by Lydia Burke
Park neighborhood where they'd grown up. Jessie had always stood by with her insides shaking while Allie climbed to the highest limb or stood up to the bully on the block or snitched petunias from mean old Mrs. Shrader's flower beds. The pattern had continued into their teenage years.
But the once-inseparable twins were grown now, thrill-seeking Allie was in who-knows-what kind of danger, and Jessie was on her own.
"Well?"
She'd never known a man before who could pack such a wealth of condescension into a single taunting word. Jessie had had enough. So he was looking for a hot kiss, was he? By gum, if Allie could do it, so could she, and then some! She'd sizzle that detestable smirk right off his freckled face!
She reached for him again, putting her hands behind his neck this time. Instead of drawing him down to meet her, she propelled herself upward and fused her mouth to his. Ben fell back against the door with a startled grunt, and Jessie went with him, hardly conscious that she came to rest sprawled on his chest, her legs spanning the console between the seats.
Relentlessly she worked his lips open with hers and plunged her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. Immediately she noted his faintly minty taste and the already familiar clean, manly smell of him as she plied his tongue with her own. He moaned deep in his throat, and a tiny quiver of triumph rippled through her. She was doing it!
Then his tongue moved against hers and Jessie forgot all about his dare. She forgot about Allie, too. Ben's mouth became mobile, his tongue questing. Urgently he nudged her lips wider apart and moved his head to adjust the fit. Jessie's own head tilted in counterpoint, accommodating him, until—ah, there. Wetly, deliriously, their mouths mingled. Heat swirled down her body and collected in her breasts and between her legs.
It wasn't until Ben's pelvis prodded gently against her hips that Jessie began to pull herself out of the haze of desire. He was aroused. She'd have to stop it soon, before things got out of hand, but, oh, Lord—the man could kiss!
When the prodding became more insistent, she broke away and lifted her head. Ben's color was high, his hot eyes heavy
lidded, his lips damp and glistening. His chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. He looked needy, ready for more.
Before she could be tempted to give it to him, Jessie braced her hands on his shoulders and awkwardly maneuvered her body back into her seat. Primly she folded her hands in her lap and pressed her legs together to keep from squirming under the aftershocks vibrating through her body. Whew! She'd never been so stimulated in her life before from just a kiss!
"Okay, I believe you," he rasped.
"You do?" Jessie's voice squeaked. She barely glanced in his direction, not knowing whether she could trust herself not to jump him again. Which was really astounding, since she could hardly believe she'd done it the first time.
"Yeah," Ben said. "You finally convinced me. And just for the record, I've never slept with your sister."
He sat up behind the wheel and stretched his right leg into Jessie's field of vision. His bottom hiked off the seat, and she caught a glimpse of his blunt-fingered hand reaching down to adjust his jeans.
Cheeks flaming, she said quickly, "What are we going to do now? To find Allfe, I mean."
Ben opened his door. "I need coffee. How do you take it?"
The cold November air rushed in and Jessie shivered. Because the windows were fogged, no doubt from the heat their kiss had generated, the world outside the open door was sharply defined under the overcast morning sky, almost startling in its clarity. She saw a couple of cars parked at the aid units of the small motel and, beyond them, a stand of stark, leafless trees.
"Where will you get coffee?" As far as she could see, it was still too early for anyone to be stirring. Anyone who hadn't just narrowly escaped being murdered, that is, she thought grimly, and shivered again.
"Cold?" Ben started the motor and flipped a lever on the dash. "There's a coffee machine inside the lobby. Do you want some, or not?"
The familiar trace of impatience in his voice, more than the warm air pouring through the vents, restored Jessie's equilibrium. "If you don't mind," she said, her tone matching his for testiness. "Black, please."
Silence filled the interior of the car after Ben left. Jessie felt strangely deflated without his vital presence. She was relieved that he and Allie weren't lovers. Not that it should matte, since Jessie had no intentions of getting involved with him herself. Still-Boy, that kiss really got to you, Jess, old girl, she told herself when she realized what she was thinking. You hardly know the guy.
