by Mary Stone
Then again, a few hours earlier, she had been in an armed standoff with a dirty cop. To say she’d had a long day was an understatement.
As her gaze fell on him, he thought her face brightened, but the look was fleeting.
A leaden weight sank in his stomach. He’d been at Amelia’s side minutes after her confrontation with Alton Dalessio, and even then, her expression hadn’t been this haunted.
Something was wrong.
He readjusted the laptop under his arm and offered her as much of a smile as he could manage. “Hey, Storm. How’s it going?”
Even the droop to her shoulders looked exhausting. “It’s okay, I guess. As well as it can be after a day like today.”
Zane moved to lean against the handrail at her side. “True. Good job on that, by the way. Not just on finding the guy, but on bringing him in without anyone getting killed.”
She rubbed her temple. “Yeah, it was a close call with Floyd Yoell, though. I don’t know what in the hell Allworth was aiming at when he fired that shot, but I’m glad he didn’t hit it. The last message I got said that Yoell should be okay. He got to the hospital before anything went really wrong.”
“That’s good news.” Zane paused as the elevator doors shut. When he returned his attention to Amelia, he couldn’t ignore the haunted look in her eyes. He had to know what was going on with her. “Are you okay? You look like you just got back from hell.”
A shadow of anxiety moved in to darken her already strained expression. Rather than answer, she dropped her head and stared down to the floor, letting silence envelop them.
In those agonizing moments of quiet, a litany of what-ifs whipped through Zane’s mind.
Had there been a development with her younger sister? He knew Lainey Storm had battled with an addiction to heroin and other opiates for the past seven or eight years. Had the day finally come? Had Lainey overdosed?
Or had Amelia’s father fallen back on his old ways?
He was sure she was about to blurt out whatever was weighing so heavily on her mind, but when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, all she offered him was a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just been a long…week. I’m almost glad I’ll be spending the whole day doing paperwork tomorrow.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Though his first inclination was to tell her she was full of shit and that she could tell him anything without fear of him judging her, Amelia already knew that. She’d confided in him once before, and rather than force her to reveal her troubles now, he opted to wait until she was comfortable enough to let him in. When she was ready, he’d be there for her. “Okay. If that changes, or if you need anything, you’ve got my number. You know where to find me, right?”
Her knuckles had turned white where she gripped the handbag on her shoulder. “You’re the best.” Her voice cracked, but the smile she’d plastered on remained firmly in place as she waved goodbye.
Every instinct told him he should try to dig a little deeper. Amelia was as tough as they came, but he’d seen the soft and sensitive underbelly she protected. She was his friend. Maybe more, and for that reason alone, he wanted to help her. But despite his good intentions, he had to respect her wishes. If she didn’t want to discuss her woes in an elevator in the middle of the FBI field office, he couldn’t find it within himself to fault her. In fact, if she didn’t want to broach the subject at all, he’d be a hypocrite to push the topic.
If Amelia had asked him what was on his mind right then, he’d have probably replied with a fake smile and a nod too.
There was nothing Amelia could do to keep Senator Young from digging up the skeletons in Zane’s closet, and he saw no reason to heap unnecessary stress onto her shoulders.
He ignored the nagging voice that told him to press her for an answer. The voice that told him she was in trouble.
All the while, he suspected deep down that he would come to regret the decision.
27
Flattening her palms against the laminate counter of her bathroom’s vanity, Amelia met the tired gaze of her reflection.
Zane was right. She looked like she’d just gotten back from hell.
With a groan, she leaned closer to the mirror and used a thumb to wipe away the smudged liner beneath her lower eyelids. Other than the basics, she wasn’t willing to put forth much effort into her appearance. Not tonight.
If she’d been preparing to visit a man in whom she was actually interested, she would have double-checked her makeup and spritzed herself with a little body spray. And if she thought there was a chance she and that man—a man she liked, with whom she shared a genuine emotional connection—would wind up in a more intimate setting, she’d have even dug through her dresser for a lacy bra and matching underwear. She would have absolutely shaved her legs.
But the churning mess of her stomach was a far cry from pre-date butterflies. Where there should have been the titillating flutter of a dozen little wings, there was nothing but a stone. A stone that grew heavier as each passing minute brought her closer to eight o’clock.
Twice on the drive home from the FBI office, she’d almost pulled over to throw up on the side of the road. Though she’d managed to chase away the nausea both times, she could only hope to be so lucky for the rest of the night.
A squeaky meow drew her attention back to the bathroom. Glancing down to the long-haired calico rubbing against her shins, Amelia knelt to scratch behind one orange and black ear.
Hup responded with another meow, followed by the faint vibration of a purr.
Amelia hadn’t adopted Hup from a shelter, nor had she found the six-year-old calico as a stray. Hup had been a key piece of information for Amelia and Zane to find the trail they needed to solve the cold kidnapping case of a girl named Leila Jackson.
Leila had been snatched from her hometown of Janesville, Wisconsin when she was only twelve. The poor girl was on her way home from a friend’s house when a frantic woman had pulled up beside her to beg for help with her unresponsive toddler.
