Have Me

by Jo Leigh

  “No, I mean, shouldn’t he have been more angry? Considering?”

  It was Jake’s turn to sigh. “I thought of that. But even if that’s the case, there’s nothing to do with the information. For all I know, Keegan’s dead, T-Mac is just a guy in the joint and Packard had spent every last penny on a massive comic-book collection. I’ve got nothing.”

  “But you tried.”

  “Is that laughter I hear? Are you having fun while I’m moping?”

  She giggled. “I’m at St. Marks. It’s a birthday party, and it’s almost over. I have to get back to the office.”

  “Ah, the frozen lunches. Put those together with the leftover dim sum, and you won’t need to shop for a month.”

  “Ugh, food is the last thing I’m interested in. No lunches today though, only cake and ice cream. You want to come over tonight? Though it can’t be too early because I have a meeting.”

  He was flat out grinning now. Had been since she’d said hello, for that matter, but that last question? That had been something else altogether. “I do,” he said, tempted. No, he wasn’t going to risk ruining his plan for tomorrow night. His leg had to be in full working order. “But I don’t think I should.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know it’s very unmanly, but the truth is I’m exhausted. I need to do some work on my poor wounded body then get myself a full night’s sleep. I won’t do that if I’m with you.”

  “I give a pretty good massage.”

  Shit, her persistence was killing him, but did he want her to see how bad his leg was today? “Sweetheart, there is no way in the world I’m going to be in a bed with you and not keep us both up. Besides, you need to rest, too. I’m taking you somewhere special tomorrow evening.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “No fair,” she said, almost whining, which was pretty damn adorable. “Tell me.”

  “Nope. Wear something warm and comfortable. None of those lethal high heels.”

  “You like it when I wear high heels.”

  “Only when you’re not wearing anything but your fancy underwear.”

  She didn’t say anything for a minute. He could tell she’d gone somewhere more private, quieter. “I’m sorry things didn’t pan out about West. I’m happy for the foundation… You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. Although I’m not totally ready to throw in the towel. Unless that’s what you want.”

  “How about we keep thinking it through,” she said, her voice warm and sexy. “Who knows, together, we might come up with something that’ll not only uncover the truth, but find all that missing money. Then I can negotiate a reward for the foundation.”

  He laughed. She really was good. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll keep thinking. And if we don’t uncover squat, we’ll have given it a hell of a shot, right?”

  “So tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven. Does that work?”

  “Seven’s great. Hey, Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sleep well. Take care of yourself.”

  “I…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Nothing. Thanks. You sleep well, too.” He hung up his phone and stared at it as he took another big swig of soda. By the time he put the cell back in his pocket and climbed back into the car, he knew exactly how much trouble he was in.

  He’d fallen for her. Fallen like a kid off a bicycle. Shit, he was in for a world of hurt.

  15

  WHOEVER THE HELL HAD invented full-length mirrors deserved to be sent to the same level of hell as shoe designers. The jeans Rebecca had on now were tight and made her look thinner, yet when she took them off they left a red indent around her waist, which Jake would see. Unless she wore a teddy under and didn’t take that off until the lights were out and, oh, hell. Why was she so nervous?

  She sucked it up to unzip, then traded the jeans for a different, looser pair. The solution to the whole problem turned out to be not looking in the mirror. Simple.

  As per his instructions, she’d put on comfy boots that had virtually no heels at all, and a wonderful thick sweater she’d gotten for skiing. She had no idea where he planned to take her that would require walking in the cold March air, but for his sake she hoped there were plentiful rests and a nice place to snuggle when they got there.

  The buzzer from the front desk caught her finishing her lipstick and speeded up her heart. She didn’t even know how it could be more exciting to see him now than it had that first night. But it was. He made her pulse race, her insides tighten and her nipples get hard. What a fantastic superpower.

  She couldn’t even wait for the elevator to bring him up. Instead she stood outside by her open door, impatient and grinning.

  At the sound of the ding she rose up on her toes, but settled before he stepped clear of his ride. His grin matched hers in intensity, and they sort of rushed at each other. It would have been ridiculous except for the kiss. That trumped everything. His hand cupped the back of her neck and she sneaked inside his coat to take hold of his hips. She pulled him in close so they were smooshed together thigh to chest and she filled herself up with his scent.

  He went on kissing her, tasting her, the two of them greedy and eager as teenagers. When he moaned low and pushed his budding erection against her, she wondered if maybe they should skip the surprise and stay in bed for the next ten hours or so.

  When he broke the kiss, he didn’t go far. His forehead touched hers as he slowly exhaled, fingers still rubbing soft circles on her nape. “That was some welcome.”

  “Yeah, well, I love surprises.”

  “So it’s the idea that’s important, huh?” he asked. “For all you know I could be taking you for a pushcart falafel in the Village.”

  “It would depend on the cart.” She needed to look at him. Still, she was disappointed when his hand fell away from her nape. “Come on, where are we going?”

  “Get your coat. I’ll show you.”

  She took hold of Jake’s hand and led him into the house. Her coat and purse were ready. “You need to make a pit stop? Grab something to drink?”

