The urge to run almost overtakes me, but I resist. I walk to the worn purple chair near the couch and lower myself into it. I’m close, but not within reach. I could bolt if I need to.
I lick my lips. “So why are you here?”
“That depends on what you tell me. I might just be here to listen.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a stack of money. There’s a black paper band around the hundred-dollar bills. The band is similar to what banks use, I guess, but this one is plain black, except for the C Crue silver stamp on it.
I stare at it blankly. “I don’t need to be paid for information. If there’s something I can answer for you, I will.”
“That’s not money for information. It’s my money. It was stolen. And I found it here.”
“What?” I ask, my voice almost a gasp. “I don’t—” My eyes dart around the room. “I don’t know how it would’ve gotten into my apartment. How would I even have had access to money that belongs to you?”
“The best thing you can do for yourself is tell me the truth.”
“I’m telling the truth. If that money was in my apartment, I’m not the one who brought it here.”
“Ifit was in your apartment?” he asks with a small smile. “Are you calling me a liar?”
I shoot to my feet. “I don’t know what this is about. I think you should leave.”
“Sit back down.”
“No,” I say, making up my mind. Maybe this is some twisted plot to force me to spy on Frank Palermo for them. They make up some story to scare me into thinking I need to cooperate with them to make amends? Who knows what they’re capable of? I stalk over to the door and pull it open. “Please leave,” I say with more steel in my voice than I actually feel. I’m hoping he won’t see the way my hand shakes.
He stands and walks over. For a brief moment, I think he’s actually going to leave. Instead, his big hand closes over mine and forces the door closed.
“Hey, don’t!” I say.
“Lower your voice,” he orders.
My heart hammers in my chest. I don’t know what to do. Should I scream? Should I try to run to the bedroom window with the fire escape?
His hand is hot and squeezes mine against the knob. It’s hard to catch my breath.
“You’re not going to intimidate me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You know what everyone who’s ever betrayed me starts off saying?” After a beat he continues, “Right. They say, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’”
“But I really haven’t,” I say desperately.
“That wad of cash says otherwise.”
I stare into his eyes, imploring him to see the truth or, if he already knows I’m innocent, to stop things now. “I don’t know how it got here,” I say, choosing not to accuse him of treachery again.
“That answer’s not good enough.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“We’ll see,” he says, taking my arm in a firm grip.
* * *
Connor
Zoe’s in an oversized sweater that hangs off a bare shoulder, flashing those plump tits that I’d like to get my hands on. Dressed casually, she’s every bit as erotic as she was in the thin black lace bodysuit onstage. And underneath her sweater she wears beige leggings that might as well be skin. She had no idea a man would be waiting for her.
“Connor,” she says, shaking her head as I lock the front door and throw the bolt. Her voice is so good, soft and breathy. That slightly nervous tone threatens to bring out the animal in me.
Things are spiraling, and my body keeps trying to get two steps ahead of my brain. With her arm in my hand, I guide her to the bedroom. I leave her standing at the foot of the bed while I shrug off my coat and toss it on the desk in the corner. I take my gun out and set it down too.
