Never Be Tamed (Impossible Love #6)(7)

The fact of the matter was she really seemed sweet and kind. The patience she had with animals was impressive, and she was always doing something nice for the neighbors like bringing in the newspapers from the lobby, or picking up garbage someone had left behind. She also seemed to be boring as hell, like me. So far, she'd had no visitors, or parties, or social interaction of any kind. From what I gathered, she did nothing more than work at the shelter, walk the mutts, and run.

Well, until Monday came around.

Then, what emerged from apartment 2C turned into a goddamn Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde shitshow. We both left for campus at the same time, so we were walking down the hallway together. I tried pretending she wasn't there, as she'd done with me, but it wasn't working. Plus, something was off. I hardly recognized my new neighbor. Her cute athletic get-ups were replaced with a tiny skirt, tall boots, and a body-skimming top that left little to the imagination. Her makeup-free face was now a perfect piece of art, and her demeanor overflowed with confidence. She seemed taller, her strides longer, her steps louder. Jenna was a tiny little force of badass.

Jesus, even her sweet cinnamon scent had been replaced with some exotic fragrance-one that said I'm too good for you, don't even think about it.

It was a shock to my system, seeing her this way. Though it was how I was introduced to her when I was with Tabby and Jules over the summer. Jenna in her cold perfection, except with me. With me, she had flirted-which I now knew was her way to get under my sister's skin. But how I didn't remember her on move-in day was beyond me. She left quite an impression, and she was exactly the type of girl I used to go for.



       
         
       
        

There's a saying that every girl marries her father and every boy marries his mother. Well, despite being completely twisted, it was dead wrong in my case. My mother is the sweetest, most gentle woman in the world, but I watched my father tromp all over her, my grandparents, too. Even her sisters. I watched her lose herself bit by bit each year, even though she always managed to save enough for me. But the way the others treated her, broke her heart. I know it sounds corny, but I think it actually made her sick. She was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's when I was in junior high and she was hospitalized before I hit high school. She never came back home. Today, she's in a memory care home in Illinois. I visit whenever I can, but she hasn't recognized me since I was fifteen.

Watching her suffer through her life was crushing and made me feel so freaking powerless that I went the other way with everything. Cocky, strong, arrogant pricks for friends and I usually opted for the basic bitch variety of girlfriends-though I could never be bothered to stay long enough to really call anyone more than a hookup.

"Morning, Michael," Jenna purred. It was the only way I could describe it. This was someone who knew how to get what she wanted from men.

I had to admit, she put me off balance.

Below the belt? I had the same goddamn reaction as I did every time I saw her. Pure fucking lust.

"Jenna." I gave her a curt nod.

After Tabby's assault, I'd promised myself no more one-night-stands. I didn't like the thought that I was using someone. But the urges around Jenna were becoming uncontrollable, and I needed something to take the edge off. Maybe it was time to take Noah up on his many offers to go out on a little bender, and maybe I could find a girl who was looking for the same thing I was-a fun night, a quick distraction, with no strings attached.

I had to find some way to get back to being the master of my domain. Seriously. It was fucking ridiculous.

"What happened to the prep school outfit?" she said with a grin, obviously referring to the stupid polo shirt I had to wear when I interned at the station. Her green eyes rolled over my jeans and leather jacket-it might be March, but it was still cold as shit outside.

Ah, so she had been paying attention to me over the weekend after all.

"Number one: it's not an outfit, it's a uniform for my internship with the MPD. Two: What's with the sudden interest in my attire?" Funny thing was, I did spend a few years at prep school, and even a stint in military school during my rebellious years. And as much as I hated my dad for insisting on it, I couldn't deny I did better with rules. Law and order was a good thing for me.

"I could ask you the same thing. You seemed very interested when I walked out the door." She was using the same voice she did when Tabby was around-a sugary sweet tone that clipped the end of each word. "See something you like?" 

"I'm more curious as to why you'd wear those high-heeled fuck-me boots to class," I said. Okay, that was a little crude, but her smugness was bugging the shit out of me, especially when I knew it was fake.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She raised her brow in challenge.

"I'm not sure, I'm getting a strange Venus flytrap vibe here."

She laughed at that. This other version of the girl I met out in the courtyard was not easily shaken. Why did that fascinate me so much?

Our banter lasted the long walk to west campus. I was really digging the location of my new place. It was far enough from campus to escape the social scene, but close enough to walk or use public transportation if the weather sucked.

I pushed the crosswalk light, while Jenna simply bolted through the intersection.

"You're jaywalking," I called out to her.

"And you're going to be late to class if you wait on that light."

She was right, it was taking a long time for it to switch over. Fuck it, I ran across the street and quickly caught up to her.

But once I spotted Tab across campus, I veered as far away from the enemy as I could. For Tabby's sake, that's how I'd keep it.





For the rest of the week, I kept my contact with Jenna to the minimum, though I did watch her on campus where she led this second life. She was constantly surrounded by girls who imitated her style and mannerisms and guys who sniffed around, waiting for any sort of scrap of attention she'd give them.

But when she'd try to engage me with an insult or jab on our way to class, I let it roll off for the most part, only responding with one-word answers when I absolutely couldn't help myself.

Today, I didn't have to worry about the walk to campus. Fridays, I worked down at the station. Christ, was it buzzing this morning. The end of the week was the busiest. It seemed like the population in general tended to lose its shit every Friday. Highest incidents of homicide, domestic violence, aggravated assault … you got it, all on Fridays. And that meant the guys on duty were either on edge or amped up depending on how long they'd been on the job.

For me, I was amped up.

"Michael, you're with Jones today," Captain told me at the morning meeting.

I'd been interning for more than a month now and so far, I'd only gone on a few ride-alongs. I spent most of my time with paperwork and bookings, so this was a helluva treat.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Jones, fill him in. We got another call from Sullivan today."

We hung around until the end of the meeting, and then went to Jones' desk. He set me up in my own work area close by. I tried to act cool, but he could sense my excitement.

"Don't cream your briefs, kid," he told me. "It's just until the end of your internship." Ryder Jones was a serious badass. In his mid-thirties, he was athletic as hell and always wore an expression like he was ready to fuck someone up. He was usually on the best cases, so I was dying to know what we'd be working on.

He logged onto the computer at the desk and pulled up a file called Top Dog.

"Read up on this and we'll do a looksee after lunch," he said.

"Alright," I said, taking a seat and trying to keep my voice steady. I took a long swig of the PD variety coffee, which was shitty as hell-just as it was portrayed in all the movies. I set the cup on the desk and pulled out a small, thin notebook to jot down anything that seemed important.



       
         
       
        

Top Dog. Okay, that must be code for something, right?

It wasn't.

It was the name of an animal shelter-one that had quite the list of offenses a few years back. I read through the file and took some notes and had a second cup of coffee before I went over to bother Jones.

"So, who's this Sullivan guy?" I asked.

"Local businessman, trying to revitalize the neighborhood," Jones told me, not bothering to look up from his own paperwork. "He's done a lot for us, helping to clean up the rough spots in the area."

"So he's a good guy?"

"He's alright. I wouldn't say he does what he does out of the goodness of his heart. He usually has an agenda, but don't we all?"

"Right," I agreed, I could attest to that personally. "So we're keeping watch on the shelter, based on his claims?"

"He hasn't led us wrong so far. And let me tell you, we've never gotten so many calls after that place went viral for abusing the animals. People, nobody cares about. But fuck with the animals and the entire town will shut down." Jones pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So we run down the compliances and make sure Top Dog is following the rules?" I clarified.