by Blake, Toni
“I’m sorry to have caught you at a bad time.”
“No, it’s fine. Is there news about Tina?”
Stephanie explained what she’d learned, asking, “What can you tell me about the Crescent?”
The other woman’s voice went lower. “I didn’t know girls still worked there. When I was in the business, the Crescent was crawling with cops and became considered an off-limits place. But it’s possible that’s changed.”
“Do you think some of the same girls who work Sophia’s work the Crescent? Or could I find a whole new set of escorts who might know Tina?”
“The Crescent is . . . a big step down from Sophia’s, I’m afraid. And while most of the girls at Sophia’s work under a madam, the girls who worked the Crescent were more the type who worked strictly for themselves. More freedom, but less protection. For what it’s worth, they might be more open with you than the girls at Sophia’s. Whenever I met any of the lower-paid girls, they seemed to think we were all sisters, if you know what I mean. They trust each other in a way high-end escorts don’t.”
After they disconnected, Stephanie plopped back on the bed. She’d promised Jake she’d stay put, but there might be women at the Crescent who would know Tina. They might tell her something they wouldn’t share with Jake. It felt absurdly like going back to square one, and yet how could she not?
Picking the phone back up, she called for a taxi and slipped into a dress designed to entice. The timing was bad, but Jake hadn’t turned up any leads other than this one, so she had to explore it to the fullest. She simply couldn’t sit on her hands when she might be able to do something constructive. She knew there were dangers, but Jake had made her feel useless when it came to locating her sister—and she didn’t like giving up control that way.
She’d be careful tonight—she wouldn’t talk to men, only other girls. And as for Jake, well . . . who cared what he thought? In fact, why had she let him tell her what to do in the first place? Bottom line, she had to find Tina. Even if it meant breaking the rules.
Chapter Ten
THE CRESCENT LAY a couple of blocks outside the tidy grid of the French Quarter, and as Stephanie passed a ten-dollar bill to the cabdriver and stepped out into the night, she noticed the area lacked the charm of the historic Quarter, giving off more of a this-could-be-any-city feeling. It looked like one of a hundred streets she might find at home in Chicago, with clumps of small, older buildings squeezed between cold skyscrapers.
The Crescent was one of those older places, nothing glossy or glamorous about the dark, squat hotel—and as she walked through the door, she felt more like what she was pretending to be than she ever had at Chez Sophia: a hooker.
That should have horrified her, but maybe she was becoming more seasoned—or desperate—about this whole business. She was no less intimidated than she’d been that first night—she was just getting better at handling it. Sell it, she told herself as she moved through a plush but dated lobby. Tonight, though, it wasn’t an urgently needed pep talk, just a simple instruction. The transformation came easier.
This is Jake’s fault, she decided. He’d loosed something inside her, from the very first time she’d met his gaze—something brazen she couldn’t quite stuff back in the box it had oozed out of.
Even as she moved across slightly worn carpet toward the double doors beneath a sign that read Crescent Lounge, her body ached and yearned for him. It was insane and uncontrollable—and she couldn’t think about that right now. Sell it, she whispered inside as she reached for a big brass door handle.
Inside, dark wood beams saturated the room with a certain dullness. Lights burned low. Clusters of people mingled beneath a layer of smoke hovering near the ceiling. A baby grand piano, as dull in sheen as the rest of the lounge, sat in one corner and an old man with thin, greasy hair played a jaunty tune from the crooners’ era. Stephanie felt like she’d stepped back in time.
Thankfully, the place was kept dark enough that no one seemed to have noticed her entrance. Three girls drinking martinis and wearing sequins caught her eye—her prey this evening. She spotted Jake, too, sitting at the bar, but at least his back was turned. Arrogant, bossy, even-if-you-are-gorgeous man. Her skin burned, part attraction but also part irritation at him for making her feel so . . . helpless. As if she could do nothing to aid their search. Well, she could, and she was going to prove it.
