Never Cry Uncle

by Mia Dymond

“We really need Winslow’s take on this.”

  “I’m on it.” Ramsey unlocked the car. “I’ve got a call in to Judge Moretti. Winslow will either make time for me or I’ll haul him downtown.”

  “You know who Moretti is, don’t you?”

  “I do now.” Ramsey flinched.

  Luke smirked. “You better watch your back, Ramsey.”

  ***

  An hour later, Ben shoved a fully executed warrant into his jacket pocket as he made his way down the hospital corridor, determined to corner Winslow. This was Winslow’s last chance to cooperate before being hauled to the station, and he had no idea how lucky he was to get this chance. Normally, a uniform would’ve served the warrant.

  As he stopped outside Winslow’s office and raised his hand to knock, Ben was surprised when the door flew open. The thin, pasty-faced man who stood there didn’t seem as shocked, just irritated.

  Ben unclipped his badge from his belt and cleared his throat. “Dr. Frank Winslow?”

  The other man glanced at the badge then frowned. “Yes, can I help you?”

  “Detective Ben Ramsey, Maplewood Police Department. I’d like a moment of your time.”

  “Actually, Detective, I’m on my way out. If you will call my secretary, she will arrange a convenient time for us to speak.”

  Ben reached for the paper tucked in his suit. “I’ve got a warrant that says now is convenient.”

  “A warrant?”

  “You’re wanted for questioning in the death of Dr. Jeffrey Smallwood.”

  Winslow’s eyes widened and he glanced up and down the sterile hallway. “Come in, Detective.”

  Ben stepped inside and nodded slightly at Winslow’s secretary before he followed the doctor into a corner office. Winslow motioned for him to take a chair in front of a cluttered mahogany desk before he settled into a padded executive chair.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Dr. Smallwood.”

  Winslow nodded. “Dr. Smallwood was a talented surgeon.”

  “Would you prefer to meet at the station with your attorney?”

  “I don’t believe that’s necessary, Detective Ramsey. In fact, I’m not sure I can help you.”

  “Did you and Dr. Smallwood work together?”

  “Only occasionally. I’m the Chief of Surgery here at the hospital and responsible for overseeing surgeries. Dr. Smallwood performed his larger procedures here and sometimes asked me to assist.”

  “What would you classify as a large procedure?”

  “In Smallwood’s case, mostly breast augmentations.”

  “What do you know about his private practice?”

  “Not much other than he appeared to be quite successful.”

  “How successful?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know Smallwood’s employees?”

  “Yes, Lucy and Allison are lovely girls. Exemplary employees.”

  “Did they seem to get along with him?”

  “As far as I know, Detective.” Ben caught a faint twinkle in the depths of Winslow’s eyes. “You don’t think one of them had anything to do with this, do you?”

  “We have no reason to suspect either of them. We’re still in the process of investigation.”

  “Come to think of it, I seem to recall Allison having words with Dr. Smallwood last week.”

  Ben bit his lip. Not likely, Winslow. “I’ll make a note of that. Where were you last Monday evening, Dr. Winslow?”

  “I attended a medical conference in Philadelphia. My secretary can provide the details.”

  “One more thing. What is your approximate weight?”

  Winslow frowned. “How is that relevant?”

  “Dr. Smallwood was a large man. His murderer’s size is important.”

  Winslow’s face visibly relaxed. “At 150 pounds, I am considerably smaller.”

  Ben stood and extended a hand. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Winslow.”

  As the other man returned a cold handshake, a flash of blue caught Ben’s attention.

  “You’re most welcome, Detective. Please let me know if I may be of further assistance.”

  After he received information about the medical conference from the doctor’s secretary, Ben left Winslow’s office, dialing his cell phone.

  “Owens,” he said gruffly, “Winslow has a blue peacock stamped on the back of his hand.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A red blaze bled into his vision as Luke approached The Blue Peacock and found the line outside to be at least two hundred people thick. Maplewood’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club, the place never lacked clientele. In fact, according to his investigation, there was a two-page waiting list for membership. Because the club only allowed a select number of non-members inside, the guests who waited in the obnoxiously long line knew the chances of admittance were slim to none, but they waited anyway, in the off-chance management would pass them through.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Winslow push through the crowd, speak to the bouncer in the doorway and then enter without hesitation. Damn. He needed inside before Winslow made his connection and pulled a disappearing act. Luke shook his head. How the hell would he get inside? Somehow he didn’t think the bouncer would pass him through with a flash of his credentials. Wait a minute. Maybe there was a way. He chuckled at his own creativity as he grabbed his cell phone and dialed.

  “Allison,” he said smoothly, “are you busy?”

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “I thought you might be interested in hanging out with a lonely PI this evening.”

  “You want to hang out with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing. I just thought you’d like to have a drink.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Dancing?”

  “Maybe. Where are you?”

  He swallowed tightly. “The Blue Peacock.”

  Her momentary silence told him he’d been busted and he visualized her taunting smile.

  “You can’t get in, can you?”

