Ladies of the Night OMNIBUS Collection: Sizzling Romantic Suspense

by Taylor Lee

  Walker was still scowling and muttering under his breath when the door to the interrogation room opened and Detectives MacArthur and Connolly walked in.

  Mac looked from one to the other of the four of them and a sly smile curved his lips. In a patently insincere tone, he said to Ian, “I was surprised and pleased to get your message, Col. Ross. Although we’d roused Judge Theodore Matthews from a sound sleep and he was in the process of signing off on a subpoena, you obviated the need for us to require Senator Walker to talk with us.”

  Ian responded smoothly with a smile of his own, “Now, Mac, you know that a subpoena wasn’t necessary. There’s no need to make this any more dramatic than it already is. Senator Walker was pleased to come to station to talk with you fellows.”

  Tossing the scowling senator a caustic grin Jimmy Connolly muttered under his breath, “Yeah he looks happy as a whole damn school of clams, don’t he?”

  Mac frowned at his partner, then gave the Senator an ingratiating smile.

  “Ignore my partner, Senator Walker. It’s been a long night and we’ve been bombarded with requests from the media for information.” Meeting the Senator’s gaze, he said in a concerned tone, “I can only imagine how you must feel, Senator Walker. You had to pass through a virtual gauntlet of fire-eating media whores just to get in the building. It can’t have been easy.”

  Senator Walker cut him off with a snort. “Save your false sympathy for the fucker who killed my opponent, Detective MacArthur. And if you fellows think that is a media mob out there, you ought to be the first black man running for a seat in the United States Senate. Trust me if you did that and succeeded not once, not twice, but three times? Hell, you might just have as big balls as I do.”

  Seeing the surprise the two detectives couldn’t hide, a feisty grin split Senator Walker’s face. The amusement gleaming in his dark brown, almost black eyes appeared to be genuine. Only Ian, and, he was sure, Noah, were aware of the fury seething just below the surface of the Senator’s practiced disdain.

  Ignoring Ian’s warning glance, Sen. Walker leaned forward and took control of the interview.

  “Look, I know you fellows have a murderer to catch, so let me help you out.”

  He held up one finger. “Number one, let me be crystal clear. In my book Deacon Brunson was a fucking hypocritical asshole who no more belonged in the United States Senate than the most racist skinhead. The only difference between him and the Supreme White Alliance is that Brunson cloaked his hate speech in Bible verses—which in my mind made him even more despicable.”

  “That’s a strong accusation, Senator.” MacArthur said drily.

  Senator Walker nodded in apparent agreement. “That it is, Detective, all the more so because it is true. Brunson is—was—a first class racist, Bible-spouting son of a bitch.”

  He paused for a moment. Reaching for the pitcher of water in the center of the table, the Senator casually poured himself a glassful of water. Taking a long drink from the glass, he smacked his lips and nodded with satisfaction as if he’d imbibed a fine whiskey.

  Glancing back to the two detectives who were regarding him stonily, Walker continued.

  “That said, the obvious question is: “Did I intend to take the asshole down? The answer? Fuck yes!” He added with a shrug, “Not only did I intend to get rid of the prick; I intended to do it in the most punishing way possible. By beating his sanctimonious ass by at least thirty percentage points—if not forty!”

  Pressing his lips together, Senator Walker frowned as if a thought had just occurred to him.

  “But being the smart detectives that Col. Ross assures me that you are, you already know that I had no reason to wipe out Brunson—other that at the polls. I’m confident we can agree on that.”

  Again he paused, clearly for effect, then added thoughtfully as if considering a conundrum, “But, we do have the issue of why I went to his office last night.” He grinned at Jimmy Connolly and said with a chuckle. “Yep, Detective Connolly, see if you can keep your dick from splitting your pants—although I can see why you might be excited. Hell, I just ‘admitted’ that I went to Brunson’s office last night. Allow me to make it even more exciting for you, your straining prick be damned. Not only did I go there, but I was angry as a hive of worker bees who just found out their Queen was a Tranny and wasn’t interested in fucking. If it isn’t bad enough that I was angry when I got there I was even angrier, more furious when I left.”