She would have liked a drink—both for the nip of courage a little alcohol could deliver and because she felt empty-handed approaching the escorts without one. But since Jake hadn’t seen her yet, she didn’t want to go to the bar. So she took a deep breath and sauntered toward the young women, ready to conquer her task.
“Hi,” she said, and all of them looked her way—wary, skeptical. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m looking for a friend. Maybe you know her. Tina Grant?” Damn it, she’d just used their last name again, automatically.
A pretty redhead, who was managing to chew gum even as she drank an appletini, spoke up. “Tina?” She looked to an exotic Latina brunette in red spangles. “Was that one girl’s name Tina? Raven’s friend?”
Thrilled to the core at this quick nibble, Stephanie hurriedly dug Tina’s pictures from her tiny beaded black purse, passing them to the redhead.
The girl nodded. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“You know her? You’re sure?” Stephanie struggled to keep the excitement from bubbling in her voice.
“Only met her a couple of times,” the Latina girl said. “She was new. Real green. Barely knew the business at all.”
Stephanie nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like her. Do you know how I can get in touch with her?”
Both girls gave vague head shakes, while the third—a petite blonde—lit a cigarette and blew smoke toward the layer already floating above their heads. She said, “I’m gonna get to work, look for a trick,” then set off into other parts of the cavelike room.
“It’s really important,” Stephanie said to the remaining two, her stomach churning. “What about the friend you mentioned—Raven was it? How can I find her?”
The redhead shrugged. “Haven’t seen Raven in a few weeks.”
Stephanie’s hope dropped further, but she couldn’t give up. “Do you know where Raven lives? Or”—God forbid—“. . . maybe you know which guys Tina . . . hooked up with, and you could put me in touch with them?”
The girls stared at her. Her desperation was showing.
She needed to explain herself. “It’s just that . . . I haven’t heard from her in a while, and I’m worried about her. We’re . . . close.”
The Latina girl cast a skeptical look. “Honey, you seem pretty green yourself. Too nosy.”
“Yeah,” the redhead added. “This ain’t a job for asking a lot of questions. People get the wrong idea about you.” She glanced toward the door, where a tall, handsome man who appeared too sophisticated for his surroundings stood looking about the room. “Oooh, one of my richest customers. Gotta go.”
So much for Melody’s claim that these girls would be nice. But on the other hand, they’d told Stephanie enough to make the trip completely worthwhile.
“SORRY, BUDDY, I don’t know the girl you’re talking about, and even if I do, I don’t know where to find her.”
This guy, Jake thought, was no help at all. Every sentence out of his mouth contained a contradiction. Probably a not-real-bright guy’s attempt to cover up now that Tony had made him think the cops were looking to bust the Crescent.
“I hooked up with her here before,” Jake lied. “Sure you don’t know if she comes in regular?”
Rich, a thirty-something guy with receding blond hair, braced his hands on the bar. “Look, pal, I don’t know what to tell you. But you want a blonde so bad, there’s a hot one waiting to get picked up right over there.”
Jake turned to look where Rich pointed, his eyes landing on a knockout in a
sexy black dress. Stephanie.
An unprecedented rage rose in him until he felt like a volcano about to blow. Never mind that she looked absolutely stunning, the flowy material of the low-cut dress hugging her breasts, their round swells creating enough cleavage for him to drown in; never mind that his heart pinched oddly at the sight of her. He was gonna kill her.
Without another glance at Rich, he slapped some money on the bar for his half-finished drink and crossed the room. She stood alone, so he didn’t have to worry about niceties. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he bit off.
Her back went rigid, but she didn’t shrink beneath his tone. “I’m coming at it from another angle.”
“Are you deaf or somethin’? Did you not hear me tell you to stay put? Are you tryin’ to drive me out of my mind? What is it with you and simple instructions?”
