Naked Truth

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “Dr. Mastandrea is waiting for someone. I think he might be in trouble.”

  “What are you going to do? Zap the bad guy with some negative energy?”

  He sounded angry, and Pam frowned at him. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Why aren’t you calling the cops?”

  “Because he might be meeting a girlfriend or a boyfriend, and I’ll look like an idiot. Not to mention my career would be in the toilet after something like that. Tattling about an illicit affair seldom looks good on your performance review.”

  “And if it’s not an affair?”

  Pam bit her lip. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’ll probably stay in the closet until his visitor leaves and then confront Chris.”

  “Do you think he’s doing something illegal?”

  “I don’t want to say. You can ruin someone’s career with that type of innuendo.” She rubbed the gooseflesh on her upper arms.

  “Your gut must be telling you something’s wrong. Or is it the spirits who are guiding you?”

  “I’m going to guide my foot up your posterior if you don’t stop being so condescending. Why are you so pissy about this? I’m sorry I’m in your way. Go mop floors or something.” Pam shooed him off.

  “I’m off duty.” He folded his arms and moved in a little closer.

  If he was trying to intimidate her, it backfired. Turn her on? Yes. Scare her? Not a chance. She liked he was working an honest job and clawing his way back to a home and a “normal” life—whatever that was. But she didn’t want him involved in this, especially if it turned out to be something silly. Ralphie needed to keep his head down and stay away from any controversy.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” She patted his forearm in what she hoped was a comforting and not lustful manner, but damn, he had muscles. Pam licked her dry lips and snatched her hand away as if she had burned it. “I just want to find out who’s coming to see Chris, and then I’ll go home.”

  “I can’t sleep with you here.”

  “Why not?” She turned the light off. “I’ll be quiet.”

  Standing in the dark with a strange man wasn’t as scary as it normally would be. She could hear his even breath and see his chest rising and falling. The ultrasensitivity arcing between them was very similar to the exchange of energy she had felt during their Reiki session. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating fast. She resisted the urge to lean against him as he peeked over her head again. Maybe it was time for her to get a boyfriend. The hot detective flickered through her mind, and she stifled a groan. Now she was thinking about him when she was with Ralphie.

  “How’s your knee?” she asked, her voice sounding loud in the little room.

  “Still aches,” he said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He pressed two gentle fingers against her lips. “You already apologized. You’ve got good instincts. A man my size comes after you like that again, if you can’t flat-out run, do the same thing. Promise me?”

  Pam swallowed to alleviate her parched throat and nodded.

  He stroked her hair. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He leaned in and nuzzled her temple.

  She clasped her hands in front of her before she was tempted to wrap them around his waist. “It’s because you’re my patient. It’s not ethical.”

  “What if I’m no longer your patient?” he said.

  “Then the line gets a little blurry.” She raised her lips to brush his. This was crazy. It was completely out of line. But it felt so right to be pulled into his arms. Her lips parted as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Pam fought a moan and steadied herself on his wide, powerful shoulders. It was a dark thrill to be kissing a stranger in a closet, she told herself. That was why she was so excited. Her panties were damp, and Ralphie was hard against her stomach. Deepening the kiss, Pam thrust the “we shouldn’ts” to the back of her head. It had been forever since a man kissed the hell out of her, and she was going to enjoy each swipe of his tongue. Grinding her hips against him, she was rewarded with his groan, and his hand molded her ass closer.

  “Damn it! Where’s the rest of it?” An angry voice in the hallway broke her out of the sensual reverie that she had been sinking deep into.

  Pam tore herself away and staggered back to the door. He came up behind her, his erection pressing into the curve of her backside.

  “Don’t you dare move,” he said in her ear. She was tempted to rub up against him, but she was afraid he would yank up her sensible skirt and take what she was offering.

  “Quiet,” she hushed him.

  He snaked an arm around her. “I got this.” He placed a burning kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Pam bit back a gasp and would have wiggled closer, but he had already stepped away.

