Page 48 of Jackson
“I guess you do like the flogger.” His voice was hoarse.
“Yes, Sir, I do,” she admitted.
“I won’t try the paddle today, but I want you to experience the other flogger.”
Paula grinned. She wasn’t afraid of that furry thing and expected it to tickle more than anything.
Jackson started to work on her with the fur flogger that was disappointing and somewhat boring. She wiggled her ass.
“Ah, I see you need more,” he teased. Would he return to the suede one?
Two very hard swats landed on her buttocks—one right, one left—and had her gasping for air. “What the hell was that?” she yelled, losing her stance.
She turned to a grinning Jackson, and he showed her the fur flogger.
“That was that flogger? How is that possible?”
Jackson peeled away some of the fur to reveal braided leather strips on the inside of the soft outer strands.
Paula stared at it with open mouth. How could she have missed that?
“Things aren’t always what they seem.”
“You’re right about that, Sir.” Paula rubbed her sore butt with one hand while taking in the Jackson’s wicked smile. “You’re enjoying this,” she accused, and his grin widened. “Are you sure you’re not a sadist?”
“No, Melda, I’m not, but I like to keep you on your toes. For impact play, this is about as much as I like to dish out and mostly as punishment.”
“I thought I wasn’t being punished.”
“Well.” Jackson stepped closer to her and fondled her buttocks where pain morphed into heat. “You did forget to kiss me in greeting, so some form of punishment seemed fitting.”
Whatever answer she had to that, he kissed right off her lips.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jackson sat through the morning briefing on the investigation into the burgeoning meth problem. It appeared the cartels were getting competition from local suppliers. In addition to the extra product on the street, there was also the real threat of violence as the cartels worked to take out the new entrants into the market.
Captain Lacey had the latest news. “A small lab near Van Brunt and Hardesty blew up last night. We don’t have forensics back to know if it was deliberate or an accident.”
“How are they getting the ingredients, Cap?” The question came from Jackson’s partner. “I thought the controls on buying pseudoephedrine had pretty well squashed local production.”
“It has, but we got word from the DEA of a hit on a truck delivering drugs to pharmacies near St. Louis about six weeks ago. Seems there was enough cold medicine on it to fuel a dozen labs for several months. They’re having the same problems in St. Louis that we are here.”
“Damn. How come they didn’t tell us sooner? Jackson asked.
“You know the DEA. They only share on a ‘need to know’ basis, and it just dawned on them that maybe local law enforcement needed to know. Agent Daniels actually apologized for not sending word sooner. Not that it’s a lot of help. Theydon’t have any leads on the robbery. It just explains how the locals are getting their ingredients,” Lacey replied. “Anyway, I need you to work your informants. Find out as much as you can so we can shut down the labs. If you should find one, report it immediately. Observe from a safe distance. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt entry. I cannot stress that enough. A meth lab might as well be an unexploded bomb. Go after any informant you have. Find new ones. We need to get this situation under control. Meth in any form is bad. Homemade is worse. Dismissed.”
Jackson and Will headed back to their desks in the bullpen. “So,” said Jackson, “who do we try first? You’ve been here longer than I have. I know a few guys tied into one of the gangs that run heroin and fentanyl, but I don’t have any connections to the meth trade.”
Will answered, “I have two possibles. One’s a low-level dealer with the Marquez cartel and might know something about the locals. The cartels want to shut them down, too. The other is a meth user. He usually goes through this dealer, but if one of the homegrown operators is cheaper, he may know something.”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s roll.”
It took them most of the morning to run down the dealer, and he had only one useful piece of information. The locals were undercutting his prices, and his bosses were mad. His sales were down by a third, and he was starting to get desperate.
The user was even less help because he was still high on the drugs, and all he could tell them was how good the new stuff was. He hadn’t used his full supply yet, though, so they took him in for possession and to see if they could get any information out of him once he came down.
When they returned to the station, they had the bullpen to themselves, so they handcuffed Zach to one of the chairs and busied themselves with paperwork while they waited for themeth to wear off. This was easier said than done, for the perp was loud and irritating.
