Running Hot by Jacob long (the lemonade war series .txt) 📕

and watched the voluptuous blonde’s hips undulate with her legs motion; suddenly becoming very envious of the D.A. Just then the maid glanced back at Reed and smiled, very aware of her power over him. Reed smiled a large, glee stricken grin and shifted back into his chair.
Laurel immediately took big swig of her drink.
“Now,” Comber started. “What’s this evidence you have to show me?”
Laurel looked at the security box lying on the table and repeated the password to it. Once it opened she pulled out the various papers and handed them to Reed. Reed selected a few of the papers and flopped them on the table for the D.A.’s perusal.
Reed started his speech then. “Alright, the evidence here was compiled by David Jacobs in an effort to stop the New Jersey Citizen Relief Fund from being stolen. He first learned of this heist a few months ago, not long after it was announced that the money would be transferred. A ghost e-mail from an unknown sender was sent to his e-mail address; maybe on accident, he didn’t know. This e-mail spoke in very vague terms but it asked if he wanted to get out of the city with a hefty sum of cash, stating a bank van was the target. It also gave a ghost number for parties interested; a phone number that would only be open for about an hour on a certain date for security purposes. He called this number at the correct time and they asked him his name. He answered that he was the Assistant District Attorney and instead of turning him away they gave him a location where all of the accepted parties would meet and discuss the plan. David didn’t show up but he was present. He sat up on the roof of a building across the street with a telephoto lens and snapped pictures of the people who attended. There were two leaders. He knew this because there were two people who arrived hours before everyone else. They were very good about hiding their identity though, so he didn’t know who they were. Then others started to arrive; in unmarked cars but he recognized them as cops. He took their pictures; Elaine Kolden, Marcus Greenwich, Tom Hutchison, the list goes on.” Reed tossed the pictures onto the table. “After only a little more investigation, David found that most of these cops were assigned to protect the van once it entered New Jersey in a four man motorcade. The bank van will be blockaded on its trip by a car with four masked men in it; the motorcade would, at this time, abandon the van, claiming later that they couldn’t handle the situation. David figured that the robbers would also be cops; and sure enough, four cops have retired in the last month.”
After a long while of silent consideration, Comber asked, “Why didn’t David come to me with any of this information?”
“He didn’t know if he could trust you,” Reed answered flatly.
Comber’s eyes went dark and forlorn. “Then why not the bank?”
Reed shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t have the evidence he needed then and planned taking it all to them the morning after he was killed.”
Laurel had finished her lemonade.
“Here, let me get more lemonade for you,” Comber said, grabbing the glass and heading back into the house; shutting the sliding door behind him.
Laurel yawned. “Think he’s legit?”
“Maybe,” Reed answered. “I’m gonna go see something.”
Reed got up and opened the door; peering in furtively and then sneaking inside. The moment the door was closed behind him, Laurel lost the rest of her strength and she collapsed onto the table; unconscious. Reed heard voices in the next room, so he crept up to the door jamb and stuck his head in. The room was the District Attorney’s office. Standing next to the desk, talking on the phone with voice distorter in hand, was the D.A.
“Reed Newton and Laurel Jacobs are at the District Attorney’s Residence right now,” he said in the monster voice. “take some men and kill him, kill them both!”
Reed stepped fully into the room. “Clever. So not even your henchmen know who’s really pulling the strings.”
The moment Comber whirled around to face him. Reed pulled out the detective’s gun and pointed it at him. “Don’t try anything.”
The D.A. exhaled a bunch of air and hung up the phone. “So, are you going to shoot me, Mr. Newton? Then the authorities will have a legitimate reason to label you a killer.”
Reed clicked the safety off. “I’m used to it.”
The arrogant D.A. put his hands in his pockets. “Don’t you get it Mr. Newton? You can’t use the law against me. I am the law!”
“I don’t care about the law,” Reed retorted. “This is justice.”
Suddenly something struck Reed on the back of the head and he fell to his knees. Darkness began to overtake his vision but he forced his constantly weakening muscles to turn his head. His last conscious sight was the bottom of a maid’s uniform as he flopped onto the hardwood floor.
Detective Brice was still tied to the chair in the hotel room at this time. His voice had faded greatly from yelling for help for an hour and a half and he’d given up on breaking the bonds. Finally at around noon, a cleaning woman opened the door to the hotel and came in.
“Oh my god, thank you!” Brice shouted. “Help me, please!”
“Dios mio!” she uttered at the sight.
“Oh crap, a Spanish chick,” Brice moaned. “Uh… isocorro, por favor! Come on!”
The cleaning woman nodded and went to his side, where she grabbed the top part of the rope and pulled up on it; trying to get it over his head. The rope was too tight and it wouldn’t stretch that far.
After a short while the woman gave up and started walking away, saying: “Uno momento, yo te llamada los policia.”
