Guilty Pleasures

by Stella Cameron

  “Smart-mouthed bastard.”

  Sam had no warning system for enemies like Xavier Ferrito. Polly took several deliberate steps to place herself between the two men.

  “Don’t you get it?” Sam asked. “You’re in the way.”

  “Nope”—Nasty walked around Polly, walked toward the foyer—“I don’t get that. But I did just hear your exit cue. Good night, pal. Go raise yourself some money somewhere else.”

  Sam turned an ugly mottled puce. “Where do you get off making suggestions like that?”

  “Like you’re chasing around after Polly because you need money? Can’t imagine. Just came to me, I guess. Everyone says I’m intuitive.”

  Sam frowned. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “What is he to you, baby?”

  “Her name’s Polly. We’re friends. Very good friends.”

  “How good?”

  “Good enough. Come on, Sammy, come clean. You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Who’s going to cut you up and feed you to yourself if you don’t pay?”

  Polly covered her mouth.

  “Don’t listen to him.” Sam’s color had fled, leaving him putty gray. “He only wants you for what he can get out of you.”

  Nasty laughed, a sound that should be unpleasant enough to send Sam running. “I want something from Polly,” Nasty said, tapping his chest again. “But I want to give her the same thing. That’s what makes me different from you. Let me open the door for you.”

  Spreading his arms, Sam appealed to Polly. “Tell him the way it is, baby. Tell him what we’ve been to each other. He doesn’t get it.”

  “Out,” Nasty said.

  Sam reached for her. “Tell him he can’t tell me what to do.”

  How could she ever have been impressed with him, so impressed she’d have done whatever he asked—except get rid of her baby?

  When she didn’t respond to him he turned to Nasty. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I am telling you. You can decide if you understand, or if you need some one-on-one help getting the message.”

  “I don’t have to take this from you.”

  “Get out and stay out. Or I’ll make sure you do.”

  Sam made a move toward Polly, then in the opposite direction. He looked sideways at Nasty. “Threats. You’re threatening me. For God’s sake, Pol. Can’t you see what he wants? Guys like him don’t spend time with women like you.”

  She swallowed. Her legs felt weak. This was Bobby’s father, the man he wanted in his life, wanted to look up to. Whatever she did, whatever happened, her boy would be disappointed— at least until he was mature enough to see Sam Dodge as he really was. And then what? Would Bobby then wonder if having a useless father meant he was also useless?

  “Did you hear what I said, Pol?”

  “She heard,” Nasty said. “She knows garbage when she hears it, you scum. She knows I want to spend time with her because she’s sweet, and sincere, and funny, and intelligent. And she’s also beautiful.”

  Sam combed his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I know all that. I was going to say it, but not with a goon like you listening in. Real men don’t spill that kind of stuff in front of an audience.”

  Nasty strode to pick up the linen jacket. He slammed it into Sam’s chest and let go. Sam grabbed it as it fell.

  “You’re lame,” he said. “You got a bum leg. I can take you.”

  “Want to try?”

  “Sam,” Polly said, “I think you should go.”

  “And leave you with him? Like hell. These pretty boys make their way taking advantage of women. Where d’you get the war wound, pretty boy? Banging some bimbo on the slopes? Get carried away and fall off a cliff?”

  Polly closed her eyes.

  “That’s it,” Nasty said, so softly she barely heard him. “You don’t talk that way in front of Polly. From here on you don’t talk any way in front of her.”

  “Truth hurts, does it?”

  “Sam, stop it!” Polly turned her back on both of them. “Don’t you smell danger even when it’s scorching your eyelashes?”

  “Out,” Nasty said. “This is your last chance.”

  Polly heard footfalls on the carpet, then on the tiled floor in the foyer.

  “What if I say I’m not going?”

  “You already tried that. Don’t forget your jacket. We toss trash.”

  More footfalls. Reluctant, but heading for the door. Polly sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  “Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this,” Sam said. “No one pushes Sam Dodge around and gets away with it. Watch out for this guy, Polly. He’s got you snowed, but he’s no good. Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be in touch.”

