v Ashley - Golden Trail

“How long’d that moment last?” Colt asked.

“About a nanosecond,” Layne answered.

Colt’s grin got wider as he laughed softly.

Then Colt quit laughing and his face got serious. “I had shy and retiring. Trust me, brother, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Layne wasn’t around when Colt was married to Melanie Seivers, who was painfully shy and retiring, but his mother was and the tragic, lost love of Alexander Colton and February Owens was ‘burg lore. That meant Vera Layne and her cronies had spent a lot of time chewing over the fact that Alec Colton and Melanie Seivers were not a match made in heaven. Layne knew this because Vera knew Colt was a friend and she repeatedly shared her cronies’ conclusions. No one was surprised by Colt and Melanie’s divorce. And no one was surprised when Colt hooked back up with February, a woman who was not shy and retiring by any stretch of the imagination.

“So you got yours, I got mine, what the fuck are we standin’ in a little room for?” Layne asked.

Colt’s grin came back. “Fuck if I know.”

“You got anything to brief me about that other shit?” Layne asked, moving toward the door.

“Nope,” Colt answered, following him and they stopped. “Same as this mornin’. We talked to IMPD and they know all about Nicolette Towers. What they don’t know is where she keeps her stable. We have boys on her tail at all times and she’s steerin’ clear of that location and Rutledge is steerin’ clear of her. He doesn’t leave the ‘burg and he’s been nowhere near her. We’ve clocked her with some of her muscle so we’re puttin’ names and faces to her crew but she’s not leadin’ us to her girls and neither are they.”

“She know she’s been made?” Layne asked even though she gave no indication of that during her conversation with Jeremy that day.

“Nope,” Colt shook his head. “Rutledge doesn’t either considering he visited a known prostitute last night, took his twenty minutes, got his blowjob and went.”

“Got a source that says she’s hands on,” Layne told him.

“Don’t know what to say, Tanner. We can pull her in on identity theft and hold Jeremy Goulding over her but she’s gonna have to roll over we do that and what I’ve read and what IMPD know, this bitch is made of steel. We’re not gonna break her. We need evidence. You said your man didn’t find the photo shoot photos at her apartment?”

“Dev found nothing. He had a good amount of time to look and it was clean so he planted the bugs and got out.”

“Even if he found ‘em, not against the law to take pictures of teenaged girls. It’s not cool but we got nothin’ messy to stick to her.”

“Jeremy bought us a few more days,” Layne told him. “Heard it when I was listenin’ this morning.”

“Well, let’s hope she fucks up before he cracks. Read up on him too. Small time con, not too bright, stupid recruit for her but maybe not, since she’s made him nearly the sole face of this shit so he’s also the perfect fall guy. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated before now.”

That was precisely what Layne was worried about.

Colt’s voice dropped lower. “This shit moves a lot faster, your source comes out in the open.”

“I told you, I told Merry, that can’t happen,” Layne replied just as low.

“Tanner –”

“We still have no evidence, we don’t have the location of her stable, we don’t have a lock on her army and we don’t have anything to connect her to Rutledge except the word of a small time con and whatever the fuck Ryker is and Ryker only saw Rutledge visit the apartment once. My girl would be swinging in the wind and, trust me, brother, you’d never hold Towers on the word of my source and without any evidence, she wouldn’t even go to trial. We need patience.”

“We don’t need patience, Tanner, we need time and I’m guessin’ a coupla days isn’t gonna get us shit. Goulding is gonna cave and she’s gonna bolt.”

“You got any bright ideas?” Layne asked.

“Only one I got is not bright, it makes my teeth hurt and leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” Colt answered.

“Set up one of the girls,” Layne muttered.

“Not gonna happen,” Colt muttered back.

They shared unhappy silence until Layne broke it. “Patience.”

“Prayer,” Colt returned. “They used God, let’s hope He feels motivated to lend us a hand.”

“I’ll get Vera on that,” Layne offered.

“Yeah,” Colt replied, one side of his mouth up in half a grin.

Layne opened the door and walked out.

Colt followed.

Layne nodded to men he knew as he walked through the bullpen on his way to the backstairs. He pulled out his cell as he jogged down the stairs and was out the door and nearing the Mercedes when Rocky picked up his call.

