Assassin P.I. (6 page)

Deluca frowned but didn’t complain. “Headed for the roof?”

“Yep.”

The only place where he could truly think clearly was the rooftop at night. While everyone else was tucked safely into bed, Jack could take in the twinkling lights down below and pretend there was no filth to be cleaned up, no criminals walking the streets causing trouble. He could pretend he was above it all, that his life was more than just a lousy blip, a tiny wrinkle in time.

“Mind if I make a phone call while you contemplate the meaning of life?” Deluca asked.

“Nope. Lock up when you leave.” Jack took a drink directly from the bottle and headed for the sanctity of his rooftop oasis.

Jack climbed the ladder to the roof, careful to not spill any of his precious cargo. O
nce safely seated, he took a swig of the amber liquid. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, each vying for attention, driving him crazy with emotions he’d fought so hard to tamp down.

She’d lied. Angie had lied to him. The question was why.

Was she trying to get even with him for how things had ended between them? The honest truth was he couldn’t even remember why he’d cheated on her in the first place. Or with whom. But the look on her face when she caught him in bed with another woman, the hurt and betrayal, the seething fury, had haunted him for years.

What angle was she working? Why lie about being married, or not married? What difference did it make? It didn’t make any sense. If she was trying to make him jealous, she’d succeeded, but she didn’t have to lie about her marital status to accomplish that.

He took another drink and then set the bottle down on the flat roof. Leaning back, he tucked an arm behind his head and peered up at the dense fog that rolled off the shore, blotting out any inkling of stars and celestial bodies.

Down below, the office door opened and closed again as Deluca left. “I hope you’re giving some serious thought to what I said,” he called out. “She’s no good for you, Jack. Walk away while you still can.”

Jack didn’t respond. What did Deluca know? Until recently, the man had had it all: a wonderful wife he didn’t appreciate, two fabulous children, and a new promotion to boot. Jack would give his eyeteeth to have an ounce of what his best friend had, yet Deluca blindly insisted on throwing it all away by being a workaholic. A mistake Jack wouldn’t make if given half the chance. His friend had no idea how good he’d had it in life.

Not like Angie. Now there was a woman who’d had to fight her way through life. She wasn’t but a day over eighteen when they’d first met. He’d been a beat cop back then, chomping at the bit to move up in rank, and she’d been a runaway, sleeping on the streets.

The call came in around eleven o’clock in the evening. What started out as a drunk and disorderly disturbance had quickly escalated into a knife fight. By the time he and Deluca had rolled up on the scene, they’d found this scrappy young girl swearing like a sailor, swiping her ivory-handled dagger at anyone who threatened to get within five feet of her.

Nearby, a man was trying to reason with her. By the looks of his unzipped pants, talking wasn’t the only thing he’d been trying to do. “I just wanna talk to you, baby, that’s all.” With each slurred word, the man stepped closer. “Come home. Your mama misses you.”

She spat at him, slicing an arc through the air. “Leave me alone!” she screamed. Beneath the fury was fear. Like a caged animal, she paced, slashing the air with the blade.

“Ma’am. Drop the knife,” Jack had ordered. She’d turned on him then, jabbing the blade to within millimeters of his manhood, leaving a nick in his uniform pants. He held his ground. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want to help.”

Her gaze darted between Jack and the two men standing behind him. Pain twisted her face as she reached to clutch her thigh. A grimace marred her otherwise pretty face. Blood oozed between her fingers.

Behind him, Deluca had subdued and cuffed the drunken man and was taking his statement. Watching this, the girl had started shaking.

“You’re bleeding.” Taking a gamble, hoping he’d read the situation correctly, he said softly, “Did your father hurt you? Or did you cut yourself?”

“He’s not my father!” she screamed. “He’s my step-father and he likes to screw little girls!”

Her sudden admission rocked Jack to the core. He’d seen horrible things during his time as an officer of the law, but this was by far the worse. “What’s your name?”

She peered up at him, a wary glint in her eye, as if mentally debating whether he could be trusted.

“Angie,” she’d finally said.

