by Janey Mack
Three hours before I had to be at work. And I had plenty to do with the time.
Like figure out how to fake-date Stannis while I really dated Hank.
I walked down the hall and heard him in his office, talking on the phone.
Opting for what military camouflage experts call “maximum disruptive contrast,” I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my uniform shirt. Underneath I was wearing a La Perla robin’s egg–blue lace push-up bra and matching hi-rise bikini panties. Courtesy of Hank, as I myself would not shell out three bills for any two pieces of underwear that didn’t actively transform me into a size 00, big-breasted Playmate.
I lounged provocatively against the door frame to the office.
His voice was discordant and deep. “Devushka beda. I beda ne prikhodit odna.”
Beda was Russian for trouble. The only word I’d learned from our cleaning lady. Hank’d said it twice.
“Da . . . khorosho.” He hung up and winked at me. “C’mere, you.”
“Russian, huh?” I sidled around the desk. “What I don’t know about you could fill a Kindle.”
“Vy znayete vse, chto imeyet znacheniye, Persiki.”
I hiked a hip onto the desk. “Enlighten?”
“You know everything that matters, Peaches,” Hank translated. He put his hands on my thighs. “Sleep well?”
“Funny you should ask.” I picked up the sugar-free Amp on his desk and took a sip. “I was having the most amazing dream about unicorns and candy mountains and . . . suddenly I was being mauled by a bear.”
“Yeah?” His mouth quirked at the corner.
I grinned back. “Then it got really good.”
He pushed my left leg wide, opened the desk drawer, and removed a black binder–clipped sheaf of papers and handed them to me.
“What’s this?”
Hank smiled, teeth optic white against his morning shadow. I went light-headed at the sight. “Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm was one of Hank’s spoils of war. He’d found his butler chained up in a cellar during a cartel “cleaning” expedition in Colombia. Savaged by his imprisonment, Wilhelm had a pathological fear of human company. Hank was the only person he could bear.
And because Hank was cooler than liquid nitrogen at Ice Station Zebra, he gave Wilhelm the run of his property down to every last minute detail.
I’d never met him.
I flipped through ten pages of the single-spaced questionnaire. It started with food allergies, preferred vegetables, meats, styles of cuisine . . .
Jeez, I don’t think this much about food even when I go out to dinner.
I paged through fill-in-the-blank personal preferences from soap to pens to makeup to political affiliations and sports teams. Investigative journalists had nothing on this guy.
It would take hours to fill it out.
Which meant . . . Hank was serious, in his own way.
My mouth went as dry as if I’d swallowed a handful of silica gel. I tipped my head and batted my eyelashes, trying to beat back the rising flood. How exactly am I supposed to hide the fact that I’m an undercover cop from the dark horse love of my life? “This is . . . wow.”
“I don’t want a housewife. I want you at hand.”
The BOC needed me. And to operate, I needed alone time. But . . .
I tapped the questionnaire against my palm. “Hank, I—I need to go home.”
“You live here,” he said, pleasantly.
Yes and not exactly.
“Darlin’,” I said, feeling my voice twang into the McGrane brothers’ patented “let you down easy” Western drawl. “I need to make things right with Da. I had less than two days when you were in Honduras. And I couldn’t think straight with Mant on the loose. I need to suck it up and see what I can salvage, for my family’s sake.”
“Okay.” Hank shrugged. “One month.”
“Huh?” What the what? “Wait—”
“One month to square things. Then you quit and live here.”
The polar bear plunge had nothing on Hank.
He glanced at his watch. “Still early. Stella’s Diner?” He jerked me forward to the edge of the desk. “Or a good morning mauling?”
I opted for maul.
My new Challenger Hellcat sure pissed off Chen. “You think you Breaking Bad, now, Sanlu? With your fancy muscle car?”
“I’m one hundred percent badass, Chen.”
“Heh!” He spat out the window and hit the gate.
Another glorious day at the Traffic Enforcement Bureau.
I clocked in and trotted down to Leticia’s office. Her door was closed. Muffled but raucous laughter came from inside. I knocked.
