Hooked

by Polly Iyer

  “There’s probably a date book or calendar on the computer, then the sign-in sheets are shredded once the information is entered. I bet he backs up everything nightly and has some kind of device that wipes out the hard drive if the computer’s compromised. It’d be the smart thing to do.”

  “Let’s hope opening the computer doesn’t ring bells or he’ll know someone tried to access his information. Your people could go in, Walsh, and you might even get the doorman to fold. But the only bodies you have are Sarah Marshall, who you haven’t connected to Benny’s establishment, and Dirk Hansen, who isn’t talking. Even if you find out Sarah worked there, it doesn’t prove anyone at Upper Eighties killed her. The best you’ll do is get a few people on lesser charges.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like a cop.”

  “No, I’m being logical. The doorman knows something, I’m sure.”

  “You think he’ll break?”

  “Probably, but I doubt he knows enough. If murder’s involved, don’t you want to get whoever’s responsible? Charles is just a worker drone. Come on, Walsh. Give me until Thursday to come up with some answers. If I fail, you can do your thing. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll go early. Maybe the one suspicious gal won’t be there, and I can talk to the others. Find out more.”

  “Someone was suspicious?”

  “A woman thing. Nothing more.” Linc frowned. She knew he was weighing his options. “One more night. It’s what you and your boss wanted me to do.”

  “It’s too risky.”

  “So now it’s risky, and it wasn’t before? What’s changed?”

  “Hansen, for one. My guess is he went there to shake them down, and they got rid of him.” Linc rolled his eyes. “I think the captain is ready to pull the plug, and…”

  “And what?”

  He didn’t respond.

  She waited, drank her coffee. “Let me ask you. You said no one’s made a complaint about blackmail, so you have no proof of that, right?”

  Walsh turned away, unable or unwilling to look her in the eyes. “Right.”

  “We live in a very litigious society. Maybe Benny’s taping to protect himself. It works both ways.” But she’d bet someone blackmailed one of Mario’s people. “If women are being murdered,” Tawny said, “I want to find out who’s doing it more than you. Murders of prostitutes piss me off.” She took in a deep breath, released it in a slow steady stream. “It could have been me.”

  He turned toward her. “That’s what I don’t want to happen.”

  His words were so sincere her breath caught in her throat.

  Reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his. “I couldn’t deal with that. I sent you in there. I’m responsible for you.” His big, dark, gorgeous eyes steadied on her. “I care, Tawny. More than just as a cop.”

  The heat of his hand warmed every molecule of her body. It was a reaction she’d never experienced. She rested her other hand over his and spoke in such a soft voice she almost didn’t hear her own words. “You have to know this can’t go anywhere, even if we wanted it to.”

  “Does that mean you’d want it to? Even the possibility?”

  She swallowed whatever was swelling in her throat. “No.” He didn’t say anything, but the quirk in his expression said he knew with his whole heart she was right.

  He remained silent until they were outside, standing on the street. “Come on. My car’s over there. I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thanks, but I have errands to do.” She didn’t, but if he brought her home, she wouldn’t have the willpower to resist him, the attraction was that strong. Besides, she did have things to do, but she’d rather Walsh knew nothing about them. Not yet.

  “Let me go to Upper Eighties one more night. If I don’t come up with anything, you can get an Army brigade to storm the place.”

  He hesitated, then raised his hand to her cheek, brushing it with a feather touch. “One night. I’ll be close if anything goes wrong.”

  “Deal.” She started to leave, and he latched on to her arm and pulled her back. The scent of his aftershave―no, the scent of him, kept her close too long. Her mind won out over her emotions, and she stepped away. “Gotta go, Walsh. We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Tawny,” he called out, but she hurried toward the subway, resisting with every fiber of her being to turn around and wrap herself in his comforting arms. Forget him. But in spite of her efforts, the absurdity of her with Lincoln Walsh filled her thoughts on the way home.

  He’s a cop. A sex crime investigator. Deep down, he’d never forget or forgive what you are―what you’ve been for fifteen years. This is a job, and when it’s over, you’ll never see him again.

  She arrived home on autopilot, changed clothes, and put on a pot of coffee. Then she booted up the computer and went to work, willing Walsh from her mind.

  Years ago, when she met Mario Russo through another client, she didn’t know who or what he was, other than a successful businessman, owner of a large construction company. If she’d read about him in the papers, she didn’t connect the gentle man with the crime boss who rarely let anyone take his picture. Stunned when she finally saw a photo, she debated whether to drop him as a client. He was attractive and cosmopolitan, an intelligent conversationalist, and a considerate lover, always treating her with respect. She saw no reason to let him go.

  After she’d made her decision, she consciously avoided reading anything about him. Mario never talked about either of his businesses, and she never asked questions. Ignorance was the better road where he was concerned.

  Today was different. Today she wanted to know everything about him, especially who in his cadre of associates meant enough for him to go out on a limb to protect.

  * * * * *

  Linc had a running dialogue with himself all the way back to his precinct. He’d done everything wrong. He should have opted out of this investigation as soon as he realized his feelings for Tawny had veered off track from professional to personal. He put her realistic assessment of their uncharted relationship out of his mind in favor of his gut instinct that Tawny was holding something back. Something that could put her at greater risk and jeopardize the operation. Why? What did she know?

