The blonde didn’t look convinced, and the man rolled his eyes, probably having heard it all before. Christian found himself wanting to protest that he was telling the truth. Having to explain himself wasn’t something he’d ever done, not really caring what any mortal thought of him, but the urge to elaborate on his presence on that sidewalk caught him off guard.
“Joan, why don’t you talk to Mindy and give her the stuff we brought for her? I want to chat with Mr Tall, Blond and Stuck-Up over here.”
Watching as Joan led Mindy a few steps down the alley, Christian then whirled to meet the other woman’s gaze. “What exactly did you want to talk to me about?”
“You should really watch your tone, Mister. It doesn’t take any more time to be nice than it does to be an asshole.” The guy crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Christian.
“Did you just make that up? Do you read fortune cookies for fun or something?” Christian clenched his teeth in annoyance. “I have things to get done, and you’re wasting my time.”
He started to turn around and walk away, but the blonde put her hand on his arm, and short of shoving her away, he couldn’t do anything. While he might not like mortals much anymore, he wasn’t going to go around assaulting them either.
“What’s a guy like you doing down here if you’re not looking for a little sex?” She tilted her head in the direction of Mindy and Joan. “I’m Cecila, by the way, and this is Piet.”
Did he look like he cared what their names were?
A sudden wave of uneasiness swept over him, and Christian knew a fallen was near. He set his feet and spread his awareness out a little thicker, trying to figure out exactly where the creature was.
“A polite person would introduce himself and answer my question, especially if he wasn’t doing anything illegal.” Cecila propped her fists on her hips and studied him with a narrow-eyed glare.
“I’m sure that look works on people who have had mothers to make them feel guilty, but I haven’t, so it won’t work on me.” Christian gestured toward the warehouse behind them. “I came to look at that place.”
There wasn’t any point in not telling them what he was doing. In fact, if they were down near the docks a lot, they might know something about the unrepentants.
Piet curled his upper lip. “Looking for investment properties?”
Christian shook his head. “I’m interested in a group of people that had been seen hanging around the warehouses. Have you seen them?”
Cecila shrugged. “We see a lot of people while doing our job. Are they prostitutes or junkies? Homeless? You aren’t going to have them arrested, are you? That’s not a very charitable thing to do.”
Frowning, Christian studied the older woman. “Do I strike you as a man who does charity work or who even cares about charity?”
“No.” Piet didn’t hesitate.
“And you know why?” He paused, but when there wasn’t anything forthcoming, he continued, “Because I’m not.”
“Harsh.”
Joan’s comment caused Christian to look up to see Joan walking up to join them. Mindy was nowhere to be seen, yet the other presence Christian had felt was still around, watching them. He turned in a three-sixty circle, looking for anything that was out of place and feeling for empty spots in the energies surrounding them. He couldn’t sense anyone else, but that didn’t mean anything. Fallen could hide from him if they tried, or if they banded their power together.
“What are you doing?” Joan asked once he faced them again.
“Just checking to make sure no one is getting close.” Christian tugged back his cuff to check his watch. “I need to go, but if you could answer my question? Have you seen a group of people gathering in one of these buildings? They might look like they’re homeless, junkies or whores, but they’re something else all together.”
“What are they?” Piet enquired, but Christian wasn’t interested in talking any more.
“Have you seen them?” he demanded.
“Actually, yes. A few days ago, there were about ten strangers hanging around warehouse fourteen. It’s three blocks west of here.” Joan motioned behind Christian. “I saw them when I was out giving the working girls some condoms.”
“Is that what you do down here? Give the whores condoms?” Christian scowled. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”
“We’re well aware of the danger, Mr…?” Joan let her voice fade out.
Christian wasn’t going to be drawn into revealing his name. As attracted as he was to Joan, it didn’t mean he was going to spill all of his personal information to people he didn’t know.
“I suggest you rethink your little charity handouts for a few weeks, or go somewhere else in this God-forsaken city. That group is far more deadly than your usual whores and druggies.”
Joan and Piet snorted.
“What?”
“It’s obvious you don’t come down to the mean streets very often,” Cecila commented, staring pointedly at the Rolex on his wrist and his Jaguar F-Type S parked at the curb. “Have you ever been down on your luck and needing help from someone? Have you ever lived the hell on earth that a lot people living on the street experience every day?”
Anger surging through him, Christian pushed into Cecila’s personal space. She gasped when she met his gaze, and Christian imagined his eyes were almost black with his dark emotions.
“I live in hell every day of my life, lady, and I’ve lived far longer than you or anyone else on the streets of this city. I’ve experienced unimaginable pain, so don’t judge me like you know me.” Christian snarled.
“All right, sir. Just back up. Cecila didn’t mean anything by it.” Joan rested her hand on Christian’s arm, encouraging him to move.
Even though there were two layers of clothes between his skin and hers, Christian swore he could feel the smoothness of her fingers. Of course, that wasn’t true, but he could imagine how her touch would feel on his body. He grunted as his cock hardened again.