  Senator Walker played with the glass of water, tracing a water mark on the heavily scratched Formica table top. He took another long drink of water then put the glass on the table with a smack. Leveling a narrow gaze on one then the other of the detectives, his voice was low, authoritative.

  “I should add, when I left his office, that the supercilious prick was sitting at his desk looking in his pants for the balls he’d thought he had.”

  His silence indicating that he had said all that was necessary, the Senator regarded the detectives with a pleasant smile and took another sip of water. Knowing Mac and Jimmy as he did, Ian wondered if the detectives saw the fury undergirding the Senator’s contemptuous smirk.

  Mac was the first to respond. He was as cool as the Senator and his eyes were as hard.

  “Thank you, Senator Walker, for telling us where you were last night. I do have a couple questions. One, why did you go to Rep. Brunson’s office in the middle of the night, and, two, why were you as angry as a hive of worker bees who’d just, erm, discovered their Queen was a Tranny?”

  Walker chuckled and this time his amusement seemed genuine.

  “Ah yes, I neglected to tell you that Brunson called me and threatened me. He indicated that he had information that would force me to leave the race if it went public. I went to his office to tell him that he was full of shit.”

  Mac’s sigh was audible. “I see. What information did he say he had that would force you to leave the Senate race?”

  Walker met his gaze full on and said coolly, “He said he had proof that I had had an affair with a prostitute.”

  Mac scrubbed at his carefully trimmed beard shadow and nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm. I can see why you wouldn’t want him to release information as inflammatory as that.”

  Senator Walker agreed. “Yes, if he had proof—which he did not—and threatened to release it, that would have upset me. However, the fact that his campaign supposedly had that information for weeks and still has not released it simply confirmed that they had no proof that it was true.”

  “Was it true?” Mac’s eyes were as hard as the Senator’s.

  Walker smiled and shook his head reprovingly. “Ah, Detective, don’t you fall into that trap. Even Brunson knew that in the media driven political arena we live in, you can say any damn thing about your opponent, no matter how outrageous it is and the media will cheer you on. But you better be fuckin’ sure you can prove it or you’re committing political suicide. Particularly if your opponent is as ornery and given to excess as I am.”

  Having articulated every motive the officers might have hit him with, and claimed them for himself, Walker sat back in his chair regarding the detectives pleasantly. While Jimmy Connolly’s florid face was a formidable shade of purple and the prominent veins on his nose and cheeks looked like they might pop, Mac was cool. He even looked at the Senator with a modicum of respect, indicating he knew a worthy adversary when he met one.

  He shrugged and conceded the battle to the Senator.

  “Thank you, Senator Walker. That’s enough for tonight. I presume you will be available if we have additional questions?”

  “But of course. No one can ever accuse me of being anything but straightforward, crystal clear.” He added with a dismissive guffaw, “Nuance isn’t my strong suit.”

  Senator Walker moved toward the door and waited for the others to join him. Ian took advantage of his absence to motion Mac to the side of the room.

  “Want to rub salt in the wounds, Col. Ross?”

  Ian smiled. �
��Hell, Mac, surely you’re not surprised? You’re up against one of the most profane, well-loved, and, I might add, respected orators in the U.S. Senate. Trust me. Ask any of the pols who tried to take him on what it felt like being chewed up like a mouthful of dip and then spit out in disgust.”

  Mac returned Ian’s smile with one of his own. “I don’t have to ask how it feels. I now know.” His grin fading, he added sarcastically, “Given that you’re not one to gloat, what’s up Ian?”

  “Actually I need information. I’m trying to get a full picture on how Brunson was killed.”

  Mac frowned. “You already know that. He was shot.”

  Ian nodded in agreement. “That’s right, I do know that. He was shot in the chest, I believe you said, correct?”

  Ian saw the understanding dawn in the detective’s eyes and tried not to wallow in his victory. Instead he aimed for mock innocence and pressed his now clearly angry antagonist. “How many times, Mac? How many bullets? And they were all in the chest?” He paused. “Correct, Detective MacArthur?”

  Mac, who rarely lost his temper, was now clearly angry.