“C’mon in.”
I opened the door. Leticia, squeezed into a blue mini-dress so tight it looked like a giant blood pressure cuff, sat behind her desk. Cozied up at one end was Stannis’s head gorilla.
Uh-oh.
“Good morning?” I said cautiously.
“And a damn fine one it is, too, McGrane. Sit your lily white onion down.” She gestured toward me with a croissant. “Told you, Renko. Kid’s always early.”
Stannis stepped from behind the door, closing it behind me. “Good morning, mali anđeo.” He kissed my cheek.
Wow. So not equipped to see you here this morning.
“Come.” We took the two seats opposite Leticia and Gorilla.
The three of them were eating chocolate croissants on thick white napkins and drinking coffee out of white cardboard cups with the distinctive dark brown and gold logo of HendrickX Belgian Bread Crafter.
Stannis handed me a cup.
“Oh no—” Before I could say I didn’t drink coffee, he said, “Is chocolate.”
I took the cup, flattered and uneasy at the same time. “Thank you.”
“See? I told you.” Leticia gave a flirtatious shimmy to Gorilla.
“Girl don’t drink coffee.” She waved an airbrushed rainbow nail in an S shape at me. “Show the man your brekkie, McGrane.”
Stannis set his cup down on the end table. I pulled a Quest protein bar from my cargo pants pocket and handed it to him. He turned it over in his hands. “This?”
“Yes.”
He opened the wrapper and took a bite. At the second chew he snapped his fingers. Gorilla picked up Leticia’s trash can and held it in front of him. To Leticia’s whoop of delight, Stannis spat the mouthful into the can. The rest of the bar followed. “No. This for animal.”
Funny, I thought I was your new puppy.
“Go on, now.” Leticia folded her arms beneath her breasts, giving Gorilla an eye-popping view. “I’m waitin’.”
“A woman in love does many things she say she will never do.” Stannis raised his chocolate-cherry croissant to my mouth.
Aww. Puppy gets a treat.
I took a bite. It was, as I knew from experience, decadently delicious. Bready and dark with a tang of cherry. It was almost impossible not to inhale the rest of it out of his hand.
Great. Now I’ll dream about these for a month.
Leticia grunted in disgust. “You got it bad, kid.”
Stannis handed me a croissant and a napkin. Then he took two tickets to the Oriental Theatre out of his suit coat pocket and set them on the desk.
“No way, no how. A bet’s a bet.” Leticia fanned herself with a napkin. “Can’t take that.”
“But you win two. I win only one.” Stannis looked askance at me. “No opera for her.”
“Now that, I believe. McGrane wouldn’t know music if it crawled up her shoulder and spat in her ear.” The tickets disappeared into the top drawer of her desk.
“You are desirable woman, Miss Jackson,” Stannis said. “You know love, yes?”
She leaned back in her chair, cast the Gorilla with an appraising once-over before half-closing her brown eyes in suspicion. “I’ve known some fine men.”
“I am not always in your country. I want Maisie all times when I am here.” He gave her a 150-watt smile.
&
nbsp; Leticia nodded slowly, sucking in her cheeks. “You after vacay for McGrane.”
Oh no. No. We absolutely do not want that.
My brain felt like ice in a blender. If Stannis cut me from the herd of daily life, how could I report to the BOC, keep the parking enforcement agent evidence-gathering program going, and most importantly, maintain my cover story for Hank and the clan?
“I don’t have any vacation time,” I chirped up.
“No. You don’t.” Leticia carefully repositioned Rush Limbaugh’s photograph on the corner of her desk. “You been shining me on all morning, Renko. And thass just a hundred kinds of wrong.”
“No.” Stannis gestured to me, rotated his fingers. “What is for not pay?”
“Unpaid leave of absence?” I said hoarsely.
“Yes.” Stannis straightened the crease on his suit pants. “That.”
A dark chortle burst from Leticia’s bright red lips. “You’re outta your goddamn mind.”
