Hooked

by Polly Iyer

  “What would it take?”

  Tawny had anticipated this question. She had to make it sound good but still not price herself out of the ballpark. “If I were considering, you wouldn’t agree.”

  “Try me.”

  She cocked her head in phony contemplation. “Hmm, let me see. What could possibly tempt me? Three K an hour, no more than once a week. Twenty-five for weekends, and a hundred for a week. And no freebies for the boss. The last one is non-negotiable.” She speared an egg slice, then slowly sucked it into her mouth. Her gaze never left Benny. He sat quietly. “See? I told you. You can’t afford me.”

  That’s all she had to say. She’d read Benny perfectly. He was the type who didn’t like anyone to think he couldn’t cough up the goods. He leaned back in his chair. A long sigh escaped through his nose over a very crooked half-smile.

  “My, my, you don’t make things easy, do you? You know, I don’t pay my girls directly, and I don’t take a cut. My percentage comes from the client for the connection. The ladies specify their own price, but in your case, I would arrange the price with the client beforehand, to make sure there’s no problem. That’s a lot of money for an hour of anyone’s time.”

  “That’s right. If you took a cut, you’d be a pimp. I’ve never had a pimp, and I’m not starting now.”

  “Brrr. Pimp. Ugly word. See? We’re on the same wavelength.” He drank his Dr. Brown’s cream soda. “But I’d need something more.”

  She’d set the price higher than she ever charged on her own and really didn’t think he’d bite. But the fact that he didn’t nix the arrangement right away gave her hope. She’d rejected his advances so often in the past, if she gave in too easily and didn’t put the screws on him, he’d be suspicious. “Like what?”

  “A night as hostess included, same price. Your beautiful presence would send my business into the stratosphere.”

  “Out of the question. I don’t do public engagements.”

  “Okay, then. Two hours a week at three and a half per. There might be an occasional hotel arrangement. Some of our obscenely wealthy clients feel it’s more anonymous. The rest stays as is, and it’s a deal.”

  She leaned back and sighed. She was getting more than her asking price but with an extra night’s work. She probably needed more than two nights to get the required information, but she liked that it was Benny’s idea. Even so, she hated bartering. She never did business that way.

  “Up front,” she said.

  “The end of the evening,” Benny countered. “I’m sure that’s the way you were paid. Not that anyone would renege because you’re not worth your charges but…” he smiled “business is business.”

  She’d expected that. No one paid up front, but she wanted to let Benny think he had control and the last word. Her heart thumped. She actually pulled this off. “Just so happens a close relative is sick and asked me for a loan. I’d like to help her out, but my money is tied up in investments, and I’m a little short on cash right now.”

  “Does that mean we have a deal?”

  Tawny leaned across the table, offering her hand. “Deal.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Who’s Calling the Shots?

  Linc and his sometime partner, Dennis Hyde, parked across the street from the deli. It was a divide-and-conquer operation. Tawny and Cooper came outside and stood chatting on the sidewalk. The way the woman was dressed, sexy and elegant at the same time, made Linc feel like he was on a suicide mission, jumpy and tense.

  “She’s a looker, all right,” Dennis said. “Sure you don’t want me to follow her? You can take Cooper.”

  “That’s okay,” Linc said. “She knows me. A new face might make her pull back.”

  “After Myrtle Beach, exactly how well does she know you, lover boy?”

  Linc settled a beady glare on his partner. “Not that well. Besides, she’s not my type.”

  “Bull. Shit. That woman is the type for any red-blooded man with breath left in his body.” Dennis laughed. “What? She turn you down?”

  “She’s an assignment. I’m not crazy. The woman’s a hooker.”

  Dennis sighed. “I’d be willing to overlook that. Wonder what a woman does to make her worth so much money. Ever think of that? I mean, a fuck is a fuck, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve been married too long, partner.”

  “Wait, they’re saying goodbye. Now, which way will she go? The subway at 86th or walk to Fifth and catch the bus downtown? Or maybe she’ll hail a taxi.”

