His Wicked Ways

by Joanne Rock

  “Are you trying to call me uptown?” Damned if he knew why that offended him so much. Truth be told, he’d spent most of his adult life in midtown ever since he’d made his first million. “I grew up in Bensonhurst.”

  A fact that she would know if she were some up-and-coming Mafia chick sent by Sergio. But wasn’t the mob too chauvinist to send a woman to do their dirty work? Alec didn’t have a clue anymore.

  “You may have been born there, but you don’t fight like Brooklyn.”

  “And you’re such an expert on hand-to-hand combat?” He’d always prided himself on shunning the chauvinistic leanings of his family, but he had to admit the only thing that soothed his frustrations right now was to picture Ms. Torres beneath him again.

  Only this time, she was naked.

  “I’m hardly an authority, but it doesn’t take much imagination to see that you’ve been away from street fighting for a long time. Your technique is more textbook than passion.”

  Had he thought she’d annoyed him before? Apparently her capacity to piss him off had been just warming up.

  “Any street fighter worthy of his brass knuckles would take the lack of passion remark as a challenge.” He stepped closer, prepared to intimidate. He’d be too glad to show this woman some serious heat.

  “Take it for what it’s worth.” Shrugging, she didn’t exactly look intimidated. She had world-weariness down to an art form. “All I’m saying is that no street scrapper would have let me get in those kind of sucker-punch moves. Those types expect the dirty moves before wasting energy on the best technical defense.”

  “Let’s not forget who came out of our little wrestling match on top.” Aggravated with all the verbal dancing around, he decided to get to the heart of the matter. And this time, he’d use some passion, damn it. Snaking a hand around her wrist, he held tight. “Care to tell me why you’re here and why you came to my class toting a piece?”

  Stiffening in his grasp, she couldn’t mask the rapid heartbeat pulsing through her veins just beneath his thumb. Her soft skin and slender arm were more delicate than he’d expected.

  “Care to keep your hands to yourself?” Her voice was steady and even, so cool and controlled he would never have guessed what turmoil lurked beneath the surface if not for the proof of that fiery throbbing against his skin.

  Slowly, he released her, alert to her every move. Did her pulse race because she was nervous and had something to hide? What if she’d come here to conduct a hit—a trained assassin with great tits and a heart that fired as fast as her trigger finger? He tensed, waiting.

  “As long as you keep your hands where I can see them, Ms. Torres, I’m happy to keep mine to myself.” Forcing his arms to relax at his side, he calculated the distance to his own gun tucked in a desk drawer inside his office a few feet away. He could take her easily without the help of his weapon, but it didn’t hurt to have a backup plan. Especially since she might have her own backup nearby, ready to take him out if she failed.

  “Oh, but I think I have something else you’re going to want to see.” Her grin showed off straight white teeth, and he couldn’t remember ever thinking a woman’s incisors were sexy.

  And how screwed up did it make him to drool over a probable hit woman? He wondered how many other saps were getting a hard-on for this chick even in the last moments before she popped them.

  “I’m sure there are a lot of guys who would love nothing better than to sign on for whatever you care to show off, lady, but I’d rather keep my head on my shoulders a few more days.” His gaze dropped to her lean curves showcased in hip-hugging jeans. The jacket she wore parted like the damn Red Sea around a spectacular rack. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want to show me?”

  Her fingers flexed at her side. Clearly, she wasn’t accustomed to sitting still.

  “Believe me, it makes more of an impression as a visual.” She paused, perhaps waiting for him to give her the green light to make a move.

  She might as well be waiting for all the lights to turn green down Lexington Avenue. He had no intention of staring her down over the barrel of her gun.

  Finally, she sighed. “It’s in my pocket.”

  Smart woman. He stepped closer, fully prepared to pat down every inch of anyone who set foot in his center with a concealed weapon. The fact that the patting would be a pleasure in this case made no difference.

  “Right or left?” He hovered a few inches away from her, catching occasional whiffs of her rose scent.

  Her pupils dilated, darkening her brown eyes to near black. The heat between them ratcheted up a few degrees and Alec would be lying to himself to say it was just nerves.

  “Right.” Her throaty voice scratched into an even lower register, the word pummeling his sense of caution into stark need. Desire.

  He reached into the pocket, his fingers grazing her jeans through the thin fabric of her jacket. If she hadn’t been wearing clothes, the incidental touch would have landed a few delicious inches from the juncture of her thighs.

  Sweat trickled down his back.

  Fingers closing around a leather case, he retrieved what felt like a wallet. Counting himself fortunate to have survived the close encounter without her pulling a gun or him falling under her sensual spell, Alec stepped back and flipped open the leather billfold.

  Revealing an NYPD badge.

  “Shit.” The realization thundered through his brain with all the subtlety of a summer riot.

  “You’re now a wanted man, Alec Messina.” Her words showered over him with stinging clarity. “I think you’d better come with me.”

