Up in Smoke (Kisses and Crimes Book 2) Read online

  Mable paused. “Verbatim?”

  “Ver-fucking-batim. I’ll call you for more flight details later on…”

  I said goodbye and I hung up the phone. I nearly threw the damn thing as soon as I pressed the bottom red button.

  But its sudden ringing in my palm stopped me.

  I answered without looking at the ID. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have answered it all…

  I picked up the call.

  “Mable,” I grunted.

  “Not Mable, Mister Reed.” The woman on the line tsk, tsk, tsk’ed. “I can see why your agency is struggling. Poor customer service is the death of first-year businesses like yours. Such a shame.”

  I gripped the phone tighter.

  “The fuck you want?”

  Her voice was lilting—silky and melodic. If she weren’t so bat-shit crazy, it would have been seductive.

  She practically purred.

  “You know what I want, Mister Reed. What I’ve always wanted. The Jordan Chambers file. In my hands. Without question. Without further delay.”

  I fumed on the other line, growing angrier with each word. I knew what this woman was capable of.

  I knew she could probably hear the ashes fall from the edge of my unsmoked cigarette.

  She seemed to be everywhere… and nowhere at the same time. I’d never met her… but I fucking hated her. I hated what she made me do. What she was about to make me leave behind.

  But I’d never been one to hold my tongue…

  And I’d had enough of playing nice with this Houdini bitch. I grit my teeth so hard I thought they’d crack.

  I snapped into the phone.

  “Yeah, good one. Stop dicking me around.” I deepened my voice, digging my fingers into the leather of my seat. “You know fucking well that the Jordan Chambers file was empty. What the hell do you want with it, anyway? The man is dead. And the way I see it, you know exactly what happened to him… or you wouldn’t have hired me in the first place.”

  I paused.

  “Bet you wouldn’t mind if I ended up the same way. So, take your two million, Miss Whoever-the-Hell-You-Are… and kindly go fuck yourself.”

  I waited for her to react. Why, I don’t know… I just… needed to take my anger out on someone. And when she didn’t, not only didn’t it placate me… It made me kind of curious.

  Right then, I knew…

  She didn’t know the Jordan Chambers file was empty.

  My heart beat harder, my pulse turning wild. What the fuck was going on?

  The woman on the line didn’t give me much time to consider it. She started speaking fast.

  “Change of plans, Mister Reed,” she blurted. “You’re going to have to…”

  She rattled off instructions at a million words a minute. So unlike her usual slick banter, she virtually stumbled over her words, stammering as she hammered me with her new agenda.

  Her new assignment.

  And she was offering twice the salary as the last fucked-up one. But this time, I wasn’t biting.

  I chose my words carefully.

  “Over my fucking dead body.”

  But she didn’t snap. In fact… she was deadly calm.

  “Precisely, Mister Reed. And I swear to you… it will be over your dead body, if you don’t see that it happens. I’m only going to make this offer once. It’s your decision. You have until tonight.”

  I could sense her smile.

  “And I do keep my promises, Mister Reed.”

  And with that, the call was over.

  But I was already dialing another number.

  Turning the ignition this time, I finally took my foot off the brake, put the car in Drive, and left Delilah’s in a cloud of smoke.

  I tossed my cigarette and the only two fucks I had left to give out the window.

  I was ending this thing once and for fucking all. On the third ring, Jeff picked up.

  “Jeff, I need you. Grab your gun, a change of clothes and the nicest tux you can get your hands on.” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, grinding the rubber. “There’s been a change of plans.”

  ***

  My eyes couldn’t help but search for her.

  She was here.

  I could smell it.

  The pair of tickets she left at will-call were balcony seats, and, for some reason, all of New York City seemed to be in the same opera theater that night.

  It was a brown-nosing affair.

  Patrons hobnobbed and mingled, schmoozing their asses and assets off, kissing up to whatever billionaire was sitting in their vicinity.