  Should he tell the captain what he thought, how he felt, or should he let it ride for two more days? Tawny had begged him to give her one more night, and he said it was too risky. Considering what they suspected from the beginning, she’d been at risk since they pulled her into the operation. No, the primary reason he wanted to pull the plug was because she was going to Upper Eighties for one more night with some stranger. One more night making love to someone other than him.

  He stopped for lunch, thought, and thought some more. Drank enough coffee to wake a corpse. Went back to his desk. Fortunately, the captain was out. He really didn’t want to decide right now how much to tell him, what to leave out. When should he make that decision? Could he let it ride until Thursday? He spoke as little as possible with the other guys, then sat at his desk and riffled through the case updates, but nothing registered. He couldn’t think straight. He’d been up half the night. He needed to go home, get some sleep. Instead, when he got back to his car, he headed for SoHo.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The First Crack

  Benny stayed on the island expecting the worst, but no one banged down his door and hauled him off to jail. No word from Colin that any client had flipped out and gone postal. And because he was home with Eileen, allowing her to make him happy, he heard no more jealous rages. All the bad things were behind him. Benny was sure.

  Then Melody called, and he almost suffocated from the weight of the black cloud bearing down on him.

  “I won’t tell you where I am,” she said, “but my neighbor Joe called to tell me the police came to my apartment. They showed him a picture of Serena. He recognized her from the paper. Then they showed one that from his description sounded like you. I threw away my cell phone, and I’m using one I bought with minutes. I can
’t stay away forever, Benny. I’ll have to tell the truth eventually, then my parents will find out what I’ve done, and it’ll kill them. I’m screwed either way. They’ll say I’m an accessory to murder by covering it up. What should I do?”

  Benny shuffled to the bathroom and fumbled in the medicine cabinet where Eileen kept a stash of prescription antacid. Nothing over the counter was going to smother the continuous inferno blazing in his stomach. “Don’t say anything now, honey. Stay where you are for a while. I’ll send you money. Give me a little time, okay?”

  “I don’t need money, but I’m not sure how long I can hold out. If they know what’s going on, then pretty soon the whole thing will be out in the open, and I’ll go to jail for lying. My parents will disown me.” She started sniffling.

  “A few more days, a week tops. I’ll make it worth your while. For Benny, please.”

  “Money won’t matter if I’m in prison. Maybe I can plea bargain. You know, like they do on Law and Order.”

  Jesus, he thought. “Take care, honey. Call me in a couple of days. I’ll know better what to do. Just don’t let them know where you are.” Benny hung up before he heard another word. He went into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. He didn’t want Eileen to know about this. Not yet. Not until he figured out what to do. One thing came to mind, but he doubted it would work. What did he have to lose? He picked up the phone and called Mario Russo.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A Double Case of History

  Linc stood in the doorway of Tawny’s building. Get in your car and go home. But he couldn’t. He had to see her, talk to her. He pressed the buzzer. No answer. She said she had errands, but that was hours ago. He pressed the buzzer again and waited a full thirty seconds before she answered.

  “Who is it?”

  “Walsh.” Silence stifled the street sounds. “Buzz me in.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Buzz me in and I’ll tell you.”

  “Please, Walsh. Go away.”

  “If you don’t let me in, I’ll push every button on the panel. Tony will let me in; someone will.”

  This time he waited longer. He had his finger on Ambrosio’s bell when the door buzzed. He pushed it open and bounded up the stairs.

  She stood at the open door, without makeup, wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a tank top, no bra. Flip-flops on her feet. She’d pinned her hair up, but tendrils fell carelessly around her face. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  “This is a mistake,” she said.

  “I don’t think so, and neither do you.” He kicked the door closed and moved into her.

  “It’s lust. Plain, unadulterated lust.”

  “It’s more, but it’s that too.”

  “I can’t fight it, Walsh. I want to, but I can’t.”

  “Then don’t.” He put his arms around her and drew her to him. She didn’t resist. He kissed her hair and her eyes and her mouth, and she returned the kiss with the same passion. When their lips parted, he held her close, his face buried in her hair. She smelled of soap and a hint of the citrusy jasmine perfume she always wore.

  “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. So much, in fact, that it physically hurts. But that’s not all I want from you.” He lifted her chin, and they stared into each other’s eyes. “Do you understand?”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m not used to these feelings, and I never thought I’d feel them. I’m confused, Walsh. You’re confusing the hell out of me.”

  “Because you’re holding back, afraid I’m going to hurt you. It’s happened before, and you’re never going to let it happen again. That’s the rub, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I? Marblehead High School. Senior year. I don’t know the particulars, but I know enough.”

  She moved away from him, her cheeks flushed a brilliant rose. Covering her face with both hands, she said, “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? You had to put my life out there for all your cop friends to salivate over.”

  He pulled her arms down and sandwiched her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. “I didn’t do that. I got the information through a private source.”

  “Why?”

  “You gave yourself away the night we shared the pizza. I knew you were hiding something. I wanted to know you, to understand you.”