He shifted away from her, not wanting her to know how much she’d affected him. It had been over a year since he’d been interested enough in a woman to take her to bed. What was it about Joan that caught his attention?
Her brunette hair was long and bound at her nape by a small blue ribbon. He met her wide hazel eyes with his own, not wanting to give anything away. Yet her sharp inhale told him she must have seen some of what he was feeling.
She stepped back at the same time as he did, then she cleared her throat. “They were there for a night or two before they left. I haven’t seen as large a group again. I have seen two or three together at a time, coming and going from the same building.”
“Thank you.” He took another step away from her, thinking it probably looked as if he was scared to death of her. It was just that he didn’t have time to deal with this strange need he felt for her. “I suggest if you’re going to continue the foolish campaign of helping out the destitute then you should go somewhere else for a little while.”
“You really don’t care for those less fortunate than you, do you?” Joan’s question was so soft, Christian had to lean closer to hear it.
Rearing back, he took a deep breath as shock raced through him.
“Where has your compassion gone, Christian?” Mika’il’s voice echoed his own thoughts. “At one time, you were no better than those you sneer at.”
“Keep them safe, Piet, and listen to me. Stay away from these warehouses for a little while. There are far more dangerous things in the world then an angry pimp or a strung-out junkie.”
After turning, he stalked over to his car. To hell with looking for the fallen tonight. He’d go home and lick his wounds, then come back tomorrow when there wouldn’t be any mortals to bother him.
“Wait. Please.”
He froze where he stood by the car door. Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Joan jogging toward him. “Yes?”
“What’s your name?”
Christian hadn’
t intended to tell her because he thought she didn’t need to know. At that moment, it was like someone else had taken over his tongue. “Christian Vosberg,” he muttered.
She held out her hand. “I’m Joan Fisher. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Vosberg. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
He shook her hand. “Maybe we will, Ms Fisher.”
He let go of her hand before sliding behind the wheel, then starting the engine. He barely stopped himself from slamming on the gas pedal to peel away from the curb. Not wanting Joan to know she bothered him, Christian eased away from the sidewalk then headed out of the city. It was time to get away, clear his head and refocus on his job. Yet he looked into the rear view mirror to see Joan standing at the curb, staring after him. Something told him he wouldn’t be forgetting her anytime soon.
Chapter Two
Joan flopped into the chair closest to the door, not trying to stop it as it scooted across the floor on its wheels. She didn’t really react when it hit the wall behind her.
“I’m beat,” she commented as Cecila and Piet joined her in the office. After checking the clock on the wall, she sighed. It was four in the morning, and all she really wanted to do was go home and crash for a couple of hours before she had to go into work.
“So am I, but thank you both for going with me.” Cecila smiled at them. “It’s safer to have more than one person with you.”
“Which is why I tell you to call me when you’re going out,” Piet spoke up. He leaned against Cecila’s desk and grinned. “The ladies might not have a problem with you stopping by, but their pimps and the junkies who think you have something to steal do.”
“I know.” Joan tugged the band out of her hair then shook out the curls. “When I found out where Cecila wanted to go, I called you. Mr Vosberg’s right. That group I saw at the warehouses aren’t the kind anyone wants to mess with.”
Cecila moved behind the desk to take her seat. “I think Vosberg is another one you shouldn’t mess with.”
“He was an ass.”
Joan had to agree with Piet’s assessment of Christian Vosberg, yet she remembered the lust she’d seen when he’d looked at her. But more than that, it was the anguish she’d heard in his voice and had seen in his dark blue eyes when he’d yelled at Cecila, that wouldn’t leave her mind.
“True, but I think there’s more to him than we saw. He did warn us to stay away from the warehouses,” she couldn’t help but point out.
Cecila frowned and Piet simply stayed quiet. Joan had a feeling Christian hadn’t impressed either of them. Of course, he hadn’t been very compassionate toward the prostitutes, junkies and homeless they’d gone out to help. They’d run across a lot of folks like that, who thought they were better than those living on the street because they had a job, a home or food to eat. They didn’t see that at some point the very people they looked down on had once had all of those things as well. Then something happened, and life turned to shit.
Joan had lived on the streets four years ago, an alcoholic and a step away from selling her body for a drink. Just as she’d hit rock bottom, someone had offered her a helping hand, and she’d taken it instead of being too proud to accept it.
“Why do you think he was there?” She spoke aloud, though she knew her friends didn’t know.
Piet shrugged. “Who knows? Probably scoping the buildings out to remodel into condos or something like that.”
The scorn in her best friend’s voice surprised Joan. “Do you have something against him having money? Though we shouldn’t just assume that he does.”
Cecila snorted so loudly, both Joan and Piet stared at her. She waved her hand in a vague, dismissive gesture.
“I’m sure he’s barely surviving, and that the Rolex and Jaguar are just something he borrows from his best friend when he wants to impress the ladies.” She shook her head. “No, honey. That man has money. Probably more than we’ll ever have in our entire lives combined.”
“Right. Come on. Are you telling me you’ve never heard of Christian Vosberg before?” Piet tugged his phone out, then started doing something on it.