  The stench of pomp and power—crisp dollar bills and ill-applied perfume—was everywhere. And amongst the CEOs, amidst the big bank accounts and bow ties, I searched for her.

  I searched for the many “her’s” that she could be.

  My eyes found the Senator’s wife first. She was beautiful, in that fresh from a plastic surgeon way.

  Her hair was brown, cropped at the chin, and she wore a necklace that was worth more than my whole life.

  I knew she would be here, shaking hands and shunning the lesser-knowns.

  What I didn’t expect was that her husband, Senator Fletcher, would be right by her side. He had never stopped touching her since I arrived.

  Theirs was a notorious relationship.

  Known for its cheating more than its charm, most of New York knew that Danity Fletcher and her husband Robert were brought together more by business than love, their marriages a union of two empires rather than actual affection.

  She was as blue blooded as he, born a rich girl, dutiful daughter to some Czech Republic czar and his drunken wife. She was bred for this life.

  But that’s where the similarities between her and her adulterous husband ended.

  They were in other people’s beds more than their own.

  I just never thought the senator would be so public with that fact.

  And speaking of public…

  There she was. The biggest public servant of New York.

  Another “her” to put on my list.

  Governor Shelly Price was the most famous political figure in the state. Unlike Fletcher’s wife, she was a woman who had stuck by the senator’s side.

  They worked together in a way that few members of Congress were capable of. Their offices bolstered one another’s, providing collective support, cheering on each other’s candidacies as each of them went up for reelection.

  It was an odd sight in a political environment that was so ruthless.

  With her blond strands in a bob, Governor Shelley Price looked effortlessly composed, flaunting half of the amount of jewelry as Mrs. Fletcher and twice the class.

  She moseyed around arm in arm with her ex-Secretary of State husband. They made quite a pair—proper and regal.

  Suddenly I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I twisted around… and looked into the eyes of my beautiful date. She smiled.

  “You’re late,” I said. I tapped the glass face of my leather-banded Zenith watch, offering up a grin.

  Veronica Harrison huffed. “Well, when you’re an important person with important things to do, time tends to get away from you.”

  “I see.” I slid a hand in my pants pocket. “What, your divorce lawyer give you the chair at the head of the table this time? You’re a regular VIP.” My tone was dry, but I winked. “Was the ‘good doctor’ there?”

  “Of course not.” She smoothed the silky red fabric of her dress down her slender hips. “He’s on vacation in Bermuda. Didn’t even stop by to see the kids at mom’s before he left.” She shook off some anger. “He only cares about his cash. Such a prick.”

  “Yeah, a prick now with half the cash.”

  Mrs. Harrison, my ex-client and date for the night, burst into laughter. “Thanks to you.” She smoothed a hand down the front of my tux, lingering at the crotch, and I took a step back.

  My reaction came as a surprise to me.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  Ve
ronica Harrison was newly divorced, recently tanned and, from the looks of the long legs beneath her satiny red dress, freshly waxed.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d mixed business with pleasure. The moment my deals with my clients were off, so were the gloves.

  I was the perfect PI while in their employ. And the perfect “Fuck-your-husband-and-come-fuck-me” medicine they needed afterwards.

  And tonight?

  Tonight was the beautiful blonde Mrs. Doctor Harrison’s turn. But unlike the beautiful women who’d come after me before, that spread their carefully shaved legs Sharon Stone-style in my office and propositioned me while dropping to their knees, I had no plans of taking tonight’s date home.

  She was a simply stand-in, a date to make my presence at the opera seem less awkward, but the only thing awkward was the way she was grabbing for my cock... and the moves I’d made to prevent her from doing so.

  I couldn’t explain it but for the first time I knew without a doubt that I only wanted one woman’s touch. Unfortunately for me, that woman was flying somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean as I spoke.

  My playbook couldn’t help me with this one.

