by Nancy Gideon
Manny smiled. “I’ll make arrangements.”
Sixteen
WAS THERE ANY more vulnerable position for a woman than flat on her back under a paper sheet with her heels in the air?
Cee Cee closed her eyes and tried to relax, focusing on why she was here rather than what was going on beneath the sheet.
“Those bruises on your face look like fingerprints. Get a little rough with you, did he?”
“No, he . . . not really.”
“An unfortunate occupational hazard. You deal with it or find another line of work.”
Judith Farraday’s tone was as direct as if she were discussing blisters on the feet of an athlete. No judgmental comments, just straight truth.
Cee Cee liked that about her.
She also liked that the doctor donated her time to work for next to nothing in the worst section of the city, seeing to its invisible population.
As a well-respected private practice physician with a wealthy clientele, Judith Farraday had signed on to do a humanitarian tour in Central America that left her party slaughtered. One of the dead was her husband, another her sister. Instead of rebuilding her practice after returning to the States, she became a trauma doctor in Chicago, trading tennis elbow for gunshot wounds. After that, she followed a wandering path across the country wherever the need was the greatest, establishing clinics like this one before leaving them in good hands to move on. There was no sign of her numerous awards on the bare walls of her office, just a photo of three smiling people against a jungle backdrop.
“Any unusual bleeding? Cramping? Abdominal pain? Nausea?”
“No. I’m good.” She stared up at the acoustic ceiling tiles and tried to think of it as a casual conversation over coffee.
“Everything looks healthy. Monthly business on schedule?”
“I haven’t had one of those for twelve years.”
A pause, then rustling under the sheet and more invasive sightseeing. “Why not? Everything seems in good working order on this end.”
Cee Cee gave a faint, bitter laugh. “Nothing’s in any kind of working order. The result of one of those occupational hazards.”
“Hmmm. I don’t have the best equipment here and I’m not a specialist. Maybe you should see one, because I’m not detecting any gynecological problems. No scarring, no lesions, no abnormalities. Everything in the proper place.” She wheeled her stool back and snapped off her gloves. “Go ahead and sit up. I should have the results of the STD tests in a couple of days. Standard precautions. You on any particular type of birth control?” she asked, reaching for her prescription pad.
Clutching the rough paper about her, Cee Cee slowly absorbed what she was being told.
Everything was fine. Normal.
“I’m not on any birth control.”
“Are you stupid? You don’t look stupid.”
“I—I’ve never needed it. I can’t get pregnant.”
“When was the last time you saw an ob-gyn?”
“Twelve years ago, when I was told there was too much internal damage for me to ever conceive.”
The doctor regarded her unblinkingly. “Get another opinion. And get on birth control in the meantime. I’m not seeing anything but a healthy reproductive system in its prime years. Maybe the initial diagnosis was wrong. Maybe your treating physician was a negligent asshole.” She wrote down a name. “Here’s a referral. A good man. He’ll put you up on the rack and check under the hood.”
The paper shivered in her hand. What if it was true?
Don’t think about it now. Concentrate on the job.
“I heard Kikki Valentine saw you regularly.”
“She wasn’t a stupid girl,” Dr. Judy told her. “Do you know Kikki?”
“I know her dad. A cop. Got me out of a nasty situation once and I told him I’d do him a favor if he needed one. He’s looking for Kikki.”
“I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks. She was on some antibiotics and asked me if she could pick them up on a Sunday morning. I came in special for her, but she never showed. I was running a little late and figured she didn’t want to hang around. Never heard from her after that. Kids come and go on a whim. Exciting new guy, bad old guy, trouble with the law, trouble with family, restless. You name it. She was a nice girl. Hope she’s okay.”
“Me, too. Some of the girls at the club are kinda nervous, you know, with what’s been happening.”
The doctor looked up, perplexed. She was a strong-featured woman with good bone structure, serious dark eyes, and close-cropped auburn hair. She wore a baggy tee shirt over chinos. Quite a change from upscale Chicago. “What’s happened?”
“You know, two of the girls turning up dead. That ‘Tides That Bind’ killer.”
“Is that what they’re calling it? I don’t have a lot of time for the news. Or for gossip. I keep telling you girls to take extra precautions. To stick together, to watch out for each other. You’re the only family each other has. You just don’t want to believe it’s a bad, bad world out there.”
“Were those girls who died your patients, too?”
“I don’t know. I never heard that their names were released. I look after a lot of them but most don’t use their real names anyway, and I don’t ask. That way, they’re not scared away from getting the care they need. Call me for the test results, and make an appointment with that specialist. And for God’s sake, be smart.”
Cee Cee didn’t feel smart. She felt a numbing panic that got bigger as she returned to the club. What if all her recent crazy up-and-down emotions were caused by her hormones kicking back in after a twelve-year hiatus?
What if it was true?
___________
BABINEAU WAS AT his new position as security. And sitting in a private booth with Carmen Blutafino was Max Savoie. His stare honed in on her the second she entered the room, but there was no change in his expression. He had his game face on, reminding her of their new roles.
“Everything all right?” Babineau asked as he studied her pale features. “You look a bit under the weather.”