  Polly turned around in time to see Nasty open the door and watch Sam come to a stop on the threshold. “I’ll be in touch,” he repeated. “You’re getting upset. I can see that. You don’t have to worry. I don’t hit crippled ski bums.”

  “Great,” Nasty said, edging the door closed in Sam’s face. “I always try to be fair. An eye for an eye and so on. I took a bullet through the ankle. I was on duty at the time—Navy.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  “Nope. Just letting you know I’m like you—fair-minded. The guy who shot me, started running. It wasn’t easy, but I ran after him—or hopped and dragged what was left of my other leg.”

  “I’m crying my eyes out for you.”

  “Yeah, I see that. That guy cried, too. And he kept on running—while he bled to death. I’d lost my gun, but I always manage to keep a knife handy.”

  Eighteen

  Dusty didn’t look up when they came in. Seated at the kitchen table with half-glasses a hair from slipping off his nose, he sorted through the pieces of a dismantled toy car.

  “Where’s Bobby?” Nasty asked. Polly didn’t seem to hear or see anything. She hadn’t since they’d left her condo with two bags, one for her and one for Bobby. “Dust?”

  “It’s midnight,” Dusty said. “I know when kids should be in bed even if you don’t. He asked why he was sleeping here.”

  He should have anticipated that. “What did you tell him?”

  “That someone’s waiting to murder him at the condo.” He looked from Nasty to Polly, and when she didn’t speak, he said, “Yeah, well. That’s what I thought. She’s not with us, huh? Something happen?”

  “Later,” Nasty told him.

  Dusty nodded. He selected a tiny screwdriver and went to work on the engine of the radio-operated toy. “I told Bobby I was baby-sitter while you two went out. And I told him he was going away for a few days.”

  “Hell, Dust! Why didn’t you wait for me before saying anything? He’s only a kid. He might let something drop, and then we lose any benefit we hoped to gain.”

  “I told him he was going back to Venus at the Point.” The tip of the screwdriver leveled in Nasty’s direction. “I trained you. And don’t you forget it. I’m not senile yet.”

  “We can’t keep on taking advantage of you,” Polly said abruptly. She’d changed into jeans and a yellow T-shirt and pulled her hair back in a rubber band. “You’ve both been really great, but this is all too much trouble.”

  “I put you in the room across from Bobby’s,” Dusty said, attacking the miniature engine again. “Top of the stairs. All the way to the end of the hallway. Bobby’s on the right. He’s already flaked out. You’re on the left.”

  Polly glanced at Nasty, then at her feet. “The police would keep an eye open for us, wouldn’t they? If I went home to the condo and took Bobby with me?”

  “Sure, they would,” he told her.

  “But they probably couldn’t stop something from happening.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I’m not good at being a nuisance.”

  “Tell her she’s the kind of nuisance we eat up,” Dusty said. “Tell her we bore easy, and she’s saving us from doing something stupid to fill up our time.”

  Polly smiled a little. “Like what.�
��

  That smile made Nasty a happy man. “Like thinking.” He waited for her to look at him. “Thinking can be dangerous when you’ve got an active imagination.”

  “Yeah,” Dusty agreed. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff we can think up.”

  “You told Bobby he was going back to Mom?”

  “Just in case he talks to someone who might talk to someone else. Until we know all the players, we can’t afford to leave a trail of bread crumbs. That’s why we’re getting you out for a while. Waiting to see who looks for you should be real helpful. We want to be sure no one finds out where you are unless we want ’em to.”

  Nasty felt Polly’s anxiety. “Bobby doesn’t know about the calls, or the guy who attacked you. I think that’s best.”

  Absently, she touched the place on her head where the lamp had carved its initials. “It is best. But how long will it be before he finds out anyway? I feel helpless. This is the first time I haven’t been able to be sure he was safe.”

  “No, it’s not,” Dusty said. He took off his glasses and sent them spinning among the car parts. “He’s with us. You’re with us. You’re both safe. You should get some sleep, so we can get away early. I can open a bit late—but I do have to come back and open.”

