Ain't Your Bitch (Interracial Urban Erotica)(164)

"Then you'll have to come find me. I'm pulled off on the side of the  road here next to a … " A pause, in which she could imagine he was looking  out the window to read the name of the place. "McDonald's, I guess. You  guys even have strange McDonald's out here, huh?"

"Not that strange."

"Well, come find me. Then we'll find someplace to eat."

"We're not having McDonald's."

"Boo," he teased. "Obviously we're not. Now, you're a detective. Time to  start your detective training. Come find me, and then we'll find  someplace. But I need a guide around town, so I don't get lost."

"But getting lost is half the fun."

"Then we'll both have fun, smart aleck."

"See you in a bit." Jamelia hung up the phone and pulled on some  clothes, the cold having pulled her dark skin tight around her body and  raising goosebumps.

She tried four McDonalds locations before she found the government-issue  sedan that Roy sat in. He stuck out like a sore thumb, so she should  have realized that she didn't need to pull into the others and look  carefully.

The car was instantly recognizable as a government car, kept in  reasonably good shape with blacked-out windows and government plates. It  might as well have said "I'm with the F.B.I." on the side of it for all  the good it did hiding the information.

She opened the passenger door and slipped inside.

"You found me!" He feigned surprise.

"Somehow. I guess it's just my incredible sense as a detective that led me to your location, first try."

"Really. First place you checked?"

"Absolutely."

He looked suitably impressed, though she suspected that he had no illusions about her telling the truth.

"Well, I was thinking Italian."

"Perfect. Drive me away, Romeo."

"I don't know if I'd go that far," he chuckled. "How about just dinner?"

"Good enough for me," Jamelia purred. They made their way back onto the  streets, busy enough to take a good look around. As she had promised,  she provided very little-if anything-in the way of directions.

He'd ask if she had a recommendation every few corners, or if she liked a  particular restaurant. She practiced her shrug. Finally they pulled  into a restaurant with 'Italian' in the name. Jamelia hadn't been there  before; in fact, hadn't heard the name. It was too far north to be part  of her usual repertoire, but she wasn't about to criticize just because  of that.

They were seated and a thirty-something who looked like they'd made poor  life decisions came to ask what they wanted to drink. Water, they both  answered. A minute later, breadsticks came with the drinks. Jamelia  picked one up and slowly started making her way through the basket.

"How are you liking Los Angeles?"

"Oh, you know. It's a big city. They're all pretty similar, when all you have to go on is a field office and a hotel."

"I suppose that's probably true, when you get to enough of them. I wouldn't know."

"Then you should have recommended someplace."

"Nah," she said, waving the suggestion away with the half-eaten breadstick in her hand. "Where's the fun in that?"

"So you're doing all this for my benefit, then?"

"Of course!" She smiled. "I care for your education, Roy. Think of this  as a pre-test. Then, over the next few days, you learn about the city,  and we see whether or not you're as knowledgeable as the locals on the  spots."

"I don't think that I'm going to learn that much in only a few days."

"That's because you didn't have someone tutoring you all those other times."

"And you're planning on being my …  what, tutor? In food-related matters?"

"Well, that and detective-work, of course. But I think we should start with where you're closest to success."

Roy's lips pinched together in annoyance that might have been feigned. "You're right. I'm sorry. I should've known better."

"That's the spirit. Grovel just a bit."

"Groveling isn't my thing," he said. His voice was mild, but his  expression had changed, just a little bit. As if he wanted to show her  that he was a little bit dangerous. Compared to Craig, Roy Schafer was a  kitten, and she wasn't sure that she minded it one bit.

She'd already gotten herself into a spot that she shouldn't have gotten  herself into. Now that she was hip-deep in trouble, the suggestion to  leave it alone, to go home and watch a pack of hyenas pretending to be  people rip apart another woman on the basis of female sisterhood.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Jamelia wanted to tell Roy what  she'd done. Wanted to get some feedback on what she was supposed to do  next. It was a dangerous game that she was playing, and explaining how  she got the information she was hoping to get, when it was finally time  to cash out, would be hard. It would make it that much less awkward if  she were able to get him in on the game plan now, before the trouble had  come up.

Would it make the evidence that they got inadmissible? She wasn't sure.  But that wasn't what she was concerned about right now. Undercover  agents worked on cases like this all the time. All she was doing was  working undercover.

But undercover cops had someone pulling their strings, someone who could  pull them out of the situation if things got too dangerous, and here  she was, walking the tight-rope without a safety net.

"Roy, I need to tell you something, and I need this to stay between us."

"Okay," he said, sitting back and looking for the waitress who hadn't taken their order yet. "I can promise that. Probably."

"Well, probably will have to be good enough." She let out a breath. "I may have made contact with Hutchinson."

"I assumed you would," he said, rubbing his nose. "What have you got?"

"Nothing yet. The guy's scary, though. I wouldn't put it past him. He  admitted to knowing my sister, though he says he hasn't heard from her  since she left Minnesota."

"Okay. We can work with that. What's the cover?"

"I'd-" Jamelia let out a breath and tried to still her heart beating. "I'd rather not say."

"That's fine. I'm not your dad. But stay safe, and the minute that there's trouble, you call me, alright?"

"Okay," she said, making a mental note to save his number again. She might not forget this time.

"I'll text you to check in once a day. If I don't hear from you within an hour or two, we bring the hammer down. Fair?"

"Fair enough," she said. The waitress was coming up, finally, her wide  hips swishing as she walked with a hurry that suggested that she just  realized how long they'd been sitting there, the breadstick basket still  empty.

"Oh, look at that," the waitress murmured. "You're out of breadsticks.  Well, I'll get you some more of those, but could I take your order while  I'm at it?"

Jamelia let out a breath. Not the best Italian place she'd been. But it  was a learning experience, just like it was going to be digging into the  muck that was Craig Hutchinson.





Eighteen



Waking up late had always come hard for her. But when Jamelia avoided  sleep long enough, it was an unhappy necessity that she had to deal with  in spite of her best intentions to sleep as little as necessary and  never past the sunrise.

She opened her eyes slowly, and closed them again. The sun had somehow  found a way through the blinds that managed to fall square across her  eyes, and after a night's rest it was blindingly bright.

She rolled away from it and pushed herself out of bed, still letting her  eyes stay shut a minute. She knew the layout well enough not to worry  about it. She reached for where her phone should be, but she must have  knocked it to the floor. Jamelia opened her eyes just enough to reach  down and grab it.

As she'd hoped a message. As usual, though, nothing to be sure who it  was from. She cursed herself again that she'd forgotten to put Roy's  number back in. It would be as easy, even now, as going back to the call  log and adding the most recent call. Unless she'd gotten one after  midnight last night, which she doubted, and even then, the log had  timestamps.         

     



 

Doing anything today?

She thought forward. No, nothing. Unless she wanted to schedule some  last-minute piano lessons. She'd always wanted to learn, never put in  the least bit of effort. Maybe today would be the day. Maybe it  wouldn't.

She punched in that she didn't have any plans at all and dropped the  phone on the bed, where it lay as she went off to get dressed.

She was just pulling on a pair of slacks as her phone buzzed. That would  be Craig, she knew. Roy didn't seem to prefer to text, but more than  that, he wasn't quick about answering them when he did send any.

She picked the phone back up and turned it over to read the message.

I'll be there in 5, be ready to go.

She shrugged. Alright. That was enough time, if she needed to be out the  door. She reached down to pull on socks and then slipped her feet into a  comfortable pair of flats.