  I had schemed. Scammed, scrounged, scraped and sexed my way to the top of the private investigations game and back, but I hadn’t prepared for every play.

  Just as I was getting my momentum back, just as I was regaining the mojo that made me into the man I was, I had gotten blitzed.

  Knocked flat on my ass by one feisty redhead.

  I knew it the moment I met her. Fifteen years ago—stubborn and strong-minded.

  I was reminded of it last night when I met her innocent niece. The second I looked into that little girl’s eyes, I saw myself and Penelope.

  I saw a chapter of our lives that hadn’t been written, a segment of our story that hadn’t begun.

  And maybe it never would.

  Chapter Eleven-teen: Penelope and Jackson—and the family we would never have.

  It was a fleeting picture… and I knew it would stay with me for the rest of my life.

  Truth be told: I never got over her. A decade and a half later, and I was still re-reading the same verses and lines of the love that had been us.

  I tried to ignore it, but life wouldn’t let me. I shouldn’t have let her fucking go.

  But tonight—tonight was different. I was being beat to the fucking punch, and my date was slowly walking out the fucking door.

  She touched my shoulder and sighed.

  “Fucking babysitter,” she glanced at her phone. “She’s cancelling on me. I have to go, but if you want to come with me…” She smiled, flirting. “My place is only a short ride away. We can go together…” She batted her eyelashes. “I can have you out by the time the kids ever wake up.”

  Her nonchalance was sickening.

  I thought of Melanie—Penelope’s niece, and how the woman I really wanted would never treat the little ones in her life so casually.

  The doctor and Veronica were even more of a match than I initially expected. Both careless, selfish pieces of shit.

  Bringing this woman here was a bad idea.

  I never wanted a date over so badly. I never not wanted a woman the way I felt tonight.

  Or maybe I did want one...

  But for once, just any pretty, high-sitting pair of bought tits and pink lips wasn’t going to do it for me tonight. Or any other night for that matter…

  I dismissed Veronica Harrison as politely as I could, and not a damned piece of me was sad to see her go.

  I felt an emptiness that I couldn’t explain, and even when Jeff stepped forward, the space that felt missing just couldn’t be filled.

  I tried my best to push the nagging feeling to Hell where it belonged.

  I turned my frustration onto Jeff. I grabbed his shoulder.

  “’Bout time.” I knew I was gruff, but I couldn’t help it. “Did you get the other tickets?”

  “Of course.” He patted an envelope in his hands. “And they’re just where you wanted. Four rows above the senator’s… and worth three times their weight in gold. I still don’t get how you can afford it.”

  “Neither can I…” I looked around once more. “Have you found her yet?”

  His eyes told me no.

  “She’s not here. Maybe she’s no longer seeing the senator. Maybe she finally got sick of his old coot ass and is giving some younger meat a chance.”

  I stared at the millionaires among us.

  “Doubtful. She’s an executive admin, his personal assistant. Women that young and beautiful don’t get with men like the Senator unless there’s a reason. And they don’t leave unless there’s a reason.” I nodded with conviction. “The mistress… she’ll be here.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Jeff shrugged. “Attending to all the senator’s ‘daily needs.’ What an accurate job description.”

  I laughed. For the first time that night. I turned…

  And then I saw her.

  The wrong “her.”

  She walked in as if she just belonged, and I was so shocked I could have swallowed my tongue. I’d completely forgotten Jeff in that instant. All I could see was her, though from where I was standing, she might as well have.

  I’d never seen her like this before.

  Her dress was royal blue. That’s all I could even process.

  My head was telling me certain things: that the dress was long in the sleeve, plunging at the neckline and hugging at her delicate, flaring hips.

  There was a brooch—emerald—somewhere above her navel. Sapphire chiffon draped in waves from her waist to her heel-covered toes, and as she stepped under the amber-colored lights lining the ceiling, I could see the gold streaks in her copper-colored hair.

  Penelope.

