Amp: Jensen City Heroes, #4

By Tori Ross

Linus Morris has revenge on his mind. Corbin Dallas, the madman that kidnapped and tortured him for the amp recipe, is still on the loose even as Remi Young, Rose McCoy and Darby Clausen scour Jensen City for information on him. Linus has a score to settle, and hiding in another state isn't helping. When Linus returns, some changes are coming to town whether its citizens know it or not.

Eileen Pickett has spent the last few months trying to find both Corbin Dallas and Linus Morris, but the men seem to have disappeared into the wind. When her obsession with Linus Morris comes to a long-overdue confrontation, will she help Linus when he needs it the most? Or will she turn her back on him again even as he takes the first step toward a connection?

With the city's mayoral race also hanging in the balance, Linus has a lot on his plate. It's too bad for Corbin Dallas that Linus also brought back a new power with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tori Ross
• Release date: Oct 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223308232

Tori Ross

Tori Ross writes romantic comedy and erotic superhero romance. When she's not writing, she runs a podcast called The Smutty Book Lady and Friends and can be seen reading any genre of books. She lives in Missouri with her family and a very high-maintenance dog.

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Prologue

Rose

K eys, cell phones, and anything metal is prohibited on-site, the guard grunts, not looking up from his newspaper as cell doors open and close around him to accommodate the other guards.

Remi, Darby, and I look at each other and empty our pockets into the round bins like you’d see at an airport or courthouse while going through security. Remi drops her phone, keys, and a barrette into a tray and takes off the elastic band around her wrist while Darby does the same. All of it, Remi, Darby scolds, and Remi glares at Darby before getting a switchblade knife out of her back pocket and tossing it into the tray.

I look at Remi in horror, amazed that she carries a switchblade. What? she asks. I’m a local superhero that’s pregnant. Zeke doesn’t like me walking around unprotected. In fact, he’d shit a brick if he knew I took it out of my pocket.

So, we’re not telling our boys? I ask, uneasy because this will be the first time I’ve kept something from Bennett. It doesn’t feel right. We tell each other everything.

Hell no! Darby and Remi answer at the same time.

You’re not telling Archie?

Fuck to the no, Darby says. He’d shit the same as Zeke. We made a vow that we were going to do this for Linus and get the fuck up out of here. No tattling to the fun police.

If this is your idea of fun, I’m not sure I’m a good fit for your little group here, I mutter as the guard waves us back and opens the cell door. The door retracts back into the wall, and I look around the hallway before following Remi and Darby.

So, this is jail? I mutter under my breath.

This isn’t jail. It’s prison, Remi corrects. Jail is a little more laid back.

Wow. You know a lot about jail, I say to Remi, and Darby bursts into laughter she tries to stifle with her hands.

This place is depressing, and I suddenly feel bad that I accidentally sent Bennett to jail for an hour a few months ago. I make a mental reminder to get on my knees and apologize to him tonight.

The floor is concrete but painted a depressing forest green color, and the walls look like they were once white but got discolored from too many smokers in the area. We pass empty grey cells with nothing but a striped mattress and steel toilet and sink combo. The idea of spending any amount of time in this drab place is enough to make me pay any parking tickets I ever incur.

Here you go. Visitors can only stay for twenty minutes. You’ll have protective plastic between you. Use the intercom system to talk to him.

Darby nods like she does this every other Tuesday and walks into the visiting room that looks exactly like you’d see in movies. Carrels are placed in the middle of the room, and a cell door with a guard is at the back of the room. Remi, Darby, and I shuffle over to one of the visitor carrels and drag chairs so that we can all sit at the same one. Remi ruffles her shirt around her growing stomach as she sits in the chair at a pace only a pregnant woman would use. The last few weeks have been hard on her body. Like she’s trying to get used to carrying around a bowling ball under her shirt on her small frame. She looks like she’s going to tip over most of the time.

A buzzing noise makes me jump and the cell door opens. A guard leads a man that looks like a weasel through the cell door, and Darby inhales deeply, cracking her knuckles like she can’t decide if she wants to run from the room or beat the man.

He’s dressed in a typical orange prison jumpsuit, and his head is shaved, a very different look than the haircut he had when he worked at Dallas Industries. Dark stubble dots the top of his head, and he squints when he sees Darby.

Well, what the fuck do I have here? he says, licking his lips and making a smooching gesture at Darby. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Remi grimace like she’s disgusted by the sight of him. I get a visit from that pussy I wished I’d tapped while I had the chance. Should have done it while I had you all taped to the chair. I ended up here anyway, he snarls and cups his crotch.

Darby doesn’t say anything, and I marvel that she’s keeping so calm. I’m not as lucky. Porter turns his eyes to me, and my lip quivers. I bite it to keep it still, but my eyes widen. What’s Corbin Dallas’s secretary doing here with this cunt? he asks, flicking his eyes to Darby.

Oh, we’re besties now, Darby replies. In fact, you can thank Rose for us paying you a visit. This was her idea.

I don’t want to talk to you bitches. The last time I was with you, some asshole hit me in the head with a shovel. Who the fuck are you? he asks Remi.

