His Cold Blue Command: Indigo Knights Book II Read online

  Table of Contents

  BOOK TWO

  COPYRIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Also by A. J. Downey

  About the Author

  His Cold Blue Command

  A. J. Downey

  Contents

  BOOK TWO

  COPYRIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Also by A. J. Downey

  About the Author

  BOOK TWO

  Published 2017 by Second Circle Press

  Text Copyright © 2017 A.J. Downey

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real except where noted and authorized. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Book design by Maggie Kern

  Cover art and Indigo Knights logo by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs

  Editing by Barbara J. Bailey

  Photo by Nathan Hainline

  Model Nathan Hainline

  To Mary Sittu-Kern & Greg Kern, I am glad you are on board. Not a whole lot of swearing in this one Greg, I promise. You’ve got other problems.

  1

  Yale…

  I leaned back in my chair and swiped a hand over my face, glancing at the clock. It was twenty minutes to nine. I had just enough minutes left in the hour to get some decent coffee before the café across from the DA’s office closed.

  Chrissy Franco tucked a stray lock of her long, dark hair behind her ear. Her tresses were captured in a twist with two pencils thrust through it to pin it. The sleeves of her cream satin blouse were rolled to her elbows, much like mine, as we were both elbows-deep into the Reeves case.

  I couldn’t help but admire her grace and the beauty of her form as she leaned over the table in my office, shuffling through file folders of affidavits, but she was already taken. Taken by one of my club brothers, Youngblood. I smiled, pleased for them both and a bit wistful at the same time. Again, she was beautiful, but alas, that ship had sailed.

  “I’m going for coffee.”

  “Me, too, please…” she muttered faintly, rapt on what she was reading. I smiled and chuckled to myself, and put both feet flat on the floor from atop my desk, banishing the images I should not be imagining from my mind.

  “What do you want?”

  “The usual,” she said, a bit of annoyance tingeing her voice, and that is why we would never have worked. Chrissy Franco was a bulldog in the courtroom, and in some ways, just as alpha as me.

  “As the boss, I’m not sure why I am always the one running to get coffee,” I stated.

  “Because you have the crush on the counter girl at the café,” she said, shortly. She dismissed what she’d been reading out of hand and set it aside. “And don’t think I didn’t just catch you looking.”

  “My apologies,” I started, and the word was foreign on my tongue. She raised an eyebrow in my direction. I shut my mouth and smiled genuinely. “Thank you,” I said simply, and she gave a nod, the movement graceful on her long neck. She didn’t appreciate being lied to as much as I didn’t like having to lie, even if it was the politically correct or polite thing to do.

  “I know you don’t mean it to be uncomfortable,” she said. “I also know you’re lonely and should ask for the coffee girl’s number.” I stood and went to the door, shaking my head. One of Chrissy’s other qualities I had come to appreciate since she joined the District Attorney’s office as a prosecuting attorney was her willingness to be forthright with me. Add to that, her ability to communicate clearly with me without having to say a word? Well, she was an asset to this office I would be forever grateful for.

  Granted, I was more perceptive than most, which made it much easier, but all of that aside, she and I had become quite the dynamic duo the last few months. Our styles complemented one another spectacularly. Another reason that I sometimes let my imagination travel to the land of what might have been.

  I banished the thoughts from my fatigued mind and made my way to the elevator. When the doors opened at the lobby level, Youngblood looked up from two coffees in his hands.

  “Hey, you seen my wife?” he asked. I smiled to myself.

  “You aren’t married yet, and she’s in my office,” I frowned, “Come to think of it, have you even asked her?”

  “Not formally; at least not yet, but it’s going to happen. I just like trying the title on for size.”

  “Ah, well, in my office.”

  “Where are you rushing off to?”

  “Coffee of my own!” I called back over my shoulder.

  “Ah, yeah, sorry! I just brought a couple for me and her, I didn’t know you’d be here!”

  I waved him off over my shoulder and went out the front doors of the aging government building and down the front steps. The air was crisp and clean with the smell of ozone and fresh rain. The ground was wet, darkness rising up from the streets to meet the sky. The fiery orange glow from the setting summer sun was barely a glimmer between the buildings where you could catch a glimpse of the horizon.

