Payback

“I’m sure it is, honey, but the answer is still no.”

I couldn’t stop watching her from behind the thick glass. Her hair drifted across her cheek and she pushed it away, frustration and panic in her expression.

“Please?”

“You can beg as pretty as you like but the answer won’t change.”

Reggie, the sour old battleax wasn’t going to budge. It took a special kind of person to deal with the people who came to the front desk and Reggie didn’t mess around.

She was the gatekeeper and we were all thankful as fuck that she was as immovable as a brick wall.

But what could I say? I was intrigued. What was so urgent that she needed to see bad boy Frankie? Was she involved with the Riverside gang? Following in her brother’s footsteps?

Yeah, I didn’t see that happening.

The kid had “good girl” practically stamped on her forehead.

So what gives?

Only one way to find out.

Sue me, I was curious — and teetering on the edge of exhaustion after a four-day bender in an attempt to get viable information on the gang’s distribution channels.

Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.

Or maybe my dick was the one doing all the thinking because soon enough I was telling Reggie to buzz her through.

Reggie cut me a short look and then shrugged as if she didn’t care one way or another as long as the woman stopped bugging her and stabbed the buzzer to open the security door.

“Thank you,” the woman said, her blue-eyed gaze skittering as if unable to meet mine for too long.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned, my fingers itching to touch all that golden hair. “So why do you want to see Frankie Callen?"

“Why do you want to know?"

“Because I arrested the scumbag,” I replied, pulling no punches, my gaze fastening on her, her reaction pricking all my bad intentions. “What’s your name?”

“I-Ivy,” she answered as if against her better judgment. “And you are?”

“Detective Jameson Reed,” I answered with a slow burn of a smile that immediately caused her tongue to dart along her bottom lip nervously.

Was I the devil for pushing her? Yes. But I didn’t care. No sleep=instant prick.

“Your brother's in a heap of shit but something tells me you're used to that. Frankie's not exactly a good guy.”

“You don't know him.” Her small chin lifted, defying me. What would that hot piece of sass look like on her knees, looking up at me, eyes wide, mouth parted, eager to suck my cock?

Ahhh, shit. That wasn’t smart. My cock was too eager to put that scenario into play.

“I know his type.”

“Yeah, well he’s my brother,” she answered, as if that should be the end of any argument.

“Yeah? And a dirt-bag drug dealer. He’s not the kind of guy who’d end up on my Christmas list, brother or not.”

“Well, I’m not you.”

Feisty. I liked that. “Fair enough.” I openly assessed her, enjoying the way her cheeks flared with heat. “What’s your story then? Are you a drug addict or a dealer?”

“I didn’t know being interrogated was part of the deal to let me see Frankie.”

I shrugged. “You should read the fine print.”

She didn’t have a response but the look she sent my way could’ve singed my hair. For a little thing she was filled with fire. I wasn’t used to people surprising me. But she did.

She was a walking contradiction — oozing innocence, yet her eyes flashed with the ferocity of a badger.

Probably a hellcat in bed.

“It's a lost cause you know,” I said as we walked to the jail section of the building. “Your brother is going to go down permanently one of these days. All it takes is one more strike and big brother is going to end up as someone’s bitch on the inside.”

“Mind your own business,” she said under her breath.

I chuckled. “You can't save a man determined to go down in flames.”

“Speaking from experience?” she quipped, allowing me to infer any implication I chose.

I smiled. “I see Frankie's smart mouth runs in the family.”

“Look, I appreciate you letting me past the dragon lady but I really don’t feel my personal business is any of yours. I just want to see my brother.”

I should’ve just shut up but I couldn’t.

Or maybe, I wouldn’t.

I liked seeing her flustered.

Fuck, okay, I’ll admit it, I liked messing with her.

“You should be nicer to someone doing you a solid,” I told her. “I don’t have to let you see your shitbag brother so maybe put your fucking claws away and curb that sharp tongue.”

