Jesus. Leave it to his mother to know everything that was going on in the city.
“Yeah, Ma, she’s okay. I just left her place. I’m sure they’ll catch the guy who did it too,” he said with a snort, knowing he’d caught the intruder on his camera.
“And you didn’t offer to bring her here to stay?”
“No, she’s staying at Quinn’s,” he lied.
His mother cut her eyes at him. “Douglas, what kind of boyfriend doesn’t have his woman stay with him after something like that happens?”
“Ma. She’s fine. Just a little shaken up. If it makes you feel better, I offered, but you know how Tilly is. She didn’t think it’d be appropriate to stay here, you know, her being old-fashioned and all. She was worried about what you’d think of her.”
Roberta smiled. “That girl. Such a gem. She’s a good one, Doug. Don’t let her go.”
“I won’t, Ma.”
“Well, I’m going to bed now. That was some excitement! I tried calling her, but it went right to that answering machine thing. Invite her to lunch tomorrow, will you?”
“Yeah, Ma. I’ll do that.”
He watched as she shuffled away to her bedroom then he went to the basement where he ran his “studio” out of his bedroom. After removing his coat, he sat at his computer desk and removed the SD card from his camera and loaded it into his laptop then got the shock of a lifetime.
“Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled. “Holy fucking shit!”
He knew who the man in the pictures was. It was Graham fucking Hightower, that’s who it was. One of New York City’s most famous (or infamous, considering what you’d heard about him) men. The guy was a damned multimillionaire, hell, might even be a billionaire now as far as Doug knew with everything the guy was involved with, and what a coup he’d come upon in catching him breaking into Tilly’s house. Well, he’d just blackmail the shit out of Hightower and relieve him of some of his cash.
He scrolled through the shots sorting the ones that showed Hightower’s face the clearest muttering, “Gonna be fucking rich.”
When he got the photos he wanted, he stopped to think about how he’d lighten the guy’s pockets a bit. He could send him copies of the pictures with a note telling him if he didn’t pay he’d go to the police. Then he’d tell him to leave a briefcase full of money at a drop place somewhere in Central Park or in the subway. Nah, that was too dramatic like some fucking movie. He thought some more. He could have Hightower deposit money into an account for him, that way he wouldn’t have to meet the guy and risk being found out or possibly getting the shit kicked out of him. That sounded like a good plan.
He went to work printing out the photos, thinking of all the things he could do with the money. He could get his own place on the Upper East Side, buy a Lexus, get some stylish new clothes. Tilly would beg him to come back then.
He Googled Hightower’s business address and printed it on an envelope. Tomorrow was Sunday, but Monday, he’d go to the bank, set up an account, type up a letter with the account number on it and send it along with the pictures . Then he’d wait. By the end of the week, he, too, would be a millionaire.
Fucking genius.
***
Tilly awoke not knowing where she was. She lay there in the fading darkness for a few seconds before she remembered she was at John’s. And he was lying next to her on his stomach. With his arm across her stomach. And they’d had sex earlier. Lots of sex. Gah!
She closed her eyes and brought a hand up to cover her face. God, what had she been thinking?
And that was the problem, wasn’t it. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d just done. And now she’d gone and complicated things. Marvelous.
Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, she saw it was just after six in the morning. When she’d gone to bed (by herself which was the way it should’ve remained, she now mentally scolded herself), it’d been a little after eleven. When she’d gotten up and opened the bedroom doors, which had led to the situation she was now in, it’d been almost half past twelve.
She and John had had sex then she’d fallen asleep. Having two orgasms in such a short amount of time tended to do that to her, she guessed, since it’d never happened before.
The next thing she’d known, John had awakened her an hour later and they’d gotten down to business again. Her back had been pressed to his front as they lay there, his arms around her, one of his hands working her breast, his fingers rolling her nipple between his thumb and finger, the other between her legs, his fingers doing fabulously delicious things that made her body fire to life.
His sexy, rumbly, sleepy voice had been at her ear, “Want you bad, Tilly,” and she’d gone to pieces, just completely shattered right then and there in his arms.
He’d then pulled her right leg over his right thigh and plunged into her body from behind, making her cry out at his powerful entry, and she’d come again immediately, her sex pulsating around his thick shaft, pulling at him, keeping him inside, her body not wanting to let him go.
He’d paused at her quaking around him, his voice rumbling in her ear once again, “Feels so fucking good.”
She didn’t know what it was about his voice, but when he spoke while he was doing very naughty things to her body, it drove her wild, making her respond in kind, telling him things she never thought she’d say in bed. She’d never behaved that way with Jason or Doug, but they hadn’t been big talkers during the act, and she probably would’ve laughed had Doug tried it. But when John muttered such wanton things to her, it turned her on to no end.
He’d continued pumping inside her, one hand holding her thigh over his, the other still doing wicked things to her, taking her to the height of arousal and she’d come yet again. Good lord. The man was going to ruin her for any other man.
When he’d gotten close, he’d left her for a few seconds, turning her to her back, then came over her, leaning down to thrust his tongue inside her mouth, kissing her hard, wet and deep before propping himself up on his hands. She’d wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh, the knee of the other leg braced against his hip, and he’d driven inside her, pounding her so hard she’d had to grab onto his wrists to keep herself in place. Wow.