  I got to the doors of the caf�
� and tugged on them to find them locked, muttering, “Ahhh… damn it!”

  Movement caught my eye as I went to go back across the street. and I turned. Ally, the morning coffee-girl, came to the door and unlocked it.

  “Working late, Mr. Parnell?”

  “As, so it seems, are you.”

  “Right, yeah… Come on in. I already shut down the till and counted it out, do you have cash?” she asked meekly.

  “No, I’m sorry I was going to…” I held up my phone, and she bit her bottom lip.

  “That’s okay; I’ll take it out of my tips.”

  I smiled as she turned around and set her mop aside. She went behind the counter and began making my coffee without asking. She knew what I liked. I stood, hands in my pockets, and vowed to tip her the cost of the coffee plus more, the next morning.

  “How come so late?” I asked.

  “Millie needed someone to close, and I could really use the extra hours, so I volunteered to stay and work straight through.”

  She poured the shots of coffee into a paper cup and smoothed her hands along her long, baseball tee over a pair of form-fitting black leggings. I let my gaze linger, as she added hot water to the cup to make my Americano.

  “How about you?” she asked.

  I cleared my throat and tried to decide what to say. The case we were working was horrific. Jordan Reeves, an eighteen-year-old high school student, had buried her baby alive in her parent’s backyard. Her mother had discovered the nineteen-day-old remains when tilling her rose garden. The family had circled the wagons, and their high-priced attorneys were stonewalling. We were in the midst of trying to have some of their motions quashed, and it would, honestly, be a near thing. This case was proving to be a nightmare, and we were barely past arraignment. Still, none of that was anything to burden Ally with, so, “Tough case,” I finally settled on, lamely.

  Ally’s face softened, her expression empathetic, green eyes searching mine. “The Reeves thing?” Her voice was soft. Delicate and gentle, sensitive, it was a soothing balm to the burns caused by the utter depravity I waded through on a daily basis.

  “You know about that?” I asked, taking a careful sip of my coffee. It was good. I always appreciated how Ally made it.

  She leaned a hip against the counter and sighed, hugging herself. Her long, stiff, blonde hair with dark roots fell around her pale face, making her green eyes shine that much more. I didn’t typically like it when women processed their hair, but Ally’s white-blonde hair with their dark roots worked well for her.

  “Hard not to know about it, it’s been all over the news.”

  “Ah,” I said, nodding. She’d likely seen the press conference on the courthouse steps that morning. I’d had to speak. It wasn’t my favorite thing, dealing with those jackals. The media always left a bad taste in my mouth, one I attempted to wash away with another sip of coffee.

  I swept Ally with my gaze and decided that as much as I would like to sully her in other ways, I didn’t wish to defile her with anything pertaining to any one of my legal cases. I smiled slightly, feeling the weight, the mantle of responsibility, return to my shoulders. The scales of justice were attempting to balance and needed my attention. So too, did my scales.

  “I should get back,” I said, and she nodded, smiling.

  “Good luck,” she murmured, and followed me to the door.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe?”

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “Have a good night.”

  I nodded and waited until she locked the door behind me. I turned to the curb and waited for traffic to pass, and once I was across the street, gave into the urge to look back. She stood in the center of the café, the chairs up, their seats resting on the table tops, swiping the string mop back and forth across the floor. She concentrated on her task, making sure she was being thorough, and I could appreciate that.

  I turned and went back up to my office, those smiling-yet-somber green eyes haunting me.

  For some reason, I couldn’t look at Chrissy Franco twice after that encounter. Every time I even tried, Chrissy’s brown eyes morphed to green, her dark hair to blonde, and her olive complexion became kissed by the moon.

  2

  Ally…

  I swept my wild mane of hair over my shoulder and nodded, my eyes beginning to fill with tears even as I tried my best to fend them off.

  “I understand,” I said quietly into the receiver.

  “It’s honestly for the best, Ms. Blaylock. Your grandmother just can’t be on her own for any length of time,” the social worker’s tone was conciliatory, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I wanted to argue with her. Wanted to say ‘But she’s not alone! She has me, she’s with me!’ but I couldn’t argue because nothing would change the fact that my grandmother had fallen and broken her hip while I was at work. I hadn’t been there; she wasn’t with me; she had been by herself and nowhere near the phone, and I hadn’t known anything was wrong, and she had lain there for four hours before I had come home.

