This story is the second in the timeline of nine Max Pemberton detective stories. You're encouraged to read "Maelstrom" to give you additional background, though this story can stand on its own.
A big thank you to migbird for his thoughts over the course of Max's journey.
Here's the chronological breakdown of Max's stories:
Maelstrom
Deception
Cold Steel
Hot Steel
Pink Ice
Betrayal
Loss of Innocence
Revenge is Best Served Cold
To Hell ... And Back
This story is being entered into the "Ode to Mickey Spillane" challenge so your votes and comments are appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
Recap
To those readers who are new to the "Max" series of stories, read this first. For you Max fans, you're welcome to skip this section.
Maxine "Max" Pemberton was a six year veteran of the Cincinnati police force. She spent five years on patrol in Cincinnati's notorious West End neighborhood and transferred a year ago to become a detective in the Vice squad. Her partner was Lesley Groesbeck, a short Barbie-esqe blonde, who was a recent graduate of the Cincinnati's police academy and whose father Saul was a former Chief of Police.
Max was married to Ron Pemberton, though recently divorced, and finally acknowledged to the world that she was a lesbian.
She was taller than most woman, a big breasted attractive brunette with a weakness for beautiful women and cheap drink. She was fiercely loyal to her friends, chief among them Nicky Flores, the owner of Nicky's Diner, who recently inherited the restaurant from her late father Gustave, and Maddie Bailey, the owner of an upscale bar in one of Cincinnati's trendier neighborhoods.
Max lived at the Royal Palms Motel, a flophouse located in the heart of the West End, whose chief clientele were members of the local prostitution trade. Max could never seem to get her finances in order, nor any other aspects of her personal life. She lived to work, and was well regarded by her peers but reviled by management for her irreverent attitude towards her superiors.
Max's current love interest was Courtney Landry, a 25 year old vampy hipster who was five years younger than Max. Courtney was the daughter of Jim Landry, the biggest car dealer in Cincinnati, and reputed to be one of the wealthiest persons in that city. Because of her family's extreme wealth, she had no need to hold a job and spent the majority of her time chasing women. Though it began as a purely physical relationship, Max couldn't help but start caring for Courtney but wasn't sure the feeling was mutual.
Nicky came to Max with two pressing problems, the $35,000 she owed in protection money to a Vietnamese gang headed by Trong Lai, an intelligent and ruthless West End warlord, and the $50,000 investment she needed to repair and refurbish her diner in order to stay in operation.
Max tangled with Trong (see
Maelstrom
) teaming with DaVanna Caruso, an ambitious, drop dead gorgeous attorney with an Italian father and African-American mother, who recently assumed the top spot in the Hamilton County Prosecuting Attorney's office after the unexpected early retirement of her boss, Maureen McCormick.
All was not copacetic between Max and DaVanna. Max suspected DaVanna used illicit methods to secure her political career, co-opting her younger sister Alessandra to burgle a law firm and steal several laptops with confidential information on them, the subject matter of which was still a mystery to Max. Alessandra was arrested in connection with the theft, but never formally charged.
Max did discover that DaVanna had made a deal with Trong Lai to intimidate the witnesses who would have put Alessandra in jail in exchange for her deep sixing a murder charge against the crime boss. DaVanna, being the politician without a moral compass (aren't they all?), reneged on her deal with Trong. Max assisted with the arrest of Trong, who was ultimately convicted of first degree murder and given a life sentence. Trong's imprisonment solved Nicky's debt issue.
Alessandra was able to shed her checkered past, using her recently completed culinary training to assume charge of the kitchen at Nicky's Diner. Courtney stepped forward with a $50,000 investment in the diner in exchange for a half interest in the restaurant.
With Trong in jail and Nicky's diner reopened, better than ever, the waters were calm for just a moment before Max's life, once again, went into turbulent seas.
And now forward to the tale . . .
Chapter One
The Purse
"Ahhhh Max," my lover Courtney sighed, raising and opening her well-toned thighs to the delight of my lustful eyes. My tongue raked over her swollen labia one more time as her legs trembled beneath me. She held on to my hair and babbled as I made passionate love to her sweet pussy. I tasted her, and the taste made me want her more. It was plain and simple the best sex of my life.
