Federal Discipline by Loki Renard Read Free Book Online Page A

Jack tried to convince himself Jamie was like any other rookie, he knew it wasn't true. She wasn't like any other rookie; she was a rookie that made his palm itch and his heart beat faster in his chest. She was a rookie with a tight bottom housed in simple black slacks that did nothing to hide its rounded curve. Her attitude made him want to grab her, pull her over his knee and smack her bottom until she dropped the hard-nosed act – and maybe her panties too.
    He waved as Jamie left the office after her first, incredibly grueling day. A part of him wondered if she would show up the next.
    *****
    Jamie did show up the next day, bright and early with a smile on her face and sporting no signs of the trauma the day before. She was a tough little thing.
    “What are we doing today, boss?” She beamed and perched on the edge of his desk in a way she probably shouldn't because it made the curve of her rear all the more tantalizing. She was in a very nice pair of fitted slacks that were simultaneously professional and, well, almost sinful with the way they cupped her bottom. The matching blazer she wore did nothing to hide the proud rounds, which filled out the rear of those pants in a way that would have , no doubt, made the designer proud.
    Dragging his gaze away from Jamie's bottom, Jack glanced back at the piece of paper in his hand. “Today, rookie, we're going to interview the widow of the man who died yesterday.”
    “He was married?”
    The question was redundant, but Jack could forgive her for it, as the man who had hurled himself into a hail of bullets didn't precisely seem like marriage material. “Evidently.”
    They left the office and headed out to a lawyer's office where the widow had consented to be interviewed. It was in the financial center of town, where the streets were swept clean religiously and panhandlers were moved on before they had a chance to settle. A lot of people felt more comfortable there, amongst the carefully manicured trees in oversize pots and the shining windows that reflected you back at yourself in the glazed smiles of mannequins, but Jack didn't much care for the place. Everyone and everything was facade this side of the city. Perfect white smiles hid horrors beyond normal imagination. This was the part of town where a sociopath could destroy hundreds of lives with little more than a smooth pitch and a well-bound investment prospectus.
    Jamie had little to say, which was different for her. He was used to her mouthy approach to almost everything. But she , too, was looking about with an expression that could only be described as vaguely suspicious. Without speaking a word, Jack knew they shared certain feelings about their surroundings. It made him feel closer to Jamie, even though she was the sort of woman who could have fit in immediately if she simply changed her businesslike slacks for a short skirt, and her sensible shoes for high heels.
    After seeing the deceased, Jack would have expected any wife to have been on the heavily tattooed, somewhat toothless side of the equation. Instead, he found himself confronted with a quiet woman with mousy brown hair cut in a neat bob. She wore a long skirt and a blouse with a silk scarf knotted about her neck. Preppy didn't begin to cover it.
    “You're the wife?” Jamie asked the question in shocked tones.
    “I am Mrs. Brampton,” the woman said, speaking in soft, cultured tones. “My husband has been missing for a month. He simply disappeared from the office one day.”
    “He was a stock broker, correct?” Jack took over the interview, throwing a sharp be quiet glance at Jamie.
    “Yes,” Mrs . Brampton nodded, straightening a piece of paper and chasing a non-existent stray wisp of hair away from her face. “He traded equities.”
    “And did rather well at it, by all accounts.”
    “Our lives have been comfortable as a result of my husband's work, that is true,” Mrs. Brampton said. “Which is why we suspected foul play when he