“Hi, Angie.” He’d tested the waters and took a step closer. When she didn’t jab him with her dagger, he’d taken that as a good sign and closed the gap between them. “I’m Jack.”

Then she’d collapsed into his arms, and he’d carried her to safety. She’d stolen his heart that night and he’d never gotten it back.

Jack shook his head to clear the memory. Some things were best left forgotten. He sat back up, downed the rest of the scotch, and chucked the empty bottle into the Dumpster below.

Chapter 6

Angie groaned. One last number until her shift was over. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath and a warm bed. Seeing Jack again had ripped open old wounds, wounds she thought had healed, leaving her emotions raw and tender to the touch.

Once, in a past life, she thought she might be in love with Jack, had spent countless hours envisioning a life with him. It would have been a nice life, too. He’d go off to work each morning to patrol the dangerous city streets while she’d stay home, caring for their children and cleaning their modest house. When he’d return to her, safe and sound after putting yet another dangerous criminal behind bars, they’d make love by candlelight well into the wee hours of morning.

She’d been nothing more than a kid back then, with grand delusions of ever-afters while he’d thought of her as only a plaything to pass his time until the next woman came along to seduce him. She’d since wised up. When dealing with Detective Jack Gaines, love and a life-long commitment would never be in the cards, no matter who the unlucky woman was. Heartbreak was the only language Jack spoke.

A soft rap on the door wrenched Angie away from her thoughts. “You’re up, Ang.”

“Thanks.” Angie glanced in the mirror before heading for the stage. Someday, some upstanding man would want to make an honest woman of her, but that man would never be Jack. She’d do well to remember that and walk away from him while her heart was still intact.

She paused at the staircase to the stage and took a deep breath. On stage, she could be anyone she wanted. A sweet, idealistic schoolgirl singing of a someday lover. Hardened seductress. Today, she was just herself. From the curtains, the audience practically hummed with excitement, waiting for her to take the stage.

He
was there. She could feel his eyes follow her every move as she walked out. The years had taken their toll on Jack. There was a darkness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, like his soul had hardened and withered away. And the drinking. That was new, too.

Under the bright stage lights, the audience was little more than dark shadowy figures waiting to devour her. She drew a breath, closed her eyes, and began to sing.

“I can feel you, watching me. Waiting. Wanting me. My secret lover.”

When she opened her eyes, he was there, within reach, watching her from the front of the stage. There was no mistaking his signature fedora. She smiled seductively, crouched down, and removed the hat, placing it on her own head. The audience went wild as the tempo of the music abruptly switched to a fast-paced, heavy-driving drumbeat.

Angie turned and grinned, playing to the mostly male crowd, giving them a shimmy and toss of her hair.

Without warning, a hand clamped down on her arm and chaos erupted.

“Hey!” Angie
yelped as Jack snatched his hat back and dragged her offstage, down dark hallways.

“My hat, not yours. Got it?” he snarled.

“What the hell, Jack?”

“We need to talk.” Jack threw open the emergency door and thrust Angie outside onto the sidewalk. He was being rougher than was necessary but at the moment, he didn’t care. She’d lied to him, used him. Inside the club, an alarm sounded.

She blinked in the sudden glare of the streetlight. “Now? I still had half a song left.”

He grabbed her by the arm again and dragged her down the street toward his car. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he could see Angie’s manager emerge from the nightclub and look frantically around.

“Get in.” Jack waited for her to comply before casually walking around the car. No need to call attention to himself any more than he already had. Sliding into the dark sedan he eased out into traffic before the manager spotted him.

For a few blocks, they drove in silence. Angie cast furtive sideways peeks at Jack’s bruised face. To her credit, she neither asked nor gawked. At least not openly. And he wasn’t in the mood to offer any explanations. He had other things on his mind. Questions that demanded answers. He just wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear the answers.

It was Angie who finally broke the silence.

“You gonna tell me what this is all about or should we play a game of Twenty Questions?”

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, keeping a tight reign on his anger. “You lied to me, Ang. You were never married to Trevor. I don’t like clients who lie.”

He took a corner faster than he should, and his tires squealed in protest. Angie gripped the door, her fingernails biting into the leather.

