Hannah pursed her lips unexpectedly. “You want to tell me about those times Emily was a know-it-all? What did she, exactly, know better about?”
He clicked his tongue as he stared at the cheesecake. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Uh huh,” Hannah said as he reached for his coffee. “Was she, I don’t know, actually right?”
Robert slammed down his cup, splashing the table with coffee. “You want to ask me something? Go ahead. Have I done things I’m not proud of? Too many to name. Could Emily tell I’m not great boyfriend material? I guess that’s not hard to figure out. But she is way too satisfied with herself way too early, and that means she misses things right under her nose as well as the big picture. I don’t want to see you hurt because of that.”
“I’m not the one that’s going to get hurt.” She slid out of her seat. “Thanks for dinner, and don’t follow me.”
“What the—”
“Yeah, the bill’s not paid yet,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out.
A blonde waitress came to his table to wipe up the coffee. “Can I get you another?” she asked politely.
Robert snorted as he reached into his wallet. “No, that’s probably not a good idea. Can you just wrap this up for me? And sorry about the mess.”
He stayed up past two waiting for Hannah to come to his apartment, call him, or send him a text. The last thought he had before he crashed into his pillow was that he should have called her.
Chapter Nine
The next night
Hannah walked into the club the next night through the private entrance, just as they’d arranged.
She was wearing a light-colored, form-fitting dress. That always did the trick for her; apparently, men were usually too distracted thinking about what a woman would look like without any clothes to notice what she was doing right in front of them.
Hannah walked up the stairs to the dimly lit VIP room. She had no trouble finding her party. The five men were sitting at the table near the center of the red and black wall. They rose when they saw her approach. “A pleasure to meet you at last,” the man in the center said. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-two, she guessed, but you didn’t have to be old in this business to be frightening.
“You must be Sohrab,” she said with a slight nod. “Thank you so much for meeting me,” Hannah said as she stuck out her hand. “Why don’t we order a round of drinks,” she said loudly, “and have some fun?”
They ordered the drinks and Hannah made sure to laugh at their jokes. “Here’s the deal, guys!” she shouted once the shot glasses were handed out. “The person who can finish the most shots is the first one to dance with me!” The men cheered. “But if I win—”
“You’re not going to win,” the youngest of the men said. “I’ll have that first dance.”
“If I win,” Hannah challenged, “I get to decide who gets the first dance.”
“Deal!” Sohrab shouted, passing the bottle around.
It took her longer than it usually did, but within twenty minutes, she was the only one still drinking. “I win!” She shot out of her chair. “Now which of you can stand up and dance at this point?”
The older one—Adama?—gingerly raised his hand. “That would be me!” he said, rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet.
Hannah held out her hand. “Then let’s go.”
She let him lead her to the dance floor, but not before she saw a couple sitting on a lounge across the room, and they were staring.
It took a moment to place them. That was Martin Shepard from David Hwang’s office, and his date was... She grimaced when she realized it was Jessie Bartolome.
“Everything alright?” Adama said, not nearly as weak on his feet as he’d seemed.
Hannah brushed up against him and smiled. “We don’t have much time.”
—
When Robert arrived twenty-five minutes later, he saw Hannah on the dance floor, surrounded by four men. The fifth was sitting at the table, dividing his attention between the dance floor and the door. He might as well have worn a sign that said “Bodyguard.”
He saw Hannah pull her hair up to expose her neck as she swayed to the music, and it took everything in him not to drag her out right then.
“Oh good, you’re finally here,” Jessie said as she led Martin away and checked Robert with her shoulder. “Bye!”
Martin stopped in front of him and smirked. “Enjoy your evening, Teague.”
Robert barely heard them; he could see that the man at the table was armed. He looked at Hannah, who had her back to him but was bumping her hips between two companions.
“Mind if I cut in?” he said loudly to the men dancing with Hannah, flashing his badge as he did so.
Hannah turned around. She didn’t shout in surprise or look alarmed. She knew he was coming.
But still... “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you home,” he said. “And then I have the same question.”
“I don’t think the lady is ready to leave,” one of the men said with a clipped British accent. Not what Robert was expecting. There was something familiar about him… “We were in the middle of a conversation.” As if on cue, the man at the table stood up.
Robert stared the other man down. “Really? My captain is waiting for a call from me in five minutes, and if I don’t check in, we’re going to have a little more company.”
The man looked at Hannah, then smiled at Teague. He opened his hand in an exaggerated gesture of hospitality. “As you wish.”
“Let’s not be too hasty,” Hannah said tightly.
“I’m afraid we should be going,” the man said. With a nod, the rest of his party packed up.
“As you wish!” Hannah hissed at him, then pushed past Robert to leave. “And you’re an idiot!” she called over her shoulder as she ran down the stairs.
He caught her before she made it to the street. “What the hell was that?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t own me.”