“Hey sweetheart,” she answered.

“Hey baby, where are you?”

She’d called and told him that Spike had relieved her, she’d gone down to Mimi’s, ran into Feb and since she was rideless and Layne was busy, she and Feb were going to hang.

“At Vi’s. Where are you?”

“On my way to Vi’s,” he replied, folding into her car.

He heard her soft laugh then it went away and she asked, “Everything okay?”

“It will be.”

A pause and then, “That’s not a great answer, Layne.”

“Best I can do for now, sweetcheeks. I’ll brief you when we get home. Is it your house or mine tonight?”

“Mine,” she replied immediately.

“You don’t like the toothbrush Jas bought you?”

She burst out laughing and Layne listened to it thinking Rocky’s laughter made a day of good and bad turn mostly good again.

When she got it under control, she answered, “No. My house doesn’t have Devin and Vera in it.”

Oh shit.

“I thought you and Mom were cool.”

There was nothing for a few beats and then he knew why when she spoke quietly. She’d been looking for privacy.

“Vera and I are cool. But not so cool I suspect she’ll be happy to hear her son making me moan and I enjoy you, baby, but I don’t want to court suffocation every time we have sex.”

This meant Layne was going to get him some that night. This wasn’t surprising, eighteen years had done nothing to shear even a layer off Roc’s sexual appetite, or Layne’s. But that didn’t mean the promise of it didn’t feel fucking great.

Shit, it was almost over but the day kept getting better.

“Good call,” Layne muttered and twisted the key in the ignition.

“See you soon,” she replied.

“Absolutely.”

Layne flipped his phone shut, put the Mercedes in gear and backed out of his parking spot.

Then he flipped his phone open, scrolled down to Jasper’s number and told his son just enough so his boy would sleep in peace that night.

Monday, 5:12 a.m.

“Layne,” Rocky breathed, one of her hands in his hair, cupping the back of his head tight, one of her arms caught under his body, her fingers curled into his ass.

“That’s it, baby,” Layne whispered, watching her face in the shadows as his fingers toyed with intent in the wetness between her legs.

“Oh God,” she breathed, her back arching, she was close.

“Give it to me, Rocky,” he ordered.

Her fingers clenched his ass.

“Come inside,” she begged.

“After you come.”

“Now, baby, please,” she whispered.

“After.”

Her hips ground into his hand. “I want your cock.”

“You’ll get it.”

“Oh God.”

“That’s it.”

“God, Layne.”

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, dropped his head, took her nipple between his lips and pulled hard.

That did it, her back left the bed and a ragged moan tore from her throat.

Layne’s fingers left her pussy, he rolled over her, her legs spread wide for him even as she was coming and his fucking cell phone rang.

“No,” she whispered.

“Fuck, you gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me,” Layne growled, kept himself seated between her legs and reached out for the phone.

He turned it to face him, saw what was on the display and growled again, this time with no words.

Then he flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“This better be fuckin’ good.” He was still growling.

Rocky lifted her knees, pressed her thighs against his sides as her arms wound around his back, the tip of his cock slid through her wetness and Layne clenched his teeth.

 “Did I wake you?” Sully asked.

“No,” Layne grunted.

Silence then, “Oh.”

“Sully,” Layne rumbled.

“Right, okay, well, thought you’d want to know. Adrian Cosgrove is incarcerated. Chris Renicki and Marty Fink found him about two hours ago. He had enough Rohypnol on him to roofie the entire junior class. Possession of an illegal substance, conspiracy to commit a felony, violating his bond agreement –”

Layne cut him off. “I get it, he’s fucked.”

“He’s fucked,” Sully confirmed.

“Good. Can I go now?” Layne asked with only an edge of patience.

Layne heard Sully chuckle and he again clenched his teeth.

“Yep,” Sully answered.

Layne flipped his phone shut, tossed it on the bed and bent his head toward Rocky.

“Is everything –?” she started.

“Fine,” Layne gritted then he drove his cock into her and her back left the bed again as a mew slid out of her throat.

Jesus. Heaven. All of it.

Then he bent his head further and kissed his woman at the same time he fucked her.

Hard.

Monday, 6:21 a.m.