"Looks like." She rose, wandered to the window. He had the blinds shut today, so she tapped a slat up, looked out "I'll need to interview your people. I thought they'd feel more comfortable if I did it here. Do you have any problem with me using your office for it?"
"No."
"Great. I'll start with you. Get it out of the way." She came back to sit, took out her notepad. "Tell me what you know about Jan."
"She's worked here about a year. She was good at her job, a favorite with a number of the regulars. Had a knack for remembering names. She was reliable and efficient."
"Did you have a personal relationship with her?"
"No."
"But you're aware she lives in the same apartment building as Frannie?"
"Is that against the law?"
"How did you come to hire her?"
"She applied for the job. Frannie has nothing to do with this."
"I didn't say she did." Ally took a photo out of her bag. "Have you ever seen this man in here?"
Jonah glanced at the police photo of a dark-haired man of about thirty. "No."
"See him anywhere else?"
"No. Is this Lyle?"
"That's right. Why are you angry with me?"
"Irritated," he corrected coolly. "I'd classify it as irritated. I don't care to be interrogated by the police."
"I'm a cop, Jonah. That's a fact." She put the photo back into her bag. "I've got a job to finish. That's another fact. And I'm hung up on you, there's fact number three. Now maybe all of mat irritates you, but that's the way it is. I'd like to start the interviews now."
He got to his feet as she did. "You're right. It all irritates me."
"There you go. I'd appreciate it if you'd send Will up now. And stay downstairs. I might need to speak with you again."
He came around the desk. Her eyes narrowed, flashed a cold warning as he approached her. They stayed level and cool when he gripped the lapels of her jacket and hauled her to her toes.
A dozen desires, all of them impossible, ran through his mind. "You push too many of my buttons," he muttered, and releasing her, walked away.
"Same goes." But she said it quietly, after he'd gone.
"So…" Frannie lit a cigarette, peered at Ally through the haze of smoke. "You're a cop. I might've figured it if Jonah hadn't been with you. He doesn't like cops any more than I do."
Frannie had put on an attitude, Ally noted, and nodded. "Now, there's breaking news. Listen, let's make this as painless as possible for everyone. You've got the rundown on the burglary ring, how the club was used, Jan's part in it"
"I've got what you've decided to tell me now that you're wearing your badge."
"That's right. And that's all you need. How long have you known her?"
"About a year and a half, I guess. I ran into her in the laundry room of my apartment building. She was waiting tables in a bar, I worked in a bar." Frannie lifted her shoulders. "We hung out together now and again. I liked her well enough. When Jonah opened this place, I helped get her a job. Does that make me an accessory?"
"No, it makes you a jerk for copping an attitude with me. She ever mention a boyfriend?"
"She liked men, and men liked her."
"Frannie." Ally shifted, decided to play another angle. "Maybe you don't like cops, but there's one on the critical list right now, and he's a friend of mine. They're still not sure he'll make it. He's got two kids and a wife who loves him. Another woman's dead. Somebody loved her, too. You want to go a round with me on personal business, fine. Let's just get this done first"
Frannie made a little shrugging movement again. "She talked about this one guy sometimes. Never told me his name. Liked to be mysterious about it. But she said things like pretty soon she wouldn't be hauling trays and bagging tips."
She got up, crossed over to open the panel to the bar in a way that told Ally she was very at home in Jonah's space. She pulled out a soft drink, twisted off the cap. "I figured it was talk. She liked to talk big about men. Conquests, you know?"
"Did you ever see her with this guy?" Ally nudged the photo across the desk.
Sipping from the bottle, Frannie walked back, studied the photo. "Maybe. Yeah." Frannie scratched her jaw. "I saw them come into the building together a couple of times. Didn't seem like her type is what I thought. He's kinda short, a little pudgy. Ordinary. Jan, she went more for flash. Studs, with platinum cards was her usual type."
Catching herself, Frannie shook her head, dropped into a chair. "That sounds hard. I liked her. Look, she's young, maybe a little foolish. But she's not mean."
