The Killing Ground (foxx files) Page 5

  “He’s getting messy.” Rebecca suggested. “He’s an emotional killer. It’s only a matter of time before he slips up and when he does, I’ll be there.”

  “We’ll be there.” Jordan leveled her gaze on Rebecca. “This guy’s out for revenge. He’s not going to accept that Julie didn’t die, and he won’t give up until he gets her. From here on out, I’m going to be up your ass.”

  Rebecca glared at her, anger evident in her features. The M.E. stepped around them, and Jordan was thankful for the space. She wasn’t sure, which was worse, her mother’s angry glare when she was younger or Detective Foxx’s angry gaze. “I don’t mean to step on toes, Detective. I just meant we have resources that, quite frankly, the CDD doesn’t have the budget for. We can help…if you let us.”

  Rebecca’s anger dissipated somewhat, and Jordan swallowed nervously. Why on earth, it mattered that she got her approval was beyond Jordan’s imagination. “I think you need to pick your words more carefully. I already told you I would assist in whatever way possible, but you threatening to be up my ass is a surefire way to push me away.”

  Jordan smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you’re right, Detective Foxx. I have a way of putting my foot in my mouth.”

  “Detective?” The M.E. was leaning over the body, and she waived them over quickly. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

  She gripped his chin and pulled his mouth open.

  “Holy shit.” Jordan winced, unable to remain calm given the latest cruelty.

  His eyes had been cut out and shoved in his mouth, a clear message that his unfortunate sighting and subsequent telling of Julie’s attack had gotten him brutally murdered. He would end up just another person with no name or story that would be forgotten by tomorrow.

  Rebecca spun on her heel and marched away quickly. She waited for Jordan to catch up. “Whatever the FBI can do to help, do it.”

  Jordan nodded. She knew from the two brief encounters with Detective Foxx that she was a proud woman, fiercely protective of her territory. To ask for help, even that which had been previously offered, required a quiet strength that few possessed. Jordan imagined that doing so had knocked her down a few notches, and her admiration for this woman grew exponentially.

  “Come see me tomorrow. Bring the autopsy results. We’ll see what we can put together on this guy.” Jordan offered quietly.

  Rebecca smiled and thanked her reluctantly. She didn’t want to need help, especially Jordan’s help. She couldn’t decide which was worse, Jordan’s overt attempt at seduction in an attempt to get her way, or Matt’s subtle way of playing good cop to Jordan’s bad cop. What irritated her more was that she found herself actually tempted to take Jordan up on her offer.

  She didn’t have much time outside work for relationships. She wasn’t sure she even wanted one. If she guessed correctly, sex was all Jordan was offering, and that was really all Rebecca had or wanted to give. Truth be told, she missed it. It had been months since she had touched another woman, and she was hungry to taste someone’s arousal, to have a woman’s touch bring her to orgasm.

  Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought of her and Jordan as quickly as it had surfaced, trying to ignore the nagging tug in her chest or the pulsating ache in her clit. That was just what she needed, something else to cloud her judgment and keep her from devoting her time to the real problem. This case.

  Chapter 6

  “So, what do you think?” Jordan fiddled with her radio trying to find something that wasn’t Justin Bieber pop.

  “Guy’s fucking crazy. He’s definitely got an ax to grind. I’m not sure where the hate is coming from though. It’s probably a good idea to bring Detective Foxx in to speak with our profiler.”

  “Already suggested it.” Jordan laughed softly. “She wasn’t happy about it.”

  “She can’t argue with that. The FBI has resources they will never have.” Matt’s tone was adamant, but there was a hint of something softer buried between the words.

  Jordan studied Matt’s profile in the dim lights of her console. Her 370Z hummed along the quiet night streets, and she preferred to keep the peace between them, but a thought nagged at her until she opened her mouth and it spilled out. “You like the Detective, huh?”

  For a moment, she thought he would not answer, and she had almost given up when he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

  Jordan glanced over and saw the telltale puppy-dog look in his eyes, a look she knew well. “Shit, Matty. You really like her. Is that going to be a problem?”