  “As soon as we head east Bobby’s going to know we aren’t going to the Point,” Polly pointed out.

  Using his best sage-elder voice, Dusty said, “I want you to stop worrying. We gotta take two vehicles. Bobby’ll be with me. By the time we get to Past Peak he’ll be so wound up about riding the ski lifts in summer, and fishin’, he’ll only half listen to why we changed plans anyway.”

  Nasty studied Dusty with fresh respect. He had a special way with children and women. Never put anyone down because they were weaker—Dusty had told him that early on. Look out for ’em, but let ’em do as much as they can. What they can do will help in the end.

  “Quiet,” Dusty said curtly, snatching up the portable phone before it finished the first ring. “Miller, here,” he said, and listened. He met Nasty’s eyes and the message passed: trouble.

  “You sure?” Dusty said. “Maybe he just took a long walk.” He listened some more before saying, “Okay. Yeah, I got it. If I hear from her, I’ll give her the message. Try to relax in the meantime, huh.”

  By the time Dusty hung up, Polly was leaning on the edge of the table.

  Dusty grinned at her, and Nasty barely stopped himself from groaning aloud. That grin said what he didn’t want to hear— the trouble involved Polly.

  “Your friend, Belinda,” Dusty said. “Seems she and her friend had a spat, and he’s walked out.”

  Polly straightened. “Festus? Belinda said Festus walked out?”

  Dusty’s eyes shifted away. “Not exactly, I guess. But she did say she doesn’t know where he is. I told her he’ll probably show up. These things happen. You’d better get some shut-eye, or you’ll be wiped out in the morning. You’ve had a long day.” Crossing his arms, Nasty waited for the inevitable. It wasn’t long coming.

  “I hate it when people talk down to me,” Polly said.

  “She really hates it,” Nasty said.

  She glared at him. “I’m not a kid. I am in trouble, and that’s hard—it only gets harder if the people you need to trust—the only people you have to turn to, maybe—if they lie to you.”

  Nasty nodded. “Polly isn’t the type you have to shelter.”

  “Crumb. Will you let me do my own talking? Did Belinda call here because she was looking for me?”

  Dusty assumed his wounded Schnauzer expression. “You can’t blame an old man for doing his best to look after a couple of young’uns if he can.”

  Using the cover of patting his pockets in search of gum, Nasty hid a smile.

  “Last I heard,” Dusty continued, “that voodoo female was givin’ you a hard time. Now she thinks she’s got trouble, and she comes running to you.”

  “What exactly did she say?” Polly asked. “That Festus went for a walk and didn’t come back?”

  “More or less.”

  “I want to hear more,” Polly told him.

  Dusty raised a brow in Nasty’s direction.

  “Never mind asking Nasty what you should tell me.” Polly backed away from the table. “Belinda’s been good to me. The way she behaved the other day was out of character.”

  “She was a bitch,” Nasty said, and gritted his teeth when Polly winced. “I should have said she’s got a mean streak. Don’t forget what she suggested.”

  “I intend to forget it if I can. I’m going to Belinda’s.”

  “Stand by, Dust,” Nasty said, following Polly from the kitchen. He caught up with her as she let herself out of the house. “Hold up, sweetheart. I’ll drive you.”

  “I can walk.”

  He gripped her elbow. “If you don’t want to be talked down to, don’t make asinine suggestions.” He marched her to the Porsche, unlocked the doors, and closed her inside.

  The drive to Another Reality took only minutes. Before Nasty removed the key from the ignition, Polly was out of the car and ringing the residence bell. The door opened as if Belinda had been waiting on the other side, and Nasty had to hurry to stop himself from being shut outside.

  Belinda ignored Nasty, and said to Polly, “I knew you’d come. You’re too good to bear grudges. I wasn’t myself the last time you were here. We’ve had a lot of difficult times, Polly, dear. Festus and I have had such trouble lately. The business hasn’t been doing too well.”

  “I thought things had picked up since the TV slot,” Polly said walking ahead of the other woman and upstairs.

  Belinda turned back. “Thank you for bringing Polly here. I’ll take her home.”