She started to respond, but he wasn’t listening, because no matter what she said, it wasn’t good enough. He latched onto her arm and pulled her toward an exit that opened into a dank alley. It was only as he was dragging her toward the street that she wrenched away from him. “Would you let go of me?” she snapped, her blue eyes wide and luminous beneath the streetlights.
He grabbed her hand tight and proceeded forward again. “No way, beb. Seems if I don’t keep hold of you, you run off and get yourself in trouble.” Upon reaching the sidewalk, he flagged down a taxi with his free hand.
“I wasn’t in trouble, for your information. I wasn’t going to talk to any men, just the escorts,” she argued as he delivered her into the car. “Melody said they’d be more open with another hooker than with a guy.”
He climbed in behind, shoving her over on the seat to make room for him.
“And why on earth are you going with me? Why aren’t you going back in there and grilling that bartender some more?”
“LaRue House, on Esplanade,” he told the driver.
“You might think I’m totally incapable,” she went on snippily, “but I can certainly get myself back to my place without your help.”
“I know you can, chère, but I got no confidence that you will.”
“Look, I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Master,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “But I knew there might be information out there about Tina and I had to try.” The cab crossed the wide thoroughfare of Canal Street, then dipped into the French Quarter, the buildings on either side closing in darkly around the car. “And if anything had happened, you were there,” she added with a brisk take-that nod.
“Damn good thing, too, because in case you didn’t notice, nobody lifted an eye, let alone a finger, when I manhandled you out of there. If somebody had wanted to hurt you and I hadn’t been there, Stephanie . . .” He was peering at her in the darkness, seeing only the shadowy shape of her, but feeling her warmth pressed up against him—and he found himself unable to go on because his throat was closing up at the very idea that some guy could have hurt her. Some guy could have hurt her and he might not have known, or might have been gone by then. Some guy could have hurt her and there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to stop it.
“What?” she whispered, shaking her head softly when he didn’t go on.
Unwanted emotion clogged him up inside. It seemed to stretch like a physical thing from his throat down through his chest, then into the depths of his gut. He couldn’t look at her anymore, even in the dark, so he focused on the back of the cabbie’s head—a dark, greasy ponytail. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I just can’t help you if I have to worry about you at the same time.”
“Then don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can take care of—”
“No, you can’t,” he snapped. “I already had to rescue you once, and I thought you understood then what the deal was.”
“But listen, Jake.” She grabbed his wrist, her hand warming his skin. “I showed Tina’s picture and found out she has been there before. The girls I spoke to haven’t seen her in a few weeks, but they said she has a friend named Raven. They haven’t seen Raven, either, but it’s something. Another name. A place she’s actually been. Did you get anything from the bartender?”
He sighed. “No.” And he hated to admit it, but maybe she actually had done them some good. Raven was a lot more uncommon name than Tina. It was another piece of information to give Tony, a name he could drop at Sophia’s.
As the cab pulled to a stop on Esplanade, Jake paid the driver, then took Stephanie’s hand as they exited the car. Realizing he still held it once they reached the sidewalk, the taxi speeding away behind them, he let it drop, but automatically lifted a palm to the small of her back to propel her down the brick walk to her room. The gnarled oaks and their moss-draped boughs provided a canopy overhead.
“You have to admit that’s helpful information, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, beb, you did good work tonight, but”—he stopped and turned her to face him, taking her hands in his—“you can’t keep doin’ this, understand?”
Their gazes met in the night, a sliver of moonlight fighting its way down through the trees to make her eyes sparkle, and Jake’s desire for her rose yet again. Had it ever waned since he’d set eyes on her this evening? Her hair was simple, falling over her shoulders in the same soft waves he’d seen earlier, only tamed now. Her filmy dress, its two wide swaths of black fabric tied behind her neck, made him think of old Hollywood glamour and sophistication. He caught sight of her nipples pushing against the fabric, and he wanted her naked, wanted to see her, touch her, explore her in a leisurely way he hadn’t done with a woman in a very long time.
