Side Effects
Table of Contents
Synopsis
What Reviewers Say About VK Powell’s Work
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
About the Author
Books Available from Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Detective Jordan Bishop is tasked with protecting Neela Sahjani, abortion doctor, stem-cell researcher, and member of the new conservative state government—a walking contradiction and a complication Jordan can’t afford. When Neela seeks an emotional connection, Jordan tries to distract her from the darkness of her past with the only thing she has to offer—sex.
Neela is struggling to keep her job in an administration that no longer supports her vision while also caring for her aging mother and researching a cure for her mother’s disease. The last thing she needs is a detached, risk-taking police officer looking over her shoulder.
What Reviewers Say About VK Powell’s Work
To Protect and Serve
“If you like cop novels, or even television cop shows with women as full partners with male officers…this is the book for you. It’s got drama, excitement, conflict, and even some fairly hot lesbian sex. The writer is a retired cop, so she really writes from a place of authenticity. As a result, you have a realistic quality to the writing that puts me in mind of early Joseph Wambaugh.”—Teresa DeCrescenzo, Lesbian News
“To Protect and Serve drew me in from the very first page with characters that captivated in their complexity. Powell writes with authority using the lingo and capturing the thoughts of the law enforcers who make the ultimate sacrifice in the fight against crime. What’s more impressive is the command this debut author has of portraying a full gamut of emotion, from angst to elation, through dialogue and narrative. The images are vivid, the action is believable, and the police procedurals are authentic…VK Powell had me invested in the story of these women, heart, mind, body and soul. Along with danger and tension, Powell’s well-developed erotic scenes sizzle and sate.”—Story Circle Book Reviews
Suspect Passions
“From the first chapter of Suspect Passions Powell builds erotic scenes which sear the page. She definitely takes her readers for a walk on the wild side! Her characters, however, are also women we care about. They are bright, witty, and strong. The combination of great sex and great characters make Suspect Passions a must read.”—Just About Write
Fever
“VK Powell has given her fans an exciting read. The plot of Fever is filled with twists, turns, and ‘seat of your pants’ danger…Fever gives readers both great characters and erotic scenes along with insight into life in the African bush.”—Just About Write
Justifiable Risk
“This story takes some unusual twists and at one point, I was convinced that I knew ‘who did it’ only to find out that I was wrong. VK Powell knows crime drama, she kept me guessing until the end, and I was not disappointed at the outcome. And that’s not to slight VK Powell’s knack for romance. …Readers who appreciate mysteries with a touch of drama and intense erotic moments will enjoy Justifiable Risk.”—Queer Magazine
Exit Wounds
“Powell’s prose is no-nonsense and all business. It gets in and gets the job done, a few well-placed phrases sparkling in your memory and some trenchant observations about life in general and a cop’s life in particular sticking to your psyche long after they’ve gone. After five books, Powell knows what her audience wants, and she delivers those goods with solid assurance. But be careful you don’t get hooked. You only get six hits, then the supply’s gone, and you’ll be jonesin’ for the next installment. It never pays to be at the mercy of a cop.”—Out in Print
“Fascinating and complicated characters materialize, morph, and sometimes disappear testing the passionate yet nascent love of the book’s focal pair. I was so totally glued to and amazed by the intricate layers that continued to materialize like an active volcano…dangerous and deadly until the last mystery is revealed. This book goes into my super special category. Please don’t miss it.”—Rainbow Book Reviews
About Face
“Powell excels at depicting complex, emotionally vulnerable characters who connect in a believable fashion and enjoy some genuinely hot erotic moments.”—Publishers Weekly
Side Effects
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Side Effects
© 2015 By VK Powell. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-400-1
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: August 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design by Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)
By the Author
To Protect and Serve
Suspect Passions
Fever
Justifiable Risk
Haunting Whispers
Exit Wounds
About Face
Side Effects
Acknowledgments
To Len Barot and all the other wonderful folks at Bold Strokes Books—thank you for making this process so amazingly enjoyable and painless and for turning out a quality product every time.
My deepest gratitude to Dr. Shelley Thrasher, editor and sister author, for your guidance, suggestions, and kindness. Working with you is a learning experience and a pleasure. Our stolen minutes of conversation at conferences and writer events keep me on track and always reaching for unattainable perfection in my work.
For BSB sister author, D. Jackson Leigh, and friend, Jenny Harmon—thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to provide priceless feedback. This book is so much better for your efforts. I am truly grateful.