Forcing her thoughts into more mundane channels, Jessie took advantage of Ben's absence to peek at herself in the visor mirror. Her hair was a mess, but without a comb she could do no more than pull halfheartedly at a few wayward curls. Not much improvement. With a sigh she flipped the visor up and sat back to watch the condensation on the windshield slowly give way to the warm gust of the defroster.
The windows were almost clear again when Ben returned with a steaming disposable cup in each hand. Jessie accepted the one he handed her with a murmur of thanks and immediately took a grateful sip. Ben did the same, then passed her his cup.
"Hold this," he said.
Jessie clicked her tongue in annoyance. "So we're back to master and slave, are we?"
He spared a moment in the middle of backing out of their parking space to look at her with his leonine eyes. "Don't I wish," he murmured before turning back to his driving.
Judiciously Jessie chose not to respond. Instead she turned her attention to keeping the coffee from spilling. The next time she looked up, she saw that Ben had driven around the back of the motel to a row of small cabins nestled at the edge of a dense evergreen woods.
"Where are we going now?"
"Right here." He pulled into a short driveway beside the last cabin.
Jessie's feminine radar hummed a warning. "Wait a minute-"
"Now, don't get all excited," he said as he cut the engine. "This is the rendezvous point for my investigative team, not some sleazy bachelor pad. We rent it by the week, so if s always available. There's a phone inside where I can call my
partner, and after that, you and I need to talk. Talk, " he repeated, "Okay?"
"Oh." Jessie felt flustered that, while she had misread his motives, he had read her mind perfectly. "Then you don't live here?"
A look of mild alarm passed over his features. "Good God, no. I have a house in Chicago, though I don't get to spend much time there. Right now I'm hanging my hat in a run-down duplex in Port Mangus—part of my cover."
He retrieved his coffee, got out of the car and started toward the cabin. Jessie followed, catching up to him at the door just as he selected a key from his ring.
"I live in Chicago, too," she told him, "in Oak Park. I came to Wisconsin to spend Thanksgiving with Allie. We were going to cook a big feast today—turkey and the whole works." Jessie shook her head as she thought of how she'd looked forward to being with her sister for the four-day weekend. "So much for our plans, huh?"
Ben paused briefly in the act of twisting the key in the lock. "That's right, today's Thanksgiving Day, isn't it? Happy Thanksgiving, Jessie."
His softly spoken holiday greeting threw her off balance-again. "Uh, thanks," she faltered. "Same to you."
"Wait here a second while I check the place out."
He disappeared inside and left Jessie standing at the door, her heart fluttering from the impact of hearing her name on his lips without sarcasm for the first time.
In a minute or two he was back. "All clear. Come on in."
Jessie stepped over the threshold into a clean but very small and inexpensively furnished living room. The temperature inside was warmer than outdoors, but too chilly for cozy habitation.
"Welcome to the Ritz," Ben said, gesturing grandly.
"You can give me the grand tour later," she returned. "Where's the bathroom?"
His grin stretched over even white teeth, carving long
dimples on either side of his curving lips. Amusement sparkled in his eyes, making him look rakish and sexy.
"Over there." He indicated a door to her immediate right, "You go ahead and... whatever. I'm going to turn up the heat and thai make that call/'
Suddenly aware she was gawking at him like a star-struck teenager, Jessie set her coffee on a nearby table, hastily made her way to the bathroom and closed the door.
You're falling for him, dummy, she berated herself. Have you forgotten how many times he's behaved just like Antonio? Get hold of yourself He's not for you.
A few minutes later, feeling considerably better from the dual accomplishments of emptying her bladder and sternly reining in her runaway attraction to a man too much like her ex-husband for comfort, Jessie emerged from the bathroom. Her eyes went immediately to her rescuer, who was perched on the arm of a sickly green vinyl couch, talking on the phone. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand.