Since Becky, of course. Everything always led back to her. A more stinging guilt than usual bit at him with the knowledge that he didn’t want to think about her right now. He only wanted Stephanie. No one else.
Finally, she turned and walked ahead on the path, digging a key from her fancy purse. “Well,” she said, “looks like you managed to get me home safe and sound. I guess you can go now.”
“No,” he said, and as she stepped inside, he followed, shutting the door behind them. He heard a click as a dim lamp lit the room, which was filled with antique furniture and thick, elegant fabrics.
“I’ll stay here this time, I promise. My work for the evening is done.” She sounded far from contrite, though—more like pissed.
Well, that was too damn bad.
He watched as she dropped her purse on the bed, before reaching to undo the bracelet that sparkled at her wrist, tossing it carelessly on a dresser. When she turned toward him, he stepped up close to her. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Yes, yes, I get it. While you search for my sister, I have to trap myself in this room, stare at the walls, and feel powerless, all because you think I’m defenseless.”
“Damn it, Stephanie!” His voice raised without his intending it to. She flinched beneath him and he locked his gaze on hers, needing to make her understand. “I don’t want you to get hurt, for God’s sake!” he shouted, then tried to speak more gently. “That’s not so hard to understand, no?”
But for Stephanie, it was hard to understand. Who was he? The gruff ex-cop who was all business? Or the softer man she saw only tiny hints of, hints so small that she wasn’t even sure if they were real or simply in her tortured imagination? The answer mattered, a lot—because wouldn’t it be easier to let herself sleep with him if she thought he cared for her?
He stood over her, his eyes filled with some combination of fury and tenderness so profound that she leaned back against the wall in an attempt not to wither and faint beneath his stare. She hated all the uncertainty, hated not knowing where she stood, not being in control of it. “What do you care?” she finally barked at him.
He shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“What do you care if I get hurt? What’s it to you? You barely know me. You’re only helping m
e because you think I’m a danger to myself, some stupid little waif playing private detective. And you couldn’t really care less if we find my sister—except maybe to get me out of your hair so you’ll never have to see me again.”
As she’d spilled the indicting words, she’d watched his face tighten still more fiercely, aware that his shoulders were set tensely and his fingers curled into fists at his side. “You got one thing right, Stephanie Grant,” he growled.
“What’s that, tough guy?”
His hands closed on her shoulders and his expression appeared positively tortured. “If I never saw you again, it would make my life a hell of a lot easier.” With that, his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding, his kiss feeling as if he were attempting to wrench something out of her.
Her entire body responded, her breasts tingling, wetness pooling between her thighs. Their mouths struggled together, their tongues sparring hotly. And in that heated moment, she didn’t care why he was kissing her, didn’t care if he hated her and never wanted to see her again. She only wanted to take what he had to give, and wanted to give him whatever he needed. And clearly he needed. Something. No man had ever kissed her so powerfully.
His arms closed around her and she moved against him without hesitation, needing the sweet, hot friction, needing to feel his very maleness against her curves. Her lips felt bruised beneath his, but she didn’t care. She clawed at his back, grabbed onto his hair, kissed him as feverishly as he was kissing her.
When one of Jake’s hands sank to her butt, she clenched at the pleasure and unthinkingly lifted one leg, curling it around his thick denim-clad thigh. His erection pressed insistently between her legs, forcing a low moan from her throat. Oh God. Oh God. She closed her eyes as the heat licked at her inner thighs, the small of her back. She was lost to him, lost to the weight of the desire pressing down on her.
Then, without warning, the passion turned slower—kisses still hard, but lingering. She heard them both panting as the heat of his body warmed her from shoulder to thigh. He tasted of cool mint. The kisses ended with his forehead pressed to hers in quiet, breathless recovery, but still their bodies writhed slowly together, as if they just couldn’t stop.
