad away, but we’ve agreed to keep things discreet. I can only give her a moment of eye contact that goes on slightly too long before I turn my attention to the rest of the crew. I’ll miss these guys too, and the experiences that forge the kind of close bonds that only cops understand. But the plans I have for the future have me excited about moving on.

“So what are you going to do with yourself now, old man?” one of younger detectives says as he slaps me on the back.

“Oh, you know, fishing, hanging out at my cabin in the woods, sleeping late.” I’m such a fucking liar. I’ll be deeper in the trenches of these streets than I’ve ever been before.

“Well, you’ve earned it, buddy. Get off these ugly streets and do something for yourself.”

“Yeah, I guess so, sounds good,” I say as I shake his hand and do that one-arm man hug before moving on to speak to someone else. I spend the next couple of hours milling around and saying my goodbyes, even though my mind is on anything but cake and ice cream. It was nice of them to do this but I’m ready to move on. A voice interrupts my thoughts as I make my way into my office to grab the box I’ve packed up.
Twenty years of memories in a cardboard box. Ain’t that some shit.

“I’m going to miss you around here, partner.” I look up to see Valerie leaning against the door jamb. I let my gaze move slowly over the luscious curves and sleek lines of the only woman who has ever captured my attention and held on to it. She’s the most strikingly beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on with her model good looks. Her long blonde hair, blue eyes, and legs that go on forever have caused many a man to do a double take when she walks by, but she only has eyes for me. Working closely together has created so much more than a sexual bond between us, although that connection remains hotter than hell. We’re best friends. She’s the only person in my life I trust.

I set the box on the desk and brush past my partner to close the door. As I prowl across the room toward her, I notice a strand of hair has escaped from her ponytail. I twirl it around my finger briefly before tucking it behind her ear. My lips trace along the shell of her ear as I whisper, “So tell me -- you gonna miss
me
, or are you just gonna miss all those intimate stakeouts?”

“Both,” she answers in a heated whisper, tilting her head to the side to give me easy access to the smooth column of her neck. The little minx knows I can’t resist the soft skin just behind her ear, so I let my lips and tongue take a long, leisurely trip down to her collarbone. I smile against her skin when she moans and presses closer to me.

“It’ll be easier to see each other like this,” I murmur. “We won’t have to hide because of work—no worries about being written up for fraternization.” I rub my five-o-clock shadow against her face as I breathe in her scent. I kiss her lips and sigh regretfully as I pull away. “I’ve got to go but I have a surprise for you later.” I step away reluctantly, hefting the box under my arm as I make my way out the door before I’m tempted to stay.