JACKS ARE WILD Read online

  A Detective Jack Stratton Novel

  Christopher Greyson

  Greyson Media

  Novels featuring Jack Stratton in order:

  GIRL JACKED

  JACK KNIFED

  JACKS ARE WILD

  JACK AND THE GIANT KILLER

  DATA JACK

  and coming soon…

  JACK OF HEARTS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 - Because of who I am

  Chapter 2 - I should have been a monk

  Chapter 3 - Jack’s Junk

  Chapter 4 - Grandbabies

  Chapter 5 - In need of your services

  Chapter 6 - Two’s enough

  Chapter 7 - Deathtrap

  Chapter 8 - Was?

  Chapter 9 - The Titans

  Chapter 10 - I love that stupid bed

  Chapter 11 - Crapblizzard

  Chapter 12 - Don’t be a smartass

  Chapter 13 - I actually said drop the knife

  Chapter 14 - Another case

  Chapter 15 - Brass knuckles

  Chapter 16 - Do I have to cuff him?

  Chapter 17 - Can I get this one in an 8x10?

  Chapter 18 - The little fat man

  Chapter 19 - No, no, no…

  Chapter 20 - If she didn’t have that lasso…

  Chapter 21 - Now it’s my turn

  Chapter 22 - A good place to talk

  Chapter 23 - Strange bedfellows

  Chapter 24 - Crazy smart

  Chapter 25 - Someone’s compensating

  Chapter 26 - The Boar’s Butt

  Chapter 27 - Miss Manners

  Chapter 28 - Bromance

  Chapter 29 - Failed to Follow

  Chapter 30 - Like a puppy with a shotgun

  Chapter 31 - It could have been worse

  Chapter 32 - Watch your back

  Chapter 33 - Can you love?

  Chapter 34 - Damocles

  Chapter 35 - Live or Die?

  Chapter 36 - Normally it just hurts like hell

  Chapter 37 - What you do best

  Chapter 38 - Like a baby?

  Chapter 39 - The Imperial

  Chapter 40 - Dead man’s hand

  Chapter 41 - Face-sucking vampire

  Chapter 42 - A favor

  Chapter 43 - That’s Amore

  Chapter 44 - Fool’s Bargain

  Chapter 45 - Very good hands

  Chapter 46 - Marisa

  Chapter 47 - A dog in a sled

  Chapter 48 - She didn’t make it

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Because of who I am

  Ten Years Ago

  As she looked across the schoolyard at the sea of boys in identical black pants, white shirts, and black ties, Angelica spotted her little brother’s curly mop-top of dark hair. She charged forward. Ilario was talking to a group of boys outside the cafeteria. Dodging and weaving, she rushed up and skidded to a stop. “You told Paolo we’re staying after school, right?” She grabbed his shoulders.

  His eyes rolled; she couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or because she shook him. He pulled her hands off and walked a few feet away from the boys. “Yeah, I told him. But I don’t like this. Paolo’s still freaked because of everything that’s gone down.”

  “I know. But you’ll cover for me, right?”

  “I’m worried he still has someone keeping an eye on us.” Ilario looked around nervously. “You have to be back before the driver gets here to pick us up.”

  Her big brown eyes lit up with excitement. “I will.”

  “Don’t cut it close. You know how mad he gets.”

  She leaned in and whispered, “We’re only going behind the parking lot. I just want to talk to him.” She pressed her elbows to her sides as she tried to contain her giddiness.

  “Yeah, you want to talk to him.” Ilario puckered his lips. “Talk to his mouth.”

  She blushed and teasingly whacked him on the arm. He laughed.

  Angelica kissed her brother on the cheek, flung her backpack across her shoulders, and took off down the hallway. Heading upstream like a salmon, she fought her way against the flow of kids who continued to pour out the door. Once she broke free, she sprinted across the parking lot. Her new, shiny-black shoes clicked on the asphalt as her shoulder-length black hair streamed behind her.

  Every day, one of her father’s drivers took her and her brother to and from school, but today was different. The ruse of staying after school gave her a little over an hour to spend with Anthony, and she didn’t want to waste any time.

  As she approached the rear parking lot of the private school, she stopped behind a tree, whipped off her backpack, looked down at her starched, white school uniform, and frowned. Men must make these. Using her fingers, she fanned out her hair and smoothed down her shirt, and then straightened up before she walked on.

  There Anthony was. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. To Angelica, Anthony Marinetti was everything she’d ever hoped for in a boyfriend. He was tall, sweet, and most importantly to her—he loved art. They had been secretly dating for a while and Angelica had fallen for him.

  A huge smile spread across his face when he saw her.

  “Hey, Anthony.” She gave him an awkward little wave. They both knew they couldn’t risk an open hug in the middle of the parking lot, but their bodies still moved together like magnets.

  “Hi.”

  They headed for the car. Besides sneaking off during school, they hadn’t ever been alone. Anthony had never asked her why, at seventeen, she couldn’t tell her parents she was dating, and she’d never explained. She didn’t want to scare him away, which was why she’d never told him her real last name, either.