To all the readers who support and encourage my writing, thank you for buying my work, visiting my website (www.vkpowellauthor.com), sending e-mails, and showing up for signings. You make my job so much fun!
Dedication
To Trish and Jacqui for providing a soft place to land when I needed it in London and for the perfect setting in which to write this book.
Chapter One
Sergeant Milton’s jowls drooped like melted rubber into a permanent scowl as he shoved the morning paper across his desk toward Jordan Bishop and her partner Rebecca Ward. “I don’t need another shit storm on my desk at the moment. Have you seen this?” She leaned aw
ay from his hacking smoker’s cough and offending news.
Jordan glanced at Bex and let her do the talking. She was senior detective, and Jordan hadn’t exactly been on the sergeant’s good list lately.
“No, Sarge. What’s up?”
“What’s up? Goddamned protestors are creating a ruckus in Raleigh and the stench is spreading our way. Ed Branson, an abortion doctor based in Greensboro and a consultant to the governor’s office, was assaulted last night in the parking lot of his clinic. Serious injuries, but he’ll make it. The attacker tagged his car with graffiti. Stop or next time will be worse. Something like that. Definitely abortion related.”
“Did the tag actually mention abortion?” Bex asked.
“No, but what else could it be? Abortion doctor plus assault equals right-to-lifer.” Milton emphasized the phrase like they were kindergarteners.
“But we’re Special Investigations, not Crimes Against Persons.” Sometimes Bex had a gift for stating the obvious.
Milton rolled his eyes, and Jordan remained silent. They weren’t here to talk about an assault case, and a prickly feeling up the back of her neck signaled she wouldn’t like the real reason.
“Another doctor has received threats—you’ll be next or some such crap. The chief wants us to provide protection for her until this blows over.”
“But, Sarge—”
“I don’t want to hear your objections, Jordan. It’s not your call. Hell, it’s not even my call. The chief wants this done, so it gets done. Am I clear?” Clearer than his bloodshot eyes trained on her. He pushed a file toward them. “Whatever it takes. We have a mutual-aid agreement with Raleigh PD and the North Carolina State Highway Patrol. Shouldn’t be a problem for us to be on their turf. They don’t want this hot potato any more than we do.”
Bex looked as confused as Jordan felt. Special Investigations handled gang-related crimes, terrorist activity, and subversive groups, anything out of the ordinary not covered by the other departmental divisions, but they’d never pulled a babysitting job.
“Just read the damn file and make a plan.” He flipped his hand at them like they were a couple of annoying insects. “I’ll expect it on my desk by the end of the day.”
“What the hell just happened?” Jordan asked as they made their way back to their desks in the bullpen. The other detectives discussing cases, talking on the phone, and telling one-up stories faded into the background as she focused on her partner. She didn’t have the patience for this kind of assignment right now. She needed to be active, not playing nursemaid to some doctor.
“We got shafted with a job nobody else wants. Must carry some clout if the order came from the chief’s office. Let’s find out.” Bex pulled her wobbly roller chair alongside Jordan, propped her feet on the battered desk, and opened the file. She flipped through the first few pages before placing a picture on the desk in front of Jordan. “That explains a lot.”
“What?”
“Doctor Neela Sahjani.”
“Who’s that?” Jordan glanced at the photograph, and dark, soulful eyes rimmed in deep amber pulled her in. Long black, silky hair and flawless olive skin completed the image of a woman who could’ve graced the cover of a magazine.
“Jesus, Jordan, do you ever watch the news? Read the paper?”
“Don’t own a television. Don’t read the rags because it’s always bad news, and I get enough of that at work. Just tell me what you’re on about.”
“Neela Sahjani.”
“And why should we protect someone who could be the proprietor of an Indian restaurant?”
Bex shook her head with a disbelieving expression Jordan had seen far too frequently the past several months. “Prejudiced much?”
“I’m not prejudiced. Just confused.” She leaned back in her chair, propped her feet on the roller spokes, and tapped her foot. Sitting still wasn’t a strong point.
“Doctor Neela Sahjani is the North Carolina State Health Director.”
“We have to protect a politician? The sergeant just said she was a doctor.”
“And apparently a pretty liberal one, based on her work in the previous administration. Not bad duty though. She’s quite a looker, don’t you think?”
“She’s pretty. So what?”
Bex slapped her on the back as though she’d won a prize. “Hallelujah, she lives. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you’ve noticed a woman you weren’t planning to bed, much less admitted she was attractive?”
“Don’t start with that again.”
