Chapter Two
The woman reached for the trench while trying to keep most of her body flat to the wall. She tugged at the trench, but he held on.
“How’s it work? That’s a long story, I don’t know if you’re nuts, but I hope not, and at this moment yes, only you can see me, but that will be changing in a minute. I’m getting too cold. Plus, I have to come off the wall to get dressed. Only works if I’m against a wall.”
“Promise not to take off again and you can have the coat back.”
She jerked on the coat. “Isn’t it illegal to smoke down here?”
He held firm. The cigarette helped mask the stench sending his nose into overdrive. “Yes, but if I was talking to myself, I thought it would hide my lips moving. Promise not to run.”
“Fine.”
He let go and turned his back, figuring that it couldn’t hurt to act like a gentleman. Proud of himself for not sneaking another peek, he crushed the cigarette under his shoe. Watching wouldn’t be a good idea anyway. He already fought a huge hard-on. The bulge in his pants got worse the more he thought about her tight ass and the twin dimples in her back right above it. He’d like to kiss those spots. So he focused on the crowd until he found the most unattractive person he could and imagined them naked.
“Are you going to move and let me out?” Exasperation, dismay, and grudging acceptance filled her tone.
He held his right arm out with a flourish and she flitted past him. They fell into step, Greiff shortening his stride to match hers. She stole glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and he wished he’d shaved that morning. Taking time with a close shave wasn’t something he’d thought of since his divorce. No woman around he had to worry about giving a beard burn.
He cut the line of thought off. The notion was ridiculous; the woman was probably a nutter. Why else be out naked under a trench coat, hanging around crime scenes? Who was he fooling, thinking no one else had seen her? They were New Yorkers; jaded and so used to seeing bizarre shit they’d ignored her. He led her up the steps she’d come down and they emerged into the sunlight, blinking against the glare.
“What’s your name, girlie?” He tucked his hands into his pants pockets and let her decide on a direction.
“Chloe Saunders. Don’t call me girlie. I’m an adult, not a five-year-old.” Her lips pursed in annoyance and she ruffled her hair around, and then tucked the longish strands in the front behind her ears. “Who are you?”
“Greiff.”
“That your first name or your last?” She tightened the belt at her waist.
“Last. First name is Jacob. You going to tell me why you’re out and about in that trench coat, hanging around crime scenes?”
“Do I have to, Jake?”
Her tongue hit the inflection on the ’k’ hard and he smirked at her. She was funny with her flushed cheeks and giant coat, bare feet slapping the hot sidewalk with the force of her swagger. A tiny, pretty package with more panache than some of the gang bangers he’d run into.
“No. Not yet. But I might arrest you for indecent exposure if you don’t. Feel like hanging out at the police station for the rest of the afternoon in a holding cell with drunks and hookers in that get-up?” He glanced down at her feet. Pink toenails flashed in the summer sun. Maybe she liked pedicures after all. Although he didn’t know why he could see the color of her polish. Strange. “You wouldn’t believe what’s on the floor.”
“Can’t be as bad as the subway.” She tipped her head to one side and shrugged. “I like it when the bad guys get busted.”
The tone of her statement suggested it was the truth. “And?”
“Why do you care?”
“Why are you naked under the trench?”
“I think it is obvious why I’m naked. You saw why in the subway.” Chloe grimaced and dodged a suspicious greasy blotch on the ground. She stopped at the steps to a building and gestured. “My place.”
“No, I don’t think it’s obvious.” Damn, he’d started to think she might not be missing some of her marbles. She’d acted pretty normal for a few minutes. “And you were at that scene for another reason than just being a rubber-necker.”
“If I have clothes on, it doesn’t work.” She shoved a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated, and blew a hard breath out of her nose. “Look, I need to put this back before my roommate gets home.”
“What doesn’t work?” Greiff stared at her, waiting for her to break down and spill her guts. He’d found most criminals only lasted a minute or two before they lost control of their tongue.
“You know.” Chloe rolled her eyes and went up two of the steps. The elevation put them eye to eye.
“No, I don’t think I do.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. Walking away without taking her in for questioning didn’t follow procedure, but he wanted to hang around and see what else he could learn. Besides, explaining to his boss that he’d followed her because she was in color and everyone else was in black and white wouldn’t help his cause. Not even his partner knew, although Spetrino probably suspected something was wrong with his eyes. Despite the perceived disability, somehow he’d passed muster and gone into a special ops unit in the Army. The military cred had gotten him around the normal police physicals.
He used his nose to his advantage. With eye witness statements being unreliable, he depended more on scent than the information given by traumatized people. “I have a feeling you’re going to need me sometime soon. If you decide to come clean about what you were doing, call me. Oh, and if you are some kind of vigilante, pretending to be the Naked Avenging Princess or whatever, and I just busted your secret identity and you’re thinking of bailing, don’t. I’ll find you.”
She took the card and read it. “Oh really? How’s that? I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Hanging out at a crime scene isn’t a crime. Being naked in public, no matter how tight your body is, is a crime. Finding people is my special ability. You take off, and I’ll track you.” He already had her scent catalogued, filed away in his memory, and connected to one he’d picked up at the crime scene. But arresting her now was out of the question. If he told anyone he’d arrested her because she smelled right and he could see the gold flecks in her irises, they’d lock him up.