Watching him come had been magnificent, seeing the thick, corded muscles of his neck straining as he’d ground himself against her, burying himself to the hilt, his head going back as he’d growled out a curse. And after when he’d pressed his entire weight down on top of her, taking her breath away as he’d nuzzled his face into her neck telling her that she was “fucking perfect” it’d made her breath catch.
Ugh. She was in so much trouble.
So now, as she lay next to him, she knew she had to get away.
She turned and glanced at him looking so peaceful in the early morning light, his face relaxed, and she saw the boy she’d fallen so hard for when she was just a girl. A sad smile covered her face as she carefully moved his arm off her, sliding out from under it and standing at the side of the bed. She froze when he mumbled something, moving his arm up under his pillow and turning his back to her.
And her mouth dropped open.
Good lord! He hadn’t been kidding about a tattoo! It covered his whole back! She leaned closer to see it in the dim light from the windows. It was a skull wearing a beret with a knife in its mouth and two guns crisscrossed under it. It was done in blacks and grays, but the eyes were an eerie red and a luminous green surrounded the entire thing. She put a hand over her mouth when she read what was written on a banner over it: Death before dishonor.
It was then she absolutely knew she needed to go. No way was she doing this, risking getting involved with him, his job being so dangerous, even if all this amounted to was just sleeping with him and not getting him to love her. Either way, it would only turn out bad. Just like her dad. Just like her uncle. She’d walk away now before she got hurt.
“Stupid,” she muttered to herself.
She needed to hurry because he was making “w
aking up” noises and she didn’t want to get caught still being there. She went quietly to her bag that she’d left on a chair next to his bathroom door, grabbing it up and leaving the room to go to the other bathroom. Once inside, she dressed quickly in the jeans and sweater she’d packed, pulling on socks and tucking her jeans in them before pulling on her boots and zipping them. Looking in the mirror, she frowned and tried to smooth her hair down some, but it wasn’t cooperating so whatever. She didn’t have time to mess with it.
Opening the door and looking out, seeing that the coast was clear, she headed to the front door, having to tiptoe so the ridiculous heels on her boots didn’t click on the hardwood floor and wake him. She grabbed her coat off the hook and made it outside to the hallway without incident. Thank God.
In the elevator, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling horrible for leaving him the way she had, but not knowing what else to do. She loved him, but she couldn’t, no wouldn’t, get attached to him. It was too much. Too scary. Too risky.
In the lobby, she pulled her coat on and left the building, hailing a cab back to her house.
***
Oz turned over to see his bed empty. He listened to see if he could hear Tilly in his apartment but got nothing.
She’d run.
“Goddamn it!” he hissed out, running his hands over his face.
He sat up, turning and putting his feet on the floor and felt something soft under them. Looking down, he saw it was Tilly’s nightgown. He picked it up and held it to his nose. Clean. Sweet. Just like her. Leaving it on his bed, he got up and walked into the living room, grabbing his phone off the coffee table.
“Shit,” he said when he saw that Hank had called. He dialed him back, hoping he wasn’t going to have to leave the city before he was able to see Tilly and set some things straight.
“Oz, you’re calling bright and early,” Hank said upon answering.
Oz rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who called, bossman.”
“Yep, that I did,” Hank said with a chuckle. “Got another skip, but it’s local. Shouldn’t be too tough. Guy’s supposedly holed up in Hell’s Kitchen. I’ll text you the name and last known address. Pick him up, turn him in and your day’s over.”
“Got it.” They hung up but before he started getting ready, he texted Tilly.
This isn’t over.
Then he got in the shower, getting ready to go find another asshole.
***
“Crap!” Tilly mumbled when she got the text from Oz.
She’d gotten home and showered and now sat at her bar drinking a cup of coffee when her phone beeped. She wanted to call Quinn, but it was only just after seven on a Sunday morning and she didn’t feel like being told she was the spawn of Satan who would populate the earth with his illegitimate grandchildren for waking her up. And speaking of spawn of Satan… if Rod had stayed the night, well, then, just ick.
She drank her coffee and tried clearing her mind not wanting to think about anything. She just wanted her boring life back.
Upon arriving home earlier, she’d asked the cabbie if he’d stay until she got in safely. The guy had nodded then driven off the second she’d stepped out of the cab. Typical. But she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t his responsibility. So she’d sucked it up and gone inside the house. Of course, rationally, she knew it was safe. She hadn’t gotten another text that her alarm had been activated, but just being in the house alone was a test all by itself. And that’d just pissed her off. She’d thought about calling Doug and chewing him out, but if it wasn’t him doing this then she’d risk getting him involved and asking questions and she didn’t want to do that.
Her phone beeped again with another text. She closed her eyes, afraid to look. When she finally did, she sighed.
You home? Jeff. Good.
Yep.
Be there in 5.
Now, that, she could handle. Seven minutes later, her brother walked in.
“What’s up? Thought you’d be spending the day with loverboy.” He grinned at her as he walked into the kitchen.
