The Ringer Read online

  When he unzipped his pants, his Spidey senses went off. Jax peered over his shoulder while he chastised himself for missing the obvious. A sexy brunette sat upon the porcelain lid in the stall behind him.

  “Don’t let me stop you, please continue,” she told him with a sly wave.

  “Did I make a wrong turn?” he asked, surprised but amused. “When did the ladies’ room get urinals?”

  “No, you’re in the right place. Believe you me, the women’s restroom needs them worse than you guys. These wealthy ladies of sophistication are slobs.” She had a raspy, smooth voice, not light and airy like the debs who hosted these things. “Did you take a good gander at The Daughters of the American Revolution table?” She opened her eyes wide. “With their hair, sequins, and makeup shellacked up to here for days.” The playful woman held her hand high above her head. “I’m just saying.”

  Surprised he had begun to smile at the woman with all her splendid candor, he tried to catch himself. If he allowed the tug of attraction to grow, he would be in trouble.

  An off-the-shoulder red dress clung to her full breasts, complementing her creamy skin. Straight dark hair fell to her waist, setting off her amazing emerald-green eyes.

  This woman doesn’t belong here.

  “You got a name?” he asked the washroom intruder.

  Her eyes flashed with humor before she opened her red-painted mouth.

  “Lane,” a masculine voice called out. Someone opened the outer door to the men’s room. The playful look on the beauty’s face disappeared. “Lane!” he said again, a touch angrier than before and very close.

  Jax wouldn’t have described her expression as panic, but her brilliant face became pinched, conveying a sense of urgency he had seen many times. He put his finger to his lips to silence her and reached for the stall door. Nodding as he pulled it, she raised her stiletto-covered foot to keep it closed.

  “Lane!”

  “Parker!” he groaned aloud. A throwback to another time and place; one he kind of hated. “Longtime good not to see.” He nodded at his high school nemesis. “Still trolling the men’s bathroom, huh, Park?”

  “Jackson Thornbird.” The spoiled man’s face twisted into a sneer. “I haven’t bumped into you at a function in ages. Then again, I can’t imagine you could afford the ticket. Did Daddy foot the bill?” Parker leaned against the wall, the condescending expression he’d perfected since high school smeared across his face.

  “Pops is a sucker for a good cause, and it gives us a chance to catch up. Unlike your old man, my father likes having me around.”

  Jax grinned at his childhood enemy. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the dark slime the little shit brought along with him.

  The antithesis of good and evil, and not just in looks, Parker Lockland didn’t carry an air of middle class in his blood. Close to his height, the blond Parker hailed from an impeccable lineage, pure blue blood all the way for the Lockland clan.

  “How is the field? Oh, what is it?” Parker pretended to study his Rolex watch. “Public servant? Mailman, right, how’s it working out for you?”

  “Better than twisting those old ladies’ faces tighter than a corkscrew,” he shot back, criticizing Parker’s skills as a plastic surgeon.

  Gnashing his teeth, Parker pushed himself off the wall. Silently congratulating himself, Jax waited for the petty son of a bitch to spill out something ridiculous, while he fought off the urge to rabbit punch him in the throat like he’d always wanted.

  “Parker!” his brother interrupted them. “Father would like a word.” The younger, and better tempered, Lockland walked into the restroom.

  “Maybe next time we can throw one of these fancy shindigs for your skimpy civil servant paycheck. Later, Thornbird,” Parker said.

  Dustin nodded in his direction and took off behind his brother.

  After a few beats, he gave a quick wrap to the stall. “The coast is clear,” he said before he pushed the door open.

  “Geesh, you two have a hard-on for each other and not the good kind,” the woman he identified as Lane said with a big, infectious laugh. She uncurled herself from her spot. Jax held out his hand to help her down off the porcelain lid.

  “Considering I’m not the one hiding in the head, I’m guessing you hate him, too.”

  She touched his palm with her fingertips, forcing a brush of warmth to slide right through him. Taller than he believed, and curvy in all the best places, he noticed stepping back to let her out.