Besides, he liked her and her sass.
She snapped her feet together and gave him a perfect salute. “Aye aye, Detective Pushy Asshole.”
“Look. Just don’t go anywhere. You need something, you call me. I have a feeling you’re going to need that number.”
For the first time, an emotion crossed her face that wasn’t false bravado amplified to project fearlessness and self-confidence. She glanced at the ground, then down to the corner, chewed her lower lip, and clenched both fists.
“I’m going to have to go, whether you like it or not. If you’ve seen me, then others probably have too.” The trench moved around her ankles in a swirl as she spun to mount the remaining steps.
“Well, I hope not. You’ll be causing a rash of heart attacks all over the city; you go flashing that body of yours.” He let the statement slide out with a flirtatious tone in the hope she’d circle back and talk to him more.
“You see naked women hugging the walls of the subway all the time? That why you’re so blasé about this whole thing?” She peered over her shoulder.
“No, but I’ve seen some pretty crazy shit in my life. So, naked woman in the subway, not that big of a deal.”
“But that is the big deal. You shouldn’t have been able to.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to go. I didn’t do anything wrong. Have a nice life detective.”
“Chloe. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t want to have to track you down.”
She really believed that she should have been invisible. Well, he’d been convinced his socks this morning were a fine match to his shirt. Everyone’s blind about something.
There was nothing Greiff could do but watch her escape up the stairs wi
th slow steps, the sun highlighting her dark hair. The color blazed with deep red highlights. All the patrol boys in this area would be getting her description and keeping an eye out for her. He knew she lied about the crime scenes, and she hid something else as well. It would take a little detective work, but he’d figure out the enigma that was Chloe. There was no way she could be invisible to people by plastering herself naked against walls. She had to be a crazy who got off on exhibitionism. A really sexy, spunky, exhibitionist.
Chapter Three
Chloe shoved the business card in one of the coat’s pockets, letting her mind wander over the memory of strong brows, piercing blue eyes with a nest of smile lines, and the five o’clock shadow she wanted to feel scratching the soft skin of her belly. Greiff was a handsome man, confident in a way she didn’t think she would ever be.
Moving would be more difficult this time. But she’d been discovered by a Norm. The rules were clear. Unless you wanted to be returned to the place she referred to as Area 46 and forced to play endless games of Solitaire, followed by fighting off grab-ass from skeezy lab assistants, you kept your head down and didn’t get found out. Her acts of vigilantism wouldn’t get her in trouble, “exercising” abilities was encouraged. You just couldn’t get caught.
A cold knot of apprehension slid through her stomach. The last time she moved, the Professor had been furious. A bone deep shiver wracked her. The Professor didn’t exhibit huge fits of temper when angry. His cool demeanor changed to one of total ice-cold fury that was far more terrifying because the focus of his ire never knew when the punishment would come or how long it would last.
He could pull her back to Area 46 anytime he wanted; the tracker in her left butt cheek assured it. She lived outside a facility because he allowed it, and permission could be revoked at any time.
Why had she been such a rotten kid and whined until her parents agreed to send her to summer camp? Fucking camp with its Kool-Aid made from glow-in-the-dark lake water. The brochure claimed microorganisms lit it up.
Camp Sunny Woods should have been called Camp Toxic Freaks in Training.
She’d left home a pre-teen girl with retainers, baby fat, freckles, and the hope of scoring her first French kiss in the woods. The ability to regenerate lost body parts, blend into her surrounding environment, and cravings for various insects went home with her. Thank God the hankering for creepy crawly crunchy things went away with the end of puberty. Cricket legs were a pain in the ass to get out of your teeth.
The camp hadn’t even had S’mores. What a bait and switch.
If it weren’t for the corporation that had poisoned them not wanting the government to get involved, she and her friends would be doing the human equivalent of pressing a feeder bar in a lab somewhere. So you followed the Professor’s rules and remained free. Screw up and it was back to the “safe house.”
“More like a nerd colony where they do nothing but breed little nerds and socially introverted pervs.” The faded, dingy carpet in the hallway of her building reminded her of the subway floor. In fact, it might be even dirtier. Definitely time for her to take a shower and give herself a mani-pedi, starting with a long soak to de-germify her feet.
She opened the door to her apartment, let the jacket slide from her shoulders, and swung it around to inspect the damage. Unlocked doors were a strange thing in New York, but this building was special. God help anyone fool enough to try anything like the jerk she’d busted today. The majority of the neighbors in the building weren’t Norms; and those that were had been vetted and approved in secret.
The stain from the hotdog collision was bad. The condiments had ground into the fabric and dripped down the front of the jacket all the way to the hem. A shower would have to wait.
She washed her feet off in the tub and took the time to scrub her soles with a nail brush while trying to ignore how the emptiness of her apartment reminded her how lonely she got sometimes. Greiff’s face swam into her mind’s eye and she re-doubled her effort on her feet. Getting the majority of the nasty off had to happen pronto, and the hot cop was relegated to a corner of her brain she’d visit some other time. Fantasizing about him was stupid, even if he had an adorable dimple in his chin.