“I’m fine. What’s going on over there?”
“A lot of flirting. A lot of smiling. I think they’ve decided to date. Manny wants you to join them when you’re looking your best.”
“I’ve got a set—”
“I think you’ve got a new job.”
MANNY BLU FOLLOWED Max’s distracted gaze across the room. Interesting. He was accustomed to using a man’s weaknesses against him, but hadn’t expected sex to be Savoie’s Achilles’ heel. Watching the heat and intensity bank in the unblinking stare, he couldn’t doubt it. Lust of the flesh would never have tempted Jimmy Legere, but his young protégé was ripe for the plucking. And soon he’d be all his.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll be joining us in a minute, so let’s get business out of the way, shall we?”
Max returned his attention to the table with some difficulty. His tone was curt, impatient. “What do you want?”
Blutafino chuckled. “No need to go right to the bedroom when you can enjoy the drinks and dancing first.”
“I don’t dance with other men. I don’t consider business a pleasurable form of foreplay. What can I do for you, Carmen? You’ve been after LEI for years, so you must know the answer.”
It was hard to keep victory from his expression as he leaned in. “You control the transportation networks. I need to move some merchandise without any interference. You can make that happen for me.”
“I won’t traffic drugs. No negotiation there.”
A sly smile. “This is a more delicate commodity that requires special handling. Sometimes in bulk, sometimes just one special item. Perishable and valuable.”
Max took his meaning without a flinch. “Human cargo.”
“Female. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.”
“Good. Then let’s talk arrangements.”
�
��MR. SAVOIE, I’M flattered that you’d want to see me again so soon.”
The husky voice brought his head around in surprise. How had Charlotte gotten so close without him sensing her? He inhaled. Her scent was disguised. Perhaps by the smoke and the sweaty aroma of lust. Perhaps by the heavy musk weighting down her new perfume, or the lotion that had her newly dusky-colored skin shimmering. Something. He didn’t like it.
It unsettled him almost as much as the caution in her eyes. The broomstraw red hair, the geometric faux tattoos in glittery scarlet that ringed those wary eyes and trailed down to her left shoulder to conceal his marks, all made her a stranger to him.
She was gorgeous in a flauntingly careless way that wasn’t her. Not aggressive, in her usual fashion, but sly and flirty in a petal-hemmed top with sparkling spaghetti straps. Sheer wisps of dusty pink fell from molded cups that presented her breasts to their full, nearly overflowing advantage. Chevrons of sequins and ribbon gave flash to every movement, skimming over a tiny black leather skirt.
Finally, something familiar. He’d been mesmerized by the twitch of that skirt atop killer legs since the moment he’d first seen it. He put his hand on her hip, palming the supple hide over toned muscle, steadied by the contact.
“Sit.”
Instead of gliding into the booth beside him, she leaned down first, her mouth pressing to his, her tongue slipping deep in what should have been a sizzling hot kiss—but wasn’t. Because it wasn’t personal. Max sat still and cold until she lifted away. Then she settled on the seat beside him, and he could breathe again.
“Chili, Mr. Savoie wants to make seeing you a regular thing,” Manny purred out. “Starting tonight.”
Her gaze lifted to Max’s and she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Again, I’m flattered.” Even her voice was different, a husky rasp.
“I told him you’d be appreciative and accommodating.”
“I will. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.” Her hand glided up from his knee to his crotch, and for the first time ever, Max didn’t surge to attention at her touch.
He turned to Manny, impatient and gruff. “Are we done here?”
The fat man chuckled. “Businesswise, I believe so. If you’re in a hurry to renew your acquaintance, let me offer one of my rooms.”
Max didn’t smile in return. “When I have sex, the only one I want to be entertained by it is me. Thank you, but I think I prefer to go somewhere a little less compromising.”
Not insulted, Manny waved his hand toward the door. “I’ll be in touch, Max.”
With a nod, he bumped his hip against Cee Cee’s, encouraging her to slide out of the booth. He was in a hurry to get away from this place, from the strange vibrations he was getting from her.
She was professionally irritated by his interference. He understood that; she had a right to be. But something else was going on. Something anxious and jumpy as they stepped out into the steamy night.
“Where to, Mr. Savoie?”
She spoke without looking up at him, her tone betraying nothing.
“I could get us a room.”
Her snort almost made him smile in relief. “I wouldn’t trust any of the sheets you’d find around here. Let’s go to my motel. It’s across Basin, just a short walk.”
“Whatever you like. You’re the one wearing heels.”
They moved down the crowded street. Though forced close to each other to avoid the garbage bins and bags put out for pick up, they didn’t touch.
Trying to pinpoint her mood, Max said, “For someone who’s supposedly bought and paid for, you’d look rather standoffish to any paparazzi who might be following.”
Her posture stiffened. Then she bumped against him so they were hip to hip. Her arm slid around him, her hand going low to palm his butt for an ungentle squeeze.
“Just checking the merchandise,” she growled.
With her head tucked into his shoulder, he couldn’t see her expression, but he could picture her scowl. He smiled at her combative tone and took a chance, letting his fingertip trace the soft skin spilling over the cups of her glittery top. “Then you won’t mind me sampling what I’ve bargained for.”