  Linc hoped it wasn’t a taxi. “With those heels, she’s not up for much walking. My guess is the subway. It’s closer and she’s a mass transportation type of gal.”

  She waved goodbye to Cooper with a smile that would melt the polar ice cap and headed toward Lexington, turning the corner toward 86th. “Subway. I’m outta here,” Linc said. “You know where Cooper is going. See if anything goes on before you call it a day. He’ll probably stay the night.”

  “Yeah, I can see she has no effect on you whatsoever,” Dennis yelled as Linc hustled out of the car and down the street. “Don’t break your neck catching up with her.”

  Christ, was he that obvious? He almost threw out his back vaulting from the car like a goddamn gymnast. What the fuck was wrong with him, and wasn’t that at least the tenth time he’d asked himself that?

  He was closer to Third, and she was already out of sight. If she caught the subway, he’d miss her, and she probably had a pass. He’d have to purchase one. If he started running, people would think something was wrong. Wait. What was he thinking? This was New York. Very little in this city turned anyone’s head.

  Linc whipped around the corner onto Lexington and saw Tawny stop near the subway entrance. She’d buttoned her shirt and was pulling off her heels, exchanging them for a pair of flats from her satchel. The woman was prepared for everything. He caught up with her halfway down the stairs and looped his arm through hers. “How did it go?”

  “So, you were watching,” Tawny said as if she expected him. She pulled her arm from his grip. “I wondered whether you had me staked out like some kind of criminal.”

  “I wanted to make sure you weren’t in danger.”

  “How thoughtful, but Cooper isn’t dangerous. Debauched and depraved, maybe, but not dangerous.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “All he cares about is business.”

  “And sex.”

  She raised one brow, opening those turquoise eyes that sparkled even in the dim light of the underground. “That is his business, remember?”

  They reached the turnstile, and Tawny pulled out a Metrocard. “You can buy a pass over there. That’s if you persist in following me.”

  He looked at her.

  “Go ahead. I won’t run away.”

  Fortunately, he had the right amount and bought the pass. She waited.

  “You could have hopped a subway and gotten rid of me. Why didn’t you?”

  “You’d catch up. No sense making your life difficult because you’re making mine that way.”

  The number 6 train came almost immediately. They got on and took seats next to each other.

  “So, did you make the deal?” Linc asked.

  “Just like I was told. I made an outrageous demand, and he met my offer.”

  He grunted. Why did that bother him? She was right. She did what he wanted her to do. Still, he had to admit, if only to himself, that it did bother him. He was blackmailing her to go back into business, and he felt slick and slimy for doing it.

  “Something wrong?” she asked. “It’s what you wanted me to do, right? I get inside, snoop around, find out stuff, and I’m off the hook. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “So why the scowl?” Tawny frowned. “Don’t tell me pimping me out to that slimeball bothers you.” The train screeched to a halt. Astor Place Station. “My stop.” She got up and headed for the door.

  He followed. “Huh? Pimping? Is that what you think I’m doing here
? Pimping you out?” He ignored the turned heads, who obviously heard the magic word, and scaled the stairs to the street after her.

  She stopped short and whirled around. “What would you call it then? Undercover work? Maybe you should say under-the-covers work, huh?”

  Had he imagined tears in her eyes? Damn. “Listen, I’m not heading up this operation. I’m following my boss’s orders. I had nothing to do with setting you up. It was an assignment.”

  “Following orders. Where have I heard that before, Herr Valsh?” She took off, walking at a good clip, then stopped again. “You know, I’m not sure I want to go through with this. There are other women working for Cooper. I don’t want to get them in trouble.”

  “They’re already in trouble. Prostitution is a crime. You ought to know that.”

  “It’s a victimless crime. No one gets hurt. These women are only making a living.”

  “That’s what you all say to rationalize what you do. What about the woman who washed up in the harbor? Isn’t she a victim?”