  “Fuck you, Ian.” He added bitterly, “But of course, you’ve got a plant in the coroner’s office. And likely every other goddamned office in this fucking sieve of a department. Tell me, Ian, how much do you pay those guys to get them to release confidential information—which, as we both know, is a crime?”

  Ian shrugged. “Apparently enough. Or…nothing. Maybe the trick is finding cops who believe in the rule of law and won’t help railroad an innocent man just to get a quick conviction.”

  Mac turned with an angry snort and followed his partner out of the room slamming the door behind them.

  Not hiding his satisfied smile, Ian knew that Mac understood as well as he did that the fourth bullet was important. It spoke to a crime of passion, not one of anger. The fact that Mac hadn’t revealed it indicated that at some level he had to know that it wasn’t a slam dunk that the Senator was guilty.

  ~~~

  Ian turned back to the trio waiting for him. He focused on John Walker who wasn’t trying to hide his glee. The Senator’s victory was written all over his face. He knew he’d won and won big.

  Ian shot him an admiring grin and said in mock dismay. “Hmm, Senator. That wasn’t exactly the ‘pat response’ we agreed to, but I will concede. The bloodbath you just perpetrated in here seems to have done the trick.”

  Frank Gunderson whistled. Disbelief colored his tone. “Goddamn, I have to tell all of you. I’ve never participated in an interrogation of one of my clients and not said a fucking word.” He focused on Senator Walker. “And I will tell you, Sir, I have never seen a performance like the one you just gave. Not in my thirty plus year legal career.”

  The Senator shrugged. “Hey, a guy does what a guy needs to do.”

  As Ian and Frank shared a grin at the Senator’s false modesty, Noah spoke from the back of the room.

  His terse words were thick with sarcasm. “Yeah, we can always count on Pops to go over the top. No matter who gets destroyed in the process.”

  Chapter 26

  Diamond knew that Ian was correct; she really couldn’t go with the men to the precinct. It would undercut their cover. Now if she was going in as his partner, a respected agent in her own right, that would have been a different story. She not only would have participated in the interrogation, she likely would have coached their client how to handle the challenging questions he’d face. Although, knowing the irascible, outspoken senator, coaching was a long shot. But no, instead of introducing her to the detectives as his partner, in so many words, Ian had introduced her as his whore.

  Throughout the day she’d been tormented by memories of their extraordinary night. Again and again, unbidden and often at the most inopportune times, a fiery scene would flash in her mind. Remembering Ian’s commanding determination to invade every part of her body and psyche she spent much of the day squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to quiet the heated sensations burning there. It was all she could do to stifle a moan. She prayed that she wasn’t as flushed as she felt, and hoped that no one—especially Ian—knew what she was feeling.

  She scoffed at her vain hope. Of course he knew. At each of her inappropriate gasps or moments of inattention, he would smile or even wink confirming that he knew precisely what she was thinking and feeling. But as the morning went on and the situation with the Senator grew more tense, Ian’s glances became less loaded, less knowing, less private.

  Diamond chided herself. She knew that they both needed to focus on the mission. In the face of the escalating danger facing their client, it wasn’t long before the erotic memories gave way to her powerful insecurities. Each time Ian alluded to their ‘ruse,’ she became more convinced that their passionate night had been part of an admittedly fabulous experience, yes, but one that would end when their mission ended. That it was nothing more than Ian scratching an itch.

  Her resolve to keep the night in perspective went up in flames when she entered their suite. The housekeeping staff had respected the do not disturb sign Ian had placed on the door. She almost turned back, not sure she could face the scene of the crime in the harsh reality of the morning after. Steeling herself, she locked the paneled door behind her and did her best to ignore the trail of discarded clothing leading from the living room into the bedroom. Kicking at the scrap of lace that had been her thong, she tried to forget his eager hands ripping it from her body. Her stomach clutched remembering his glazed wonder at the sight of her bare pussy.

  She might have been able to ignore his trousers and silk shirt lying in a crumpled heap by the bed or his stocking and shoes tossed to the side. The bed looked as though a pride of lions and their mates had spent the night in a heated tangle of erotic play. That it had only been the two of them made the disorder more remarkable. But it was the smell, a panoply of complex odors blanketing the room that brought her to a gasping standstill. Ian’s expensive cologne and her complex perfume fought with the musky odor of their arousal. The heady smell evoked the memory of the moisture that had flooded her thighs and coated his fingers as he brought her to one riveting climax after another.