  2

  VANESSA COULDN’T DECIDE what freaked her out more—the fear of Alec Messina pinning her the moment she reached for her weapon, or the definite twinge of magnetism that flared whenever he ventured into her personal space. As a loner cop with plenty of training on the job, Vanessa didn’t have much experience with either emotion—the fear or the attraction. She’d been functioning on clear, cold logic for so long now, she didn’t know how to deal with the sudden influx of heated feelings. Fear, passion, anger—they were always other people’s problems.

  “You’re NYPD?” Alec didn’t study the badge, saving his scrutinizing for a slow appraisal of her person.

  She stared right back, knowing instinctively she needed to give as good as she got with this man or he’d try to roll right over her. What she saw didn’t compute to a handsome man. His features were too strong and prominent, his nose too large and his eyebrows too thick. Yet somehow on him, with his oversize height and chiseled muscles, it all worked. Well.

  “A detective, actually. And one of New York’s finest, at that.” Vanessa tipped an imaginary cap in his direction, hoping to diffuse the tension. “You’re wanted for questioning in extortion charges filed by your business partners in McPherson Real Estate Development. If you’ll just come with me—”

  “A city cop. Un-freaking-believable.” He tossed her badge back with an easy flip of the wrist. “Are you on my uncle’s payroll?”

  “Not unless you’re the mayor’s nephew.” She tucked her badge back into her pocket, struggling to follow his mercurial mood. He seemed more distant now, but she supposed that made sense given his family’s long-standing animosity for law enforcement. “But we can chat more about it on the way to my precinct.”

  She jerked a thumb toward the door, more than ready to leave 172nd Street behind. If only she could get Alec into a squad car and down to the station, she could scratch this case off her docket and consider an old debt to Lieutenant Durant paid.

  The pending extortion charges against Messina were more an FBI matter, but nothing formal had been filed yet. Alec’s business partners had just wanted the police to find him. Bring him home. She had no idea if their method of dealing with uncooperative associates resembled mob justice, but Vanessa knew she wouldn’t want to be in Alec’s shoes when he returned to Manhattan.

  Then again, maybe he thought he’d just silence her now rather than
risk being found by his family.

  Not that he stood a chance.

  “I’m wanted for police questioning.” He reached for a basketball in a wire bin full of sports equipment on the perimeter of the gym. “In other words, you don’t have jack to pin on me, but you think if I come down to the station for an hour you’ll be able to maneuver me into a confession with some good-cop/bad-cop antics, right?” He spun the basketball on his fingertip, steadying his elbow beneath the moving weight. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  Mesmerized by the old playground trick, Vanessa figured as long as his hands were busy with the ball, he couldn’t very well pull any surprise attacks. Unfortunately, the play of his deft, strong fingers didn’t do anything to stifle the unfamiliar tension still coiling through her.

  “Don’t you want to clear your name? Let your business partners know where you’ve been?”

  “If I wanted them to find me, I would have told them before now.” His free hand whipped the ball faster and faster until it became a blur of orange. “But thanks for letting me know about the trouble over there. I’ll get in touch with them soon and figure out something.”

  “They’re pointing fingers at you.” She peered around the gym to make sure they were still alone. Keeping her wits about her around this man took enough of her attention without adding any hidden lurkers to the mix. His students had all filed out onto the street earlier, but she knew there were other entrances to the building. Had in fact scoped them out before she’d insinuated herself in the self-defense class.

  “I’m cheating my own company out of money?” He stopped the ball in midspin and tucked it under his arm. “Makes me wonder why I’ve been busting my ass for nine years to build a good business.”

  “Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding.” She didn’t care how things settled out, she just wanted to do her part and get it over with. “If you could come down to the police station—”

  “No.” He invaded her space, leaning close to get the message across. “Not gonna happen. You’ve got a pretty badge there, lady, but for all I know you’re as crooked as small-town politics.”

  “You’re related to one of the biggest mobsters on the eastern seaboard and you’re afraid I’m crooked?” Didn’t that beat all? “If you’re so concerned, why not just call the police station and have them send a car for you? We can have someone here in ten minutes at the most.”

  A perfectly logical plan to circumvent his concerns. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem convinced.

  “Look, I’m not going to the police station on principle, even if I thought you were for real and you threw in a full body massage on the ride over.”

  “Not in this lifetime, Al.” She lingered over the shortened version of his name he’d been using to hide out in plain sight for months. “And be careful you don’t verbally harass me, bud, or I’ll be hauling your butt back to Manhattan whether I have your consent or not.” Where did he get off distracting her with visions of full body massages?

  Even more irritating—where did she get off actually envisioning her hands anywhere on this man’s body? Something was massively wrong with her today. She knew it had been a bad idea to venture into her home terrain, considering all the wrong turns her life had taken here.

  “The lady doesn’t mind trading punches, but toss a little innuendo her way and she gets out of sorts.” He raised an eyebrow as he lined up a three-point shot from the side of the court. “You’re not the run-of-the-mill detective, Vanessa Torres.”

  Don’t get personal.

  Vanessa knew the drill, having long ago figured out how to keep the bad guys at arm’s length along with fellow cops. But Alec Messina wasn’t necessarily either. He had a reputation as a shrewd businessman with ties to organized crime even though he’d never been convicted of anything. Did that make him a good guy? Or merely one who was very skilled at getting away with misdeeds?