  Turning her attention out the door, Pam could hear raised voices coming from Chris’s office. It hadn’t been Chris who spoke. Pam strained to hear more of the conversation, but they were taking care to keep their voices at a lower level.

  “Stay here,” Ralphie said, pushing by her while rolling a mop and bucket out. He nearly sloshed water over her bare toes, and she put her shoes back on.

  “Get back in here,” she whispered furiously. “Ralphie!” Honestly, she had been about to fuck him in the janitor’s closet. What the hell was coming over her?

  He put two fingers to his own lips this time and began to mop the floor toward Chris’s office. Pam glanced wildly around the small room, looking for some type of weapon. She settled her clothes and gathered her wits about her. Not seeing anything else, she took a mop and slipped out the door.

  Ralphie’s eyes narrowed on her, and he waved her away. She shook the mop at him threateningly.

  He pointed to the door of the janitor’s room. If he thought she was going to cower and hide while he put himself in danger, he had another think coming. As she crept up to get closer so she could hear what was going on, a man stormed out of Chris’s office.

  He wore a black trench coat that swirled unbuttoned around him. Worn jeans were tucked into a pair of black boots that looked like they were made for stomping. He was clutching a reusable grocery bag that was filled with boxes of medication. She opened her mouth to say something, but when she looked into the man’s face, she flinched, the mop dropping from her nerveless fingers.

  Darren.

  His step faltered when her brother recognized her too. But he passed by her without saying a word. She took a step to follow him, but the glare he shot her over his shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

  Darren should have still been in prison. He certainly shouldn’t be carrying a bag of drugs out of the hospital.

  “Stop,” she said, but Darren opened the stairwell doors and disappeared.

  Ralphie was there in front of her. “Get back in your office right now.”

  “You don’t order me around.” She tried to push by him, but he was a rock.

  “Pam.” Chris came out of his office. He still looked visibly shaken. His face was ashen. “I told you to go home.”

  “What have you done?” she said. “You have to stop him. Get those drugs back. He’s going to sell them.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said. “You.” He pointed to Ralphie. “You’re fired. Get out of here.”

  “You can’t do that,” Pam said. Horror filled her. It wasn’t right. Ralphie was only involved in this because of her.

  “I just did. I said get out.”

  “You’re not his boss.” Pam crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t have the authority to fire him.” Fire her? Yes. Fire the new janitor? Not so much.

  “I’ll speak to HR in the morning. This man gave that thug drugs from the pharmacy. In fact, this isn’t his first run-in with theft.”

  Pam looked at Ralphie, whose face was strangely blank. “I won’t let him do this,” she said to him, touching him lightly on the sleeve.

  “Why don’t you believe hi
m?” Ralphie asked.

  “Because I know you,” she said.

  “Honey, you don’t know a thing about me. He’s a doctor. I’m a janitor who is living on the streets. Who do you think they’re going to believe?”

  “Me,” Pam said. “They’re going to believe me. Besides, you don't have the credentials to get medicine out of the lock up. And even if you did, there needs to be two signatures.”

  “I was hoping you would just let it go,” Chris said, ending in a sigh.

  “Don’t do it, man,” Ralphie said. “I’ll take the fall. Don’t hurt the girl. I got no roots. No ties here. I’ll just move on, and you can continue what you’re doing.”

  “What do you mean? He’s not going to hurt me.”

  Chris drew a pistol out of his jacket pocket. “Actually, I am.”

  “Chris, are you out of your mind?” This couldn’t be happening. He was a jerk, but he wasn’t a criminal—was he? She stared at the gun pointed at her and tried not to shake.

  “You don’t understand, Pam. The vor owns me.”

  Pam cringed. She could hear her father’s desperation in Chris’s tone. The vor v zakone had always been a presence in their neighborhood. The vor pushed out the mafia here in Harding shortly after she went off to college. They were as old as Stalin’s gulags, but just as dangerous as the modern mafia. “What are they holding over you? Gambling debts? Whatever it is, we can get it to stop.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “I get a cut from the sales. And I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. They won’t let me.”