Only there was no toddler. The woman was part of a ring of sex traffickers, and Leila’s desire to help a panicked mother had landed her in the middle of a hell that Amelia couldn’t imagine. For four years, from the time she was twelve until she turned sixteen, Leila was held at a location that remained a mystery.
There, Leila’s captors charged perverts of all shapes and sizes to have sex with her or one of the other children. When Leila’s body matured, when she could no longer pass for a child, she’d been sold to Emilio Leóne’s street prostitution ring.
Even after Leila’s in-depth testimony, the Bureau still didn’t know who was behind the initial kidnapping. They suspected the Russians, but no one could be sure.
At the mere age of sixteen, Leila Jackson had suffered more than most adults could fathom, let alone endure.
Here Amelia was, sick to her stomach because she might have to sleep with one man in order to keep herself out of prison—in order to keep her career, her friends, her family.
Would it be so bad, really?
All she had to do was hold her nose, close her eyes, and let Joseph do whatever in the hell he was going to do. Once, maybe two or three times, and she’d be in the clear. Joseph was quite the ladies’ man, so Amelia was sure it was only a matter of time before he moved on to a new flavor of the week.
Joseph was a good-looking guy. He was close to Amelia’s age, and unlike Leila’s situation, she could go home after the deed was done. Leila hadn’t been granted any of those luxuries.
Besides, plenty of women had sex with men they didn’t like on a daily basis just so they could put a roof over their heads or food in their bellies. Like the witness who’d helped them find Leila, some had to work the streets to pay for their mother’s cancer treatment.
Amelia doubted Angel Hernandez had looked forward to the nights she strode out to the street corner in West Garfield Park.
There were so many women faced wit
h situations far worse than Amelia’s.
Letting out a groan, she slumped down to sit on the cool tile.
Hup meowed as if to say, stay home and pet me instead, as she rubbed her furry face against Amelia’s foot.
Cats definitely had better lives than humans. No doubt about that. Maybe she could come back as a cat in her next life. Amelia rolled her eyes at the thought as Hup continued to fluff all over her.
“You’re right, Hup. I’m making this into a bigger deal than it is.”
If she wanted the chance to help any other girls like Leila, she needed her damn badge, and she needed her freedom.
An image of Zane’s slate-colored eyes that always seemed to pick up a hint of the surrounding colors came to mind. She pictured his easy smile as bile threatened to crawl up the back of her throat.
She should have told him in the elevator, but there was nothing he could do to help. Despite the nagging sense of guilt that gnawed at the edges of her mind like a slow-burning acid, she knew he’d understand. No matter what she did tonight, Zane wouldn’t judge her.
With a sharp breath, Amelia shook off the contemplation. The more she ruminated, the worse off she would be.
All Joseph wanted was sex. He didn’t want her eternal soul, her firstborn child, or even a relationship. All he wanted was to get off, and for a reason Amelia would never understand, he’d decided she was the one for the job.
Did she have a choice?
Dammit. She hated herself. No wonder the majority of assault and rape victims didn’t press charges. She was a fucking FBI agent, and look at her, thinking of sleeping with a man she loathed because of the power he held over her.
But…your job…jail. Your entire future.
That was the voice that kept her from opening her mouth. She picked the cat up and nuzzled her face in the calico’s soft fur. “What would you do in my position?”
Hup licked the very tip of Amelia’s nose. While it wasn’t an answer, Amelia gave the cat a sad smile. “You’ll love me know matter what, right?”
Hup went from purring furball to hissing maniac in an instant.
“Ouch!” Amelia rubbed the part of her arm the needlelike claws had dug into before the cat jumped snarled away. “So, are you telling me you won’t love me if I sleep with that bad man?”
Feet firmly on the floor, Hup turned into a purring softie again.
Scratching Hup’s head with one hand, Amelia tucked her feet beneath herself and rose to stand. “Okay, Hup. I have to go for a little while. There’s food in your bowl, all right? I know you think you need more, but it’s plenty. You’ll be fine for a couple hours. I’ll give you some treats when I get home.”
The calico blinked up at Amelia and yawned.
“Stop it. You know that’s contagious, right?” Amelia stifled a yawn as she stepped out of the bathroom.
Then again, maybe the fatigue was a blessing in disguise. If Joseph was as selfish in bed as he was at every other aspect of his life, maybe she’d be able to catch a nap.
She snorted at herself. “Yeah, right.”
Glancing over the still shadows of the apartment one last time, Amelia scooped her car keys from the granite breakfast bar. She stooped to rub Hup’s chin, grabbed her handbag—which included her service weapon—and made her way out into the night.
For the trip to Joseph’s, she focused her thoughts on the stupid jokes that flitted through her head. Jokes about how Joseph was probably a lousy lay, how he was probably one of those men who didn’t know the first thing about the female anatomy. If she hadn’t, she was sure she’d have pulled over at least once to vomit.
By the time she turned into a parking garage across the street from Joseph’s apartment building, Amelia’s hands were clammy, and her heart had nearly punched a hole through her chest. Her mouth felt like it had been crammed with sawdust, even after she took a long swig from her water bottle.
Glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she breathed in and counted to six. She could never remember the correct length of time she was supposed to inhale to ground herself, but today, six would have to do the trick.
After a few more steadying breaths, she shoved open the driver’s side door and stepped into the harsh white light of the garage. She forced her feet to move, one in front of the other until she reached a stairwell at the end of the row of cars.
The scent of fried food and garlic from a nearby Chinese restaurant greeted her as she emerged on the street corner. Normally, the smell would have made her stomach rumble, but tonight, the thought of eating made her feel sick.
As the light on the other side of the crosswalk lit up, she hurried to the sprawling brick building. She’d picked Joseph up for work once when his car was in the shop, but she hadn’t gotten farther than the curb.
Beneath an awning that spanned the side of the ground floor, string lights cast a warm glow on the tables and chairs of a depressed lounge. A couple groups of tenants had gathered, and a woman’s laughter followed Amelia through a glass set of double doors.
Part of her wanted to whirl around and ask the group what was so damn funny, but more than anything, she wished she was part of their gathering. She wished she was here to visit a normal friend, not a man who was blackmailing her for sex.
Maybe she could tell the women what had happened, and they’d be willing to hide her until Joseph forgot she existed.
No. She was a big girl who made her own choices…mostly.
Biting her tongue to will away tears, Amelia went pokerfaced as she gave Joseph’s apartment number to the older man seated behind a massive wooden desk. He pointed her to a hallway that ended in an elevator.
These days, all her smiles were fake, but she politely thanked the gentleman and started her walk of shame.
No one had the faintest clue why she’d come here. They didn’t know the war she’d waged in her head or the piece of herself she was about to lose.
She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be here. With each step, she had to fight against every nerve and synapse in her brain screaming at her to turn around and go home. She shouldn’t have come. She should be at home, wondering why Hup wouldn’t eat food unless it was in the center of her bowl.
As she came face-to-face with the door to apartment 308, she fought against another wave of anxiety and knocked.
Amelia forced herself to focus on the part of her that expected Joseph to answer the door in a robe reminiscent of Hugh Hefner, with red-toned lights and a lava lamp as the only source of illumination. Throw in some shag carpet, satin sheets, and slow jazz music, and they’d have the makings of a romantic scene in the middle of a cheesy seventies action flick.
When the door swung inward, Amelia was almost surprised to see the normal, soft-white glow of an overhead light in a room beyond the foyer. Rather than a burgundy robe and slippers, Joseph was still wearing the white dress shirt, black slacks, and black socks he’d been wearing back at the office. His dark blond hair was windblown, but otherwise, his appearance was…normal.
Because this was a normal night for him.
Coercing a friend and coworker to screw him, subtly threatening to ruin her life and her career if she didn’t, was Joseph Larson’s normal.
Straightening the front of her black button-down, Amelia attempted to hold her fake smile as she met Joseph’s eyes. She wouldn’t show him how much he’d gotten to her. He might have the upper hand now, but he wasn’t going to break her.
Tonight…if she decided to go through with it…was a transaction, and that’s how she would treat it.
“Hey.” He gestured to the wide hall that led out of the foyer. “Come on in. How was the drive?”
Filled with loathing, Amelia stepped over the threshold. “It was fine.” She blinked to let her eyes adjust to the lower light.
Joseph turned the deadbolt into place and nodded. “It happens. I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up, honestly.”
She gritted her teeth, biting back
the snarky comment she wanted to make. Like I had a fucking choice.
As he walked past her, his hand brushed along her lower back. “Are you thirsty? I’ve got some coffee, soda, a few beers. Probably even a little liquor if I dig far enough back in the cabinet.”
Biting down on her tongue, Amelia ignored the way his touch made her skin crawl. She kicked off her shoes and followed him to the kitchen. “I’m all right. Thanks.” Truth be told, she didn’t trust him not to drug anything he served her.
He raised a brow as his pale eyes fell on her. “Are you sure? You look…tense.”
The fact that he could be so keen and so dense at the same time was just short of unbelievable. Shaking her head, she slid the tote off her shoulder and gingerly placed it on one of three chairs at a granite breakfast bar.
She glanced at the boxes of Chinese takeout on the counter. “Just hungry. Are you ready to talk?”
He chuckled. “Talk?” His eyes moved down her body. “Yeah…I’m ready to…talk.”
She forced her eyes not to narrow, forced her hands to stay by her side. “This is new territory for me.”
Flashing her a curious glance, he took a couple steps closer and dropped a hand down to brush along her forearm. “The working together part?”
She willed herself not to back away as he circled an arm around her waist. “Yeah…and the being blackmailed to sleep with a coworker part.”
It didn’t even faze him. He slid his other hand up to clasp her shoulder, pulled her to the warmth of his body, and tilted his head until his breath was warm on her ear. “Don’t think about that right now. We can talk about that part later, if you want. Come on, you can touch me too.”
Great. He wanted her to participate.
She briefly considered dropping her hand and wrapping it around his balls, not stopping until she’d squeezed them to death. That was touching, right?
“I’m hungry, and I—”
“I’m hungry too.”
Before she could say another word, his lips were on hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.
She gagged.