  He shook his head. “I have it under control, okay?”

  “Good.” Jordan slowed down and stopped in front of his building. “I don’t think she’s the type to mix business and pleasure. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

  She could see his jaw tighten, his only sign her words affected him. He ran a hand through his hair. “I said I got this.”

  He opened the door and stepped out without another word. She watched him let himself into his building, a slight slump in his shoulders belying the fact that the bravado he showed her was just a facade.

  “Whatever.” Jordan gunned the engine and pulled away on screeching tires. She felt reckless tonight. A few hours ago, she had been knee-deep in a frenzied bout of sex with a woman she found attractive and uncomplicated. That should be enough. Instead, she was worried about Matty and Detective Foxx. What she should have worried about was following Matt’s lead and starting to care too much for the Detective herself.

  Jordan pulled into the parking garage that connected with the tower she lived in. She parked and was just about to go in, when she realized she was so wound up, there was no way she could settle down tonight. She punched the elevator and when the doors opened, she hit the ground floor instead of going up.

  She wasn’t sure where she wanted to go, she only knew it was anywhere except her home. She wandered up the dark street, her senses on high alert. Downtown Chicago was safe most times, but the events of the past few days made her leery. Subconsciously, she patted her side. She felt the hard casing of her holster. She fingered the grip of her Glock and let out a breath.

  She wasn’t sure why she needed to feel it attached to her side to feel safe. Maybe it was more to reassure herself that it was actually there. Her hand strayed to her left shoulder. The scar was still there. The one time she had been unarmed was the one time she had been shot. It was stupid really. She was getting her weapon serviced, and she had stumbled into a robbery unarmed. She was actually lucky the bullet had only hit her shoulder and not six inches lower.

  She shook her head, realizing she was doing it again, reliving the past. She tried not to do that. Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow. Her mantra, one she stole from a Fleetwood Mac song. Besides, looking into her past just made her angry, and she didn’t want to feel anger. She functioned better when she stayed level-headed.

  It wasn’t until she heard the bartender ask what she wanted that she realized she had ended up in her favorite dive, Franks. She ordered a whiskey on the rocks and made it a double. She eyed the pool table and figured she could challenge herself to a round or two. Between that and Jack Daniels, she may be able to stop her mind from replaying everything she had seen in the past week.

  The cool wood sliding between her fingers and the resounding crack and subsequent drop and roll of the seven ball calmed her frazzled nerves, or maybe her second double in as many minutes. She lined up the two ball and sent it into the corner pocket with a satisfying thud.

  “So, you’re a night owl too?”

  Jordan looked up and saw Rebecca leaning against the doorframe. If she was surprised to see her there, her face didn’t show it. Instead, an almost friendly smile had replaced the ever-present glare that Jordan was getting used to. She had changed into faded blue jeans and a worn out button-down shirt. Jordan had to admit she looked incredibly sexy away from work.

  “Yeah, I don’t sleep much anyway, and this case has me all riled up.”

  J
ordan watched her push off the doorframe and walk towards her. She set her beer bottle down and grabbed a stick. “Up for a game?”

  Jordan quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Sure. Although, I didn’t think you liked me enough to suffer my company.”

  Rebecca laughed, and Jordan felt herself shiver. Her laugh was definitely sexy, just like the rest of her. “Forgive me, Agent, but you will learn pretty quickly that I take my job very seriously, and I don’t like it when I’m stuck in a pissing contest over whose jurisdiction it is, when all I want to do is make the streets a little safer. Besides, beating you will be much more enjoyable than beating myself.”

  “Please call me Jordan.” Jordan studied Rebecca’s face as she re-racked the balls. She stood with her hands rested on the top of her stick. “If that’s not overstepping my bounds.”