Courtney and I were now officially a "thing," having been together for six entire months. In Max time, relationships were measured in days and weeks, not months. It started as a one night stand, so the relationship I thought was going to end the next day ended up lasting six months. It was 2 a.m., and neither of us wanted the day (and night) to end. We were having sex, like many of the occupants of the Royal Palms Motel, so no one was going to bang on the wall if we decided to go at it again.
The Royal Palms was a motel in Cincinnati's West End, an august establishment frequented by the local prostitutes and drug addicts. It was also my official residence for the past year, a tribute more to my laziness than a desire to live in squalor. Maybe it was a statement about me.
I staggered to the bathroom after our marathon lovemaking session to wash up. I figured it was about time to go to sleep since I'd have to get ready for work in a scant three hours. I saw that Courtney was rifling through my nightstand searching for a pack of cigarettes. I tried mightily to quit smoking, but there really wasn't any substitute for a cigarette after satisfying sex. I figured I'd join her out on the second floor walkway just outside my room.
The quiet of the early morning was ripped apart by a blood curdling scream from the next room, followed by a thud, sounding like someone's body hitting the floor. Because the walls were paper thin, we couldn't help but be a voyeur to what was happening next door. Courtney stopped her search for a smoke and stood up straight.
"Sounded like someone just hit the deck."
"Yeah," I reluctantly acknowledged. Of course it did. So fucking what. Violence . . . and sex . . . were daily occurrences at the Royal Palms. I was naked and still had Courtney's pussy juice smeared all over my face. What happened next door wasn't one of things I wanted to think about, trying to preserve my state of post-coital bliss.
"Shouldn't we be doing something?" she asked, never forgetting that I was a cop first and her lover second. It wasn't lost on me that she was starting to use the royal "we" in our bedroom conversation. That's something that happens later in a relationship and that fact alone scared me.
"Why?" I fired back, trying to put up a strong front against the inevitable. I told myself I was off duty and it was fucking two a.m. "Go ahead and call 911 if you're that worried."
I was dreading having to get dressed and confront God knows what.
"Max?"
Courtney was appealing to my inner angel. Damn it. She knew me well enough to get through the weak defense I put up. I resigned myself to my fate just to get it over with.
"Fine, fine, I'll see what's going on," I muttered. She was still naked and horny. Why the fuck would I leave that?
I walked over to her and pointed to my cheek. "Lick here."
"OK," she said. She cradled the back of my head with her hands and gave my cheek a leisurely swipe of her velvety soft tongue.
"What was that all about?" she asked me.
"It's your pussy juice. I expect more of it there when I get back."
"Is that a threat?" she asked me with mock indignation.
"You're making me go next door so think of it as a reward."
She flashed a mischievous smile and dipped her fingers into her recently defiled pussy and then fed them to me. I sucked on them. Sweetness. Courtney. Why the fuck did I have to leave?
"Consider this a down payment," she said in her best sexy voice.
Maybe Courtney was going to make it up to me when I got back. That thought was pleasing. She was the sexiest, nastiest creature I'd ever met, and she owed me. Mmmmmm. I had an inkling that I'd let myself fall in love with her, a development that could only lead to disaster. Unfortunately that never had stopped me before and I was worried I'd have another spectacular letdown.
I shuffled to the bathroom to clean myself up enough to be make my next door visit, and dressed with clothes I was wearing that I'd thrown on the floor, which consisted of a hoodie, a t-shirt, and a pair of old ripped jeans. For God's sake, it wasn't an official police call. Just a concerned neighbor. I could still hear shouting. Something about a purse if I was making it out right. I stepped out of my room. It was cool outside, finally, after hitting a hundred degrees that day. I saw Courtney peeking through the drapes as I passed the front window of our room. I waved to her and she let them shut.
I knocked on the door to Room 205. Muffled voices that were engaged in angry conversation suddenly went silent. Heavy footfalls thumped towards me and the door opened only a crack, the security chain still engaged. Light leaked out along with the background noise of their TV.