  He grinned. “No, Winslow’s inside. Can you help me out?”

  “What makes you think I can get you inside?”

  He snickered at her expected suspicion. Ramsey thought this would be so easy. “I’m more likely to get in with a date.”

  Her soft, silky laugh crossed the line and tickled his ear. “What’s in it for me?”

  He paused. Was that an invitation? “What do you want there to be?”

  “What are you offering?”

  His body stirred in interest as he remembered the touch of her lips to his. Lips that tasted of overwhelming desire and promised ecstasy. Although their kiss had been short and sweet, it had left him restless and unusually needy. “Whatever you want.”

  “I’m almost there.”

  Curiosity choked his next proposition. “Where are you?”

  “Look over your left shoulder.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw her turn the corner and walk toward him. Without a word, he disconnected and shook his head. Unfreakinbelievable. She had him under surveillance. A flicker of apprehension nudged him. Or someone was doing it for her.

  “Hi,” she said sweetly as she stopped beside him.

  “You knew I was here.”

  She shrugged in response before she slid her hand inside his and braided their fingers.

  He glanced from their hands into her twinkling eyes. “Now what?”

  She led him to the door. “Now, Vinny lets us inside.”

  Vinny. Probably another cousin or uncle.

  As they approached the silent, somber terminator at the door, Allison flipped her hair over her shoulder and greeted him. Luke watched in awe as he actually cracked a smile and pulled her into a tight hug. Thirty seconds later, they stood near the bar, watching scantily clad women entertain tables of men.

  “You do know this is a gentlemen’s club, don�
��t you?” he asked her.

  She turned and gave him one of her trademark oh-really looks. “That’s what you think.”

  He eyed her carefully and attempted to read between the lines. “It’s not?”

  “Oh, it is a gentlemen’s club.”

  “But?”

  “Look around, there aren’t just gentlemen here.”

  He scanned the room again, determined to crack her secret code. Sure enough, there were women seated with the men and even alone who seemed to be entertained as well.

  “What could a woman possibly get out of this?” he wondered aloud.

  She pulled him into the dimly-lit hallway next to the stage and braced one hip against the wall. “Oh, come on, Luke, you’re not that innocent are you?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “You and I both know that if Winslow frequents this place, it’s more than a gentlemen’s club. Getting in here takes an act of Congress.”

  He snickered softly. He knew exactly where they were and what went on, but the fact that she knew threw him for a loop. “Yet, you passed the muscle outside with a giggle and a hug.”

  “I know a lot of people.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  He leaned against the wall and glanced toward the bar. Winslow seemed to be occupied watching a fiery redhead taunt him with her g-string and star-shaped pasties.

  “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”

  Her outrageous question directed his attention back to her. He gave a lazy smile, gently touched her hair, and lied through his teeth. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Believe me, Allison, scared does not begin to describe how I feel around you.”

  She arched one fine eyebrow. “Then why do you avoid me?”

  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. Why did he avoid her? Because they’d both be naked and sweaty if he didn’t. “I don’t avoid you.”

  She took a step closer to narrow the distance between them. “Oh, but you do.”

  The sweet vanilla scent of her perfume assaulted him, stoked his raging libido, and rendered him speechless.

  “I think you’re afraid to be alone with me,” she taunted.

  He stood morbidly still as she draped her hands around his neck and leaned against him. His cock cursed behind his zipper. What the hell was he waiting for? The light had been green for several seconds now. Even through her thin sweater, he felt her nipples peaked with arousal, beg for his touch.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Prove it.”

  Kicking caution in the teeth, he placed his hands on her slender waist and thrust her hips against his aching erection. “Proof enough?”

  She gave him a bold stare. “What are we going to do to help you overcome your fear?”

  He swallowed the softball in his throat and wrestled the savage beast inside of him. The one that insisted he throw her against the wall and brand her as his own. He tried common sense one more time. “We’re on a stakeout.”

  Obviously not dissuaded by his stall tactic, she giggled. “Yeah, but what foreplay this could be.”

  He watched helplessly as she wrapped her lips around that word. Foreplay. Damn, damn, damn, just... damn. With a desperate groan, he pressed her against the wall while his lips traveled the length of her neck to nibble the tender skin there.

  “Like this?” he whispered against the top of her shoulder.

  She sighed and molded her body to his. “Exactly like that.”

  She moaned into his hair as he slid her sweater over her stomach and slipped one hand beneath to palm her breast.

  “Luke!” she gasped.

  His ego saluted her response. “I know, Baby,” he whispered.

  He raised his head as she wiggled free from his touch and pushed her palms against his chest to move him back. “No! Winslow’s gone!”

  He shook the lust from his brain as reality slapped him across the face. He took a deep breath and smoothed her sweater back down over her breasts. “Which way did he go?”

  “Upstairs.”

  He laced their fingers and pulled her through the club with his eager soldier still standing at attention. Stairs. Hell. He casually adjusted himself and hoped he wouldn’t be too obvious as he climbed.

