Good Girl Gone Bad

“Y
OU CAN DO THIS,
P
HIL.
B
E
K
AT, BECOME
K
AT.”

A
s if she stripped every night, Philamina Zorn sauntered into the dimly lit dance room, a sultry smile hovering on her lips. The music swelled, and so did her pride. She wasn’t a drug addict, and she wasn’t a whore. Phil was a good girl gone bad for the night, and all for a cause.

Ty stepped forward but something inside her snapped. She waved him off. She wasn’t a fool who needed rescuing. Maybe a long time ago she needed rescuing, but not now. She was a cop, hell, a woman who could do anything she set her mind to. Her pride shoved her good girl aside and let the bad girl loose.

GOOD GIRL GONE BAD

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2006 by Karin Tabke

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 1-4165-2533-5

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Visit us on the World Wide Web:
http://www.SimonSays.com

To Gary, always.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

W
ow, I finally made it! My first published novel-length book. It took a village to get me here, too! So without further adieu, let’s get to it.

To Kimberly Whalen, my agent, without your confidence in my writing and in this story, this novel would not have landed on Lauren’s desk. Thank you for your leap of faith.

To Lauren McKenna, a real-live working editor, thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for you, and big hugs for making the revision process so easy. Ty and Phil are forever grateful to you for making them a stronger couple.

Megan McKeever, thank you for always returning my emails with a “?” in the subject line.

To my CPs, Liz Krueger and Michelle Diener, much thanks for your red pens and patience with the first draft.

To my über CP, Edie Ramer, you went beyond the call of duty on more then one occasion. I love you, and you have my undying gratitude and respect.

To my little sister, Rae Monet. Hey, chica! Thank you for gluing all of my hair back on my head after my many meltdowns. Ready to do it again?

To Amy Knupp, Jan Kenny, and Sharon Long, thanks for being sounding boards and always lending your support when I needed it.

I want to thank my girls of the small but mighty RWA chapter the Black Diamonds for your wonderful support, and for being normal.

To my mom, Iyone Stanton, who also seconds as my pimp, thank you for stalking those book sellers. And thanks, Mom and Dad, for taking such joy in my success. I love you both.

To my mother-in-law, Marlene Tabke, my biggest fan. Thank you for always wanting more, even if it was at 1 a.m. in the morning. Thank you for threatening me with violence if I ever stopped writing. I love you.

Thank you to Larry, my father-in-law, for not bitching all those nights when Mom read into the wee hours of the morning and was too tired the next day to fix breakfast.

To my kids, Jenn, Rhianna, Jeff, and Will, thank you for always understanding writing is my bliss.

To Gary, my husband. You are my true inspiration, my rock, my best friend and my mentor. Thank you for hanging in there with me when we hit those rough spots. Thank you for your humor. Thank you for putting your plans on hold to indulge mine. Thank you for being the consummate gentleman that you are. And thank you for never allowing me to give up on my dream. I love you.

GOOD GIRL GONE BAD

Internal Affairs HQ, interrogation room number 2

“A
re you trying to tell me, Sergeant Jamerson, you didn’t lay one finger on Jesse Rivera?”

Ty looked hard at the investigator across the table from him. He didn’t see a woman. He saw a career killer. His gaze narrowed to the sleek tailored suit that accentuated more curves than it camouflaged, the firm set of her jaw, and the sensible bun curled tightly against her neck. Yeah, a career killer, and the worst kind. The kind that crucified her own by stripping them of their badge and honor. He curbed a sneer.

If she didn’t have Internal Affairs stamped on her forehead, he would have smelled her out for the rat she was just by her arrogance. He gritted his teeth.

“On the contrary, I laid all ten and then some. You’ve seen the booking photo, I presume?”

Her dark blue eyes widened and her lips pursed at his confession. “Booking photo? I shot a whole roll of film documenting his injuries. Under color of authority, you’ve violated his rights.”

Ty swiped his hand across the stubble on his chin and shot his union rep at his side a glare. Ponch shrugged lazily. “You know the drill, man. She can accuse all she wants.” Without moving a muscle, Ponch speared her with a glare. “Now prove it.”

Ty smiled. Ponch was a reticent man. It’s what Ty liked most about him, that and he knew how to maneuver IA without them even realizing they’d been had.

He looked back at the salivating IA officer. He didn’t have time to dick around with a trumped-up brutality charge, but he’d make her think he had all day and night.

Her nostrils flared like a she-wolf scenting the kill. He silently cursed. This one smelled blood, all right—his.