She shot me a look but remained silent. Smart girl.

Because honestly, I wanted her to push me and that was all sorts of bad for us both.

We rounded the corner, passed through the security doors and entered the holding cell area.

Catcalls erupted from the other inmates and obscene suggestions but Ivy ignored them all and went straight to Frankie's cell while I lounged against the cement wall, watching their exchange.

The two Callen siblings didn’t look anything alike. Probably different mothers. Whereas Ivy was petite and blonde, Frankie was long and lanky with greasy dark hair.

Frankie sat up when he saw us, the black and blue of his eye some of my best work. I wasn’t sorry. The fucker deserved it.

“What happened to your eye?” she asked, distressed.

Frankie, the little crybaby, didn’t waste time ratting me out.

“Fucking pig punched me in the face,” he glowered, trying to glare with his good eye, which was entertaining as fuck. “I ought to sue this whole fucking city for police brutality.”

Ivy looked to me. “Can we have some privacy?”

“This isn’t your first rodeo. You know the answer to that question,” I told her, amused that she would even ask.

“What were you doing?” Ivy asked Frankie in a low tone. “I thought you were going to get a job and stop all this stuff. I mean, c'mon Frankie, we're not kids anymore. You have to stop this. I can't take much more.”

Frankie, looking sullen, pushed away from the bars. “I tried. No one wants a fucking felon on the payroll. Gotta make a dime somewhere, sis.”

“But drugs? That's not going to end you anywhere but here,” she said, shaking the bars for emphasis. “Your arraignment isn't until Friday and I don't know if I can scrape together enough bail this time around.”

Frankie dropped his sullen expression for one of panic. “You gotta get me outta here, sis. You don't understand...I'm not safe here. I'm living with a target on my back.”

“I'll try...but I've run out of options.”

“Sell your car,” Frankie said and she blinked against his desperate suggestion.

Predictable. Frankie’s sister had blinders on if she couldn’t see how he was running her around.

To her credit, Ivy balked. “Frankie...I can't do that. I need my car.”

“I could die in here,” Frankie said, reaching for her hands through the bars but I was there in an instant with a growled warning.

“Get your fucking hands back where they belong. You know the rules.”

Frankie cast a dirty look at me but withdrew his hands, returning to Ivy. “Please, sis. You know I got enemies on this side of the bars.”

“Occupational hazard,” I drawled without an ounce of sympathy.

“Fuck off,” Frankie spat and Ivy winced.

“I'll think of something,” she promised though by her crestfallen expression, she didn't have a clue as to what she could possibly do aside from start stripping and prostituting herself. “Just try and stay safe.”

All right, I was done with this sideshow. I’d seen it too many times. She was an enabler and he was a user. In the end, the story remained the same.

And I had better things to do than watch it unfold.

“Time's up,” I said brusquely and actually pulled her arm away from the bars. “Let's go.”

“Get your fucking hands off my sister,” Frankie yelled, gripping the bars until his knuckles whitened.

“Frankie, don’t make it worse.” Ivy shrugged off my grip with a hard look. To her brother she added, “Just keep your head down and I’ll be in touch.”

We weren’t two steps out of the holding cell area when she started to defend Frankie.

Not that I expected anything different.

“You think you know everything about Frankie but you don’t. He's misunderstood but deep down he's a good guy.”

I barked a cruel laugh. “Girl, you need a reality check. That boy is bad news. If you can’t see that after everything you’ve bailed him out of, it’s your stupidity to blame, no one else’s.”

“I’m not stupid,” Ivy shot back. “Just because family means something to me doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I know Frankie has problems but he’s trying to clean up. This is just a set back.”

“This is a pattern.”

“You don’t know anything about our life. You should just stick to what you do know, like issuing parking tickets and harassing decent citizens.”

I smirked at her insults. The fact that she didn’t know the difference between a beat cop and detective was laughable.