  She smiled as she opened her door and hopped into the car.

  Anthony frowned. “I’m supposed to get the door for you.” His hands went up in mock exasperation as he smiled.

  “That’s old-fashioned.” She giggled and shut the car door.

  Anthony started up the car and then drove them down the short gravel utility road in the back of the parking lot. It was a private spot where all the kids liked to hang out. He turned to her and a smile spread across his handsome face. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him, and Angelica felt the color rise in her cheeks.

  “I made you something.” She opened her backpack and took out two pieces of cardboard taped together. Lowering her head, she slid out the paper and held it out for him with both hands. It was a sketch of them sitting on a seawall with a lighthouse in the distance; Angelica’s head was resting on his shoulder as they held hands.

  “It’s unbelievable.” His smile widened. “Is this what you were doing during class?”

  “You saw me?” She swallowed hard.

  He waved his hands and shook his head. “Not what you were drawing, just that you were drawing something. I thought Mr. Gillespie was going to catch you.”

  Angelica cocked her head. “Is that why you kept coughing? To distract him, so I wouldn’t get in trouble?”

  He smiled. Anthony ran his hand through his thick brown hair. “You should enter the art contest at school.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You know you can probably win.”

  Angelica twisted a length of her hair as she looked down at the picture. “You think I can win?”

  “Are you kidding me?” The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re so talented. There’s a reason Mr. Bowman asked you to join the advanced art class.”

  Angelica looked down at her feet.

  “Don’t be embarrassed about being talented.” Anthony squeezed her hand. “You have a gift.”

  She looked up and gazed into his deep brown eyes. He stroked the back of her
hand once with his thumb and she melted. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her. Tenderly, she kissed him back. As her hand started to relax, her fingers began to slip out. He gently tightened his grip and held on.

  His kisses were even better than she’d imagined. The warmth of his lips sent a tingle through her body. He leaned in and she wrapped both arms around his neck.

  Anthony spoke between his kisses. “You—taste—like—cherry—lip—balm.”

  She giggled.

  Their kisses quickly grew in intensity until the car windows fogged up. As they made out, getting lost in each other, Angelica lost track of time. She looked at the windows. “What time is it?”

  “Not sure, but if the late bus has already left, I’ll drive you home myself.”

  “What?”

  The sound of cars churning up gravel as they came down the little road caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. She tried to wipe away the dew, but the windows were so fogged up she couldn’t see anything.

  Anthony squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s probably just some other kids.”

  She glanced at the clock and saw the time. “Shoot.”

  Both front doors ripped open. Two large men, one with a thick black leather jacket, dragged Anthony out while someone grabbed Angelica by the arm.

  “Paolo!” Angelica’s voice caught in her throat when she looked up to see her uncle’s stern face. He was a barrel-shaped man with thick gray hair. His lips were always curled into a snarl, and his eyes were cold.

  “You bring shame on this family,” he growled.

  “Nothing happened,” Angelica cried out as he dragged her back.

  “Leave her alone,” Anthony yelled as he strained to reach her.

  “Shut up!” The guy in the leather jacket slammed Anthony against the car.

  She recognized Sal, one of her uncle’s lackeys. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he shouted in Anthony’s face.

  The guy in the leather jacket grabbed Anthony’s arms and yanked them behind his back.

  “I’ll teach you some respect.” Sal pummeled Anthony in the stomach.

  “STOP,” Angelica cried as she tried to run to him, but Paolo’s vise-like grip held her fast. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

  Anthony ripped one hand free and his fist smashed into Sal’s face. Groaning, he covered his bloody mouth with one hand. The guy in the leather coat tried to grab Anthony’s freed arm, but Anthony swung wildly. Cursing, the men and Anthony crashed into the driver’s side door.

  “Stop hurting him,” Angelica screamed as she struggled to break free.

  “Calm that kid down,” Paolo ordered.

  “Run, Angelica,” Anthony yelled as he wrestled with the men.

  “No!”

  A loud bang rang out. The driver’s side window shattered; glass sprayed in a huge arc. Angelica blinked as she looked at Anthony.

  Anthony’s face turned toward her. His big brown eyes grew dark.

  “What the hell?” Paolo bellowed.

  “He went for my gun.” The guy in the leather jacket stared at the weapon in his hand.

  The window broke. It couldn’t have broken unless…

  Angelica froze. Anthony’s body slumped and slowly slid down the side of the car.

  “No!” Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees. Paolo’s arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her off her knees. He carried her back toward his car.

  She couldn’t breathe. The ground sped by swiftly and then she was flung into the back of the Cadillac. The leather seat smacked her in the face. Outside, she could hear Paolo swearing at the other men. Someone threw her bag in the backseat, and her crumbled picture landed at her feet. Blood had splattered the picture. She reached down and her fingers stroked the paper.

  The door slammed shut and someone threw the car in reverse. Gravel pinged off the underbelly of the car as they fled backward, and then gears ground as the car shifted into drive. She slammed herself up against the rear window and looked back. She could feel a burn in her throat as she screamed—but she didn’t hear any sound.