“I wouldn’t call it a bargain, Savoie. I hope you paid dearly.”
“Oh, I did.” Apparently more dearly than he’d anticipated.
By the time they reached the motel, their moods were chafed raw by anger, lust, and uncertainty. By the time she shut the door behind him, Cee Cee was about to boil over.
“Stan, turn off the tape. This is a private conversation.”
“Does that mean I’m not going to get my money’s worth?”
Max’s cool drawl cut the tether to her temper.
“You son of a bitch, you’re not going to get anything but a black eye if you get within arm’s reach of me!” She stormed by him, threw her purse on the bed, and toed out of her shoes, sending them flying. Only Max’s quick reflexes kept one from knocking over a lamp.
“Warning taken. I’ll keep my distance.”
“Is that what you call this? Keeping your distance? Pushing your way into my investigation, jeopardizing—”
“What am I jeopardizing? You wanted to get close to Manny. Babineau is in his pocket. Isn’t that what you wanted? Why the tantrum? We’re both professionals here.”
“No, we are not. This is my job, my business. What kind of deal did you make with him?”
“That would be my business, Detective, not yours.”
Her eyes flooded and the fight blew out of her.
Seeing that envelope he’d left on her car. Hearing Babineau’s taunting jab: Puppies.
The instant he put his hands on her, she tried to lunge away. He spun her into him and anchored her close, her head to his chest, one arm controlled while she pummeled his back with the other. He caught her wrist before she could effect any damage.
He held her as the aggression drained out of her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” His words were twofold.
He heard her swallow hard before she replied, “I’ve survived worse things.”
He almost smiled because the toughness was back in her voice. But with it came the bittersweet knowledge that he’d have to release her. And he didn’t want to let go. Ever. Things were too raw and volatile between them for explanation or conversation. Hurtful feelings, harmful words were just aching heartbeats away. But he feared distance more than he dreaded the confrontation, so for the moment, he hung on to what he had, no matter how risky. He had no sense where she was concerned, none.
“Let’s just sit for a while. Can we do that, sha? We don’t have to talk. We don’t have to do anything.”
He took her silence for agreement and steered them to her bed, drawing her with him until he was half-reclined on the bank of pillows and she was resting on his shoulder in a warily neutral pose. She felt oddly fragile to him, so he took care to soothe her. His hand stroked her cheek, her shoulder, her arm in a slow, repetitious loop.
“I ask you to believe one thing.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“I never do anything—never make a decision, never take a step, never voice an opinion—without thinking of you first and foremost. Nothing comes before you.”
She remained still and silent for a long time. Then she said quietly, “I believe you.”
His eyes closed.
Finally. Progress.
She’d accepted so much, so readily, he often forgot the enormity of what he asked of her. She was so exceptional in every way that he sometimes took his phenomenal good fortune for granted.
Not tonight. Tonight he knew the importance of what he held close. He understood the tenuous balance of what they shared. It was killing him not to speak it aloud, to bare heart and soul to her after so many weeks of doubt, but that would just pressure her before she was ready to choose. He’d tried that before and it had backfired. She was as stubborn as she was prideful.
For now, he’d just have to be patient.
“It�
��s not you,” she said quietly. “And it’s not this case.”
“What do you mean, cher?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m angry and edgy all the time. I’m afraid to let you close, afraid you won’t like what you see. I don’t like what I’m doing—to you, to Alain and Tina—but I can’t seem to get a grip on it. I jump into things I know I shouldn’t; I hide from those I should trust. I’m all upside down.”
“What can I do?” he asked.
Her hand covered his. “This. Be here with me like this. I’m so scared I’m going to push you away. I’m so afraid you won’t want me enough to see this through with me.”
“You may have noticed I’m not easily pushed. I tend to stay where I’m planted. What did your boss call me? Chokeweed?”
A small laugh. “I hope he was right.” Her voice caught on a sob. “I don’t want a future without you in it. I’d rather die than lose you.”
He squeezed her, tight. “Don’t say that, sha. Don’t ever say that.”
“I love you, Max. I know I’m not good at showing it, and I forget to tell you sometimes when I know I should. I know I suck at relationships and I disappoint you by being more cop than girlfriend.”
“I’ve never been disappointed in you. I’m the lucky one, Charlotte. I am.”
He bent his head to press a light kiss on her brow. His hand cupped her chin to lift her face, so he could kiss her lips softly, gently. Again with more intensity. Then with the engaging tease of his tongue.
She turned away, catching the hand that stealthily traced up her thigh. “Don’t start.”
Not a strong objection. He could have easily overcome it, but not tonight. He guided her cheek to his chest.
“Just doing a little tasting, sha. My appetite is under control.”
His promise would have been more credible if not for the erection pressing against her hip. The presence of that bold interest comforted Cee Cee. Because he wanted her body, but needed her love more.
“Could you stay with me tonight, Max? Just lie here with me tonight?”
“I can do that.”
She smiled as an incredible weight let go inside her. Finally, she could close her eyes.