  “You don’t know she’s dead because of her profession, and from what you’ve told me, there’s no proof Cooper’s involved. None.” Tawny didn’t say anything more until she stopped in front of a recessed door between an art gallery and a trendy women’s clothing shop.

  “This is where I live. But you already knew that, didn’t you. You know everything.”

  “I knew the address. I hadn’t checked it out.”

  “You’re falling down on the job. I thought you guys knew everything about me.”

  “I have a feeling no one knows everything about you, not even us.”

  She hesitated, pulling her glorious bottom lip between her teeth in a picture of contemplation.

  “I’ll go through with this on one condition. You don’t go after the women who work for Cooper. I mean that. If I find out Cooper is blackmailing his clients, that’s fair game. If he had anything to do with the woman’s death, also fair game. But unless one of his girls is involved, they’re off the hook, like me.”

  “I can’t promise that. I don’t make the rules.”

  “Get my deal to someone who does. That’s the only way I’ll play. Otherwise, we’re back to square one, and you can charge me with tax evasion. My lawyer will see you guys in court. I’ll make sure I hire one who knows how to buck the system. Maybe one of the big-time tax attorneys. You know the ones. They actually divert the money their clients are overpaid so they don’t pay taxes.”

  “You don’t want to do this, Tawny. You don’t make demands of the government.”

  “Watch me. Oh, and one more thing, Walsh. I want the deal in writing. Everything. I’m not going into Cooper’s place, do your dirty work, and then have you or your boss say, ‘Too bad, kid. Don’t know what you’re talking about. What deal?’”

  He blew out a long breath. “I don’t know if I can get you the first of your demands. Doubt I can get anything in writing.”

  “That’s the deal,” she said, not giving an inch. “I have an engagement at Cooper’s Monday night at five to get the tour.” She stared at him a long time. “Let me know before then if your bosses agree to my requirements. No arresting any woman unless she’s involved in misconduct other than prostitution. If any are, I won’t hold back the information, but I don’t want anyone’s life ruined because she’s caught in a sting. And a written statement affirming that I will not receive a prison sentence for tax evasion. I’ll pay all back taxes, interest, and penalties, take probation, whatever, but no prison.” She faced him straight on. “That’s it. Otherwise, I’ll take my chances. Let me know.” She slipped a key into the lock, said, “Bye, Walsh,” went inside, and closed the door behind her.

  Linc stood on the street in the middle of SoHo, feeling the noose tightening around his neck. He also felt like a first-class shit.

  * * * * *

  Tawny entered the old freight elevator and rode it up to the fourth floor. Decades before, the building had been a factory, then a series of artist studios. The neighbor on the floor below still used his place as part studio, part living quarters. In the late 90s when many of the galleries moved to Chelsea, she found the loft and paid rent for the first few years. When she had enough money from her modeling jobs, she bought the loft for what she considered a fair price. Nothing near what selling it today would bring, even in the downturn market. She gutted the inside, refinished the floors, and painted it a soft taupe. The windows were almost floor to ceiling. She blocked off part of the space for a large bedroom, away from prying eyes, but the rest of the area was open and comfortably furnished. Nothing fancy. She liked simplicity. Straight lines, no frills. She’d never used her home for clients, preferring hotel arrangements and away-from-the-city trips. This was her sanctuary.

  Not today, however. Along with the added anxiety of getting into something that felt wrong, she felt vulnerable. She was being manipulated, and she hated it. Manipulated by the NYPD, Treasury, and by Lincoln Walsh in particular.

  She couldn’t read him, and that surprised her. Instinct had always served her well where men were concerned. If some guy behaved strangely or a situation felt threatening, she bolted. The hell with the money. She never took chances.

  But Walsh? If she had to guess, she’d say he wasn’t too happy with her or his assignment. At first cocky and arrogant, he now acted almost conciliatory. He sure didn’t like hearing she thought he was pimping her out.

  It’s all in one’s perspective, isn’t it, Walsh?