It was taking everything from him not to focus on her bumping and grinding on the dance floor with other men. “They don’t seem like your type.”
“You mean because they’re good looking and wealthy?”
“These are your working clothes,” he said without missing a beat. “The last time I saw you in an outfit like this, you were entrapping a dozen lawyers. There were only five back there, so you should have had that wrapped up much more quickly.”
“Aren’t you slick?” Hannah spat. “Tell me, do you always come running when Jessie Bartolome snaps her fingers? Does that ever get weird when her boyfriend’s around?”
Why was she trying to bait him? “What are you doing here?”
She looked nauseated. “Remember my old boss in Dorchester?”
Asif, the one from the convenience store who’d posed as her boss when she was trying to entrap Alberto Ramon. “Yes.”
“He’s from Bangladesh—”
“I remember.”
“—and I helped get some of his family out of their ‘contracts.’ Those guys held them.”
“So what were you going to do now?”
“I wasn’t going to drive a nail into their arm. I wasn’t going to hold a hot iron against their arm until they had a brand. I wasn’t going to make them sleep standing up for only three hours a day. By the way, those are all things that happened to their ‘servants’.”
“So what were you going to do?” Robert repeated insistently.
She shrugged. “I thought they should wake up holding onto a couple of bags of something as well as a couple of phone numbers that might make it look like they were distributors.”
Was she out of her mind? “Aside from being illegal, there are more than a couple of holes you could have fallen through.”
“Then what a lucky girl I am that your ex-girlfriend rescued me,” she taunted him. “Has she always been such a do-gooder? Is that why it ended?”
He backed her against the ou
tside of the building. “Stop.”
Hannah shrugged. “Kind of embarrassing, I know. But you do what you gotta do for work, right?”
“And are you doing what you’ve got to do right now?”
“You just interrupted something very important.” She had trouble getting the words out. “I can’t get those guys back. So don’t be mad about what I do next.”
He brought his face down to hers. He wanted to take that dress off her right then. “I don’t believe one word of what you just said.”
She bent her knee and rested her foot on the wall behind her. “Yeah, most people don’t want to believe the horror stories.”
He stepped in closer. “I’m giving you a chance, and if you don’t take it and I catch you, I’m going to arrest you.”
“If you catch me.” She kissed him quickly but pushed off the wall. “Good luck with that,” she said over her shoulder.
Chapter Ten
Alex Sheldon was reading in his study the next afternoon when his house assistant entered. “I’m sorry, Mister Sheldon, but you have a visitor.”
“Show her in,” Alex said without looking away from his screen.
“Yes, sir.”
“And how are you?” Alex asked when he heard someone enter the room, still not looking up.
“Better than ever,” he heard Lucy Bartolome say. He looked up. Perfect. “Expecting someone else?”
“Yes, but this is good enough,” he answered. “And what a pleasure to see you after all this time. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the chair across from his table and sent a text. “Just asking Damien to bring us some tea. It’s that rose petal and Earl Grey blend now, right?” he asked off-handedly. “And is this one of those days when you’re going to allow yourself a cookie?”
Lucy raised an eyebrow and nodded. “I do hope it isn’t poisoned. My driver’s going to notice if I don’t call him back.”
Alex chuckled. “I’ll have some as well, just to make you feel better. And no, I haven’t been slowly building up a tolerance to anything.”
She rested her elbow on the armrest of her chair. “I hope that won’t put you off. Aren’t you a light roast coffee drinker?”
Alex leaned back. “Sadly, not every corner of the world has coffee—unless it’s instant—so I’ve learned to love tea, even if it comes in a bag.”
Lucy crossed her legs. It was something she always did when she was trying to appear in control. “And what else have you learned to do?”
“Survive.”
Lucy sucked her cheeks. “But you were always very good at that, weren’t you?”
“I’ve taken it to a new level,” Alex said as Damien came in with the tea and cookies. Lucy murmured her thanks before Damien closed the door. “So what can I do for you?” Alex asked as he put one sugar in Lucy’s tea with the exact amount of cream she always took.
“Thank you,” Lucy said. She took a sip and sighed. “And actually, that was going to be my question.” She put down her cup after another sip. “You seem to want me to know that you’re here.”
But have you figured out the rest of it? “Isn’t there something you want to ask me?”
She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Just one thing: how’s business?”
He put his cup down. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “Because I’d...heard...that things weren’t as robust as they used to be, and yet, here you are. I wonder if that has anything to do with Hilary Sayles?”
He suppressed a smile. Why had he thought she might look a little further than the surface? “Can’t a man put up bail for an old friend?”
She shrugged. “Of course. I just didn’t think you had many friends left.”
He shouldn’t have let that get under his skin, but she’d always been able to do that. “I don’t think you know as much as about me—or my friends—as you think you do.”