"You might want to keep in mind that she used you, Jonah, and this place. Now, did she ever mention anyplace they went together? Any plans?"
"No… well, she might've said something about a place on a lake. I didn't pay much attention when she started bragging. Most of it was just air."
Ally questioned her for another fifteen minutes, but didn't jiggle anything loose.
"Okay. If you think of anything, I'd appreciate a call." Rising, Ally offered Frannie a card.
"Sure." Frannie skimmed her eyes over it. "Detective Fletcher."
"Would you ask Beth to come up, please?"
"Why the hell don't you leave her alone? She doesn't know anything."
"But I have such a good time intimidating and threatening potential witnesses." She came around the desk, sat on the corner. "Okay, there's the bell. Go ahead with your personal round."
"I don't like the way you came in here, the way you used us and spied on us. I know how it works. You did a background check on everybody, pried into all our lives and sat in judgment. I guess you're sorry it turned out to be Jan instead of the former hooker."
"You're wrong. I like you."
Off balance, Frannie sat again. "Bull."
"Why shouldn't I like you? You got yourself out of a spiral that only goes down. You've got a legitimate job, and you're good at it. The only problem I have with you is Jonah."
"What do you mean, Jonah?"
"You've got a relationship with him. I'm attracted to him. That's makes you a personal problem for me."
Baffled now, Frannie took out another cigarette. "I don't get you. You mean it about Jonah?" she said after a minute. "You've got a thing for him?"
"It looks like. But the problem's mine. Like I said I like you. In fact, I admire the way you turned your life around. I never had to do that, never had to face those kinds of things, make those kind of choices. I'd like to think I'd do as well as you have if I had."
"Damn it." Frannie pushed to her feet, paced the room. "Damn it," she repeated. "Okay, first. I don't have a relationship with Jonah. Not like you mean. Never did. He never bought me when I was for sale, and he never touched me that way when I was free. Even when I offered."
Though a fine sense of relief ran through her, Ally kept her voice mild. "Is he blind or stupid?"
Frannie stopped pacing, took a long, hard look. "I don't want to like you. You're sure making it tough not to. I love him. A long time ago, I loved him… different than I do now. We grew up together, more or less. I mean we've known each other since we were kids. Me and Jonah and Will, we go back."
"I know. It shows."
"When I was working corners, Jonah'd come by sometimes, pay me for the night Then he'd take me for coffee or something to eat. And that was it" Frannie's eyes softened. "He always was a sucker."
"Are we talking about the same man?"
"If he cares about you, that's it He'll keep pulling you up no matter how many times you fall down again. Bite his hand, he'll just ignore you and haul you up. You can't fight that. You can't fight that kind of thing for long. I didn't make it easy for him."
With a sigh, she walked over to sit again, picked up the soft drink, finished it off. "A few years ago, I was scraping the bottom of the gutter. I'd been on the stroll since I was fifteen. By the time I hit twenty
I was used up. So I figured what the hell, let's just get out of this whole mess. I star
ted to slash my wrists. Seemed just dramatic enough."
She held out a hand, turned it over to expose the scar on the inside of her left wrist. "Only got to the one, and didn't do such a hot job on it."
"What stopped you?"
"First? The blood. Really put me off the idea," she said with a surprisingly cheerful laugh. "Anyway I'm standing there in this filthy bathroom, stoned, bleeding, and I got scared. Really scared. I called Jonah. I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't reached him, if he hadn't come. He got me to the hospital, then he got me into detox."
She sat back, tracing a finger over the scar as if it brought the memory back with more clarity. "Then he asked me something he'd asked me a hundred times before. He asked me if I wanted a life. This time I said yes. Then he helped me make one.
"Along the way, I thought I should pay him back, and I offered what I was used to offering men. It was the only time he ever really got pissed off." She smiled a little. "He thought more of me than I did of myself. Nobody else ever had. If I knew anything about Jan, or this business, I'd tell you. Because he'd want me to, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for him."