He leaned back into the straight-back chair, caught her gaze, crossed his right foot onto his left knee, and pulled a piece of hard candy from his pocket. Not breaking eye contact, he casually unwrapped it and popped the root beer-flavored candy in his mouth. He set his hands on his thighs, tapping his fingers in a slow rhythm, and sucked.

He’d done this routine in this same ten-foot-by-ten-foot drab-colored room too many times to count, but never had he had the misfortune of getting jacked up by a newbie IA, and a female one to boot. How damn low could a department sink?

She leaned forward. “Do you really expect me to believe, Sergeant, Rivera’s wounds happened
before
you cuffed him and not after?”

Ty leaned toward her. When she didn’t retreat, he leaned closer, so close he could see the wild pulse of silver-colored flecks in her irises. For a brief second the unique color caught him off guard. If she weren’t on the other side, he wouldn’t mind a quick roll in the sack. Her skin was smooth and flushed pink and her lips were full, like he’d just kissed them stupid. He grinned when she licked them. His cock twinged. Oh yeah, he could get into that. He slowed his breathing to long deliberate breaths. Yeah, he could get into her, after he taught her a few things about eating her own words.

“I’m not
trying
to tell you anything, young lady. I’ve
been
telling you for the last half hour, I chased down that punk after he ripped off my snitch. Bonedick wanted to see who was faster. I won, and when he resisted I used a necessary force to overcome his resistance.”

“You didn’t call for backup,” she challenged.

“Backup?” He bit back a harsh laugh. “There is no backup in undercover work. If you ever become a real cop, you’ll learn that in deep cover you’re on your own.”

“Watch your insinuations, Sergeant Jamerson. Remember who you’re speaking to,” she snapped.

“The last time I checked, a sergeant still outranked an investigator,
Officer
Zorn.” Ty sat back in his chair and glanced at his overfed rep. “Do I have to continue this song and dance or what?”

“Officer Zorn, are you going to formally charge Sergeant Jamerson?”

Zorn smirked. “When I’m done with my interview I’ll make that determination.”

“Hurry the hell up, then, I have to get back on the street,” Ty bit off.

Deciding to speed her along, he leaned as far forward as he could, setting his hands palm open on the table and splaying his fingers across the smooth Formica. “I’ll tell you what, Officer, why don’t you go down to the squad car that Officer Michaels transported that little shit in, and take a look. It wouldn’t require more than two brain cells to see for yourself Rivera knocked himself around. There’s lots of DNA.” Ty pushed hard against the tabletop, his muscles bulging under his contained temper. “And then take a look at his wrists. Any cuts or bruises from the cuffs? No, because they weren’t on when I fought with him.”

Zorn dug in. “Sergeant, how many color-of-authority violations would you say are in your file?”

“Zero.”

She pulled out several thick manila folders from a shiny new briefcase she had set on the floor when she marched in a half hour ago. Quickly she shuffled through the top one. “December of last year, officer-involved shooting, pistol whipping the suspect.”

She slid the paper to the side and picked up another one. “Two years ago, assaulting a state witness.”

She grabbed another sheet of paper and read. “Just three months ago, conduct unbecoming an officer, involving a female witness.”

Ty swept his hand across the desk, sending the files scattering to the floor, their contents skittering along the soiled tiles. He quickly processed and dismissed the fact that his action had no effect on her. She sat ramrod straight, her eyes blazing at him.

“I can give you a dozen more scenarios just like those, Officer Zorn, and if you care to look past the bullshit charges you’ll see not one of them stuck. Not even when the rat bastard IA officers involved doctored evidence
and
statements.”

Ty stood. She remained seated.

“Go on and do your worst, sister, go after a fellow officer whose only guilt is trying to do his job.” His voiced lowered in warning. “Go on and falsify reports, tamper with and manipulate witness statements. Go on and do it, and God help you when it comes back to bite you in your pretty little ass.”

Ty glowered down at Ponch, who seemed content to let him defend himself. “If you want my piece and badge, tell me now. Otherwise, I’m out of here.”

Ponch shook his head no and Ty almost winked. Ponch’s dark brown eyes glittered in merriment.

“Sergeant Jamerson!” Officer Zorn shouted, coming to her feet. “You cannot walk out of this interview until I say you can.”

Ty sauntered up close to the IA shark. He had to hand it to her, she didn’t flinch when he invaded her space. The only clue to her agitation was the quick heave of her ample breasts straining against the top button of her jacket. He stopped inches from her and sucked on his candy. She raised her chin a notch, but even in her modest heels, the top of her head just came to his nose. He grinned, exposing teeth.