  “You’re not a run-of-the-mill real-estate developer, either.” She watched him make his shot and then found herself moving toward the ball. Not that she was here to play. Far from it. She just found it impossible to walk away from a potential competition. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re hiding out in the Bronx using a different name.”

  She dribbled super casually, telling herself maybe she wouldn’t need to shoot if she could keep her hands busy.

  “Can’t bear to talk about yourself, can you?” Alec stripped the ball away and jogged to the rim for a layup. “I have to say I’m intrigued why the department sent you out here to bring me in alone. Don’t you people work in pairs?”

  “I’ve seen your moves, Messina. I think I can handle it.” She kept her eye on the ball while Alec rebounded and dribbled.

  Vanessa had a partner. A great partner who would be there for her in a heartbeat if she needed him. But Wesley Shaw enjoyed working alone just as much as she did. No way would she run to him just because Alec knew how to get under her skin.

  “You haven’t seen anything.” He bounced the ball from hand to hand, the thunking cadence reverberating in her ears as he seemed to size her up. “I had to take it easy on you since I thought you were a local with no experience.”

  That stung for reasons he couldn’t possibly comprehend since she’d been a local with no experience once. And that lack of preparation—the complete absence of basic self-awareness—had nearly cost her sister her life.

  “I’m definitely experienced.” She tugged her thoughts from the quicksand of her past, refusing to get sucked into the same self-recriminations she’d been wading through for years. “And I’ve been around long enough to know I’m making no inroads with you unless I get a warrant, right? I’ll just let myself out.”

  Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. No sense wasting time here with a man who just wanted to yank her chain. Six other cases waited on her desk, all of which would keep her comfortably in her Manhattan jurisdiction. She’d only hunted down Messina since her superior had investments with McPherson Real Estate and didn’t want to see the whole company go belly-up. Vanessa had a knack for old-fashioned sleuthing, the kind of tedious paper trail following most detectives hated. She’d done her part by finding Alec in the first place, hadn’t she?

  Not.

  It definitely would suck to admit defeat, especially to the man who saved her bacon by reassigning her when her first partner on the force had gotten too friendly.

  Reaching for the double doors that emptied onto the street, Vanessa paused when Alec shouted to her.

  “How’d you find me?” His words echoed slightly against the high ceiling.

  Should she stay and hope that she could wrest answers from him without dragging him back to the precinct? To question him here posed more of a risk and kept her tied to the old neighborhood that much longer.

  Then again, if she left, she’d have to tell Lieutenant Durant she’d failed. An alternative that held little appeal for a woman who prided herself on success.

  “Tell you what, Al.” Pivoting silently on the heel of her sneaker, she faced him across the polished wooden floor. “I’ll answer one of your questions if you answer one of mine.”

  IN BLATANT DEFIANCE of the heat surging through him at just the sight of Vanessa Torres silhouetted in the light from the high windows, Alec assured himself he could never be interested in a cop.

  His complicated friendship with his uncle’s mistress had reminded him of all the reasons sex needed to stay far, far away from all relationships outside of a committed one. Something Alec couldn’t afford with his personal life consigned to a low level of Dante’s Purgatory. The added knowledge that Vanessa possessed the power to haul him off to jail made his sex thoughts about her all the more unwelcome.

  And blasted uncomfortable.

  “You’re not cutting me any slack here, are you?” He didn’t want to answer her questions, but he really needed to know how she’d tracked him down. If she could do it, maybe his uncle had already found him, too.

  The thought had
urged him to call her back just now, when she’d been ready to walk away. If she was legit— an honest city detective trying to do her job—then he couldn’t just let her venture back onto the street unaware of the danger of having identified him. She could have been followed here. Even worse, she could be dispatched now that she’d served her purpose. A chance he wouldn’t take.

  “You forget, I’m not here to pay you a social call.” Her perfect posture looked so rigidly ladylike. He wouldn’t have believed she could dribble a basketball with as much finesse as a WNBA star unless he’d seen it with his own eyes. “If you want answers, you’ll have to give up a few of your own.”

  “Fair enough.” He’d gladly dance his way around her questions in order to extract whatever information he could. Besides, Vanessa counted as the most intriguing company he’d entertained in a long time. Even if she hid a connection to his uncle bent on revenge, at least Alec would enjoy the view until she made her move against him. “I’ll answer a question if you tell me how you found me.”

  Venturing closer, she walked back into the gym with that silent, subtle way she had of moving. He realized she wasn’t quite as tall as he’d originally thought. Her monochromatic clothing and uncommonly straight shoulders gave the illusion of height, but she didn’t top five foot six. Smooth skin and unlined features probably put her in her mid to late twenties.

  “I figured your work in real estate gave you plenty of places to hide, so I obtained a list of properties with your name attached.”

  “That amounts to hundreds of holdings.” No way could she have tracked him here on that kind of information.

  “I paid special attention to land with active building permits under the assumption you’d need to keep busy, or at least keep an income flowing.” She lowered herself to the front tier of pull-out bleachers on one side of the gym. “And it helped that I have contacts in this neighborhood who checked out the property next door to a deserted sports complex.”