Gorilla reached over and put his hand over hers. “Miss Jackson, is far better to be friend of Mr. Renko than enemy.”
Leticia yanked her hand away. “Hands off the merchandise.”
Gorilla showed his hands, leaned back, and undid the button of his suit coat. It fell open, exposing the butt of the handgun in his shoulder holster.
“What the hell, McGrane?” Leticia scooted her desk chair forward and gestured at the men with her left hand. “Runnin’ with these jaw-jappin’ mofos.” With her right, she pulled her own piece from beneath her seat in one well-practiced motion. She pointed the S&W .38 Special at Stannis’s chest.
“You surprise me, Miss Jackson.” His eyes crinkled in delight. “Lady John Wayne.”
“I’m goddamn Dirty Harriet, boy.”
Stannis was unperturbed. “Ivanović is bodyguard. Has conceal carry permit. You, I think, do not.”
That’s right, Stannis. Let’s see if you can get her to pull the trigger.
Leticia’s head and shoulders began a slow cobra sway. “You in my office, askin’ a favor by threatening me?”
“No. That choice you make.” Stannis’s promise was as crude as pig iron.
Her hand trembled ever so slightly.
Shite. “Leticia?” I said, giving her an almost-imperceptible head shake and an out. “I’m sure Stannis has no idea what he’s asking.”
“You think I click my heels and she’s on unpaid leave?” She sniffed and set the gun down. “Hell no. Girl needs doctor’s agreement and TEB authorization.”
Gorilla removed a paper from his jacket and set it in front of Leticia. “Medical excuse.”
Ouch. They came prepared.
“Best of luck with the authorization. Ain’t no way, no how that’s ever gonna happen. Kid’s on office duty because she booted the mayor’s car. Shit rolls downhill, my friend.”
Stannis was on his phone before she even finished. “Call Talbott,” he commanded his iPhone. He moved around behind my chair, leaned down, and put the phone between our ears.
Leticia’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t hear it, but she trusted me.
A buzz, then, “Mayor Coles’s office. How may I help you?”
“Stannislav Renko.”
The polite voice stiffened into immediate deference. “One moment please, sir.”
“Stannis!” Talbott Cottle Coles’s voice boomed through the phone. “What an unexpected surprise.”
“Are you alone?” Stannis said.
“No. Hang on.” The muffled sound of a hand over the receiver, followed by Coles’s shout, “All of you, get the fuck outta my office. Yesterday!” Commotion. Then, in an oozing throb, he was back on. “Hey there, guy.”
“I need favor.”
“Name it.”
“I was getting parking tick—”
“Those fucking meter maids! I swear to Christ—Just have one of your boys drop it off at City Hall.”
“No.” Stannis’s mouth tipped in a clever smirk. “I call because I’m getting ticket and woman in uniform stops the ticket. You know why?”
Coles laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“She knows my car from outside City Hall.”
“It’s not there as often as I’d like it,” Coles said.
I gave a slight shudder.
“The midnight blue, she says.” Stannis tipped his head against mine. “You are right. Is more distinctive than black.”
“Goes better with your eyes, too.”
Oh, for puke’s sake!
I had no beef with Stannis’s lifestyle. Just who he was life-styling it with—the Slime King of Corruption.
“So,” Coles said, “what kind of favor would you like?”
Stannis ignored the flirt. “Letter for woman and supervisor. To show you appreciate public worker using mind.”
“Sure, whatever you want. Are we still on for tonight? Atlantis at eleven o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’ll send you back to Julie. She’ll type up whatever you like.”
“But letters are from you.”
“Julie signs my name better than I do.” Coles laughed. “Tonight. Can’t wait.”
Stannis stood up, hit speaker on his phone, and dictated two letters to Julie with assistance from Leticia. One for supervisory excellence for her file and an open-ended extended-leave letter for mine. They would be delivered to the TEB within the hour.
It’s official.
The pooch was 100 percent screwed every which way to Sunday.
“Your keys?” Stannis asked. I gave him the Hellcat’s black key fob. He tossed it to Gorilla. “Bring car to penthouse. No damage,” he warned.