Deadpan, Remi cocks her head to the side. I’m the asshole that hit you in the head with a shovel.

His lip curls in disgust, and I’m worried he can get to Remi through the plastic. However, I think lunging for Remi would be a very bad idea. If Remi wasn’t my friend, I sure wouldn’t mess with her in a dark alley.

We’re here because we have a common enemy, Darby says.

Your boyfriend? Porter asks and laughs at his own joke.

Corbin Dallas.

That shuts him up, and he looks at me like he’s confused about why I’ve turned on Corbin. What do you want with me? he asks with gritted teeth.

You know a lot about him. In fact, you’re years ahead of us on revenge with him. We need to know what you know about him. Something that Rose or Corbin’s wife wouldn’t know.

He visits the golf club. The special part, Porter says, licking his lips.

He’s not there. I know people there, Remi says, not elaborating about her relationship with her former coworkers at the sex club.

Did Dallas have any other hiding places for the plastic strengthener? Someplace he could live long-term that has plumbing or heating? You worked in product development before he fired you. Were there any other testing sites or warehouses?

Why should I help you?

Maybe you shouldn’t help us. But Corbin Dallas is missing. He’s in hiding and has run off like a little bitch after he did some bad shit to our friends. The police won’t dedicate time or resources to find him, so we’re on our own. What can you tell us?

Porter chuckles and leans forward until his face is almost touching the plastic. Maybe he thinks he can intimidate Darby, but she doesn’t back away. She maintains eye contact with him while I hold my breath and watch the conversation.

See, that’s the key isn’t it? he says.

What’s the key?

The police. Let me guess. There’s a police officer that’s assigned to the case that actually wants to work and catch the bastard, but he can’t.

She. The person assigned to the case is a female.

Even more typical. The old boys club, the ones that get their dicks sucked at the secret part of the golf club, they don’t want their buddy caught. And those dicks in city government love to see a woman fail. They see her as someone that doesn’t fit the old boys club mold.

Are you saying Chief Dawes is on the take? That’s a pretty big accusation.

Nah. My impression of Dawes is that he’s a little bitch or willing to be someone’s little bitch. This goes bigger.

Blanc? Remi says under her breath.

What’s that? Porter asks as Darby and I turn to look at Remi.

Blanc and Dallas are friends. Are you saying Blanc is risking his career in an election year by helping Corbin hide?

Look who’s a smart little bitch, Porter says with a sinister smile, leering at Remi.

Watch your mouth, Darby warns, and Porter actually straightens his face. You’re saying Dawes isn’t running the show over there. Blanc is?

Porter only shrugs. I’m saying more than that, he says, backing up and almost looking respectable as he adjusts his shirt. He then adjusts his balls and ruins the image of him actually attempting a decent conversation.

Get to the point, Porter, Darby grunts. You implied Blanc is impeding the investigation.

I’m not implying. I’m saying. Also, I don’t think he’s just impeding the investigation, sweetheart.

Wait, do you think he’s actively hiding him?

What are you going to do about it if he is? Call the police? That’ll go over well with their buddy, especially when the boss’s boss gets in trouble. Do you think they’ll send SWAT to the mayor’s house?

We can tell the feds.

Good luck, baby, he coos at Darby. What are you going to do? Go to the mayor’s house with a hoard of police that has no intention of busting the chops of one of their golf buddies and demand that a guy that invited them to Christmas parties with top-shelf booze and good cocaine come out with his hands up? You’re dumber than I thought. Corbin Dallas is just as revered as the mayor. He made sure everyone had a stiff drink and a stiff dick in a whore.

You mentioned the mayor’s house. Would Corbin actually hide there? Remi asks, directing the question to me more than Porter.

I could see it. Max Blanc and Corbin are best friends. I didn’t want to believe it because I always think everyone acts as kind as me and with the public interest at heart. Naïve Rose strikes again.

Darby looks at me. Is it possible Rose?

Porter answers for me because my tongue is suddenly on the roof of my mouth. That mother fucker is probably sitting in Blanc’s dining room right now.

Chapter 1

Linus

The air is stifling in Albuquerque, even at night, and nostalgia for South Dakota weather punches me in the dick. Then again, I have a lot of nostalgia these days. Dreams of my sister haunt me every night. Her blood on my hands. The gurgling sounds from her chest as she dies in my sabotaged car. Night sweats plague me along with trained insomnia. I tried not to sleep for weeks because of the awful dreams, and I just got used to not sleeping. Now, I can’t get good sleep no matter how hard I try.

Getting out of bed, I cradle my head and run my hands through my hair. Even my hands smell like the whiskey from last night, and I gag at the taste in my mouth. It’s a combination of the whiskey and the taste of pussy belonging to the woman occupying the other side of the bed.

Leaning over, I shake her shoulder, hoping she’s still alive. Hey, party’s over. I need to work. You need to leave, sweetheart.

She grunts and rolls over to look at me with raccoon eyes and bed head. The void behind her eyes is apparent, and I almost feel sorry for her. She was worth the hundred bucks I paid for her, and I let her crash here because she acted like she didn’t want to go home. Who knows what she’s going home to, but that’s not my problem. I also couldn’t let her go home until I knew she wouldn’t have any consequences to me touching her, just in case I lost control when I came. That’s why I let all of them stay.