"Did you have a suitcase at your sister's house?" he asked her.
"Yes, why?"
"I'm arranging to have your clothes and car brought here."
"Oh, good," Jessie said, pleased that at least one problem was going to be solved. "The suitcase is in the bedroom. My keys and purse are in there, too, on the dresser. My car is the red Toyota parked in the street out front. Oh, and I left a cosmetics tote in the bathroom."
Ben repeated the information into the receiver, and, after cautioning his listener to be careful, he hung up and gestured to an easy chair against the wall.
"Make yourself comfortable." He reached for his coffee and drained the cup, tossing back the liquid as he would a shot of whiskey.
Jessie walked to the decidedly uncomfortable-looking chair, which faced the ugly couch at an angle and was upholstered in the same bilious shade of green. She unzipped her parka before she sat down.
"Was that your partner?" she asked.
Ben nodded. "You could call him that—my temporary partner, anyway. His name's Ed Brock. FBI."
"Are you FBI, too?"
"Nah. I'm a cop in the Chicago P.D."
"Isn't it kind of unusual for a city policeman and a federal agent to be partners?"
"We're not exactly partners, at feast not in the classic sense. If s just that Ed and I are the only team members for this case who are based in Port Mangus. The investigation is being run from the bureau office in Chicago. It's a federal case, and the only reason I got tagged for it is because of my undercover experience."
Jessie wondered whether Ben had noticed they were having a normal conversation instead of exchanging barbs. It was a refreshing change.
"You've worked undercover a lot?"
"Enough/' he said brusquely. He crumpled the cup in his hand and pitched it into a metal wastebasket near his feet. It thunked with ringing finality.
And that's that, Jessie thought. She was sure she'd seen a flash of emotion in his eyes when he'd discarded the mangled cup, but his terse answer showed her the topic was off-limits. Jessie had had plenty of experience with another male who refused to talk about himself. It was time to change the subject.
"So what happens now?" She settled back into the hard chair. Immediately she shifted in an unsuccessful attempt to find an accommodating position for her spine.
1 "Ed is sending a marked car and a couple of uniformed cops to your sister's to see whether those two goons are still hanging around. The patrolmen will pick up your stuff while they're there so Ed can bring it down here with your car."
"Are they doing anything about finding Allfe?"
"Ed's going to see if he can get a man stationed outside the house to watch for her to come home, but that's the best he can do. Even that might not be feasible if the Port Mangus force is shorthanded because of the holiday."
Jessie dropped her head into her hand, her stomach churning as she considered the possibilities. "Where could she be?"
"Take it easy, Jessie. She's probably fine."
"Do you really believe that?"
"It doesn't help any to expect the worst. There's just as good a chance that she got wind of what's going on and is lying low for a while."
"What is going on, Ben? Tell me about this case you're working on and what Allie has to do with it."
Ben's face turned grim. "Your sister is an uninvited participant, so I'm not sure how she got involved. As for the investigation, a few months ago in Chicago, one of Ed's informers, a guy named Donno CaJr, tipped him to a strip joint in Port Mangus that Donno said was a front for a major prostitution and drug ring run by some big bosses in Chicago."
Jessie thought about the sleepy town Allie had chosen to live in over the more urban Sheboygan, where she worked. "How could they hide something like that? Port Mangus is so small."
"Easy. It's a vacation resort for big spenders with big boats and miles and miles of Lake Michigan at their disposal. But we need evidence to prove it. I've been on the inside for almost two months, and so far we don't have much. The strip joint is a legitimate operation, but it's only a front. We know that Mai Duan, the Vietnamese woman who supposedly owns the place, also runs a stable of very upscale prostitutes to service an elite clientele. And along with sex, they provide drugs—anything the client wants and can pay for. What we don't know is where the drugs are coming from or who's calling the shots. All we've got is Donno's word that it's somebody in the Chicago mob and a hunch that he's right."