  “That’s okay,” Nasty told her easily. “I don’t mind hanging around. Who knows, maybe I can even be useful. Another pair of eyes can be handy when you’re looking for someone.”

  Tonight Belinda wore her hair slicked back and wound in a knot atop her head. “This is a very personal matter. It’s hard to speak freely in front of a stranger.”

  Twice in one night he’d been asked to get lost—both times for the same supposed reason. “Think of me as a wall, ma’am,” he said. “No ears or eyes unless you say otherwise. I’ve had lots of practice.”

  Polly had also stopped. She sent him a glance that held the kind of intimacy that tightened his belly—and other parts. He wasn’t cooling off on this woman. Nope. What he felt for Polly Crow grew more intense with every hour.

  The three of them continued upstairs to the sparsely furnished sitting room. Sparse, but not cheap. Each piece had to have been chosen without concern for cost, or, in most cases, comfort. Dark wood abounded, and hard-looking animal-print upholstery.

  “When did Festus go out?” Polly asked. “He’s bound to come back when he’s cooled off, Belinda. Frankly, I can’t imagine him… Well, I’d have thought it was out of character for him.”

  Surprisingly svelte in black jeans and a black linen tunic, Belinda pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You were going to say you couldn’t imagine him having the energy to walk out on me.”

  “No! Not that.”

  Belinda closed her eyes and swayed. “Perhaps not that exactly. But something similar. He fools people with his quiet act—and his distance. I’m so upset, I don’t know what to do.”

  Nasty caught Polly’s eye. She raised her shoulders.

  “I should have talked to you about this a long time ago. I just kept hoping he’d take notice of me and stop.”

  “Stop?” Instantly Nasty was on alert. “Stop what?”

  Very deliberately, Belinda turned her back on him. “I’d like to explain something to you, Polly. I can’t if I have to worry about it being repeated elsewhere.”

  “Nasty isn’t the kind of man who gossips,” Polly said.

  “Not that it really matters anymore. Most of it was so long ago, I’m the only one who remembers. And Festus. How could he be so foolish. We made another chance here. Now
he’s thrown it all away.”

  “Sit down,” Polly suggested to Belinda. “You’re upset. Let me get you something. Some tea?”

  “I bloody hate tea!”

  Nasty grinned—despite Polly’s shocked expression. “How about something stronger then?” he suggested.

  Belinda’s response to that was to open a cupboard, whip out a bottle of brandy and three glasses, and pour hefty measures.

  “Good stuff,” Nasty said after his first swallow. “Doesn’t the act get tiring?”

  “Down there?” Belinda indicated the shop. “You can bloody say that again. I’m up to the bloody teeth with incense and crystals. It made a good enough cover for Festus. He could hide away in all that nonsense he’s always liked. But I bloody detest everything to do with it, and now I’m getting out. Just as soon as I’m sure I don’t have anything to worry about anymore.”

  “How about going a little slower?” Nasty suggested.

  Belinda sipped her brandy. “I thought you were going to be a wall. No ears or eyes.”

  “I never said I didn’t have a mouth.”

  That earned him a disdainful stare. “Festus is my husband. Did you know that, Polly?”

  “I was never sure.”

  “Well, he is. And he’s been good to me. Or he used to be good to me when I was young and didn’t know exactly what I wanted out of life. That was before he started having his troubles.”

  A faint, acrid scent pervaded the space. Nasty identified it as an incense. The stuff Belinda “bloody” hated…

  “We had to leave New York, you know.”

  Polly shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t know you were from New York.”

  “We had a successful business there. Wine importers. Then the other happened, and we had to get out.”

  Nasty chose a chair in a shadowed comer and sat down. He rested an ankle on the opposite knee and assumed his most useful gift—the ability to move nothing but his lungs. Sometimes he did it so well his presence was forgotten.

  “A girl disappeared,” Belinda said. She sniffed and turned her face away sharply. “They never found her.”

  Polly took the first sip of her brandy. Without makeup she appeared almost absurdly young. “Who was she? Someone who… Belinda, was this a girl who meant a great deal to you?”