  “I served him with divorce papers about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Burn,” he exhaled, choking on her lack of decorum.

  With no signs of visible nerves in sight, she popped the top to her small purse and pull out a tube of lipstick. “No coming back from that right? I didn’t want to pay for a process-server, and my lawyer advised me to do it in a public place.” She sauntered over to the mirror in the waiting room and refreshed the dark red color on her lips. Once she’d finished with her mouth, her eyes sparkled an even more brilliant shade of green.

  “Who would have guessed he’d act like such a….” She screwed the cover on and threw the tube into her bag.

  “Cry baby,” he offered.

  “Bitchy baby,” she corrected. “But yours wasn’t too far off.”

  “How long have you been married to Parker?” He volleyed into her corner.

  “Long enough.” Lane sighed before she tiptoed her way up to the door. She shrugged. “You wouldn’t be familiar with a good way out of this joint?”

  “What, no round two?” he asked, entertained by her.

  “Honestly, I don’t have enough fight in me. I guess I never did for Parker.”

  Jax filled the space between them. A whiff of a spicy perfume warmed his nose. With a Cheshire cat smile, the bombshell of a woman tilted her head up to look him in the eyes.

  “After your smart comment about the Daughters of the Revolution, I’d imagine you can fight the best of them.” He elicited his first genuine laugh from her. “Go right down the hall until you reach the employees’ exit. This floor isn’t locked, so it will take you to the stairway. Head down to the third floor. That door will lead you toward the back of the hotel.”

  “Should I ask how you’re privy to this top secret information?”

  “Good luck, Lane.” He smiled before reluctantly taking a step away from her.

  “Nice meeting you, Jackson Thornbird.” She pulled open the door and glanced both ways before heading into the hallway.

  “It’s just Jax,” he told her before she got away.

  “Okay then,” she said with a peek over her shoulder. “Goodnight, just Jax.”

  Chapter Three

  The present….

  The rapid beat of her heart increased her panic. Jax had managed to maneuver her from the driver’s seat. Unclear how it happened, Lane found herself riding shotgun.

  Gears ground together before the car jerked them back onto the road. He shifted the BMW sports into reverse to pull it off the median.

  “You cut your hair,” he noted.

  Her tresses hung a couple of inches beneath her shoulders. Lane touched the soft layers around her face. Edgy is what she’d wanted but received a new do on the shy side of sweet.

  Lane had lopped off almost a foot for Locks of Love charity. She’d also done it for a much sillier motive, not at all altruistic—breakup spite. Both reasons had seemed good at the time, but she still suffered from the slightest bit of insecurity about her cut.

  “It looks great on you,” he told her with a wink.

  Heat tightened her chest while she fought off the strange sensation of a crush. Her mind wandered to places best left alone. I’m a grown-ass woman. Which did not change the fact one good-looking man flirted with her.

  Trying not to stare, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Everything about him set fire to her already singing nerves.

  Lane resisted the urge to reach for the tips of his hair hitting his shirt colla
r. Big in every single way, he oozed sex appeal, a trait Parker never possessed.

  Almost-instant guilt seeped into her. Her ex, Parker, a good-looking man, didn’t hold a candle to Jax. Even though women took notice when Parker walked into a room, Lane never once wished her clothes would spontaneously combust off her body.

  A super-steamy relationship wasn’t in the cards. Her cheeks heated from embarrassment from her moment of weakness, but Jax even had a damn strong jaw.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. His politeness was probably a cautionary measure to make sure there would be no more freak-outs in his near future.

  “I’m not going to fall apart on you,” she murmured, still raw. She tried to close her ill-fitted blazer over her too-small T-shirt. After her little panic attack at the bar, Lane believed she couldn’t have come off worse. Uncomfortable in her own skin, she just wanted to go home.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Uh no! She wanted to say, but instead she took a deep breath, trying to get her bearings. It seemed like the beginning of her evening had taken place a year ago instead of a mere hour.