  “Do you want to get out?”

  “Yeah, they keep asking for more and more. I’m going to get caught. And now I have to take care of you.”

  “I am not your enemy,” she said.

  “It helps that you were attacked a few days ago. The police will just think those thugs came back and finished the job.”

  “You’re going to shoot us here in cold blood?” Pam asked, still not believing it. Not even when his pistol hand didn’t tremble.

  “No other way. Someone will find your bodies in the morning, and I’ll be long gone.”

  “Wait,” Ralphie said. “How about if we make a deal?”

  “She won’t deal,” Chris said.

  “If it means her life, she will, right, Pam?”

  Hell no, but Pam saw the message in Ralphie’s eyes: Play along.

  “I don’t want to die.” Pam couldn’t lie for beans, so she stuck with the truth.

  “I’m not a murderer,” Chris said.

  “The only way to ensure Pam’s silence is to cut her in,” Ralphie said.

  Chris brightened. “Cut her in, nothing. She can take the whole thing over.”

  Pam caught herself before she started to emphatically shake her head. Ralphie sloshed more water on her shoe, and it snapped her out of her confusion. “I don’t know what to do.” She said that more to Ralphie, but Chris took it that she was talking to him.

  “This is perfect. I’ll train you. It’s a win-win situation. I get out from under the vor’s thumb, and you can start making headway on those student loans you always complain about.”

  “I don’t always complain—” She broke off what she was going to say, because Ralphie nudged her. “Okay fine, but Ralphie here doesn’t get fired.”

  “You’ve got to cut him in on the action so he’s just as culpable as you. It’s your only guarantee.”

  “Fine,” Pam repeated. “Will you put that gun away before you kill someone?”

  He eased his finger off the trigger and put on the safety. “Now that we’ve settled that, why don’t you come into my office so I can give you the money.” He put the gun into his lab coat pocket.

  “How much can you make selling pills?” Ralphie asked.

  Pam made a noise in her throat, but when Ralphie pinched her arm, she bit back a yelp and rubbed the spot. He was going to pay for that. She followed Chris into his office.

  “Ten dollars a pill. Twenty-five boxes, twice a month. Three pills a box—well, you can do the math. Even with cutting your janitor in and paying for the nurse to fudge the inventory levels, you’ll make a tidy profit. The vor sell it for twenty a pill. Everyone is happy. You’ll have to fake a few prescriptions, but that shouldn’t be a problem with your credentials.”

  He opened up his desk drawer and poured out an envelope filled with cash. “I’m going to take half of this—call it a training fee. You can have the rest. We can go over the details in the morning.”

  “Who’s the nurse?” Ralphie said.

  “Lea Brown,” Chris said, coming around the desk with a wad of cash in his hand. He held it out to Pam, but before she could take it, Ralphie swung the mop to crash down on his head. As he staggered back from the blow, Ralphie tackled him, taking him to the floor. Banging the doctor’s head into the ground, he finished him with two fast jabs to the chin.

  “Call the cops,” Ralphie said, taking the gun out of Chris’s pocket and unloading it in quick, direct movements. He placed it on the desk and looked up at Pam, who was staring at him with her mouth open. “Please don’t kick me again.”

  Chapter Six

  Ralphie Brooks tore off the fake beard as soon as he was in the elevator heading down. He was halfway to the van when he heard the sirens. Pam hadn’t wanted him to go, but she’d seemed to buy that he didn’t want to answer questions from the cops, in case they ousted him for living in the janitor’s closet.

  “Did you get it?” Drake asked, climbing into the back of the van.

  “I got a lot of heavy breathing and clothes fumbling.”

  Drake refused to be embarrassed. He sure as shit wasn’t going to admit he had forgotten he was wearing the wire when Pam surprised him with the kiss. “After that, dumb ass.”

