Going Deep #3

  Going Deep

  Going Deep, Volume 3

  Mia Ford

  Published by Mia Ford, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  GOING DEEP

  First edition. March 25, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Mia Ford.

  ISBN: 978-1386151012

  Written by Mia Ford.

  Also by Mia Ford

  Claimed

  Claimed

  Going Deep

  Going Deep

  His Brother's Wife

  His Brother's Wife

  Second Chance on St. Patrick's Day

  Second Chance on St. Patrick's Day

  Standalone

  Friends to Lovers

  Train Me Daddy

  Breaking Rules

  Thirst

  Auctioned

  Body Heat

  Torn

  The Perfect Gift

  The Perfect Holiday

  Crossing Lines

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Mia Ford

  Going Deep

  Blurb

  Chapter One: Richie

  Chapter Two: Danny

  Chapter Three: Hannah

  Chapter Four: Richie

  Chapter Five: Danny

  Chapter Six: Hannah

  Chapter Seven: Danny

  Chapter Eight: Hannah

  Chapter Nine: Danny

  Chapter Ten: Hannah

  Chapter Eleven: Danny

  Chapter Twelve: Hannah

  Chapter Thirteen: Danny

  Epilogue: Hannah

  Bonus: Hot Deleted Scene

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  Also By Mia Ford

  Going Deep (Part III)

  Blurb

  Getting down, dirty and deep is what I do best.

  Because I'm an undercover cop & a bad boy at heart

  Let's just say that women love to get under the covers with me

  Especially when they know what I'm packing in my jeans...

  I'm all set to take down the South Side Gang

  I've got Richie Silvestri in my sights

  All I gotta do is wait, watch, listen, then make my move

  It should be just another day in the life of Detective Danny O'Shea

  But then she comes: Hannah, Richie's little sister

  She's the finest piece of a$$ I've ever seen

  She is smoking hot with a mouth to watch

  And all I now think of is burying myself between her thighs

  But Hannah is a tough nut to crack

  It's going to take more than my bad boy charm to get those legs spread

  But I'll keep working her, cause that's what I do

  And once I taste her, the whole South Side will explode into flames

  Chapter One: Richie

  Archie Dee reached into his pocket with his good hand—the other was still in a cast—and then tossed some things on my desk.

  “What the fuck is all this?”

  I stared at the five thumb drives spread on the mahogany surface.

  “They’re flash drives,” Archie said helpfully

  “I know that, shit-for-brains. What’s on them?”

  Archie shrugged. “I don’t know, but you said anything strange or suspicious, right?”

  When I waved my hand, gesturing for him to go on, he shrugged again. The ever-to-the-point Archie Dee. If I could figure out how to get anything useful in a timely manner out of the man, I’d be able to keep my blood pressure under control. As it was, my head hurt.

  “How do you know if they’re suspicious if you don’t know what’s on them?” I asked. “They could be copies of her stupid books or old bar accounts.”

  “Well,” Archie said as he leaned forward, “I found them hidden inside cardboard tubes.”

  “Huh?” Butch asked.

  So profound. My brain actually lost IQ points once I left the Loop and came here to surround myself with these two.

  Archie smiled. “In her tampon box.”

  “What the fuck?” Butch said, lurching back like the flash drives had emitted radiation. “You went into her tampons? That’s freaking sick, Arch.”

  “Tampons are just cotton, Butch. Nothing to be scared of.”

  I lifted one of the thumb drives and studied it for any sort of marking. Just a plain old drive. I stuck it into the USB port and waited for a second while the drive opened.

  “Arch, what made you look in her tampon box?” Archie’s decision showed a willingness to go above and beyond, and that choice had roused my curiosity.

  “Oh, I’d already gone through just about everything. Her calendar was empty except I saw your birthday’s coming up, boss. Congratulations in case I don’t see you.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “Her books are all crap. Her video collection sucks. Rom-coms up the ass. Her desk has nothing but office supplies. Her computer was password protected, but I guess we could find someone to hack into it if you wanted. I know a guy who—”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, waving my hand.

  “Her drawers have nothing but clothing, and boy, she could sure use some new lingerie. Most everything looks like it came from Walmart, though she does have a few sexy things and—“

  Butch shoved an elbow in his side, saving me the need to respond.

  “I think if you gave her a raise, she—”

  “Is there a point to this?” I asked.

  “Just making sure you know I covered all the bases.”

  I glanced at the computer screen and discovered folders labeled Lesson 1, Lesson 2, up through Lesson 6. I clicked on one and perused the file names. Accounting terms. Business lessons. It appeared my little sister had signed up for some sort of accounting program, and based on the logo dotting the materials, she’d done it through Phoenix Online. The little bitch had made a decision about her life without consulting me. No wonder she’d seemed a bit off. Hiding such a massive secret must have been stressful. She must have been sweating bullets. Now I wasn’t surprised she changed her locks so often. I’d thought it might be because of Butch, but now I knew better.