“No, I haven’t. I assume you know who he is.” Joan laughed. “I don’t have a TV. Too busy working, going to school and helping you out.”
“But you could keep up on the news using your laptop,” Piet pointed out.
She could, but Joan had decided she wasn’t going to spend her time on the net checking gossip sites and stuff like that. Keeping up with her classes and work was more difficult than she’d thought it would be. Of course, going back to college at thirty didn’t help either.
“I don’t have time to keep up on the society pages, jackass. Just tell me who he is already.” Joan poked Piet in the side after he moved to stand next to her. She took the phone from him.
“Christian Vosberg is one of the richest and most powerful men in the city. No one knows how much real estate he owns around the world.”
Joan read everything that was on Christian’s Wikipedia page, though she wasn’t sure how much she should believe. But even if half of it wasn’t true, the rest overwhelmed her.
“And this guy was down by the docks, about to go into an abandoned warehouse by himself?” She handed the phone back and frowned. “Where were his bodyguards or entourage? Most guys with that much money have a lot of hangers-on.”
Cecila bit her bottom lip as she seemed to be thinking. Piet shoved his hands in his pockets.
“The weird thing is he’s always alone. He doesn’t have bodyguards or security people. If he goes to any events, he’s usually alone. I’ve never seen him with a woman. Maybe he’s gay.”
Joan remembered the desire burning in Christian’s eyes when he looked at her right before he climbed in his car. She shuddered as her own lust overtook her. Shifting in her chair, she giggled. “Trust me. He isn’t gay.”
The knowing look she got from Cecila caused her to blush, and Joan ducked her head, but she couldn’t get rid of the smile on her face. Joan had been so focused on getting her life back on track that it had been a long time since she’d been attracted to a man.
Now that she had, maybe she was ready to start dating or at least checking gorgeous men out when she ran across them. Not that she met many gorgeous, eligible men during the course of her day. When she wasn’t working, she was in school or roaming the streets to help out the people who found themselves there. Her busy schedule wasn’t conducive to dating.
Christian’s dark blue eyes flashed through her mind and Joan flushed again. If she secretly hoped to see Christian again, no one else needed to know. She might have some nice dreams when she slept, too.
“Do you think he’s looking to buy some property? If he was, then why did he ask about that group of people we saw down there? Vosberg seemed to be far more interested in them than the building,” Cecila pointed out.
“You said you saw them, Joan. Did they accost you or something? You know I hate you going out there by yourself.” Piet glared at her.
She shrugged. “I was taking some condoms to Mindy and the girls. You weren’t around, and I knew they were running out. We’re doing a good thing, helping them stay clean of STDs and pregnancies at least, even if we can’t keep them off the drugs or get them out of their profession.”
Neither of her friends were going to argue with her about that, though Joan understood their fear about her going on her own. The places they went weren’t the safest in the city, and there were some people who’d just as soon kill her as look at her. Joan accepted that she might die one night, killed by a druggie or a pimp, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. If it happened, it happened, and she would count herself lucky that she’d been able to help people out before she died.
“I have to admit I didn’t really study them that closely, and they didn’t react to me in any way.” Joan paused as she thought about the actions of the group she’d seen earlier that week. “You know, that seems weird to me. They truly didn’t react to me, not even to look at me. It
was like I wasn’t even there.”
“What were they doing?”
She shrugged. “Nothing that I could see, though to be honest, there were ten of them outside the building when I got there. I think there were probably more inside the warehouse, but I didn’t see any of the others. I do know that the homeless haven’t slept in the area of those particular buildings for over a week or so. Tonight was the first time I saw any of the working girls around there as well.”
“Much like animals, those who live on the streets can sense danger and will avoid places where it might lurk. So if they’re returning to the area, then whoever those people are, they must have moved on.” Piet checked his watch then yawned. “I need to head home and grab some sleep. You ladies make sure to text me when you get back to your places.”
They agreed, and he hugged each of them before he left. Cecila gestured to the open door. “Why don’t you head home as well, Joan? I have some paperwork to fill out, then file before I get to go.”
Stretching, Joan nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have classes today, but I do have to go into work at six, so I should probably get some rest.”
She gave the older lady a quick hug before leaving the office. After grabbing her bag from one of the lockers in the break room, Joan headed out into the early morning to flag down a cab. She was on her way home in a few minutes.
Leaning her head back against the seat in the cab, Joan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As she cleared her mind, a sudden image of Christian Vosberg drifted through and she shifted uncomfortably as her thighs clenched with desire.
Tall, blond and gorgeous, Christian had an intriguing air of sadness hanging over him. Joan couldn’t help but wonder what Christian had to be sad about. From all accounts, or at least what Piet had told her, he had more money than God, and owned more of the city than the mayor. Yet there was something that made her think he was just biding his time or balancing on the edge of some kind of meltdown.
She thought about the emotion in his voice when he’d told Cecila, “I live in hell every day of my life, lady, and I’ve lived far longer than you or anyone else on the streets of this city. I’ve experienced unimaginable pain, so don’t judge me like you know me.”
New York Page 2