  The boy she loved lay face down on the gravel. The boy she loved was dead.

  Because of me. Because of who I am. Because I am Severino Mancini’s daughter.

  I should have been a monk

  Present Day

  “Are you upset?” Replacement held her hands behind her back as she twisted back and forth.

  “What? No.” Jack opened the drawer of the little hallway table and then quickly shut it.

  “You look mad.” She handed him his gloves. “Is it because of work or…us?”

  Jack shoved the gloves into his pocket while he stared at the apartment door.

  Just go to work. Don’t do this now. Don’t.

  “I’m fine with whatever.”

  “Is it because I think we should wait or—”

  “Wait?” Jack turned to look at her as one eyebrow went up. “Before you wanted to go slow. Now you want to wait? Does wait mean stop?”

  We haven’t even started, and now she wants to stop?

  At six one, one hundred ninety-five pounds, Jack’s muscular frame towered over Replacement. She was petite at five four, but when he leaned down, she just put her hands behind her back and shook her head. Her brunette ponytail bounced back and forth. She had spunk.

  “No. It’s just…I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you,” she answered.

  “Me?” Jack straightened up.

  “Yeah. I mean, you take me in; you’re twenty-six and I’m nineteen.”

  “So?”

  “Well, some people think that’s a big age difference.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind, but I don’t have a job and I don’t want people to think you’re—”

  “Think I’m what?” Jack leaned down and, although he tried not to scowl, he could feel the muscles in his face tightening.

  Replacement looked down. “A sugar daddy.”

  A laugh burst forth. “A what?” Jack scoffed as his hands went out. “Don’t you actually have to have money to be considered a sugar daddy?”

  “Don’t laugh. I just think before you and I date, I should be established.” Replacement crossed her arms while her green eyes looked up at him. She was dressed in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and his old faded high school shirt. He loved how she looked, but right now it only added to his rising frustration.

  “Established?”

  “Yes. I should have a job and be contributing something.” She nodded. “And I should sleep in my own bedroom.”

  “First off, I moved so you could have your own bedroom. Remember?” He held out his hand and gestured back to her bedroom. “You keep coming into my bed at night ’cause you can’t sleep. I don’t drag you in there.”

  Although I’d like to.

  “I also come in there because you don’t have as many nightmares if I sleep with you.” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Sleep next to me, not sleep with me. Nothing has happened between us. We haven’t even kissed.” Jack grabbed his wallet and keys off the table next to the door.

  “Yes, we have.”

  “No, we haven’t.” Jack rolled his broad shoulders.

  “Twice. Once, when you were in the hospital recovering from being hit by a car, but you were looped out from the pain medication, so that doesn’t count. The second time was when that waitress was hitting on you.”

  “You kissed me then.”

  “But just to get at her, so that kiss doesn’t count, either.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “It meant something to me.”

  She pushed him over to the mirror so his reflection cut him off. He straightened to attention and couldn’t help but grin when he saw Replacement’s smile broaden.

  Brown hair cut short, dark brown eyes, tall, fit, and ruggedly handsome, Jack could have been the police poster boy but that wasn’t what caused his chest to puff up. Replacement must have noticed where he
was looking, too, because she reached up and gave his badge a quick polish with her sleeve.

  “You look great, but try to smile a little more.” She took a step back and looked up sheepishly. “You’re okay with everything, right?”

  Jack frowned. “Fine. Look, I’m good. You want to stop, we stop.”

  “Not stop-stop…sort of wait-stop.”

  Jack held both hands out in front of him as his eyes blinked rapidly. “Kid, I don’t even know what that means. I have enough confusion in my life as it is, and right now I have to go to work.” He snagged his hat and then pulled it down on his head.

  Replacement’s bottom lip pouted. “I’m sorry, but I want this to be right. We need to stop.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Sure. Just…we can talk about it later.” He turned toward the door and then quickly back around. “Or not. We’re good. Seriously.”

  He swung the door open and hurried into the hallway.

  Great. What the hell was that? Slow? Stop? Wait? Damn.

  Jack thundered down the stairs and instinctively turned to go down one more flight before he realized he was on the first floor. He’d moved into a new apartment on the second floor so everything could be aboveboard and she could have her own bedroom. Jack spun on his heel and then marched out the door.

  It was just before seven, but it was a beautiful winter night. The warmest winter on record meant the air was only slightly brisk. Jack kept his gloves in his pockets and walked toward downtown Darrington. His Impala sat parked at the curb with Replacement’s blue Beetle in front of it. Jack sighed.

  There’d be no driving for him tonight. He had been reprimanded to walking a beat downtown. He wouldn’t even get to drive his favorite police cruiser—the Charger.

  Jack looked up at the stars one last time before he lowered his gaze and started walking.

  **********

  Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his patrolman’s jacket as he paused on the deserted sidewalk. At eleven fifteen on a Wednesday night in Darrington, the place was a ghost town. He looked up and down Main Street, but there wasn’t a car or person to be seen. Jack shook his head and started his beat again. In the last two hours, he’d already walked around downtown four times.