She finished washing her feet, fished a pair of running tights and a tank top with a built-in bra from her dresser, dressed, grabbed the coat, and ran down the hall. Only one person possessed the ability to help her with this current crisis.
The door to the apartment had a wreath decorated with strange, dried herbs tucked in around silk flowers tacked to it. She knocked four times and waited. An elderly woman with purple hair, blue penciled-in eyebrows, pink cheeks and lips, wearing a velour track suit and a feather boa opened the door.
Laughter exploded from Chloe’s lips and she covered her mouth with her hand to try and contain her mirth. “Your granddaughter is over again, isn’t she, Muriel?”
“Yes. We’re playing fashion show. Apparently, stage makeup is important. So, what brings you to my door?”
“Had a run in with a hot dog.” She unfurled the coat; the offending stain etched yellow, red, and green streaks down the entire left front panel. “Think you can help a girl out?”
Muriel clicked her tongue and sighed. The sweet, harmless, old-lady act faded and the real Muriel appeared. A razor sharp, calculating expression took over her face and she straightened up to her full height. “This is a bad one. I might be able to do something with it, for a price.”
“Which would be what, exactly?” She crossed her arms and put all her weight on one foot. There was no guessing what the other woman would ask for, and they both knew Chloe needed the stain out. Now, or she’d face Daisy Mae’s wrath. The last time she’d messed up a piece of her roommate’s clothing, she’d been stuck giving mani-pedis for a month. Might not sound that bad, until you considered the spa treatments occurred on a bi-weekly basis, and required magnifying eye-wear.
Daisy Mae insisted on bling on her nails. Rhinestones, crystals, glitter, special designs, tiny pictures of Marilyn Monroe…Chloe had no idea where she got the stuff, but the manicures kept getting more outlandish and flamboyant. Her roomie’s recent job as a restaurant hostess had ended abruptly with an ill-fated customer trapped in a full nelson.
Daisy Mae’s explanation to the manager that the “limp-dick frat boy chipped my nails when he threw a pen on my podium” didn’t save her job.
“I need a few things.” The elderly woman turned her head to scan the apartment’s interior. She faced Chloe again with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know. A bottle of rum. Zip-ties, a pigeon, butane fuel, cheesecake, and four gallons of milk.” Muriel’s expression brightened with each item she recited from her list.
“Look, I don’t have much of a problem with most of that, but your daughter threatened to beat my ass if I got you any more booze.”
“Pshaw!” She waved my objection away. “Josie is not my keeper.”
“I’ll get you everything else. The rum is your problem.”
“The store won’t sell it to me.” The octogenarian considered Chloe with the shrewd consideration of a practiced scammer. Uh oh. “Get me the alcohol and the next one’s a freebie.”
Now that was a way to sweeten the deal. Threats of bodily harm be damned. Muriel had mad skills with stain removal.
“Deal.”
They shook on it and Muriel backed away with the coat in hand.
“I’ll have this in a few hours. You go and get my stuff.”
Chloe nodded and returned to her apartment to get her purse. All the items (save one) Muriel wanted could be procured easily enough. The pigeon required something extra.
***
Greiff pushed away from the patrol car after giving the officers inside Chloe’s description and drew one of the last two cigarettes from the pack in his inside jacket pocket. He lit it and took a long drag, wondering what his next move should be. He knew Chloe’d been in that apartment.
She played a dangerous game. But why? He’d rather warn her off the vigilantism than arrest her. His motives for sending her on her way and letting the case go cold weren’t motivated by good police work. More like a healthy sex drive and curiosity to learn more about her.
His phone rang. “Yeah.”
“Where the hell are you?” Spetrino’s voice almost busted his ear drum. He held the device at arm’s length and adjusted the volume.
“I took a walk.” Temptation to ask if the other man wanted to wipe his ass too rose, but he crushed the impulse. “Ya know, following a lead. Being a cop.”
“Cops have partners for a reason. Look, you want me to come pick you up?”
“Nah, I’ll be back in awhile. I’ll see you at the station. I’m not finished here yet.”
“Fine.” The crack of his partner’s gum sounded through the speaker. “Call me in an hour.”
“Yeah. Later.” He ended the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket.
What he wanted to do right now was find a reason to hang around Chloe’s building and learn who else lived there and what kind of things went down. Plus, she might leave and get herself into trouble.
Speak of the devil.
The woman in question marched down the opposite sidewalk in a tight outfit more suited for yoga than traipsing around outside. He grinned. Her breasts jiggled in the tank top with each step she took. The eyeful in the subway was great until she covered up with the bulky trench coat.
Greiff crossed the street behind her and followed her to the corner store. She noticed his reflection in the glass and turned to look at him in surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth open in shock.
“Boo.”
“Are you following me?”
“Right now, yes.”
She opened the door. “Why?”
“I’m curious about you. Plus, you look great in those pants.” He winked and smiled with a slow, wicked curl that turned his mouth up at the corners.
Covert Craving Page 2