“You have me again. It’s not something I’m interested in.”
“And yet, here you are.” She didn’t move as he stared at her. “But maybe you didn’t want to ask me something. Did you want to tell me something?”
She took another sip of her tea. “Anything that I could tell you,” she said, “shouldn’t need to be said, especially not to you. But since even the wisest among us can miss things that are right in front of them, I guess it’s worth reminding you that things have changed since you left.”
In more ways than she knew. “Thank you for the warning.”
“And thank you for the tea.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I’m afraid I have to go. I need to get ready for my trip to the Cape—I’m sorry—Truro.” She picked up her bag. “And that’s with my wife, in case you wanted to pay us a visit. I’ll have that brand of Rwandan coffee I hear you like so much these days. Or is there something else you’d like there?”
“Surprise me,” he said as she turned to leave. “If you can,” he murmured as she walked away.
Chapter Eleven
The campus was only a short walk away from Hannah’s destination that evening. She had to make sure her timing was perfect, but...she couldn’t resist.
How dare she? she thought angrily as she walked quickly to the campus. Was everyone else’s life so irrelevant that she thought she could play with other people whenever it suited her?
Maybe it was a waste of time to appeal to her better nature, but she had to try.
The next moment, she saw Jessie Bartolome coming out of the brick building ahead of her.
—
It had been a fool’s errand, just as Hannah had known it would be, but the spiteful, entitled way that she’d been dismissed made her burn.
She thought she was superior, but Hannah knew that she only needed to take a few steps before she became someone who was willing to buy and sell other people.
Because she was basically selling someone now.
She looked at her watch. She had just enough time to change...
She was in the Museum of Fine Arts twenty minutes later, wearing a slightly longer but just as form-fitting dress as she’d worn at the club. She hated these things, but she knew how to make it look like she was born to wear them.
Michael and Miranda Abbot were the first to walk into the hall for the benefit. Miranda’s pictures really didn’t do her justice. She looked like a sexy version of Snow White, but her Prince Charming...well, he was handsome enough, Hannah conceded, but how many women could stand someone hovering over them like that? How many years had they been married?
She saw a tall, thin man walk in. High forehead—just barely not balding—and glasses. Richard Hendrickson. Everything about him screamed “old beyond his years,” but it was also obvious to see that he was one of the smartest people in the room. And that, she grudgingly admitted, could be very attractive.
He found Michael and Miranda, shared a few words and a laugh, then circled back, this time bringing his wife.
Zainab Oginabe-Kensit-Hendrickson. Zainab. The Zainab.
She didn’t sparkle like Miranda or show off her assets as much, but no man could look at her and not think she was one of the most beautiful women they’d ever met. She was nice too. She could tell by the way Miranda and Michael were instantly at ease when they saw her that she was one of those people no one would ever have a bad word to say about.
Including Robert.
She thought about the night before and wished for one moment that she could disappear. It had had to be done.
Hannah held her breath as she saw Miranda move away from Michael and Richard to inspect a Picasso. She checked her watch. Any moment now...
She walked over to the bar ten feet away from Miranda and ordered a drink. She turned around and stepped a few paces away. She didn’t need to see Alex Sheldon find Miranda when she was alone. When else would he do it? And she didn’t need to see Miranda’s shock, because she already knew what it was going to look like.
Hannah’s back tensed when she heard
Hilary’s voice. She gripped her glass to steady herself. She’d always known that she was probably going to show up, and she was going to make sure she didn’t lose her cool...too much.
Oh come on, where is Michael Abbot? She looked at her watch, but as she did so, she thought she saw a man in an ill-fitting suit by the shadow sculpture scrutinize her and the scene behind her a little too closely. He looked around the room, then took the stairs to the second floor as he reached into his pocket.
Great. He must have been a cop following Sheldon. How much time did she have? Hurry up, everyone.
She heard the gasp and tussle as Michael found Alex and threatened him. Blah blah blah.
There’s Richard to calm him down, and of course there’s Zainab.
It was time to turn around.
“Hilary Sayles?” Hannah heard Zainab say. “How the hell—”
Showtime.
“Alex Sheldon, as I live and breathe!” Hannah exclaimed as she walked over to the group. Just for a moment, Alex didn’t recognize her—maybe he didn’t have too many photographs of her dressed that way?—but it was just a moment.
He wasn’t unattractive, and not just “for his age.” The graying of his hair made him look experienced—he knew where all the bodies were, and not just the ones he’d buried. His posture was impressive, and she was sure that underneath his expensive suit he didn’t have an ounce of fat...not that she had any intention of confirming that.
“It is so nice to finally catch up with you after missing you in Thailand and Brazil last year.”
He smiled. And why wouldn’t he? He was enough of a sociopath to think this was a game. “And what a shame we couldn’t meet up in Amsterdam,” he said. “I believe you have some family there?”
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