“Policia, yeah! Get them!” Matt urged.
The woman left and Matt smiled at the thought of being the person who gets to bring this new evidence in to Sergeant Nitch.

Reed didn’t pass out completely. His vision was considerably blurred and he really couldn’t move, but he was vaguely aware of his surroundings. The maid grabbed him by his jacket; and then he felt like he was being dragged across the floor; hardwood, over a door jamb, then across tile. After a short while he was pulled around a corner, then a pause; the sound of a door opening, then more dragging; down stairs, into darkness; then nothing.
Reed woke up to fingers snapping in front of his face. “Wake up,” the D.A. ordered.
Reed opened his eyes slowly. There was a bright light shining into his eyes and they were extra-sensitive to it. His head throbbed and the D.A.’s voice wasn’t exactly clear.
“Head hurt?” Comber asked. Reed didn’t answer but he continued anyway. “Well, a waffle iron to the back of the head will do that to you.”
Reed blinked furiously; trying to get his eyes to focus.
Comber noticed this. “Stay with me Mr. Newton. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”
Reed’s vision had begun to clear and he looked around the room. It was littered with shiny, sharp objects; and the detective’s gun was sitting on a table. The place appeared to be a basement where the D.A. fulfilled some pretty sick fantasies. Reed was suddenly snapped into awareness. He looked around frantically; trying to find a way out. He’d been tied to the arms and legs of the chair he was sitting in with wire. Even now it was digging into his wrists and ankles.
Just then, Reed heard a feminine groan to his right. Reed turned his head to the noise. Laurel was tied to a chair near him, and she was just waking up. Reed also noticed the French maid standing near the door.
Comber smiled. “Ohh, awake now; are you Laurel? Good. I was hoping to get to you first.”
Comber grabbed a knife from the table on his left. Walking over to Laurel; he ran the knife down her cheek… hard. Laurel groaned only a little at first, but then blood started to flow from the wound and she began screaming ever louder. The D.A.’s horrendous smile only grew broader at the sound.
“You motherfucker!” Reed roared. “I’ll fuck you up for this!”
“Ohh,” Comber turned to look at him. “So you must be jealous then? Did you want to go first?”
Reed didn’t answer; he just held his angry stare.
“Alright then,” Comber continued. “Now… where to start?” In that moment he noticed the bloody bandage on Reed’s hand and smiled his sick grin. “Perfect.”
Reed got the point quickly and started trying to break out of his chair with fear-stricken urgency.
Comber grabbed a jar of salt and set it down on the table next to Reed. He bent down and started to remove Reed’s bandage. There Reed threw himself forward and bit into Comber’s ear! Capillary blood drizzled from the wound and into Reed’s mouth. Reed would describe it as a metallic taste; copper-like.
Comber finally pulled himself away. “Fucker!” he growled; holding his bleeding ear. Suddenly he swung his fist at Reed. Reed ducked his head down so the D.A. hit him on the crown. He didn’t want his lip busted; lest their two bloods mix. This also caused Comber to recoil in pain; holding his hand.
“Violet, hold him!” He barked.
The maid walked up behind Reed with a wire. She looped it under his chin and pulled it against his neck. Reed was forced to keep his head back to relieve the strangling pressure. Once Reed had been completely incapacitated, Comber went back in and tore the bandage off Reed’s hand. The freshly exposed wound was immediately tender in the open air. Comber grabbed the jar of salt and poured an excessive amount of it onto the laceration.
Reed screamed in pain as the salt burned into the repairing flesh like acid. Reed’s body went instantaneously tense as his muscles flexed and strained against his bonds with new-found vigor. Suddenly the left arm of the chair let out a scream of its own as the wood splintered and then shattered. Reed swung the free hand up and punched Violet in the face. She let go of the wire and staggered back against the wall. Upon coming back down, Reed drove the newly exposed nail of the armrest directly into Comber’s neck! Comber fell to the ground as blood drained out of the hole; trying in vain to stop the arterial flow.
Reed used his free hand to snap the other armrest off the chair, then lunged the chair forward to grab a knife off of the D.A’s table. With knife in hand, he began sawing away at the wire around his legs. Violet recovered and dove on him; clawing at his face with her nails; uttering what Reed could only guess were French curse words. The searing claws drew streaks of blood down the left side of his face. Reed reached around with his free hand, grabbing the back of her hair, and then drove the knife into her gut. Her face suddenly changed from an expression of anger to shock and disbelief. Reed returned the stare with one of rage and primal fury. For a moment they stayed in that cold embrace; but after a time Reed could feel her blood warm against his hand and he pulled the knife back out. He let her turn onto her back and examine the wound, after which she let out one last gasp of sepulchral air, and died; eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Reed stared angrily at the corpse for a moment, then continued about the