  I nodded, realized she couldn’t see it, and cleared my throat, my voice coming out deceptively strong even as my brittle heart was breaking.

  “What happens now?”

  Her voice buzzed calmly in my ear as she laid everything out and I felt myself nodding dumbly. They would move my grandmother into an assisted-living facility. She would be taken care of, but at what cost? Those places were expensive. We weren’t rich by any means. I would have to move! The apartment I grew up in was rent-controlled, but under my grandmother’s name, not mine. If she no longer lived there…

  “Yes, I understand,” I said numbly and shivered in the warm sunshine. People walked to and fro, and someone stepped past me into the coffee shop. I glanced back over my shoulder at Millie, my boss, and she waved me off. The shop was busy, though.

  “Ms. Blaylock?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I’m here. It’s very busy here. I’m at work.”

  “I understand, Ms. Blaylock; we can finish discussing this later this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I’ll be over as soon as my shift is over, say around three?”

  “I look forward to seeing you then.”

  “Okay, thank you. Bye.”

  I turned and looked at Millie whose face was crushed with sympathy, and I sighed. I wiped under my eyes and checked my reflection in the glass of the door to see if I needed to fix my make-up or if I was okay to just go behind the counter.

  “Take five in the back,” Millie ordered. “I have it out here.”

  “Okay, thank you!” I called, grateful for her.

  I went to the bathroom, fixed my makeup, took a good hard look in the mirror and nearly broke down – but I couldn’t. I needed to work, I needed to go to the care facility they had Gran in, and I needed to make all of the arrangements. I went back out and slipped behind the counter, tying on my apron.

  As luck would have it, my favorite customer, Mr. Parnell, was standing next in line. I smiled at him, and he looked me over. His eyes were lovely, dark and deep, framed in long lashes any woman would kill for. I don’t know what it was about him that I found so attractive. By all accounts, his affect was cold, almost heartless, but something about those deep, soulful eyes called to a piece of me.

  There was just something about him I found alluring. Maybe it was the way it felt like he saw right down to the deepest parts of me. Like now, the first words out of his mouth were, “What’s wrong, Ally?”

  “Nothing,” I lied, putting on my best and brightest customer-service smile. His brow crushed down and it made him look so fierce and so angry. I tried to deflect even more and asked, “The usual?”

  “And Ms. Franco’s order, if you please.”

  “Sure thing!”

  I began making the two coffee drinks, and he leaned in saying low, as to be barely heard over the grinder, “Please, don’t ever lie to me again.”

  I froze, and the breath was stolen from my lungs as he caught my eyes with his, the intensity of his
look as he searched my face causing my own eyes to go very wide.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I just… it’s...”

  “Private?” he asked with a chilled, but not unkind, little smile.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “That’s fine, I don’t want or need to know, but I value honesty above all else.”

  I gave the portafilter a twist onto the machine and hit the two switches, waiting for the moments it would take for the two heavy shot glasses to fill.

  “I’ll remember that,” I murmured.

  He smiled, and this time it was kinder, gentler as he said, “Just remember that it’s okay not to be okay.”

  I looked up sharply at where he’d stood at the corner of the counter, but he was gone. He’d moved to the register to pay for the drinks. He looked over at me and winked and thrust some money into the tip jar. I set his two cups on the round drink station, and he swept them into his hands and backed out the front door. I couldn’t help it, I sighed and watched his ass in his slacks as he jogged across the street. It was a guilty pleasure of mine, what could I say?

  I may have been too busy with life to add a relationship to it right now, but I wasn’t dead. Not that I thought anything would happen with the city’s best ADA. He was way out of my league. I was just a poor inner-city girl.

  Business picked up and I banished all thoughts of Damien Parnell from my mind as it became everything I could do to keep up with the flow of orders. Before I knew it, it was time to face the music – I counted my tips and felt a slight rush of relief. I could afford a cab to make the appointment with my gran’s social worker. I didn’t have to worry about if I would make it or not by taking the two buses it would take to get there.