Manhattan Heat

by Alice Orr

  Memphis took only an instant to register all of this before launching his own offensive against the shorter guy, who had been surprised just enough by the attack on his sidekick to give Memphis the opening he needed. He dropped his shoulder and drove it into the guy’s soft belly. Memphis had figured this to be his weak spot, and that turned out to be true. The gunman went down like a thud. One of his pistols clattered out of his grip to the floor. Memphis grabbed his wrist to grapple for the other one. Memphis brought the guy’s hand up then slammed it down into the floor and did this two, three more times, hard as he could slam. Finally the second gun skidded across the cheap linoleum and under the bed.

  Memphis was aware of the struggle still going on between Bennett and the redhead. She had the advantage of a choke knot around his neck. He had dropped to his knees and was trying to flip her off his back. She clearly had him near to strangling, but it was questionable how long she could keep that up. Memphis had to get free to help her somehow. He raised up over the chubby guy who was flailing like mad trying to get loose from the one hand Memphis had around his throat.

  Memphis made a tight fist then brought it down in a fast arc from shoulder height hard across the guy’s jaw. His head snapped around, and he grunted. The guy’s eyes rolled up so all that showed was the whites till the lids closed over them. He flopped down, still under Memphis. Either this guy was out cold, or he was doing a very good fake of it. Memphis had to take a chance on the former, or he might be too late to keep Bennett from getting hurt.

  The redhead had finally gotten her off his back, but she was still holding on to the noose she had around his neck. He was striking out at her now. All he had to do was get some leverage, and he could do her some real damage. Memphis hopped off the short guy and grabbed the pistol that had fallen nearby on the floor. It was a nine millimeter. Memphis brought it down sharply in the center of the other guy’s red thatch. The man slumped to the floor.

  “You can let loose of him now,” Memphis said.

  Bennett looked up at Memphis. Her blond hair was tousled, there were smudges on her face, and her dress looked like it had seen its last fancy party. As far as Memphis was concerned, she had never looked more beautiful.

  “Give me those,” he said, pointing at the strips of sheeting in her hand. I’ll use them to tie these guys up.”

  Her lips moved into what looked almost like a smile. “Do it like you mean it this time,” she said.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Where did you put the car?” Bennett asked Memphis as they hurried out onto Ninth Avenue.

  “Forget the car,” he said. “The car’s a drag. They’ll spot us too easily in that thing. We’re better off on foot.”

  That sounded sensible to Bennett, though she didn’t have much experience with being on the run so she couldn’t be entirely sure what was sensible and what wasn’t. She was surely glad to be out of that hotel room and away from those two terrible men.

  “What will happen to Royce’s Jaguar?” she asked.

  “He’s probably reported it stolen by now. I put it where the cops are likely to find it. Maybe they’ll get to it before the thieves do.”

  “I hope so. Royce loves that car.”

  “Serves him right for butting his nose in.”

  “He was only trying to help me.”

  “Then why’d he take a chance on shooting you?”

  Bennett didn’t have an answer for that. She couldn’t help being more than a little confused. Royce was supposed to be her friend, yet he had put her in danger. Memphis was supposed to be her enemy, but he’d probably saved her life. She remembered him fighting two armed hoodlums and bringing them down, with some help from her, of course. She couldn’t help wanting to throw her arms around his neck and hug him tight, but she knew she shouldn’t do that.

  “Where are we going now?” she asked instead.

  They were headed toward downtown on Ninth Avenue. Traffic was busy in the street, but the sidewalks were emptier than they’d been back on Fifth. The people Bennett did see passing hardly took notice of them at all. Though Memphis had a hold on her arm, he wasn’t gripping her with the same desperate intensity as he had before what had happened in the hotel room. They had been on the same side there, and that changed things between them. She could tell he knew that as well as she did.

  “Where are we going?” he repeated, as if to himself.

  Memphis stopped walking, and she stopped with him. He looked around, then up and down the avenue. He stepped back into a darkened doorway and pulled her in after him.

  “I have to rethink this,” he said. “I was going to have you put this stuff on back at the hotel.” He gestured with the sack he was carrying. “Then we could head downtown without being quite so noticeable.”

  “What have you got in there?”

  “Some clothes I found in a Salvation Army box a couple of blocks from the hotel. I’d been looking for a store, but I found the box first.”

  “I see,” Bennett said. She wondered what exactly he expected her to put on.

  “Why are you so helpful all of a sudden? And why did you jump on that guy at the hotel? What’s going on here anyway?”

  They were in the shadows, but she could see him staring down very intently into her eyes. His touch was warm as the summer night. The light from a street lamp shone almost blue through the jet darkness of his hair. What is going on here? she asked herself as she felt a twinge of something quite unsettling course through her when she returned his gaze. She took a deep breath to steady herself before answering his question.

  “What’s going on here is that I’m not sure whose side I should be on,” she said, “but I’m beginning to think it might be yours.”

  She still couldn’t see his face clearly, but she could sense his surprise. “When did you start thinking that?”