  Allison snickered as she passed Luke on the stairs. “I’ll walk in front of you. No one will notice your limp.” Except me. She wet her lips and silently hoped he asked for her help.

  He answered with a grunt and climbed the stairs. Once at the top, he turned to face her and she snuck another peek at his groin. Much to her delight, things hadn’t improved any.

  “Uh, Allison,” he said quietly, “we don’t have a reservation for one of these rooms.”

  She casually redirected her eyes from his groin. This was not a problem. One quick phone call and they could occupy any room on the floor.

  Before she could answer, a grin captured the corner of his mouth, one that stripped her clothes from her body. “No,” he said. And then her stomach muscles double-clutched at his next declaration. “Not here.”

  She let her gaze meander along the length of his body before she answered. “What makes you so sure I’m that easy?”

  She felt a slight tremor in his fingers as he brushed his knuckles down the side of her face. “You are definitely not easy, Allison.”

  Strangely flattered, she felt the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident. Alpha male at its finest. Too bad for him that alpha female could knock alpha male on his mind-bogglingly magnificent ass.

  “So, we wait?”

  He nodded his agreement.

  “Here?”

  He turned to survey the area. “There’s not another way down is there?”

  She shook her head. “No, he’ll have to go back the way he came.”

  He grasped her elbow and guided her back down the stairs. “We’ll wait in the bar.”

  “I told you, I don’t drink.”

  He shot her another irresistibly devastating grin. “We’ll buy a table dance.”

  Secretly aroused by his playfulness, she bit back a sarcastic retort. If and when they wrinkled the sheets, as he had so eloquently put it earlier, she wanted to be absolutely sure it was she who aroused him.

  “I’m leaving.”

  A sudden look of concern crossed his face as he pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit. “I’m teasing. We’ll talk while we wait.”

  Accepting his remark as genuine, she shrugged in mock resignation. “About the case?”

  “And other things.”

  “What other things?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched as he sat opposite her. “Are you always so suspicious?”

  “It’s in my genes.”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  Nice try, Secret Agent Man. “Not much to tell. My parents are both gone and I’m an only child. You know about my uncle.” Scarletti anyway. Little did he know there were scads of honorary uncles. Or did he?

  “What about Lucy?”

  She felt her guard begin to slip. “Lucy is my sister in spirit.”

  “What will you do now that Smallwood’s dead?”

  Tilting her head to one side, she purposely baited him. “I thought you would hire me.”

  “No doubt you could help my business,” he admitted, “but doesn’t your uncle have a business for you to run?”

  Amused, she stifled a giggle. Uncle Antonio had left her far more than a job. Over half the businesses in town belonged to her family. “No. Besides, I prefer to do things on my own.” Closing the discussion, she squared her shoulders and glanced around the bar. “Why are we still here? He obviously doesn’t intend to discuss business tonight.”

  “With his record, he could be.”

  “Want me to find a scaffold?”

  He grinned. “No.”

  “So, what now?”

  Her heart pounded as she waited for his answer. Her body heated as his eyes turned dusky with his response. “I guess we call it
a night.”

  “How about a cup of coffee?” she suggested.

  “Sure. My place or yours?”

  She pinned him with her eyes. “Yours.”

  With a grin halfway between cocky and relieved, he took her hand and pulled her out of the club and into his truck. She smiled secretly to herself as he steered out of the parking lot and attempted to sneak a quick, cautionary glance into his rearview mirror.

  ***

  Scar raised his snout at the scent of a visitor to the cozy cafe Pauly called his culinary masterpiece. The small, white sign in the corner of the front window had been flipped to closed an hour ago. A deep, rich baritone began to sing to Bizet’s Toreador Song in the quiet atmosphere.

  The brass doorknob squeaked his presence as the figure stepped inside and closed the door. Scar stood and issued a low, deep growl.

  “Hush, my pet.” Scar relaxed the hair on his back as Carmine appeared before him.

  As Carmine followed Scar to a secluded table in the back corner, he was silenced with one finger before the Don sang the last bold note of the aria. He was motioned to sit and with the snap of a finger, a steaming plate of ravioli was placed before him. Scar lay at the side of the table.

  “Thank you, Don,” Carmine said respectfully.

  The Don nodded. “She visited him, yes?”

  “Yes. She is in good hands.”

  “He is in for a big surprise, no?”

  “It has already begun. She refused to let him work alone.”

  The Don smiled and raised an eyebrow. “He will tame her and soon there will be plenty to keep her occupied.”

  Scar chuckled softly. Even though the Don believed in the Old Country idea of arranged marriage, he had adapted New Country values of allowing her to choose. How ironic that she chose the man he arranged.

  “He is a good man,” Carmine agreed.

  “And spirited, as she.” The music began to play once again. “I must be kept informed.”

  Carmine nodded as the Don began to sing. “Of course, brother.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Once parked neatly in his garage, tension leaked from Luke’s body when the heavy metal door lowered to block any outside intrusion. “Home sweet home.”