“Shut up,” she mumbled then took a drink of coffee as he got out a mug and poured himself some of his own.
“Jesus. What’s wrong with you?” He eyed her over his cup as he took a sip. “Ouch! Damn! What do you have it set on? Molten?”
Tilly laughed. “You gonna sue me?”
“I just might. Now, what’s the matter?” He leaned against the counter looking at her.
She sighed. “It’s everything. I mean, my house gets broken into. Twice. My cameras were taken along with my laptop. I’ll have to call my insurance agent again tomorrow. I want to stay in my own fucking house, but I’m scared to death that I’ll be broken into again.”
Jeff raised his eyebrows at her, and she knew he was surprised she’d dropped the F-bomb, but she was angry. “I’m really sorry, Till. I know it sucks, but we’ll catch the fucker. Okay? Got the window fixed too.”
“Thanks.”
He watched her carefully. “Sure that’s all that’s going on?”
She wasn’t about to tell her brother what’d happened between her and John or all she’d been thinking, so she just shook her head, staring down at her coffee mug.
“Did something happen last night?” Jeff asked.
She looked up at him, wanting to put an end to this. “Do you really want to know?”
A look of revulsion crossed his face as he thought about it for a second. “Not really.”
“That’s what I thought. Drop it.”
“Oz seems like a good guy.”
“God, really? I said to drop it.” She shot him a dirty look.
He walked to the bar and stood across from her, setting his cup down and crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what, Till? I know I’m your baby brother. And I know that brothers and sisters don’t share shit like this very often, thank God almighty, but I’ve got something to say, and you’re gonna listen, got it?”
She scowled at him, not used to his being so bossy. He stood looking at her, waiting on an answer, she guessed, so she nodded but didn’t lose the scowl.
“I know you don’t think I’ve noticed, but I have. You shut people out. No, let me rephrase that. You shut men out. Ever since Dad and Uncle Tim, it’s like you’re scared to death to let anyone in. And I get it. I do. Losing them was the worst. But you’ve got to stop this. You stayed with an asshole the past two years because he was ‘safe.’ You knew you’d never fall for him, so you just kept him around. But you’ve gotta let yourself be happy, Till. And I think this Oz guy just might be able to do that, make you happy. You need to give him a chance.”
She sighed and took a drink. “You done, Dr. Phil?”
“Don’t be a bitch about it. I’m just trying to help.”
God, she was being a bitch. “I’m sorry. I know you’re right. But I am scared and I don’t know how to change that.”
“To be honest with you, I was kinda the same way. I almost didn’t ask Jen out. Almost.” He had her full attention now. “But, God, she had the most spectacular ass I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t help myself.”
She stood up and went toward the sink, smacking him on the arm in the process. “You’re an idiot.” She chuckled.
“At least I’m an idiot who’s getting laid properly.” He waggled his eyebrows at her scrunched up face. “And you can be an idiot too.”
She laughed now. “I don’t want to be an idiot. Thanks, though.”
He laughed with her. “You know what I mean. I think you should give this guy a chance. And this kinda grosses me out, but I saw the way you two looked at each other. I think you should go for it.”
Ugh. Even her brother thought she should get with John.
“We’ll see,” she said as she washed her cup out then put it in the dishwasher.
***
Graham sat at his desk in his office, staring straight ahead, not paying any mind to the smashed laptop that lay on the floor.
; The one that he’d flung against the wall.
The one that’d screwed him beyond all measure.
He’d been working on the Maxwell woman’s laptop. He’d cracked her password and had logged onto it, no problem. When he’d pulled up the file that contained the parade pictures, he scrolled through them thinking maybe he’d overreacted, that she actually hadn’t captured him on film, but as he looked at each photo, he saw that there were several with him in them, even two that had him looking straight at the fucking camera. Jesus. Yeah, he’d been in disguise, but he knew there’d be some smartass detective who’d figure it out if he got hold of the photos.
He’d deleted them immediately then he’d found the icons on her desktop that led to an online file storage site where he’d deleted all the pictures there too. But when he’d pulled up her email account, he found several emails that’d been sent to local newspapers and magazines and probably twenty more to different magazines, print and online, across the country, all of them having her pictures attached, his included.
“Fuck!” he roared.
Only one thing left to do. Pay a visit to Tilly Maxwell and finish this once and for all.
Chapter 17
Oz found his skip by noon and it’d been the mission from hell. Hank had given him a bogus address, not by any fault of his own, and who the fuck knew there were fifty billion Mike Williams’ in New York City. Jesus. Even though the search had been narrowed down to Hell’s Kitchen, he’d still run into problems. He’d also embarrassed himself a couple times trying to nab the wrong guy until Hank had finally sent him a picture, which had made things a lot easier.
After turning Mike Williams #812,936 in to the police, Oz decided that with the adrenaline flow he had going, on top of his bad mood at how the day had been going so far, he’d give Tilly’s idiot of an ex-boyfriend a visit. After the second break-in, he’d gotten Doug’s address from Jeff who’d wholeheartedly agreed that the guy needed a good talking to.
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