  They drove at a quick clip along Lake Front. Anxious, she pushed herself farther into the seat. “My mark.” She splayed her hands out, not sure what to do with them. “I call the cheating husbands marks. Someone from the service told me to meet the guy at the pub.

  “When I got there, he appeared nervous. Looking behind his back every few seconds…twitchy—worried about his wife, maybe. So I suggested we get out of there.” Lane swallowed. “As soon as we left out the back, he was all over me. The next thing that happened…pow! ” She pulled the trigger of a fake gun, putting her hands down before he could see them shake. “Dead.”

  “Your decoy agency—”

  “Honey Pot,” she offered.

  “Yeah, did they tell you to leave with the…mark?” He concentrated on the road ahead of him. He slid the dead man’s vehicle in and out of traffic while still managing to pay close attention to her story.

  “No,” she admitted, more than a little ashamed. “I am never to leave with them.”

  Lane always made it a priority to not regret anything. Well, up until this very moment. Because tonight, she regretted an awful lot.

  “How many of these dates have you gone on?”

  “Uh.” She didn’t want to confess to her naiveté but had a strong sense he could already tell. “Three. Maybe if I got the guy at ease, he’d give up the goods faster.” Lane shrugged. “Then I could go home.”

  “Hmm.” Jax steered the stolen car onto an off-ramp.

  No one said anything for a while. Since Lane deemed herself too stupid for words, she gladly melted into the silence.

  He pulled the BMW through the open entrance of a parking garage. “Give me a second.” He swung the car into a remote corner of the lot before he hopped out. Jax crossed the street, disappearing into the attendant’s booth.

  Exhausted, she dropped her head back on the seat and tried to think about the highlight of her day. Often, she would tackle this chore before she went to sleep at night, a strong believer of positive affirmation. However, the dead guy in the parking lot of the pub put a damper on her efforts.

  The image of his big body, facedown on the pavement, ran through her mind on repeat. Sure, she may not have liked the cheating bastard, but somebody did. He may have been screwing around on that somebody, but at one point, she had to have loved him. Lane tried in vain to convince herself of a silver lining, but conceded one wouldn’t be found tonight.

  A small earthquake rumbled from beneath her. She blinked, unaware she had closed her eyes. Jax wasn’t back yet, and she was still in her stupid outfit. Groggy, Lane opened the car door and planted her feet on the pavement. “What are you doing?”

  He worked his way from underneath the car with a boxy unit in hand. “Getting a souvenir,” he said before he nodded at her boots. “How much mileage can you get out of those things?”

  Five-inch heels, black and shiny leather made its way up her leg to the top of her thigh. “Three blocks give or take one.”.

  “Good, let’s put them to the test,” he said, offering his hand to her. Lane grabbed his calloused palm from her spot in the car and pulled herself up. He didn’t take the obligatory step back, which would allow her to get by, nor did she try to push him to move out of her way.

  Instead, she sucked in a deep breath. She wanted to bask in the smell of his crisp, fresh scent. It had been awhile since she had been around such a strong man. If only for a moment, she wanted to enjoy it.

  “You okay?” He smiled down at her.

  Slowly, Lane took her hand from his. She didn’t want to get too used to his strong touch. Instead, she slipped through the small space left between his body and the car. Not a tiny girl by any means, her ample breasts brushed against him. “Getting there,” she admitted, unsure of the actual truth.

  Chapter Four

  One hell of a trouper. He waited for Lane in the booth while she freshened up in the washroom. He was impressed she had walked three blocks to the diner with no complaints.

  “Thornbird.”

  Quiet as ever, his partner Raff had slipped into the restaurant. If the bell over the door hadn’t signaled her arrival, she would have surprised him. Anyone would have found it hard to believe this cagey-looking woman could be on the right side of the law, let alone a homicide detective. The rail-thin, spiky-haired blonde slid into the booth across from him. She flipped a cigarette to her mouth and then patted down her fitted leather jacket for her lighter.