“I can explain.”

Apologies only led to flimsy excuses, which only led back to more lies. Always more lies. In the end, it wasn’t worth it.

Jack shook his head. “Save your sorry excuses. I don’t care.”

But he did, and that in and of itself was enough to drive any man insane. When he was close to her, thinking straight was near impossible. Space was the only thing he needed now. Space and scotch. Definitely scotch.

He directed the car over a block and a half away from the club. “Get out.”

Scaring her had been the last thing he’d ever wanted. Knowing she’d been married hurt. Knowing she’d lied hurt worse. He couldn’t help the twinge of relief that came from knowing Trevor had never won her heart or her hand in marriage.

“Wait, Jack. I need you.”

He was the last thing she needed. The two of them were no good together. Getting involved with him would only put her in danger, if not from one of his targets, then from the Feds, who were patiently waiting for him to screw up.

“Maybe. But, babydoll?, I don’t need you.” Jack diverted his gaze. If he saw the pain in her golden-brown eyes, it would be over. He’d be like putty in her hands, and that was a dangerous position to be in. For both of their sakes, he had to drop this case.

Reentering the nightclub o
nly amplified the confusion Angie felt. Around her, the music pulsated in time with the migraine that was beginning to form, gathering strength with each passing minute.

“What the hell was that?” Marco appeared, blocking her entrance.

She shrugged, fighting to hold back the tears. The same question had pestered her during the brief encounter with Jack, and after a short walk back to the club, she still had no answer to give. Brushing past her pissed-off manager, she tossed out a weak apology. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.” Would this day never end?

“Damn straight it won’t.” Marco grabbed her by the arm and whipped her around, forcing her to face him. “Next time you break my rules, you’ll be out on your kiester for good.”

Angie yanked her arm away. She was tired of being manhandled. One caveman dragging her around was more than enough. Two cavemen in her life was one too many.

“Or what? You’ll fire me?”

The challenge hung in the air while they gave each other the once-over. If she didn’t know what he was capable of, short or not, she’d have laughed, but neither one of them was in a laughing mood.

Anger gave way as his face screwed up with belated concern for her safety. He tugged her into an embrace, resting his head between her breasts. One hand strayed lower, caressing an ass cheek. “Did he hurt you, baby? Should I go rough him up? Give ‘em a black eye, broken nose? Cause I can, you know. Nobody screws with my girls.”

She broke the creepy hug, took a step backward, and rubbed her arms. “I’m fine, Marco. Got it under control.”

“You sure? Cause the last time you brought your personal life to work, your boy-toy wound up dead. I’d hate to see history repeat itself.”

“You threatening Jack? Or threatening me?” Her pulse quickened and her gaze narrowed. Surely Marco wouldn’t resort to violence to make a point about his stupid rules, would he? “Stay out of this and stay away from Jack. He’s not someone you want to tangle with.”

Angie turned to walk away.

Marco called out, “You know, babydoll, pretty girls who can dance and sing are a dime a dozen in this shithole of a town. I don’t need no diva fucking up my life.”

That’s it. Time to blow this dump.
She stormed over to the bar and leaned over, punching a button on the unattended cash register. The drawer opened with a ding and she dipped her fingers into the silver coins. She selected a shiny token and turned it over in her hand, contemplating Marco’s words.

He was a douchebag for sure, but just how far was he willing to go to keep his girls in line? Was he capable of murder? Was he the one who killed Trevor?

Was she in danger?

Clenching her trembling hand to cover the rage that raced through her body, Angie suddenly turned to face Marco. “Here’s a dime. Get yourself another girl ‘cause I quit.”

She thrust the coin into his hand, brushed past him, and headed for her dressing room. Ten minutes later, she strode out of the club, her belongings hastily thrown into a duffle bag. Afraid she’d be forced to confront Marco again, she held her head high, determined to stand her ground, but Marco was nowhere to be found. She waited until she got outside before she succumbed to the tears that had been building ever since Jack had hauled her off the stage. More alone than she’d ever felt before, she headed home.

Time for a new game plan.