  She drew back from him. “Oh, you mean to find out what ghastly event in my life turned me into a whore?”

  Shit! This wasn’t turning out the way he’d planned. But then, what did he expect? He’d invaded her privacy, dug into the ugly corner of her life that shaped it. He felt his face twist in the harshness of her words.

  “Don’t like that word, do you? What would you prefer? Call girl? Prostitute? Hooker? Harlot, tramp, slut? All good words meaning the same thing. And they all describe me.”

  “Don’t.” He moved to her, but she stepped out of his range and turned, facing the waning light outside the window, made even dimmer by the shade from the surrounding buildings.

  “You want to know me? Okay, Walsh. I’ll take you back to the summer after I graduated high school. You’re so hungry for the sordid details I’ll give them to you, straight from the horse’s mouth. You won’t have to dig into hospital records or newspaper articles.”

  “You don’t have―”

  “No, you went to a lot of trouble to find out, you should know everything, not only what some hacker dug out of the dirt for you. It’s what you’ve wanted ever since we met.”

  He could see her reflection in the glass.

  “Now you will,” she said, meeting his gaze in the window with a cold, solid stare.

  She seemed to slip out of the present with a deep sigh, arms crisscrossed around her, as if she were holding herself together. He came up behind her and pulled her close to offer her comfort. He waited maybe two minutes before she started, maybe three. An eternity.

  “Picture the scenario. Teenage girl, innocent to the point of naïve, falls madly in love with the most popular boy in school. Captain of the football and baseball teams, smart, handsome. Every girl in school wanted him, but he chose this starry-eyed novice who thought he walked on water. A virgin, she gave herself to the person with whom she’d spend the rest of her life, never thinking of the consequences. Of course, you know what happened. Stupid teenage girl got pregnant.”

  Tawny drew a long, choppy breath. Linc listened, tightened his arms around her. She was right. This was what he wanted to hear, and part of him hated himself for wanting to.

  “She should have gone to her parents, but they’d put so much trust in her. She’d done everything right. Straight A student, SATs in the stratosphere, acceptance to one of the best schools in the country. How could she let them down by doing something so colossally stupid?”

  She removed his arms from around her body and took a step forward. Linc wanted to keep contact, so he put his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged the tight muscles. She didn’t shrug him off.

  “She goes to the boy for…for what?” Their gazes met in the window. “Help? He loved her, right? That’s what he told her to get her into bed. He’d do the right thing. Not marriage. She didn’t want that. She wanted his support. A hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on. But he was going off to college. There was no place in his life for a stupid girl who didn’t know enough to make him wear a condom.”

  “He turned you away?”

  She didn’t correct the exchange of pronouns and gave up the cryptic references. “You guessed it. I was the one pretty girl in school no boy could bed. Except him. He wore his victory like a badge of honor. I didn’t know that at the time. I only knew he wasn’t going to let a pregnant girl get in the way of his life.”

  “So you arranged an abortion.”

  “It was one of those friend of a friend knew this doctor things. I should have gone to my par
ents, but I was sixteen, ashamed, and humiliated. I hoped it would stay secret, hoped my parents would never find out. If they did, I’d deal with it. I was going off to Brown in the fall, so it wouldn’t have long-lasting legs.”

  “You were sixteen and going to college?”

  This time he saw her weak smile reflecting back at him. “I started school young and skipped a grade in elementary school.” She released a weak laugh, almost mocking. “Hard to believe someone so smart could do something so idiotic, isn’t it?”

  He turned her around and took in her beautiful face, kissed her forehead. “We’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t.”

  “True, but some have much longer consequences. You can figure out the rest. The doctor ran into complications. At least he was smart enough to know if I didn’t get to a hospital, I’d die. He made my friend promise to take me right before he packed up his things and left town.”

  Linc wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “I almost did die. When I woke and found out what they had to do to save my life, I wished I had.”

  He didn’t know the right words to say. Even though he knew he was crossing a forbidden line when he pried into Tawny’s past, he’d been powerless to stop. Now he needed to convince her it wasn’t prurient interest but an effort to understand her life so he could be part of it. He drew her into the warmth of his body, one hand on the small of her back, the other cradling her head. He felt her tears slick on his neck. She stood wooden, arms welded to her sides, unresponsive.

  “And you’d never trust anyone again, would you?”

  She pulled away. He couldn’t read her expression. It was as if all the hurts of the past had hardened inside her, and she had trained herself to keep them there, out of the harsh glare of strangers. Or would-be lovers.

  “That wasn’t a conscious objective. It just happened.” A brief smile, perfunctory at best, found its way to her lips. “I wasn’t playing games or being coy. Men wanted me because they couldn’t have me. They bought me presents to win me over, but I could only be won so far. In the beginning, I never thought of asking for payment. The first one to leave money told me to buy something pretty with it. So I did. It snowballed from there. I found the more money they left, the more worthy I became. I bought a lot of pretty things. I used men the way I guess I felt I’d been used. I had no problem with the ethics. Like I said, no one made me do anything I didn’t want to do, and no one felt shortchanged. I made sure men used protection, not for fear of getting pregnant. I knew that would never happen.”