She blinks a few times and nods, accepting her fate. I get out of bed and stretch as she hunts for her panties and her high heels, gathering them to her chest before she walks out of the small room I rent from Justin. Hopefully, he isn’t up and pouring his coffee in the kitchen as she traipses through. Not that it would be the first time he’s seen a hooker leave my room.

I’ve been staying with my old science nemesis from school, Justin Boyd, for the past few months while he lets me use his biology lab space at the University of New Mexico. We didn’t always get along in school, sabotaging each other’s volcanoes and science experiments or forging notes in the other’s name to girls we didn’t have a chance with as twiggy kids. But he let me share a lab space with one of his grad students and even gave me his apartment’s office space that he uses for a guest room.

He helped me a few months ago when I emailed him to ask if he had a lab space down here that I could rent. Cash only. He didn’t ask questions, but I told him a version of the truth because he deserved that. He deserved to know that I found a substance that strengthens whatever it’s combined with, and someone kidnapped me, tortured me, and tried to kill me to get the secret.

They did kill my little sister. In the end, maybe that was what warmed Justin’s heart. He remembers Lee as the little girl three years younger than us at school that was always present at the geography bees, spelling bees, and science fairs. Part of me wonders if he had a crush on her when we were all in high school. Whatever the reason he’s helping me, I owe him. I owe him big.

I stumble around the room, still halfway hungover, and pull some shorts over my ass, not even messing with underwear. I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringe. I don’t cringe at the dark circles under my eyes or the stubble dotting my face. I cringe at my new haircut because I didn’t realize that I would look exactly like that douche Archie. Did I do this subconsciously? Something to tie me to Jensen City and especially to Darby?

Fuck, I miss Remi and Bennett so much it hurts. I’ve known Remi for a few years, and we’ve had a couple of nights of hot sex. However, I miss the little things about her more than the random sex. I miss her calling me over for tacos on Tuesday night if she has extra taco meat. I miss drinking a few beers and watching hockey with her or being able to send her funny memes.

I just plain miss Bennett. I’ve never had a better guy friend. I hope that he and Rose are still together because I absolutely adore her. She’s perfect for him, and I hope they’re happy. I’ve picked up the phone so many times and wanted to call Bennett, ultimately hanging up before all the numbers were entered.

Stumbling down the hall, I Justin chuckles from the kitchen. He must have seen my guest leave. Yo, Morris. Have fun last night? Justin calls down the hall before I even enter the room, inhaling the smell of coffee in the expensive pot Justin fawns over. He’s standing by it with a tiny coffee cup, sipping Americano, and smiling. His black frame glasses sit slightly askew, and his red hair needs a comb.

Is there regular coffee in that thing? I ask, ignoring his question.

Nope. We need some ground coffee. I used the last for the Americano. Pop to the store if you have a chance this morning. I have to get to class, he says, putting the cup down and grabbing his messenger bag off the back of a nearby stool.

Sure. I’ll go, I say. It’s my turn anyway. I swear one of the reasons Justin lets me stay is so that he has someone else to do the grocery run. The man hates it with a passion.

I grab a t-shirt from the laundry basket in the living room, sniffing it to make sure it’s clean. Hell, I’d probably wear it even if it isn’t at this point in my life. Hygiene hasn’t been number one on the list of priorities lately. Number one on that list has belonged to one focus.

Control. And I think I just about have it and am ready to venture out into the real world to be part of society again.

When I get to the store, I huff a little as I pull a shopping cart out of the line of carts and adjust my balls in the overly tight shorts. I head for the produce section and load pineapple, pre-cut salads, apples, and bananas into the cart before hitting the coffee aisle. The mundane time suck of schlepping through the cereal aisle unnerves me. Back home, I had my groceries delivered and a laundry service wash my clothes. Here, I do everything like I’m Justin Boyd’s personal housewife. The hilarity at that fact makes me smile while grabbing a box of bran flakes.

Ten minutes later, I take my receipt from the cashier, careful not to touch her, and adjust the bags in my hands for the three-block walk back to Justin’s bungalow. I pull my phone out to check the time, but my phone’s dead. I guess I’m walking back without the distraction of music.

The heat is already scorching, and it’s not yet ten in the morning. Personally, I don’t know how people live in this place. Thoughts of the cool South Dakota spring make my heart hurt. It makes me hurt so much that I hardly hear the woman shrieking from the alley as I walk past.

The sound that I would have missed entirely if my headphones were in make me pause by the brick wall just past the alley. I don’t immediately turn around, but I cock my head like I may have misheard the noise.

I didn’t. A sound like a squeak followed by a banging sound, like something hit the dumpsters hard, comes from the alley, and I exhale. Do I want to do this?

This may be a good real-world exercise in control. If this goes right, I’ll head home and face up to that asshole, Corbin Dallas. If it goes wrong, I’ll apologize, get the fuck out of here, and go back to the lab to try again. I set my grocery bags down on the hot pavement and take a deep breath.

Walking