“What?” Cheryl’s brows knitted. “What look?”
“That bitch in heat look,” Johnnie spat out. She had never been one to mince words. “You know, the one you always get two seconds before you land in hot water.”
Cheryl nodded and began rolling her eyes again.
Johnnie’s groan became louder before she hissed, “Get that silly-ass look off your face. Get your hormones in check and your mind on the J-O-B.”
“Since when don’t I do my job?” Cheryl asked, looking at her partner and friend.
Johnnie crossed her arms. “All I’m saying is that I’ve been gunning for that sergeant’s badge and this case can make it happen. Don’t screw it up.”
“Again. When it comes to my job, I do my job.”
“And when it comes to good-looking men, you lose your head,” Johnnie reminded her. On cue, Lieutenant Mackey strolled his arrogant butt into the squad room and their eyes connected for a brief second before another officer captured his attention with a question.
Jason Mackey, six foot one with a smooth, dark-chocolate complexion, had first attracted Cheryl’s attention five years ago when she joined the force, mainly because he knew how to wield his power and authority like no one she’d ever met before. Ignoring common sense and unsolicited advice from her partner, she gave in to their obvious physical attraction and proceeded to have a six-month affair that was totally against department policy.
Their first night together was great. The other five months and twenty-nine days was a complete nightmare. She suffered endless migraines and gut-wrenching regret. Mackey, however, was head over heels in love. Cheryl had to learn the hard way how bad and sticky it was to try to end an office romance—though Jason Mackey seemed hardly over it.
Slowly, she realized that Mackey was working his way around the room. She found herself feverishly praying for the meeting to hurry up and get started. But Cheryl wasn’t that lucky.
“Officer Grier.” Mackey’s eyes roamed over her face before slowly following the contours of her curvy body. “Now, why am I not surprised that you didn’t have a problem landing a job at The Dollhouse?”
She smiled. “Because you know that I’m good at whatever I put my mind to.” That didn’t come out right.
Mackey immediately hiked up a brow. “You know…now that you’ve mentioned it… You do have a point there.”
From the corner of her eye, Cheryl saw Johnnie pretending to gag. However, when Mackey cast his gaze over at her partner, she had a straight face and quickly feigned an innocent smile. That alone was enough for him to continue to look at her suspiciously.
“So, uh, what was your impression of Mr. King and Mr. Hinton?” Mackey asked, returning his gaze to Cheryl. “Any red flags we should know of?”
“No. Actually, they seem like three normal—”
“Three?”
“Yeah. Uh, Xavier’s younger brother was there, as well. Jeremy King. When I applied for the job, Xavier was with Quentin and Jeremy.”
“Think the younger brother might have a hand in all of this?”
Cheryl started to shake her head.
“I mean, don’t the other King brothers own The Dollhouse’s other locations in Las Vegas and Los Angeles? What if they have a whole network set up?”
Mackey was getting that ambitious look in his eyes. No doubt expanding the scope of the investigation, as visions of a major drug bust danced like sugarplums in his head. The fame and the national recognition could land him something like head of Homeland Security.
When Cheryl glanced over at her partner to make sure that she got a good look at Mackey’s daydreaming butt, she saw Johnnie had the same look in her eyes. “I don’t know,” Cheryl said. “They seemed like normal guys to me. My instincts tell me that they don’t have anything to do with any of this,” she said, gesturing toward the corkboard. Her comment was like a sharp pin in their fantasy career-making balloons. She’d swear on a stack of Bibles that she heard two thunderous pops—deflating their lofty ambitions—before they leveled disappointed frowns in her direction.
“But you could be wrong,” Mackey said snidely. “It’s been known to happen before.”
Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “You asked me for my opinion and I gave it.”
Mackey smiled when he sensed that he had hit a nerve. “And if you’re wrong, you won’t have any problems slapping the handcuffs on Mr. Big-Time Ex-Boxing Champion, will you?”
“Absolutely not. I am a police officer first and foremost, and if and when the time comes to slap the handcuffs on Xavier King, I’ll do so without hesitation.”
Chapter 3
Across town, Xavier, Jeremy and Quentin were being seated at a private table at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. Whenever they got together, the occasion usually called for something involving steak—or beer—but definitely a steak.
“Here you go, gentlemen. Your waiter’s name is Sasha and she will be with you in a minute,” their hostess said as she flirted and then added a wink.
All three men gave her their best player’s smile before easing into the leather chairs around the table and opening their menus. Once she turned and walked away, they looked at one another and said in unison, “She wants me.”
They immediately looked at one another skeptically. They knew that any one of them could easily turn heads when it came to the ladies. Xavier, a former heavyweight champion, stood a solid six foot four and was muscular with smooth chocolate skin and licorice eyes. His natural swagger was loaded with confidence that he’d earned in and out of the bedroom. Unlike his older brother Eamon, Xavier didn’t have a single monogamous gene in his body, and that was a good thing in his opinion. It didn’t make him a jerk or anything. He truly believed that life was meant to be enjoyed to the fullest, and more than anything he enjoyed the pleasure of a woman’s company, or two, but definitely no more than three. And he had it on good authority that they enjoyed him, too.
“A hundred bucks says that she was winking at me,” Q said, easing back in his chair and puffing out his chest.
“In your dreams, grandpa,” Jeremy countered. “The only thing that dime would give you is a senior citizen discount on your meal.”
Xavier pressed his lips together, but a snicker still managed to escape.
“Senior—what?” Q’s face colored with embarrassment. “I’ll have you know that the forties are the new thirties, young blood.”
“Sure. Sure.” Jeremy bobbed his head, but crudely gestured with his hands in a way that implied Q was a whack job.
Quentin’s indignation deepened, causing him to smack the table with his hand and up the ante. “A thousand bucks.”
Both Xavier and his nearly look-alike brother straightened in their chairs now that there was some serious money on the table.
“What exactly is the bet?” Xavier asked.
“Simple. Whoever gets her number wins.”
The King brothers rolled their eyes and waved him off.
“Please,” Xavier said, reaching for his water. “That’s child’s play. Who’s to say that she won’t give her number to all three of us?”
Q conceded his point. “All right. Let’s make it whoever can get her in bed. Sounds fair?”
The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.
“All right,” Jeremy said. “Why not? I don’t have any plans tonight. You in, bro?”