Page 20 of Lust
Joe spentthe morning doing laps in his gym’s swimming pool, trying to get the events of the previous night out of his head, but even on his fiftieth lap, he couldn’t avoid thinking life had a way of coming full circle for him. He’d tried to leave Cardinal City but was right back where he started. He’d joined law enforcement to get away from his abusive father and a mother who saw nothing wrong with it—yet now he worked in Violent Crimes where violence was his bread and butter. At least he wasn’t the one dishing it out—or receiving it.
And then there was Liza Lazarus... he’d tried to get her out of his head, but she’d managed to edge her way back in, even deeper than before. Even deeper than when she’d made him smile, while waiting with him for x-rays of his broken arm. Even deeper than sharing her hotdog when he’d turned up to the ballgame without a dime to his name. And even deeper than when she’d tossed the signed baseball to him after years of silence between them.
She was all he could think about, and by the time he’d showered and made his way into the Cardinal City Police Department, her citrus-berry scent was an ever-living fragrance in his mind.
When Tanya had turned up last night, and his stomach had dropped instead of filling with excitement, he knew instantly that it was over between them. But he’d tried to protect his heart from Liza, ignored the disappointment, and pretended he was okay with what Tanya wanted—a life together. Damn it, he’d tried. But he’d never been good at being something he wasn’t.
One inhale of Liza’s sweet scent on her scarf and he’d gone harder than steel. And when he saw Liza outside, watching him with a mix of curiosity and, dare he think it, arousal…Christ.
His insides had combusted. Suddenly, it hadn’t been Tanya’s lips on him, but Liza’s. Like a desperate addict, he hadn’t been able to stop, even though he knew it was wrong. Even though he was an asshole for doing it. But then Liza had panicked. Something happened to her on that fire escape, and the moment she’d fled, Joe’s mood had died.
Neither he nor Tanya could argue with their failing chemistry, despite his lies to the contrary.
That’s when he ended his casual relationship with Tanya. He’d been using her to get over Liza and that wasn’t fair to anyone. How could he explain to Tanya that the entire time they’d dated, he’d been wearing a mask so clever that he’d fooled himself into believing it was real?
There was only one thing left for him to do. Take the mask off and go all-in with Liza.
Fate had brought him back to Cardinal City, back toher—his sweet poison, killing him softly. All he knew for certain was that he wouldn’t go to his death without a proper taste. A banquet.
With his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he located the office Captain Morais had assigned him for the duration of his stay at the CCPD. It was smaller than his bedroom, but bigger than the open office he’d shared with the other detectives years ago. He would get teased for this when they arrived for the day.
A small smile played on his lips. He truly missed the camaraderie he shared with those guys. Last night was over too soon.
He dumped his bag on the floor next to the empty desk and unloaded his case files. There were two sets. One was filled with the reason he was here today—a new task force and interdepartmental investigation. The other set belonged to a classified FBI investigation and the reason he’d wanted to drill the CCPD detectives without Liza present. He opened the top classified file to view the dossier on Sloan Lazarus. Her profile was squeaky clean, not even a parking ticket or two. But Joe knew the Lazarus family—had known them since they were all kids. They weren’t saints.
He turned the page and handled two pictures, both were taken from security footage at a private school a few months prior. Sloan and her fiancé Max were pictured walking in and out of the academy with a student. The next page detailed eyewitness reports of two white-robed and Halloween masked attackers who’d allegedly fought with Sloan on campus. One witness described Sloan kicking her way out of a car and “going ape-shit” on the gasoline doused attacker.
It wasn’t the first time these white-robed terrorists had been seen in Cardinal City. More pictures of them had been taken near the Kremlin Nightclub just under a year ago, and earlier near a warehouse in the South-Side slums. The last time they’d been seen was in the Quadrant Central Park and Zoo only two months ago, along with trace evidence of some sort of plant biological matter that couldn’t be explained.
Each time, a Lazarus, or one of their partners, had been captured on CCTV nearby. Joe knew because he was the one to look up security records after linking the events. His gut feeling said the Lazarus family was the vigilante group known as the Deadly Seven, but it wasn’t enough for a conviction. Not even close. Yet.
He had to first prove who they were, then prove they were responsible for a list of felonies a mile long, including, but not limited to, reckless endangerment, aggravated assault, and manslaughter. Maybe even murder.
Liza needed to emancipate herself from that family. He’d counted six different Deadly Seven costumes captured in shady newspaper clippings and hand-held home video footage on YouTube. There were meant to be seven of them, but he’d only counted six. Joe’s gut also said Liza wasn’t getting dressed up in Halloween digs like the rest of her family. She was too busy saving lives the right way.
Pride swelled in his chest. She’d always been a stickler for the rules, and she’d always hated being told what to do by her family. As soon as he’d made the mental leap to connect the family to the vigilante group, so many things in their history made sense. Liza’s and her siblings’ seven years “studying abroad” for one. All of them had come back changed. There had been a hardness to them, yet a creeping silence, a violent calm. Anyone with military training could see they were power coiled and veiled beneath feigned mundane appearances. They worked hard at shifting the conversation to their public identities, but Joe had known them before.
Before they were killers.
That was why he had to be the one to bring them down.
Liza didn’t deserve to go down for her family’s vigilante ways. He would help her see that. Maybe he could save her from suffering their fate. One day she would thank him for it.
Before he’d left for the gym that morning, he’d checked the balcony she was on the night before. He’d found dead rats. Had she seen them, and that’s why she’d fled? But he didn’t think she was the kind to be afraid of rats. Nothing seemed to scare Liza Lazarus.
A quiet knock came at his door. A small female detective stood in his doorway.
“Captain is ready to give the briefing,” she said. “Five minutes.”
Joe nodded, packed his classified files back into his small filing cabinet, and locked it with a key. Then he straightened his suit and tie and smoothed his hair. One check in the small mirror behind the door, and he was ready to go. Walking down the hall, he tried to remove the image of his reflection from his mind.
His eyes were bleak, cold, and empty. They still belonged to the mask he wore. Maybe he’d been wrong, and it wasn’t so easy to take off. Perhaps he’d worn it for so long it was now a part of him. Worse, maybe the man he’d been before joining the FBI had been the mask and this was the real Joe.
Hard. Unforgiving. Dead.
* * *
The briefing roomconsisted of a display board at the front and several lecture desks and chairs. Already there were a few faces he recognized. Houlahan. Briggs. Bugsy. Tom. Debbie from Accounts. Joe scanned the room and failed to see Liza.