  The police techs, Frank and Joe, gave him a thumbs-up from the control panels. Drake looked at the monitors. They were playing back the gangster who had taken the bag of drugs.

  “Who is he?” Drake asked as he started shucking off the janitor’s uniform.

  Joe piped a vaudeville stripper song over the speakers.

  “Nice,” Drake said, removing the wire and microphone he was wearing.

  “Not sure yet. He’s definitely vor, what with all those friggin’ tattoos,” Frank said.

  “Each one tells a story,” Drake said, jumping into a pair of jeans and shrugging on a sweater. “We can read him like a book later. Those are prison tats. He’s in the system somewhere. Find him for me.”

  “You got glue all over your face,” Joe said helpfully when Drake sat down to pull on a pair of sneakers.

  “Looks like I can stop being a bum.” Drake grinned. “Too bad. I’m going to miss good old Ralphie.”

  “Looked like the doc liked him too,” Frank said. “She’s a firecracker.”

  “Too hot for you,” Drake said, picking the residual glue and hair from his cheeks and chin.

  “You’re not going up there, are you?” Joe said.

  “Why?”

  “She’s going to know you’re Ralphie. Your hair is a dead giveaway,” Frank told him.

  “I didn’t bring any gel with me,” Drake said, running a hand down his riotous blond curls self-consciously.

  “She’s going to kick you, again, when she finds out you’ve been tricking her.”

  “I was just doing my job. Besides, it’s not like we ever suspected her for selling drugs.”

  “Women don’t like to be lied to,” Joe said, shaking his head.

  “Who cares, anyway? It doesn’t matter anymore. We got the guy supplying the vor with the hospital’s drugs. My case is closed, brother,” Drake said.

  “Not according to the captain,” Joe said. “He likes you as a bum. It looks like there’s some gang activity going on lately involving torturing street people. We’re back on the streets tomorrow night, same as tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “If you checked your voice mail more than once a week, you would have gotten the message.�
��

  “Where would I put my iPhone? I’m supposed to be homeless.”

  “The only homeless guy who gets Reiki massages.”

  “She never touched anything but my knee,” Drake protested, pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket.

  “Did it work?”

  “It didn’t hurt.” Drake was astounded that after the treatment, he had felt more relaxed, although that could be from taking a mini nap in a dark room while a sexy woman soothed him. Sexy? Drake guessed she was, but the thought had sneaked up on him. Must have been that kiss she laid on him. Man, that was hot. She wasn’t his normal type. He liked his women a little on the trashy side, like the song goes.

  The funny thing was, he still couldn’t picture her from the old neighborhood. They were about the same age. They knew some of the same people. He should have remembered her. She had probably been a cheerleader or a brainiac. Had she worn her hair long in high school, like she did now? It was a silky black that made him think of it splashed across his pillow. She had a mouth on her too, and she pushed back when confronted. So what if she wasn’t trashy. Who cared? Maybe after all this was over, they’d go grab a pizza.

  There were three text messages from his partner, Mark O’Reilly, telling him to call in with various tones and levels of urgency. And one voice mail. The voice mail was from Captain Francis.

  “Logan, we’ve got trouble. Two homeless guys have been torched in two days. Both deep in gang territories. Our sources say it’s a new initiation. I need you out on the street ASAFP.”

  “Great,” Drake groaned.

  “Go home and get some rest,” Frank said. “We’ve got it from here.”

  Drake grumbled and called his partner who should answer at this ungodly hour because he was working an eleven to seven shift..

  “Drake, man, where have you been?” Mark said.

  “Undercover. You know that. We got the bastard.”

  “Uh, that’s good,” Mark said, sounding distracted.

  “So what the hell’s so damn important you had to text me three times instead of leaving a message like a normal person?”

  Mark blew out a long sigh, and Drake didn’t have to be a detective to know the news wasn’t good.