  Determined to fight the memories that in the light of day were more painful than erotic, Diamond rushed into the dressing room heading for the shower. She stopped at the sight of the creation hanging on the mannequin in the corner. Remembering that Ian had said he’d ordered the concierge to bring a specific outfit to their suite, Diamond’s first thought was that someone had actually been in the room. Choking on what little air was in her lungs, she acknowledged that an unknown trespasser had seen the trail of clothing, the rumpled sheets and smelled the heady, tell-tale odors. Fighting a wave of nausea and feeling more violated than she’d ever felt, Diamond determined that when she left this parlor of passionate pleasure she was never coming back. To the suite or the hotel.

  She escaped to the room-sized shower and turned all four shower heads on high and hot. She stood in the center of the barrage of pounding heat determined to wash off every iota of the seductive scents permeating her body. She only wished that she could focus some of the blistering water on her brain that couldn’t seem to let go of the haunting memories. When the water finally ran cold she stumbled back to the land of the living. Quickly doing her hair and makeup, she forced herself to confront Ian’s latest creation.

  The dress looked amazingly tame compared to the outrageous concoction that had brought her instant unwanted notoriety throughout every stratum of Washington society, from the social set notables to the D.C. Police Vice Squad. Naturally the dress was red. Why wouldn’t it be, she thought with an aggrieved snort. At least it wasn’t stamped with the letter A, but then a letter wasn’t necessary. The miniscule tube of stretchy fabric said it all. Sliding it over her naked body—given even minimal underwear wasn’t an option, Diamond marveled more at what the dress didn’t have than what it did. It took her a moment to acknowledge that the dress had virtually no
back and not a heck of a lot of front.

  Studying herself in the full length mirrors, Diamond couldn’t help but be impressed. Some devilishly playful designer must have spent hours figuring out how a dress that bared all of her back to within inches of her derriere cleavage and most of her front could be engineered to stay in place. She shook her head remembering Ian’s laughing claim that the dress was positively tame compared to the one she wore to the fundraiser. Damn if this was what he thought was tame, she was in big trouble in the future. She comforted herself with the knowledge that this was the last op she planned to partner on with Ian. Besides it was a lot like the scanty clothing she’d worn on countless other operations where, as usual, she was playing a whore.

  Sliding her feet into the bright red high heeled stilettos sitting atop a pile of jewelry and other adornments, Diamond conceded that Ian truly did know fashion. Even though her outfit could only be described as outrageous it still reeked with style… and money. Once again she was wearing a concoction that had to cost in the five figures, which was even more amazing given how little of it there was. In a testimony to Ian’s sagacious sense of provocative fashion, it was exactly the costume she needed to convince the elite Club 69 members that she was one of them.

  Tossing her suitcases on the bed, Diamond quickly filled them with her clothes, makeup, shoes and accessories. In less than five minutes she was standing outside the door with all of her possessions in the hallway. Stopping at the front desk, she instructed the wide-eyed bellman to retrieve her luggage and deliver it to the place where she would be staying for the remainder of her time in D.C. Scribbling Ruby and Noah’s address on a notepad, she handed it to the flustered man and asked him to call her a cab.

  Diamond didn’t look back at the gaping cluster of hotel employees ogling her as she climbed into the back of the cab. She tried not to reveal any more of her body than the eighty percent that was already showing. Settling back against the smooth leather seat, she sucked in what felt like the first full breath she taken since she went up to their suite. Forcing herself to close a door in her mind that she was determined she would never open again, Diamond focused on the task ahead. She sighed, knowing that her job was to confirm that a powerful man whom she liked and admired had had an adulterous affair with an unstable high end prostitute. It didn’t help that the likely philanderer was also the father of one of her best friends. She closed her eyes wondering why the hell of all the careers she could have pursued, she’d chosen the one that she did.