"From where I'm standing, you both got a good deal."
"I've never once had a man look at me the way I've seen him look at you."
"Then you've got your eyes shut." It was Ally's turn to smile. "Keep them open tonight when Will asks for his after-closing brandy."
"Will? Come on."
"Keep your eyes open," Ally said again. "Are we square here?"
"Yeah, sure. I guess." Confused, Frannie got to her feet again.
"Ask Beth to come up. Just give me five minutes to find my brass knuckles."
With a half laugh, Frannie went to the elevator. After pushing the button, she glanced back. "Will knows what I was."
"I guess he knows what you are, too."
She wrapped up the last interview by seven, circled her shoulders and wondered if there was a possibility of food any time in her near future.
The clock told her she was officially off duty, and since she had nothing to add to the current status of the case, her reports and follow-ups could wait till morning.
Still, she helped herself to the use of Jonah's phone, checking in, giving updates. She was sitting quietly at his desk when he came in.
"Dietz. The cop who was shot last night. They've upgraded his condition from critical to serious." Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingers against them. "It looks like he's going to make it."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"Yeah." She pulled the clip out of her hair, ran her fingers through it. "It sure fills this big hole in my gut. I appreciate the use of your office. I can tell you that the rest of your people aren't suspects, at this time."
"At this time."
"I can't give you more than that, Blackhawk. All evidence points to the fact that Jan and Jan alone worked the inside. It's the best I can do."
She tossed the clip on his desk. "Now, I've got something else to say."
"Which is?"
"I'm off duty. Can I have a drink?"
"I happen to have a club just downstairs."
"I was thinking of a private drink. From your private bar." She gestured toward the panel. "If you could spare a glass of wine. I noticed a nice sauvignon blanc in there."
He turned toward the panel, opened it, selected the bottle.
"Why don't you join me?"
"I'm still on duty. I don't drink during working hours."
"I noticed that. Don't drink, don't smoke, don't hit on the customers. During working hours," she added.
He turned back, the glass of pale gold wine in his hand. And watched her take off her jacket.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, then shrugged out of her holster. "I find it awkward to seduce men when I'm wearing my weapon."
She laid it on his desk, then walked toward him.
Chapter 8
One might have taken off her gun, Jonah thought, but she wasn't unarmed. A woman with eyes as potent as whiskey and a voice like smoke would never be without a weapon.
Worse, she knew it. That longbow mouth was curved up, just a little, like a cat's when the canary cage was open. He didn't much care for his role as target
"Your wine." He held out the glass, a deliberate move to keep an arm-span of distance between then. "And though I appreciate the thought, I don't have time for a seduction at the moment."
"Oh, it shouldn't take very long."
She imagined he'd devastated countless women with that careless, almost absent dismissal. For her, it was only a challenge she had every confidence of meeting.
She took the wine, and moved right in, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to hold him in place. "I really like the look of you, Blackhawk. Hot mouth, cool eyes." She took a sip of wine, watching him over the rim. "I want to see more."
His senses went blade sharp. The muscles of his belly tied themselves into a dozen hard and tangled knots. "You get right to it, don't you?"
"You said you were in a hurry." She rose on her toes to nip her teeth into his bottom lip, and sliced a jagged line of need straight through him. "So I'm picking up the pace."
"I don't like sexually aggressive women." Her laugh was low, mocking. "You don't like cops, either."
"That's exactly right."
"Then this is going to be very unpleasant for you. That's a shame." She leaned in, skimmed her tongue up the side of his neck. "I want you to touch me. I want you to put your hands on me."
He kept them at his sides, but in his mind they were already ripping at her shirt, already taking. "Like I said, it's a nice offer, but—"
"I can feel your heart pounding." She shook her hair back, and the scent of it slithered into his system. "I can feel the way you want me, the same way I want you."
"Some of us learn to shelve certain wants." She saw the change in his eyes, the faintest deepening of green. Dead giveaway, she thought "And some of us don't" She took another sip of wine, then moved forward, walking him backward. "I guess I'm going to have to get rough."