  He shook his head, his crooked smile melting her into a puddle of goo. “You continue to amaze me,” he said.

  She stopped short. “What? Why?”

  “You surprise me every time we get together. Every time.”

  “How am I surprising you now?”

  “You’re like a kid on Christmas. I don’t want to disappoint you. We’re not going to Paris or anything.”

  She put her stuff back down on the table and walked to him. Hands on his shoulders made him look her straight in the eyes. “I don’t care where we’re going. Pushcart, Paris. Doesn’t matter. I just want to hang out with you. And then screw like bunnies when we get back.”

  “Ah. I see. I hadn’t thought of the screwing like bunnies part. I think I can change the itinerary. Anything for a friend.”

  “So, I’m a sacrifice now?”

  He shook his head slowly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His voice had deepened and she heard him swallow, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  She had to kiss him. Had to. She tried to make him see it was okay what he’d said. It was more than okay. Without scaring the pants off him. Or herself.

  She was his best thing. She’d never been anyone’s best thing before.

  Wow.

  JAKE TOOK HER HAND AS HE scooted into the cab beside her. “Brooklyn Bridge Station, please.”

  The cab took off, making its winding way to Broadway. Rebecca leaned against the window, the neck of her wool coat turned up, framing her face perfectly. “Brooklyn Bridge Station? Hmm.”

  “You won’t guess.”

  “Let me think. What’s around there?” She closed her eyes, and he wanted to kiss her. “It’s the Financial District, so Bridge Café?”

  “Naturally, you’re going to think of restaurants. We’re not going to a restaurant.”

&
nbsp; “Simply narrowing down the field.” She grinned and fluttered her lashes at him, as if that had been her plan all along. “The Woolworth Building? South Street Seaport?”

  “You’re getting warm, but no. Not where we’re going.”

  “New York Academy of Art?”

  “How do you even know that?” he asked.

  “Went to a fundraiser there. Oh, City Hall. Municipal buildings. Courts and things, right?”

  “Yes. That’s it. I’m taking you to courts and things.”

  She sighed as they waited in the crushing traffic. “I give up.”

  “Good. I bet you were hell on Christmas. Did you always find where your folks had hidden your gifts?”

  Her smile faded a little. “No. Christmas wasn’t like that at our house. My grandparents were taught to keep a rein on their emotions. That was a point of pride, and it was passed on. Drummed in. The trees were decorated by professionals. Christmas dinner was catered. I got mostly sensible gifts. Clothes, books. Charitable donations were made in my name.”

  “Wait. When you were a kid?”

  She nodded. “Not only me. My cousins, too. It wasn’t a horrible message. We’d been born into privilege and with that came responsibilities. When we were very young, we had chores around the house, and as soon as we were able, we were expected to do volunteer work in one form or another. It wasn’t optional.”

  “But what about being a child? What happened to that part?”

  “That was where Charlie came in. He was, just so you know, the devil incarnate. A rebel even in kindergarten. He gave me my first cigarette at eleven. Let’s see. He helped me steal my first candy bar from a Duane Reade drugstore. We used to sneak into the liquor cabinets during the parties our parents would host and get absolutely smashed. I’m not sure why the nannies never busted us. I think they were glad to see us letting off steam. My family and his were really close, did everything together, until they caught us ditching school. We’d gone to Atlantic City when we were in seventh grade. I only saw him a couple of times a year after that. Well, officially. Unofficially, he remained my hero and we sneaked out all the time.”

  “I knew I liked him right off the bat.”

  “His parents were at the donor dinner.”

  “I didn’t meet them.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “They’re…rigid. And the honest and horrible truth is, I don’t think they like Charlie. Which is a shame because he’s really something.”

  “I’m glad you had each other.”

  “Me, too. But when it came down to choosing what I was going to do with my life, the lessons of my parents had the most impact. I set my sights on the Winslow Foundation. We’re doing good things.”

  He leaned over, helpless not to kiss her. “I was brought up the same way. Kind of.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” she said, brushing her fingers over his cheek.

  They swayed together with the stops and starts of the taxi. Rush-hour traffic was never easy. But that was okay. He was fine where he was. Jake brushed her lips with his one more time. “I never wanted to be anything but a cop. My family was full of heroes. I grew up believing that I could make a difference. I still do. My father, he was a tough sonofabitch. He didn’t let me get away with much. But he worked like a dog to make sure I got into college, got my degree before I joined the force. I think he was hoping I’d grow up to be chief of police or something. I never wanted that. I needed to be on the street.”

  “You’re pretty tough yourself.”

  “I was. I helped put away some bad people. I never took kindly to those bastards preying on the weak and the helpless. They destroyed families, kids. It was frustrating, because we’d get rid of one operation and another would take its place in a heartbeat. But you can’t let that stop you. You do what’s in front of you.”

  Rebecca’s face was half in shadow, but he could see that she was staring at him, not grinning now, not moving. Just looking at him. “I admire you, Jake Donnelly. I admire your values and your courage and your willingness to take a stand.”

  He was pretty sure she couldn’t see his blush. “I honored the job. Like my father did, and his father.”