  Jordan winked as she said the words and Rebecca couldn’t help but smile. Outside of work, Jordan was even more of a distraction, and she welcomed the warm feeling that was starting to spread through her body. She wasn’t sure if it was the beer or Jordan, but she didn’t care. “Alright, Jordan it is…outside work.”

  Jordan covered a smile. Even off-duty Rebecca couldn’t let go of her control. “Are you always this competitive?”

  Rebecca met her gaze and had to force herself to pull away. She realized that looking into Jordan’s eyes was a bad idea. She could see getting lost in them, and that wasn’t something she would allow herself to do. “With four brothers, I had to be.”

  Jordan nodded toward the table. She studied Rebecca’s movements, imprinting them in her brain. Her movements were fluid, almost feline, with a calculated fluidity that made Jordan wonder if she hadn’t been a ballerina at some time. She watched her lean over the table, the stick held gently between her thumb and forefinger. She pulled back and sent the cue ball flying with deadly accuracy. By the time the break had come to a stop, she had dropped the six and thirteen balls respectively. Rebecca stood up and sent a devilish grin towards Jordan. “You’re in trouble.” She circled the table. “I’ll take solids. Two ball, corner pocket.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were a hustler.” Jordan teased and watched her deftly sink the two ball. “So, you have four brothers, huh? Where did you fall?”

  “Middle.” Rebecca lined up another shot and sunk her third solid. “We were all born pretty close together, and growing up, I just kind of thought of myself as one of the guys. If they played football, I thought I had to play as well.”

  “And win of course.” Jordan’s eyes twinkled playfully. She liked this version of Detective Foxx. The sexy redhead was quickly making her blood boil. She stole a glance to see if maybe the feeling was mutual, but Rebecca was already lining up her next shot. After a particularly difficult bank attempt into the side pocket, she gave up the table.

  “Guess I can’t win ‘em all.” Rebecca's face broke into a smile. She felt free for the first time in days. Jordan had a way of putting her at ease and making her forget, for a second, she was a cop. “So what about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

  A cloud passed over Jordan’s face then disappeared just as quickly. “Nope. Just me and my mom, when she was around, which wasn’t much.” She lined up over the cue ball and sent it flying, smashing into the eleven and slamming it into the hole so hard it bounced up in protest before dropping with an obliging thud.

  Rebecca wanted to push, but she sensed that subject was off limits. There was no mention of her father, which made her heart catch. Rebecca’s own father had been a huge part of her and her brother’s lives until he passed away two years ago from lung cancer. She felt Jordan withdraw and needed to bring her back. She liked the warmth and comfort she felt with her, and she didn’t want to let it go as quickly as she had felt it. “So, what brings you to a place like this? And no, that isn’t a bad pickup line.”

  Jordan’s face broke out in a grin, and Rebecca could see where women would find her quite handsome. “Damn, I was hoping you were hitting on me.”

  Her gaze seared through Rebecca, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak without her voice shaking. “Not gonna happen, Agent Gray. I’m not interested in dating you.”

  Jordan furrowed her brow then quickly pulled her eyes from Rebecca’s face. She wondered if she was not interested in her or not interested in women. It didn’t matter though, Jordan wasn’t interested either. At least, that was what she kept telling herself, although her heart pounded a little faster when the Detective was around. “Good. We won’t have to worry about our relationship getting in the way of working together.”

  Rebecca hid her disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she had expected Jordan to say in response to that, but agreeing with her wasn’t Rebecca’s first choice. “Glad that’s settled.”

  Jordan felt a tug in her chest again. She pushed it down. “I live right around the corner. It’s kind of been my haunt for the last few years. How about you? Is this your first time in here?”

  “Nah, just haven’t been here in ages.” Rebecca took a swig from her beer and watched Jordan miss just to the left of the side pocket with her fourteen ball. “Normally, I hang out with the Jonesy and the guys at Stan’s, but tonight I needed to get away from work. You can’t there. I live right around the corner on Arlington.”

  “No shit.” Jordan laughed. “I live on Halstead.”