Gorilla shot Leticia a lusty ogle that she wasn’t too offended to preen under. “May I call you?” he asked.
“You can try.”
Gorilla left. I got up and stood next to Stannis.
Leticia’s lip raised. “McGrane still needs to come in once a week.”
Stannis weighed that over. “As favor?”
“Only if you wanna keep it all good to the gracious.”
Stannis held out his hand. “I do.” She shook it.
As we left the office, I paused at the door. “Hey, Chen called me Sanlu this morning.”
Leticia snort-coughed.
“What is it?”
“Tainted milk.” She slapped the table and chortled. “Damn, that’s a good one.”
Stannis frowned. “Who is this Chen?”
I laid a hand on his chest. “No one. It’s a joke.”
He pulled me in for a hug. “Come,” Stannis said against my hair. “We go buy you pretty dress.”
Chapter 25
Shopping with Stannis was more fun than I ever thought possible. We hit the Magnificent Mile on Michigan Avenue. He dropped a positively indecent sum on me at Gucci and Max Mara before having his driver take us to Blake.
His aesthetic was second only to his charisma.
But as I came out in the stellar dress he insisted I try on, his face was pinched, attention drifting. Something was bothering him and it wasn’t the money.
With five older brothers, I recognized the symptoms immediately. Too much time had passed since the croissant carb overload.
A man with low blood sugar is as useless as dehydrated water.
I dialed Mom’s office in the dressing room. It took less than a minute for her assistant, Anna Suchowian, to get us in at Anthony Martin’s Tru for lunch. The Scottish salmon with winter radish and chive sauce was beyond exquisite. I could tell by the glow of Stannis’s electric blue eyes he was pleased by my choice.
“This morning, I make you unhappy,” he said. “But now you work for me.”
“Yes.” I laid my knife and fork across my plate. “About that. You need to let me keep my job, Stannis. Half of my family are cops. The other half are attorneys.”
“Is no trouble. I am clean. In America. In Europe.”
“Well, it’s trouble for me. They don’t like Eddie V. And they really don’t like Col
es.”
“Maisie. Do not have concern.” Stannis sat back in his chair and rested his elbow off the back. “The McGranes. They will like me.”
Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. They’ll take to you like a Clinton to a congressional hearing.
I turned the conversation to old movies, and we took our time savoring dark Valrhona chocolates for dessert. When we finished, the hostess approached our table and asked if we cared to have our picture taken.
“Yes.” Stannis slid over in the booth and put his arm around me. We smiled on cue.
“May I have your names?” she asked. “We print one for you here and post to Facebook.”
“Stannislav Renko and Maisie McGrane,” he answered.
Super. My brothers were gonna be on this faster than a pod of orcas on a bloody seal.
Well, I’ll cross that rotting indigenous rain forest rope bridge when I come to it.
“Miss?” Stannis said. “You take one more, please?”
“Certainly.” The hostess beamed, camera at the ready.
Stannis caught me by the chin and put his mouth to mine. The digital whir of the photo hummed. “This one,” he said with a wink, “is better, I think.”
Aww. Shoot.
Riding up in the elevator to Stannis’s penthouse, I slipped my arm through his. “You look tired, Stannis.”
“Yes.” He waited for me to enter the foyer. We crossed into the great room. “I am weary.” He blew out a heavy breath and moved his palms a few inches apart. “What is the short sleep?”
“Nap?”
“Yes. Come. Nap with me.”
The physicality between us was as easy as it was between me and my brothers.
I followed him into his bedroom, a jaw-dropping masculine room of ebony wood and charcoal accented in army green. The bed, a king, was covered in a dark linen duvet cover and mounded with pillows. Stannis pointed at the left side. “Always, I sleep near to door.”
I slipped off my new heels and climbed onto the right side of the bed. I reclined against the pillows. Stannis bounced down on the bed next to me. He threw an arm high over my rib cage and laid his dark head on my lower abdomen. “You see inside me like I am man of glass.” He let out a heavy breath. “My heart is hot with anger.”