“I’m just saying you need to get out, see people.”
“I see people—and not dead ones either. I look in on my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Cherry, every week and take her dog for a walk when it’s raining.”
“But do you actually talk to her?” Bex was trying to make a point, but Jordan wasn’t interested in her armchair therapy. She got enough shrink-wrapping from her real therapist, when she bothered to keep an appointment.
“Neither one of us is much for conversation. It works.”
“How about an occasional date?”
“She’s too old for me. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s straight,” Jordan said.
“Smart-ass. I mean a real date. It doesn’t have to be for life.”
“Seldom is.” She hadn’t found anyone who could or would put up with her long enough to try forever. “Let it go, Bex.”
“You’ve been distracted lately. I just want to see a spark in your eyes again.”
“I’ll buy fireworks for the Fourth of July. Now about this freaking detail. Isn’t it the highway patrol’s responsibility to protect the governor’s staff?”
“Usually just the governor and any dignitaries he deems worthy. They obviously don’t care enough about Doctor Sahjani to be bothered. Maybe they’re trying to get rid of her.”
“Why would anyone want to get rid of her?” Jordan asked.
“Maybe her pro-choice stance, or some conservative asshole doesn’t like a woman of foreign descent or a woman of color in a high-level position. Somebody might object to her stem-cell research. That’s a pretty contentious subject at the moment. If they’re trying to force her out, this whole threat scenario could be internally motivated.”
“Even more reason for us not to get involved. Plus, she works in Raleigh.”
“Yeah, but she lives in Greensboro, Hamilton Lakes. Face it, Jordan. We’re involved whether you like it or not. Read the file and let’s talk strategy.” She rolled back to her desk and pulled a yellow notepad from the drawer. “We’ve got until the close of business.”
Bex left Neela Sahjani’s photo on her desk, and Jordan glanced at it periodically as she skimmed the file. Sahjani was definitely attractive, one of those women who captured admirers with her looks and slowly drained them of life with her clingy neediness. Fortunately, Jordan didn’t have much life left—no passion, no hope, and no belief in the fictional happily-ever-after. The only emotion she could identify recently was the anger that sustained her.
“What do you think?” Bex asked.
“I don’t want any part of this. I’ve got problems with everything she represents. Politicians aren’t my thing, especially ones who are supposed to advocate for the poor or underprivileged but turn a blind eye to what’s happening right under their noses.”
“What are you talking about? You don’t know what she’s like. Besides, we help people we disagree with philosophically every day. Comes with the badge. What’s so different about this one?”
“Just trust me, Bex. Doctor Neela Sahjani and I are not a good fit. Get one of the guys to help you.”
“You’re my partner. Besides, we’ll need more guys to run a twenty-four-hour operation. I was thinking Phil and Harry. Okay with you?”
Jordan pushed her chair back from the desk, suddenly needing more space. The room felt close and stuffy, and the scorched-coffee smell from the leaky drip machine irritated her nose. She stood and started down the hall. “I’m getting out of this.”
“I wouldn’t advise it.” But Jordan was already halfway to the sergeant’s office.
She knocked and waited for Milton’s grunt of permission before entering the office that reeked of cigarettes and apathy. “Sarge, I’d like to be reassigned from this protection detail.”
“No.” He didn’t even look up.
“You didn’t hear my reasons.”
“Don’t care.” Still no eye contact.
“I can’t do this.” Her insides tightened as she recalled an edict from her Catholic upbringing: Most politicians are corrupt, and nobody but God should make decisions about life and death. Though she’d formed her own beliefs, she still occasionally struggled with premature judgments of people based on ingrained intolerance. She hated her inability to completely shake the small-mindedness of her past and the people it tethered her to.
Milton placed his pen on the desk and slowly raised his head. “Do you think the police department is a fucking democracy?” His face flushed and he erupted into a sputtering cough that sounded like he was bringing up a lung. She stepped back. “You don’t get to pick and choose assignments. What’s up with you anyway? You used to be a good, focused detective, but lately you’ve been going through the motions, barely talking, doing only what you have to, and zoning out during operations. If this case has gotten a rise out of you, I think that’s great.”
“I’ve got a conflict of interest.”
“I don’t give a happy horse shit. And while we’re on the topic of conflicts, maybe I had to manage a few to get you in this division. You’d only been on the force four years and were the youngest detective in the department, but you’d made a name for yourself with informants and good solid police work. Don’t make me regret my decision, Bishop. Get your head back in the game before you get somebody hurt and while you still have a job.”