  “You never answered my question, Arch,” I said as I continued to scroll.

  Archie frowned and then brightened. “Oh, the tampon box. That was easy. After I’d already gone through the calendar—”

  “Keep focused.”

  “I read a book once where a lady thief stuffed the stolen jewelry in her tampons to smuggle it through customs. So”—he shrugged—“it just came to me to try looking there.”

  “Repeat that,” Butch said, wearing a dumbfounded look. “You said you read a book?”

  “Jeez, Butch, I know how to read. What do you think I do with my free time, hump my cat?”

  “You have a cat?” Butch asked.

  “Enough, you two.” I pulled the drive from my computer. “I’ve got to go through these, and I need quiet.”

  “What’s on there, boss?” Butch asked.

  “Hannah just handed me back my control,” I said.

  Butch and Arch exchanged a glance, but I’d had it with the two stooges. I gestured toward the door, and they both—blessedly—took the hint.

  “Oh, Arch...”

  He turned around.

  “Meet Butch at the warehouse tomorrow, and he’ll hook you up with some extra juice for the month.”

  “Thanks, boss.” He gave me a salute. “Happy to help. And if you have a birthday party, let me know.”

  I waved him away, my mind already elsewhere.

  When the door was shut, I put the second flash drive into
the USB, got out my Macallan, and settled back for a little light reading. It seemed little sis had been busy over the last year working toward an actual degree.

  Now I had her right where she needed to be. Back under my thumb.

  I flipped one of the flash drives in my fingers.

  Such a small thing and pretty innocuous in the grand scheme of things.

  Almost everyone used them nowadays.

  Probably safer than calls or texts—and easily destroyed when plans were firm.

  “Thanks, little sis. You’re a fucking genius.”

  Chapter Two: Danny

  The weekend came, and I couldn’t see Hannah. That would trip all levels of suspicion. But I thought about her, about the warmth of her body, the feel of her cunt, the smell of her hair. I had sappy thoughts about taking her to Navy Pier and strolling down the walkway with margaritas while we watched the boats, maybe even taking one of those cruise ships to view the skyline from the water. I hadn’t done that since I was a kid.

  Chicago got a bad rap sometimes because it was busy and sometimes dirty and often dangerous, but the city had a vibrancy and energy that never quit. Chicago was filled with color and sights and sounds and smells that couldn’t be found anywhere else. The denizens bustled about as they worked hard and partied harder, and the visitors stared in wonder at the buildings and lakes and museums. Granted, most of that took place in the Chicago you see in the movies and hear about from friends. Not many people ventured to the South Side unless you’d been born there.

  Which meant not many people knew the South Side had its charms.

  Because I couldn’t be with Hannah, I decided to leave my old haunt and go to the Navy Pier on my own. I left my ratty shit-mobile parked and ordered a Uber about a mile from the apartment.

  As I leaned back in the brand-new Taurus, I watched the south side of the city pass me by. Dozens of pickup games were in progress in the neighborhood parks and playgrounds. Pickup games were easy to find. If you had a hankering to play some ball, all you had to do was throw some stones and you’d find four or five other guys with the same idea.

  Some of the best restaurants in Chicago found a home on the South Side. You could find ethnic food of all varieties as well as home-cooked meals that would make your mother cry. The smells alone could pull people out of the good neighborhoods and bring them into ours, at least for an afternoon.

  The Taurus passed vendors plying their wares on the corners, some of them knock-offs, others displaying T-shirts with the home teams and bootleg copies of DVDs. You could find anything on the South Side, which the pool halls and strip clubs and porn shops testified to.

  You could also find plenty of danger, and I never recommended a visitor just stroll through the streets like they might the Miracle Mile. Most neighborhoods were okay—if you lived there. Any outsider, though, was treated with suspicion, and suspicion generally meant you went home without your wallet and jewelry. Hopefully you left with your body intact, but that wasn’t guaranteed.

  Despite that, I also knew danger lurked elsewhere in the city. Some of the areas north of town got pretty damn scary after dark.

  I liked living in the South Side. It had been good to me and my family. We felt at home there. It was why all eight of us still lived there, like satellites all revolving around our parents. There was that hitch again, that moment when I couldn’t get my breath. Why was it so hard to remember someone was dead?

  Even with the summer traffic, we arrived at the Pier in good time. I’d been lost in my thoughts, and it had felt nice to let my guard down and relax. That hadn’t happened in over a week now. I gave the lady driver a hefty tip, partly because she’d been willing to pick up someone on the South Side. She’d also kept her mouth shut and let me think my own thoughts in companionable silence. The little Yorkie in her arms had stared at me the whole time over her shoulder and made me think that maybe getting a dog might be a nice idea. I wondered if Hannah liked dogs.

  Daniel Dutton had taken plenty of girls to the Pier, but I strolled the cement as Danny O’Shea on Sunday. I got plenty of looks and a few come-ons from the pretty ladies drinking their wine at the outside venues, trying to look cool on the blistering day. I sat and chatted with a few, even bought a couple drinks, but that wasn’t why I was out. I pictured myself holding Hannah’s hand, listening to her laugh, watching the wonder in her eyes as she viewed the beautiful water and glistening boats.