  “So let me guess, you’re here a lot?” Rebecca leaned over and lined up her shot and sent the four ball cleanly into the corner pocket. “This place suits you.”

  Jordan quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”

  Rebecca chuckled innocently. “It is. It’s uncomplicated…like you.”

  “Guess that pretty much sums up my life.” Jordan smiled sheepishly. “Things were too complicated growing up and I like it much better this way. Keeps me from going crazy.”

  “It’s hard in this line of work.” Rebecca tapped the seven into the side pocket and studied the table. She walked around and stepped in front of Jordan to line up her next shot. She made the mistake of getting too close to Jordan, her breasts brushing across her arm. She tried to ignore the jolt of electricity that shot through her body. Suddenly, she was aware of their closeness, and she tried to back away, but she felt her bottom hit the edge of the table.

  Her next mistake was looking up into Jordan’s eyes. Instead of her practiced air of nonchalance, there was a hint of desire, and it made Rebecca shiver. Jordan licked her lips and didn’t break the connection that crackled between. She leaned in closer, and Rebecca could feel her warm breath against her cheek. She smelled like whiskey and peppermint gum and something else she couldn’t quite place, but it reminded her of danger.

  Jordan was enjoying this closeness too much, enjoyed making the Detective uncomfortable. She could have easily captured Rebecca’s mouth against hers, but she was enjoying the hunger that was building inside her even more than what she surmised would be a rebuffed advance anyway. She leaned in closer and when she thought Rebecca could take no more, she reached around behind her and grabbed the chalk.

  She stepped back and heard Rebecca exhale the breath she had been holding since Jordan had paralyzed her with one glance. When she spoke, her voice was an octave lower and there was no mistaking the naked hunger in her husky voice or the silent challenge in her eyes. “I believe it’s your move.”

  Five little words and Rebecca’s carefully constructed life started to tremble. It wasn’t the game Jordan referred to, although this felt like a game. Jordan was the hunter, and she was her prey. No, Jordan’s eyes spoke volumes and her carefully spoken words let Rebecca know that whatever happened next was indeed her move.

  Jordan moved to the opposite side of the table, allowing her plenty of space. However, it took several moments of deep breathing before her heart slowed enough to allow her to even turn around and face her again.

  Rebecca was certain she had gotten herself together, but when she leaned over to shoot,
she sensed the slightest tremor in her left hand and when she shot, her line of fire was a hair off course. Her concentration was broken, from the game anyway. She was forced to admit it had found a new point to center its focus around. It was too much for her, and with a laugh that sounded entirely too forced, she set her stick on the table and smiled. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  “Scared huh?” Jordan teased. “You should be. I’m better than you think.”

  Rebecca walked away quickly, leaving Jordan shaking her head in disbelief. A thought had sprung from somewhere in her subconscious and had started to grow, until for want of saving her sanity, she was forced to run before she did something she knew she would regret. She was forced to admit that Special Agent Gray had overstepped her boundaries in work and in pleasure, and it made her uncomfortable.

  Chapter 7

  It’s bone-chillingly cold tonight. I lean further into the entryway hoping it will block the icy wind that is rushing around me. Funny that the cold manages to break through my senses and register at all. Normally, my mind is so focused on the hunt that little else matters, although tonight the cold hits me, and I shove my hands into my pockets to warm them. They brush against steel and my focus returns. Tonight is the night, the night she will die.

  I mentally stop my body from shivering. My teeth no longer chatter loudly and once again, I can hear the voice talking to me. Yes, tonight is the night. Tonight, she will pay for her sins. I repeat the words again. Tonight is the night, the night she will die.

  She doesn’t know that I’ve been watching her, many months now. I see her face clearly at the moment, the lights of the deserted street casting an eerie glow over her features. It isn’t long before my nostrils get the first hint of her scent. She smells fruity, cloyingly sweet, and oh so overbearing. A mere intake of breath and my stomach is sick with her smell. I blink and try to clear my head, as I hear the telltale staccato of her heels pounding against the cold pavement.