  “Back in the hotel room,” she said. “Those two men were there to kill me, too.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I was out on the balcony listening when they first came in. I heard them say it.”

  Memphis was silent for a moment. “I don’t get it,” he said.

  “I don’t, either. They mentioned Falcone, too. Isn’t he the man you said owed you money? The one you told me you were at the Stuyvesant Club to meet?”

  “Yeah. That’s right. Falcone.” Memphis sounded as if he must be almost as confused as she was.

  “So, if they’re trying to get rid of both of us and Falcone is involved, maybe what you told me earlier could be true.”

  “What I told you about what?”

  Bennett hesitated. Two hours ago she would have choked on what she was about to say. Now her truthful nature, along with every instinct she possessed, wouldn’t let her hold back the words. “About not killing that woman in the billiard room,” she said.

  Memphis nodded his head slowly, then breathed a sigh. “I’m glad to see you’re finally coming around.”

  “I didn’t say I was totally convinced yet. I’m only considering the possibility that you didn’t do it.”

  “Look at me,” he said, bending closer to her in the dim light of the doorway. “Do I look like a cold-blooded killer to you?”

  He had leaned so close she could smell that oddly fresh scent of him. What light there was among the shadows caught in his eyes. She could see the passion there for her to believe him. She was suddenly reminded of another kind of passion and of the way he had kissed her in the park. She had wanted only to get away then. She wished that was all she wanted now. Instead, she found herself reliving those moments when his mouth was on hers. Her lips tingled from the memory. She was tempted to pull him down to her and experience that kiss again, with her full attention this time. She resisted the impulse long enough for him to pull away.

  “Never mind,” he said. “I probably do look like a criminal to you.”

  “Actually, you don’t,” she said softly.

  He studied her face but didn’t answer. Her female r
adar, which had always been quite acute, detected he might be thinking the same thing that had just crossed her own mind, about kissing her again. Much as part of her might want that to happen, she knew she must not let it.

  “Show me what’s in the bag,” she said as a distraction.

  “What?”

  “The bag. I want to see what you have for me to wear.”

  Memphis picked up the paper sack she was pointing to at his feet.

  “It’s not bad stuff,” he said, handing her the parcel. “I know the Sally’s probably not your usual shopping territory, but this one had some possibilities mixed in among the junk.”

  Bennett opened the bag and was surprised at what she saw. She’d half expected frumpy rags, but he hadn’t done badly. She pulled out a pair of black calf-length leggings and a black tank top to go with them. The long-tailed man’s shirt could be worn as a jacket with the sleeves rolled up. He’d even found a pair of black ballet-style flats that looked as if they might be close to her size.

  “I thought maybe this stuff could work out for where we’re going,” he said, sounding a little uneasy, as if he might be eager for her approval of his choices.

  “Just as you said. They’re not bad,” she said. “Unfortunately, they don’t go far enough if we really want me to be in disguise. I think I can take care of that though. Let’s go.”

  She was the one who took his arm to pull him with her this time, and he was the one who resisted.

  “I still don’t get it,” he said. “Why are you going along so willingly all of a sudden?”

  “I told you. They’re after me, too.”

  “So why don’t you try to make a run back to the ritzy side of town where you’ll be safe? Or, why don’t you try to call the cops or get some help from your friends?”

  Bennett couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that nagged her. He was right to suspect she had more reasons for her behavior than she was letting on. She hadn’t told him about the call she’d sent out from Royce’s car phone or the questions in her mind now about what that might have to do with those thugs back at the hotel knowing where to find her. She had no idea who that call had gone out to. If Royce knew them, she might know them, too. Hers was a small, tight circle of acquaintances, after all, and Royce traveled pretty much exclusively in that same circle. Bennett didn’t intend to go running back to home territory until she was sure she would find safety there. As for the police, she was also not ready just yet to get her friends in possible trouble with the law. Maybe she also wasn’t so certain about making trouble for Memphis, either.

  “Wait a minute,” Memphis said. “You don’t think this is some kind of game, do you? Like one of those masquerade parties where people run around pretending they’re somebody else just for kicks?”

  He was offering her the excuse she needed to explain her behavior at the moment. “Maybe there’s a little of that working here,” she said.

  “This is no game, Bennett,” he said, sounding serious. “People could get hurt. You could get hurt.”

  She was reminded of her thoughts earlier that evening, about her life having become entirely too safe. Suddenly she was also aware of a sensation she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. Her breath came more quickly than usual. She could almost feel her blood racing through her veins. She was actually excited.

  “I’m willing to take that risk,” she said.

  Bennett tugged at his arm again to pull him out of the doorway. This time, Memphis didn’t resist.

  MEMPHIS WAS WORRIED. He couldn’t figure out what Bennett had in her head about this situation they were in. He’d told her it wasn’t a game, and she’d said she understood that. Still, he wasn’t so sure. She was almost acting as if she might be enjoying herself. After they left that doorway on Ninth Avenue, she’d insisted they hunt around for an all-night drugstore. She’d run up and down the aisles, grabbing things off the shelves as if it were Christmas. Makeup, dangly earrings, plastic bauble bracelets, even scissors, hair dye, some cheap towels and a hair dryer. She was definitely getting into the disguise thing big time.