  Once I had a margarita in my hand, I planned to call Pops and have a father-son chat. I wanted to fill him in on Hannah. I wanted his take on it, and though I suspected he’d caution me about the dangers of going after Silvestri’s sister, I thought he’d probably see a glimpse of the same future I saw. My dad and I always shared similar wavelengths. He would probably see exactly what I was.

  I had to face it. I was quickly becoming pussy whipped.

  Chapter Three: Hannah

  My weekends were always busy, taking care of errands, delivering leftover food to the homeless shelter down the street, and visiting my grandmother in the retirement home where Richie had dumped her. She was my mother’s mother, so she had no real money of her own, and Richie wasn’t about to share his. He did pay for the facility, but it wasn’t the best one in the city, though he could have easily afforded any facility in Chicago. I think Richie felt the need to punish our grandmother for abandoning us to our father when Mom died.

  I never saw it as abandonment. I’d known my father pretty well, and though Richie got the brunt of his viciousness, Father’s lack of humanity and compassion extended to everyone he came into contact. Exceptions had never been made for two kids.

  Richie hadn’t understood that our grandmother had little choice in our futures. Without any money or power or any other resources, she couldn’t fight for us. She became nothing more than a nuisance, and Father treated her as such. Now Richie did the same.

  Still, I loved her, and if I ever got any money of my own—real money that could make a difference—I planned to help her in any way I could. In the meantime, though, the best I could do was visit, buy her yarn for her endless projects, and tell her my dreams and ambitions. I knew she would keep my secrets.

  That weekend I told her about Danny. I wasn’t sure where our relationship would lead to, or even if we had a real one at this point, but it felt real. I needed to share it with someone.

  By Sunday night I was exhausted, but I had an assignment to get done for an online class on Monday evening. I slogged through the course work, feeling like I’d rather be in bed, and when I finally finished at eleven thirty, I was planning to dive right into bed, put in my earplugs, and sleep in my cool apartment.

  I saved everything on the flash drive and then went into the bathroom to put it with the others. I grabbed the box from the closet and immediately knew something was wrong. It was far too light.

  My heart stopped. I sat on the toilet set and gingerly opened the carton. I felt as though I was defusing a bomb. Every muscle in my body was strung tight, and my nerves fired up, making my hands shake.

  “No,” I whispered.

  The cardboard tubes were empty.

  The box fell from my hands, and tampons rolled across the cracked linoleum. I cupped my face, and hot tears scalded my hands. My mind went into overdrive as I thought of any way this could be possible. Maybe I’d moved them in my sleep. Maybe I’d been so paranoid that I’d decided another spot was better. Maybe, maybe, maybe. None of it made any sense.

  “He found them...”

  Mind racing, sweat dotting every inch of my skin, I thought back over the last few days. I’d put something in the box last Thursday. Friday I’d been with Danny. Could he have found them? No, he’d never been in the bathroom at all. What else had happened on Friday?

  I’d woken up out of sorts, hot, cranky because...

  “The AC was out.”

  I got up on shaky legs and went back into the living room, glancing at the unit. After I complained about it to anyone who would listen, Ca
rmen had come into the club with a work order, but now I realized Richie hadn’t been in the club Friday morning. I wasn’t sure I’d seen him all day. Where had the work order come from?

  Frantically I glanced around my apartment, trying to see it with fresh eyes. Everything looked exactly as it always did. The books in their neat color-coded rows. The DVDs arranged on the shelves by genre. My desk holding the laptop and stapler and notepads. I ran back to the bedroom, flung open the drawers and the closet door, and studied everything. It appeared nothing had been touched. Yet I knew someone had ransacked everything. Someone had violated my privacy and stolen my possessions, but I was going to pay the price. It was just a matter of when and how.

  “That son of a bitch.”

  I jerked when someone pounded on my door. Swallowing hard, I ran my hands over my face to remove tearstains and then down my shorts to remove the sweat. I suddenly felt faint, and every dream I’d had in the last five years simply vanished like a puff of smoke.

  “Open the goddamned door, Hannah,” Butch shouted. “Richie wants to see you.”

  Richie, the stealer of dreams, the magic man who could take away hope, happiness, and ambition with a sweep of his manicured hand over a work order.

  Oh yes. I was going to pay. The knock on the door had signaled the when. Now it was just a matter of how.

  Chapter Four: Richie

  “Come in.”

  Butch stepped into the room and stood to the side of the opened door. My sister strode in, giving Butch a wide berth, chin up, shoulders back, not at all the meek little mouse I’d counted on. Well, that shit stopped now because this little tigress needed to know who ran this zoo. I waved her to a chair. Butch closed the door and stood against it. Hannah gave him a side-glance and then parked her ass in the chair like a good little girl.