  “Did you know you have a Brooklyn accent when you talk about your dad?”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.” She leaned in, but the cab veered to the left and came to a jarring stop. “Brooklyn Bridge Station.”

  Jake had gone to the ATM before he’d picked up Rebecca, and even though he had to quit this crazy spending, he’d taken out a few hundred bucks. Just in case. He paid the cabbie, then helped her out of the taxi. Now came the good part. It was brisk out, but not freezing. The air smelled clean for New York, and once they got free of the subway entrance, the street traffic thinned. “You ready to go on an adventure?”

  “Oh, God, yes. Lead on, Macduff.”

  He grinned wide. “It’s actually ‘Lay on, Macduff.’ But don’t feel bad. It’s misquoted all the time.”

  “I stand corrected,” she said with a little bow.

  He tried to leave it at that, but he couldn’t. “That was on Jeopardy the other night.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “It still counts.”

  “Good.” He took her hand again. “Follow me.” He could have asked the cabbie to drop them closer to their ultimate destination, but he wanted it to be a surprise until the last minute. There was no rush. He’d accomplished what he’d needed to last night. Soaked for a long time, done the massage work, then he’d seen his physiotherapist for a session this morning. He’d needed it. Because tonight the pain was under control and his limp wasn’t as noticeable. He figured he could get through the next couple of hours, no sweat.

  Finally, in City Hall Park they came to another subway entrance: City Hall Station. When he pulled her to a halt, she gave him a sidelong glance. “Why did we go to the Brooklyn Bridge Station when we were coming here?”

  “Because the subway doesn’t stop here anymore. Well, that’s not completely true. A train does come here, but only to turn around and leave again.”

  “Explain, please?”

  “Let’s explore the park. Do you mind?”

  “Never. Adventure. Surprise. What could be better?” She got closer to him, switched from holding his hand to putting her arm through his.

  “In 1904, this was one of the first terminals of the IRT. This particular station was built as a showpiece. The city elders went all out. It was gorgeous, but it had two things that didn’t work so well. One, not many people needed this stop when the Brooklyn Bridge platform was so close. Two, the trains back then were shorter than they are now, and the tracks here were configured in a pretty tight loop.”

  He led her to the park fountain, circled by flickering gas oil lamps, which made the water look magical. He pointed. “These are reconditioned lamps from the late nineteenth century, although some of them have been updated a little.”

  Jake watched Rebecca, her chin up, eyes wide as she took in the details of the old lighting fixtures. It was remarkably quiet around them, the swooping and falling of bursts of water onto the granite base of the fountain masking the traffic noise. He’d seen only a couple of people rushing across City Hall Park.

  He was excited; he could feel his blood pumping and his adrenaline spike. He loved New York, especially Manhattan, and he’d become an urban explorer when he had time off, although he hadn’t been able to do a lot of that since the shooting. He wanted her to see the hidden treasures all around her, and of course, it had to begin with City Hall Station.

  He tugged at her arm and walked her around some greenery toward a circular tablet embedded in the sidewalk in the south end of the park. Most people never noticed it as it wasn’t well lit at night. But he’d prepared for that. He pulled out a flashlight to better illuminate it. There were carvings in the center, a time line of the history of City Hall, including the abandoned subway station.

  “There used to be a big post office building here. They called
it Mullet’s Monstrosity. It was on Mail Street, which didn’t survive.”

  He moved the flashlight to the right. “That’s where it used to be. There’s more than one street that vanished,” he said. “Tyron Row disappeared, too. Park Row, where we are, is the only street in New York City called a row.”

  She crouched down, staring at the careful workmanship. “I love this. How many times have you been here?”

  “More than I can count. I started exploring the old places when I was in college. A friend of mine who works for the IRT calls himself an urban historian. He’s got a great blog. And something far more important.”

  She rose again and looked at him instead of the view. “What’s that?”

  “Keys to the kingdom.”

  “Where are you taking me, Jake?”

  “Back in time,” he said, then pulled her along, anxious now to retrace their steps to the subway entrance. They were still in City Hall Park though, and he didn’t rush her because this part was good. It was great to have her outside, not at a restaurant, no parties, no pressure. From what he could tell, she was enjoying herself. Interested. There was so much to tell her, too. But tonight was something extraordinary. He was taking her for a private tour of the old City Hall subway station, refurbished for the 2004 centenary, but closed to the public. Tours were available, and they were fun, but he wanted the two of them to be alone for this.

  “Huh,” Rebecca said. “I don’t even know what IRT stands for. I’ve lived here all my life, and I don’t know that. I mean, obviously Rapid Transit.”

  “Interborough,” he said. “Right around here was the start of subways in New York. The groundbreaking ceremony was held in 1900 and this platform opened in 1904.”

  She turned to face him. “I think this calls for a moment, don’t you? Something to celebrate?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  She looked up at him, her lips already parted. The kiss started slow. More breath than lips at first, then a brush, a tease. Jake let her run the show. Standing in the shadows, she was the tour guide now, and she seemed to know every important stop along the way, mapping his mouth with deliberate care, then begging entrance with a moist nudge. Of course he obliged. He wasn’t a fool. And God, she tasted like everything he wanted.