Mortified she'd put him in retreat, he stopped short, nearly groaning when her body bumped his. "You're going to embarrass yourself. Drink your wine, Detective Fletcher, and go home."
She imagined he thought his voice was clipped, dismissive. But it was thick and strained. And his heart was a fury under her fist
"What is that answer you're always giving me? No. Yes, that's it." She drained her glass so the wine pumped in with the reckless power surging through her. "No," she said again and, tossing the glass aside, hooked a hand in the waistband of his trousers.
Aroused and furious, he retreated again. "Cut it out"
"Make me." She threw her head back, then leaped, arms wrapping around his neck, legs vised around his waist "Come on and make me. You've got plenty of moves."
Her mouth swooped down to tease his, and she tasted a wild, wonderful mix of desire and temper. "Take me down," she whispered, raking her hands through his hair. "Finish it. Finish me."
His blood was raging. The taste of her, hot and female with the faint zip of wine, was on his tongue. "You're asking for trouble."
"So…" She rubbed her lips over his, as if imprinting her flavor on him. "Give it to me."
Control snapped. He could hear it echo in his head like the violent crack of hammer against stone.
He gripped her hair, wrapping it around his hand, yanking it back so that she let out a little gasp as her head flew back.
"The line's crossed." His eyes weren't cool now. They simmered, as if a bolt of lightning had struck a pool. "You'll give me everything I want. What you don't give, I'll take. That's the deal." Her breath was already quickened. "Done." His gaze lowered to the long, vulnerable curve of her throat. Then he set his teeth on her.
Her body jerked against his as the shock of that threat of pain, that lance of pleasure stabbed into her. Then she was falling, clinging to him as she tumbled into the shadows, into the dark.
She lost
her breath when she hit the bed, lost her grip when his body covered hers. Then, for a moment, when he tore her shirt open, she lost her mind. Floundering for balance, she threw an arm up. Her knuckles thudded against the bedspread, then her fingers dug in. "Wait."
"No."
His mouth was on her breast, ravaging tender flesh with lips and teeth and tongue. She fought for air, fought to find the power that had been hers just moments before. Instead she found herself spinning past control, past reason.
His hands were on her, as she had demanded. And they were hard and fast, ruthlessly exploiting weakness, secrets she hadn't known she'd possessed.
Then his mouth came back to hers, hot and greedy. The low sound in her throat was equal parts terror and triumph. Leaping recklessly toward the heat, she met demand with demand.
She went wild beneath him. Writhing, bucking, reaching. He'd wanted nothing less. If he was to sin, he would sin fully, and reap all the pleasure before the punishment
Her skin seemed to burn under his hands, his mouth. He craved. The long, clean lines of her. The taut and ready strength. The delicate give of curves.
He rolled with her over the wide pool of the bed, taking what and how he wanted.
She tugged at his shirt, sending buttons flying, then letting out a sound of feral delight when flesh met flesh. When he dragged her to her knees, she trembled. But there was nothing of fear left in her.
She could see his eyes, the predatory gleam of them, from the backwash of light from the office. She let out a ragged breath as she ran her hands up his chest, into his hair.
"More," she told him, and crushed her mouth to his.
And there was more.
Lightning quick flashes of unbearable ecstasy. Gusts of shuddering desperation. And a flood of needs that swamped them both.
He tugged the slacks down her hips, following the path of exposed flesh with his mouth until she was shuddering and mindlessly murmuring his name in that hoarse, erotic voice he couldn't get out of head.
His teeth scraped her inner thigh, sent the strong muscles quivering. When she arched, opened, he feasted on her.
She cried out as the orgasm ripped through her, fisted her hands in the bedclothes and let each glorious aftershock batter her until her system wept with the pleasure of it. Heat swarmed up her body, through her, and she embraced it, reveled in the breathless power of what they made together. "Now. Jonah."
Books by Nora Roberts Page 433