  “You can’t smoke in here,” the waitress said from behind the counter. Without acknowledging the smoking ban, Raff flipped her badge from her jacket.

  “Down to a pack,” she mumbled lighting the tip with her lighter. A strange calm washed across her face before she sat back in the booth and put her leg up on the vinyl fabric next to her. Most people would have mistaken her for a teenager at first by her gangly boyish features, but the sheer aura of her confidence would dispel the notion quick enough.

  “Some college freshman found the vic outside of Paddy’s,” she told him after she got comfortable. “What the hell, Thornbird! What made you go to the bar tonight of all nights?”

  “You sent me there via Sherman with this.” Jax pushed the dismantled microphone across the table.

  “Shit,” she hissed. A deep frown crinkled her handsome face. Since Raff’s usual demeanor never gave anything away, he knew there was a problem. “You think the squad got to him?”

  “Doubt it, but not sure. Do me a favor and check when you get back to the precinct.” Jax dug in his pocket and took out the GPS unit he pulled off the dead man’s BMW. “Can you drop this off at the garage and run a diagnostic?” He handed it to her. “I have to go under for a while.”

  Jax hadn’t thought he would be at this place so early in the game. Raff’s grim expression told him she hadn’t thought his freeze out in the department would lead to this either.

  They sat in silence for a bit. He allowed her time to digest the fact he would have to go off the grid.

  “Who’s the 50s pin-up girl?” Raff nodded. She knocked her dead ashes into one of the coffee mugs the waitress had placed in front of them.

  He didn’t have to turn around. The sexy sound of Lane’s heels across the tile floor alerted him, but the spark of interest in his partner’s bored baby blues confirmed his belief.

  “She’s your decoy,” he said with a lopsided grin before he took a hit from his mug of muck.

  Lane slid into the booth next to him. “Hi,” she said with a wide-open smile as she held out her hand to his partner.

  “Lane, meet your boss, Raff.” He introduced them.

  “No kidding!” The beautiful woman swiveled her head in confusion. “But a guy always calls me.”

  “Yeah, my kid brother, he’s the manager. My parents wanted a boy, but I came first. They named me Raphaela and my brother is named Ralph. Some sense of humor, right?” Raff s
unk the rest of her cigarette in the black liquid she hadn’t touched and Jax wished he hadn’t either.

  “Lane tells me you encourage your decoys to leave with their marks,” he lied to goad his partner.

  “I, huh….” Complete dismay overtook Raff’s delicate features. “Oh God, you didn’t!” Raff said to Lane before she released a hearty chuckle.

  “What?” Lane avoided his gaze.

  “No wonder,” his partner grumbled with genuine humor. “Trust me, Thornbird, you got a regular grenade on your hands, here.” Raff continued to laugh, erasing the small crinkles of stress along the edges of her eyes, but just for a quick minute. “Do I get ‘my girl’ back?” Raff gave back the set of keys to his baby on the diner’s table.

  “Who me?” Lane squeaked.

  “She was a loaner, Raff, not a keeper,” Jax said, amused at Lane’s confusion.

  His partner picked the chain up she just gave him and dangled them in front of his face. “Do me a favor, Thornbird, and make it out of this thing alive.” She tossed the keys to him on her way out of the booth. “And you—” She pointed at Lane. “—give great water cooler gossip, but you’re fired. There’s no way I can afford the insurance premiums with those kinds of stunts,” she mumbled on her way past them. “Ask the grenade what happened on the other dates.” She snorted before leaving.

  Minutes ticked by while he waited for her to speak. “Do you want to share—”

  “Nope, I’m good.” Lane shook her head before she took a sip from her coffee. Not at all surprised by her reaction, Jax raised his hand for the check.

  ***

  The night had been a series of firsts. First, Lane witnessed a murder, then she had a gun pointed at her, and now she rode on the back of a motorcycle. The experience wasn’t on her bucket list. However, she never shied away from a new opportunity once it presented itself.