  Then there was the night in the hotel room in Myrtle Beach—when their heat had reached the boiling point. Three words stopped what would have been a big mistake for both of them. Still, she couldn’t ignore her emotional response to him, then and now. No man had made her cry in a long time, and she didn’t know why this one did. He was business, only a different kind of business.

  Well, they were in it now, and whatever happened happened. She hoped she was right about Benny Cooper. That he was nothing more than a horny sex addict, going from Wall Street to Back Street, even though Back Street was in the toney upper eighties of the east side of New York. Because if he wasn’t, he’d gone from hedge fund manager to pimp to murderer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Benny’s Dark Cloud

  Benny returned to Upper Eighties feeling like he’d just signed Angelina Jolie to an exclusive long-term contract. Tawny Dell was damn close, maybe better, and she didn’t have all those weird tattoos. With a smile plastered on his face, he was headed for the door of his apartment when Colin popped out of the office.

  “Need to speak to you, Benny.”

  He had a strange expression that gave Benny pause. The way things had gone before today would send anyone into a fit of depression. After his meeting with Tawny, he was up, and he didn’t want anything to bring him down. “What is it?”

  Colin pulled him inside and closed the door. “Ever hear of a guy by the name of Dirk Hansen?”

  “No, should I?”

  “He says he’s Cindi’s boyfriend.”

  Benny had almost forgotten about Cindi, and he sure as hell had forgotten Melody’s remark that Cindi had a boyfriend. He’d buried the tragic evening, and nothing had happened to resurrect it. Wherever Reggie stowed Cindi’s body, she hadn’t been found, making it easier for Benny to forget.

  “Shit.”

  “You knew about this?” Colin asked. “I thought Cindi didn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “I asked her. She said she didn’t, but she lied. I wouldn’t have hired her if I’d known.”

  “What’s worse, she told him where she worked. He had the phone number and the Web site, and he knew our physical address.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wanted to know where Cindi was. He figured she’d contracted a weekend engagement, but it’s been longer than a weekend, and she didn’t mention going out of town.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “At first I acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then
I figured denying she worked here would make him more suspicious. So I said she left the other night, and we hadn’t heard from her since.”

  Benny summoned his usual twisted rationale and conceded Colin’s statement was true. She did leave there the other night, and she hadn’t returned. “What did he say?”

  “That he was going to report her disappearance to the police.”

  “Did you look up his information?”

  Colin handed a paper to Benny. “Everything. He’s an actor. He and Cindi didn’t live together and only dated for a couple of months. He found out what she did on the side when she wasn’t going to casting calls or working on her Master’s.”

  “Am I under a dark cloud, Colin? Do you see one over my head? Do you?”

  “Maybe a little one. Like a puff of smoke from a chimney.”

  “Jesus. What do we do now?”

  “Hold tight, I guess, and expect the cops.”

  * * * * *

  Benny waited. And waited. Sweating profusely. What the hell was going on? The cops never showed up. He almost started to relax when Charles called about a man who had neither a password nor an appointment.

  “What should I do?” Charles asked. “He said his name is Dirk Hansen.”

  The name spiked an immediate case of acid reflux. Benny belched under his breath. “Be right there.” He called Colin, explained the situation, and told him to switch on the camera and tape recorder. Then he went to the door and ushered the actor into the office where Colin waited.

  Dirk Hansen was almost too pretty to be a man. Wavy hair worn long, fake tan, eyes bright blue. A tight T-shirt highlighted his gym-rat rippling abs. It didn’t take Benny long to realize the actor had one person’s interest in mind, and it wasn’t Cindi’s.

  “I bet this place is a goldmine,” Hansen said, taking in every detail of the office, especially the erotic Persian miniatures.

  Hansen exuded a smugness that made him instantly unlikable. Benny didn’t know for sure where this kid was going, but he smelled money on the horizon, felt it in his bones. And if there was one thing Benny knew, it was the smell of money. He sat back and let Hansen set the conversation.