  They’d come here to the Port Authority because she said there might be ladies’ rooms that had changing cubicles with sinks. He’d never heard of anything like that. They didn’t have those places in the men’s rooms, not by a long shot. He took her word for it anyway. Now he was wondering if he should have been more suspicious. She’d been in there an awfully long time. Maybe she’d given him the slip. Maybe this ladies’ room had a back door onto one of the other corridors and she was long gone already.

  Memphis didn’t like that the thought made him feel almost scared—and not just because without her he’d lost the advantage of holding a hostage. His hostage plan had pretty much gone out the window of that hotel room when they’d become allies instead of enemies. Standing so close to her in the doorway had changed things, too, at least for him. He could smell her soft perfume. He’d been rushing around too fast to notice it before, or how the little blond hairs around her forehead had gone all curly and wispy from her exertions.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever stood that close to in his life. Just remembering it made his throat tight, but he knew how stupid that was. No matter how much they might be on the same side right here and now, they wouldn’t be living in the same universe once this mess got straightened out, if it ever did. She was uptown—way uptown—and he didn’t have a part of town to call his own. He was what some people call a sea tramp. He had no roots. You had to stay on dry land for a while to put those down. Even if he did what he’d been thinking about for the past few months and tried shore life again, his world would be, as he said, in a different universe from hers. He had to keep that in mind every minute. Otherwise, he’d be putting his heart in line for worse damage than those two hoods with their brass knuckles had planned for his head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Memphis had kept watch on the ladies’ room door while troubling thoughts whirled around in his head so fast they almost made him dizzy. There’d been women in and out of the rest room, but Bennett was still inside, unless she’d found that back door he was worried about. He was just about to take a sprint around the other corridor to check out that possibility when a real knockout appeared in the doorway. Being a red-blooded man of healthy inclinations, Memphis couldn’t help but look.

  She was something special, all right. She had short, black, spiky hair, wild looking against pale, almost white skin. Her eyes were edged with long black lashes and just enough color to make them almond shaped and exotic. Her lips were full and very red. She had a face it was hard not to stare at and a body to go with it, dressed in tight black that suited her long legs and nicely curved places to a T. Memphis made note of all that in seconds flat. The recognition that dawned afterward, and the shock to follow, took a little longer to happen.

  First he recognized the man’s shirt. She had it tossed sassily over her shoulder. That’s why he hadn’t noticed it when he first looked at her. He’d picked that shirt out himself, and taken some time doing it. Then he remembered the earrings, big silver loops fit for acrobatics in a gymnasium. He’d been surprised when she’d chosen them in the drugstore. They certainly didn’t look like something a girl from the Stuyvesant Club would wear. That was nothing compared to the surprise of realizing this was Bennett St. Simon smiling suggestively at him from the ladies’ room doorway, looking like one of the hottest numbers he’d ever seen.

  “What do you think?” she asked as she walked toward him.

  The tight leggings made her walk different than she had before, more slinky and sexy. Or maybe that was just another part of the character she was playing. Whatever the cause, that walk was having a definite effect on Memphis. The feelings she’d started up in him in that dark doorway on Ninth Avenue were more the tender type. The reaction he was feeling now he wouldn’t call tender. He had to remind himself extra hard that this was only a disguise she was wearing. She might not have any idea the kind of thoughts
an outfit like this could give a man…or, maybe she did.

  “I think you’ll fit in much better where we’re headed than you would have before. On the other hand, if the plan was to be less noticeable, I think you can forget it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that every guy from here to the waterfront is going to break his neck to stare at you.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  A hint of blush tinted her pale cheeks. Maybe she really didn’t know how sexy she looked, after all.

  “What do you say we get something to eat?” he asked. “We can get away with not having you recognized now.”

  More than his stomach felt hungry when he looked at her. He hoped a burger would help.

  “Where shall we go?” she asked.

  “Someplace you’ve never been before. I’d bet a month’s wages on that.”

  “Good. I love new places.”

  There she was again, acting as though they were out looking for fresh thrills. He was going to have to set her straight.

  “Let’s find a diner,” he said.

  “The Port Authority is a huge place. They’ve probably got one downstairs somewhere.”

  “Too many lights,” he said, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder as he took her arm and hurried her toward the down escalator. “And too respectable.”

  Out on Ninth Avenue, it was easy to find what he was looking for, an all-nighter with a small bar in front and tables at the rear. He’d been right about the attention she would attract. The guys at the bar nearly fell off their stools trying to get a better look at her. Memphis gave them his most lethal stare in return. They went back to their beers but not until they’d taken a chance on one last peek. She walked straight past all those stares as if they weren’t happening. He’d seen women act like that before and wondered how they did it. Lots of things about women made him wonder. She slid into one of the vinyl booth seats in the back, and he sat down across from her with the Formica table in between.