  In an outfit the color of her oceanic eyes. Penelope. Looking heaven-sent… giving the wrong head—the one between my legs—Hell-sent thoughts of her in my hands… between my fingers… coming apart as my tongue took her to new heights.

  Fuck.

  As soon as I let the fantasy of last night seep into my present reality, the daydream was shattered.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Her debonair escort touched her waist, and as he leaned in closer to speak into her ear, I noticed a familiar hunch under his tuxedo’s perfectly tailored polyester.

  It was Chip, the co-worker from yesterday. And all I saw was fucking red.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  “The fuck is she doing here?” I growled, glaring in her direction.

  “Who?”

  Jeff followed my line of sight.

  “Oh, shit. Penelope… Well…” He scoffed. “I invited her.”

  My head spun to look at him. I could barely speak, and when I did, it was deliberate.

  I paced my words, making sure he could understand every one of them.

  I let them drip from my lips like a leaky faucet.

  Very… very… slowly. I took my time.

  “You did what?”

  Jeff was oblivious. My anger kept him on a short lease, so he was hesitant. But unadulterated ignorance shone from his sea-green eyes and he looked at me as if I had three heads.

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  “I invited her,” he repeated. “I thought this was a social event.”

  “What on fucking earth would make you think that?”

  He lifted one shoulder, letting it drop.

  “I don’t know… The tux, the tickets. You said we were going to the opera. You said we should have dates. And so I got some… or, rather, I tried.” He looked across the theater at Penelope, more than one hundred feet away. “I’d assumed they would be our dates…”

  I bit down on my lips, even more confused.

  “They? They who?”

  That’s when Sienna walked up.

  “Wow,” she exclaimed, her brown eyes sparkling. “What a fucking crowd. I just ran into a Supreme Court judge, three congressmen, a movie producer… and I think I just saw Sarah Jes
sica Parker in the restrooms.”

  She looked longingly over her bare shoulder, her plum colored dress dragging behind her as she waltzed up.

  Seemingly unaware of the stand-off in which she just walked in on, she patted Jeff on the shoulder and leaned in to offer me her hand to shake.

  I took it, doing everything I could not to involuntarily squeeze it. My nerves were shot to fucking pieces.

  “Nice to see you again, Jackson,” Sienna laughed. “Especially under better circumstances…”

  Were they better? At that moment, I would rather have been back in that shitty bar where we’d met, beating the hell out of the Senator’s two thugs, dodging beer glasses and punches as drinks went flying overhead.

  I’d rather be kicking the shit out of someone…

  Like Chip.

  But I wasn’t going to say that.

  So, with Sienna, I simply smiled. I grunted with satisfaction.

  “Hm. Yeah… a hell of a lot better circumstance,” I bluffed. I let Jeff and Sienna talk.

  Obviously more chummy than they’d been just days ago when she’d been Ronda Rousy’ing his ass, I noticed the slightest flirtation between them.

  Jeff was speaking closely, touching her here and there. When she walked off towards the powder rooms, his gaze followed, zoning in on her slight sashay, his stare roaming her figure as I seethed, feeling furious and utterly defeated.

  My plan to get Penelope out of the city had obviously failed.

  Jeff’s eyes returned to mine.

  “Penelope’s secretary has the nicest ass.”

  “Why didn’t you mention it?” I snapped.

  “Well, because I just noticed how nice it was at this very second.”

  “No, not that.” I practically growled. “Not Sienna’s ass. Penelope.”

  He frowned. “Something wrong with Penelope’s ass?”

  “No.” I pressed. “You never mentioned that it…” I blustered. “She… would be here tonight.”

  “Hey, man.” He threw his hands in the air. “I thought you needed a date. I sure as fuck needed one. That Sienna is something. I like a woman with a mean right hook… and the curve of her hips and that walk… Dude, she’s tight as hell. You could bounce a fucking quarter off her bottom half. She’s stacked.” He looked behind him. “Nice dress, by the way.”