She is bent over her bag, but looks up sharply. “She wouldn’t ask me to do anything dangerous. And it would be very dangerous to get in the middle of a feud between you and Frank. Neither of us would do that.”
“Not get in the middle. Stay on his side. He’s her father. Blood. And you owe him, right? He paid for your school?”
She flushes guiltily and says, “Who told you that?”
“The man himself.”
“When did you talk to him?”
I wonder why she’s worried about that and about the guilty look on her face. Was she lying last night about not knowing anything about the robbery? And how about when she said she was afraid of Frank finding out she’d been with me? Was that real fear? I think about the way he talked about her. Not about her being Rachel’s friend, but about her owing him personally.
“No one could blame you for doing something if he or one of his guys asked you to. You’re close to the family, right?” I ask.
The heat turns her cheeks bronze. “Whatever was done to your operation, I had no part of it. I thought you believed me?” she asks, standing up and putting the purse over her shoulder.
“I believe you don’t know the details of what happened. Or that you’re a really good actress. After seeing you last night on stage, I know you’re talented,” I say, continuing to push. If she knows more than she’s said, I’m going to find out. And it suddenly doesn’t seem like such a good idea to let her go. What if she goes to Frank’s house? No access to her then.
Her expression darkens. “If you think I did something to betray you, why did you take me to bed last night?” she demands.
“I wanted you.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. Furious, she’s sexy as hell.
“That’s the difference between men and women,” she says. “If I’d thought you were going to keep interrogating me in the morning, I never would’ve slept with you.” She shakes her head. “It was a mistake anyway. A stupid one. I know better than to trust you guys. You’re paranoid, and when you’re angry, you destroy people, whether they deserve it or not. I almost thought you were different.”
“It’s not paranoia. Someone robbed me and shot one of my guys. I can’t let that go. And if you’re innocent, no one’s going to hurt you.”
“Oh, really? Because Iaminnocent and you threatened to let your goons take turns torturing me to get information.”
Goons? I almost smile. Anvil’s as big as a monster, but someone calling Trick a goon is a first.
“Who said anything about torture? If you’re gonna get hysterical and exaggerate things, you’d better sit and calm down.”
“Go to hell,” she says, stalking toward the door with those gazelle’s legs.
I wait because I like watching her hustle, that ass and those dancer’s limbs working. Then though, I do what I need to. I move fast and catch her before she reaches the stairs.
“Don’t!” she snaps.
I slide an arm around her waist and haul her against me, her back to my front. She’s not having it and struggles, trying to break loose. I tighten my grip.
“Calm down. You’re going nowhere until I let you. Don’t piss me off.”
She becomes still. “I’m sorry I told you to go to hell. Please let me go, Mr. McCann.”
I scowl. “Not likely,Ms. Arantes.Take yourself back to the bedroom.” I move so I’m between her and the stairs and give her a small push.
“What are you thinking?”
I study her. “I think you should go back in the bedroom.”
“Don’t do this,” she whispers. “You said I could go.”
Something in me tightens at her imploring tone. I kissed this girl. I’m a hard-ass, but not with beautiful girls who don’t want me to be.
“Yeah, I decided I made that decision too fast,” I say. “The fact is, the money was in your place and, outside of what happened in my bed, we don’t know each other yet. Go in the bedroom and watch television. I’ll see what’s what with the guys, and then, assuming everything checks out with what you told us, you can leave.”
She stares at me. “I gave you a lot of names. Some of them don’t live around here. It’ll take days for you to talk to everyone.”