Ben stood up and slipped off his jacket, tossing it carelessly to the far end of the couch. Jessie's eyes went immediately to the shoulder holster he uncovered, reminding her of the terrifying scene in her bathroom. It brought home to her the unavoidable threat of violence that naturally followed a man in his profession. Rather than adding menace to his appearance, however, the sight of the gun nestled close to his armpit reassured her.
"It's finally warming up in here," he said. "Do you want to take off your coat?"
Jessie realized she did feel a little sweaty in both her parka and heavy sweater. "Good idea," she said, and began to work her arms out of the sleeves of the bulky cover-up.
After watching her struggle for a minute, Ben walked over to her chair. "Stand up."
Jessie looked up at him, vexation flaring once again. "Stand up," she mimicked. "Sit down. Hold this. Come with me.
Hurry up. Don't you know how to say anything without making an order out of it?"
Ben's lips twitched. "You want me to beg for the privilege of helping you out of your coat?"
"Oh, never mind." She got to her feet but stepped away when he reached for the cumbersome jacket. "I said, never mind/ 99
His eyes danced with amusement. The slick fabric slid off her arms easily, now that she was standing. "Here," she said curtly.
Ben took the offending garment she'd shoved into his stomach and walked with loose, masculine grace bade to the couch. Jessie couldn't help admiring the breadth of his shoulders, accented by the straps of the holster over his chambray shirt, and the dean vee of torso to hips. His buns weren't bad, either, blast him. He looked as good from behind as he did face-to-face.
Jessie returned to the cold solace of the torturous vinyl chair and watched as Ben threw her coat on top of his and sprawled on the couch. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them casually at the ankles, causing the denim of his jeans to snugly outline his muscular thighs and emphasize the undoubtedly male endowments at their apex. She hurriedly averted her eyes.
"Anyway, as I was saying," he continual, "ifs been slow going, but I've been working at Club Duan long enough for Mai to start to trust me. Soon, if things go the way we plan, I may be included in some of the meetings she has with a select few at the club and we can start building our case."
Jessie scolded herself. How could she be so easily distracted when Allie was in trouble?
"That's assuming," Ben went on, "that your sister's shenanigans haven't screwed up my chances. Mai is likely to be more wary than ever now."
Mentally she backtracked over what Ben had told
her so far, and suddenly she straightened. "Did you say the mob is involved? Organized crime?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"My God! Allie, what have you done?" Jessie knew that terrible things went on in the world, but to her they were the topics of books and movies and news reports. Never had she dieamed anything like what Ben had been telling her would ever touch her or someone she loved.
Ben's expression hardened. "Has Allie told you why she took a job at Mai's place, or what she knew about whaf s going on there?"
"No, nothing. All she's been talking about since she moved to Port Mangus is her job at the Sheboygan Sentinel. She hasn't mentioned this Club Duan at all, let alone that she worked there. Is it really a strip joint?"
"Yes, it really is."
"She didn't— She wasn't a stripper, was she?"
He smiled slightly. "No, a cocktail waitress. But Mai was trying to persuade her to give dancing a shot. She's built for it, you know."
His eyes strayed to Jessie's bosom, which matched Allie's in fullness. Quickly she asked, "What do you think she was doing there?"
Ben shot her a knowing look but answered, "I think she got a tip-off, just like we did, and thought she had the makings for a Pulitzer prize story. Only I doubt she knew what she was getting into"
Jessie didn't think it would have made any difference to Allie if she had known. Her twin was too determined to succeed. She was nothing if not tenacious; neither was she known for playing by the rules.
"How did you find out Allie is a reporter?" she asked.
"From Mai," Ben said. "We have a tap on her phone at the dub, and during my shift last night, Ed heard her tell someone—we don't know who yet—that she wasn't getting the protection she was paying for. She said she'd just found out that one of the waitresses, Angela West, was a reporter, and though she'd handle the problem, she expected better screening from now on. That was the first time we had any clue that AlUe was anything other than a ditzy female who knew how to rake in big tips."
