Brutally Beautiful (16 page)

But he wouldn’t give in. The bastard wasn’t worth giving up everything Nick had fought for over the last five years. His mind went to Gen. On the other hand, she was worth it. Would he give his life to help her? Probably, he concluded with a shrug. His life wasn’t worth a great deal anyway.

Once in his apartment, he opened the package from the mailbox. About time that phone arrived. He checked it over, slid in the battery, and watched it come to life. He had no fucking idea what Jim had put inside, but the man was one of the few people in the world he trusted. As soon as he’d activated it, it rang.

“About time,” said the voice at the other end. Jim. From the cultivated English accent, for a split second he thought he was speaking to his brother, and a bottomless pit opened in his stomach. He fought to close it.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, trying to keep the irritated growl out of his voice.

“Tell me about it. We’re in New York now, staying where I told you.”

“We?”

“Lawrence, his wife, and me. They’re out shopping. Otherwise I’d put him on the line.”

“No!” Shit, he should have stopped himself. Or perhaps not. He was so used to being on guard all the time he forgot he could trust his emotions with someone else. “I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready. You just have to jump in.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t know how to counter that except with business. “Not yet, the time really isn’t right. Listen.” Briefly, he outlined the situation. “I don’t know which one is the greater danger, Odell or Bennick. Bennick could be telling the truth about Odell Prejean, bastard though he is. I need to neutralize him.”

“Going back to your old ways?”

“No.” He was sure about that now. “If Gen is in danger, then sure, I can do it, but I don’t want to. That’ll chase me for the rest of my life. I’ll never get any peace, and for what? A slimy bastard who wants to climb the slippery pole. Let him. He’s probably no worse than the people he’s joining.”

Jim made a sound of disbelief. “Ah! So what are you planning?”

“Nothing much. I’m going to talk to Odell, see how far that gets me.”

“Is that likely to tell you anything?”

He snorted. “I know when someone’s lying, Jim.” Propping the phone between his chin and shoulder, he crossed the room to his kitchen area and reached for the kettle. “But I don’t base all my decisions on instinct. Do me a favor. Keep Larry out of this. Don’t tell him anything, not yet. It could go bad, in which case I’m disappearing.”

“And it would gut him to come so close and miss you.”

“Did you tell him anything?”

“No.”

Shit, the guy sounded far more decisive than he remembered. The only thing Jim had been sure of was computers. Running his own life had proved a challenge. Still, five years could make a difference to a man. Nick knew that only too well. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“I got that. So can I help?”

“Only if you don’t take risks.”

Jim laughed derisively. “Like you don’t. Don’t worry. I won’t get caught, and I won’t leave tracks. A little research in the black and gray parts of the Net, and I can get what you want. So what is it?”

“Homeland Security. I need to know if Bennick has made tracks, and how he knew about me, my name, and where I’ve been.”

“I hear you. I’ll get back to you.”

They ended the call, and the kettle snapped as it boiled and turned off. He’d scoured New York for the kind of electric kettle he preferred. At home he’d have gone into the nearest supermarket and found six versions. But he still preferred New York. Something in the air drew him, and it would be a wrench to go. But he’d left places before, and if it meant Gen was safe, he’d do it. Take himself out of the equation, give Bennick nothing to blackmail her with.

More and more these days he was wondering if all this running and hiding was worth it. If Odell revealed him as Mick O’Donnell, he’d be deported, then imprisoned for one of the many crimes he’d done, or perhaps one he hadn’t, cleanup rates being what they were and the police keen to clear up as many as they could. Then he’d die, because he left more enemies than just the law behind, and they wouldn’t believe he’d come out of hiding for his health. Easier to quietly do away with him, sneak a medic into the prison, and give Nick a heart attack, or maybe make it look like a prison attack and leave him bleeding on a filthy floor somewhere. After all, it was only what he deserved.

Recently he’d let himself dream. A legitimate green card would take him one step further toward leaving his old life behind. He could follow the one thing that had provided constant solace—poetry. Write little monographs, get published in obscure academic journals. Heaven.

Not for him. Wasn’t going to happen.

Half an hour later, changed into his darker clothes, his hair brushed out of the way, a handy blade in his pocket, Nick set out for Bared. In this gun-happy country, he’d never felt the need to carry a weapon and risk his legal status. He’d never needed a firearm in the old days, although he’d owned a few, and did have one stashed away. For emergencies. He hadn’t reached that level just yet.

This time he found Odell in, and the bouncer nodded him through to the office. The club had just opened for business, but so far business was thin. They’d start to get really busy nearer to midnight. Odell glanced up and waved him to a chair. Nick refused a drink. “I should use the club during the early evening. I’m thinking of catering a few meals. What do you think?”

“You have the space. You might as well use it. Women like this place, so you could put on a few topless waiters.”

Odell grinned. “I was thinking along those lines too. Appeal to both sexes, both ways.” He made a note, writing neatly in a small notebook by his side. Nick never put anything in writing. He depended on his good memory. He remembered details, people, other things he’d prefer to forget because they weren’t of any use to him these days. Fuck, he didn’t have time for this. “Is this office wired?”

Odell reached under his desk, presumably nudging a switch off. “Not now. What’s on your mind?”

Either he trusted Nick, or he trusted his staff to take care of his interests, because turning off his recording equipment was a risk. Or he hadn’t turned it off at all, but Nick couldn’t do anything about that. “I heard some stuff about you.”

“Yeah?” Odell showed him an expressionless face. He’d closed off as Nick would have done in the same circumstances.

A quick test. His subsequent choices depended on how Odell responded to this and if he believed him. “I have a friend, a young woman. No, not that one, someone else. She’s in trouble. She needs papers, you understand? And she has a shitload of money.”

Odell scoffed. “Don’t kid a kidder, man.”

Nick felt relief at the response. A greedy man would have jumped at the opportunity; either that or he was playing canny. It just made Nick’s task a little harder. But he was curious—what had given him away? “So why don’t you think that’s true?”

“I’m guessing you could get what she needed without much trouble. You wouldn’t risk coming to me.”

“Why not?”

Odell’s lip curled. “You tryin’ to tell me you’re a simple poetry professor? Look at you, man. You have presence and power. Even if you don’t use it now, you’ve seen life, and you know what to do with it. You wouldn’t come asking me like that. You’d present it, probably offer me some kind of deal. So now it’s my turn. What the fuck’s going on?”

“My woman’s in trouble.” Whatever the circumstances, he felt good calling her that. She might not be his woman anymore anywhere but in his heart, but he’d help her all he could. For her sake he had to distance himself. “Someone is pressuring her.”

Odell leaned forward. “Why don’t you have any contacts?”

Nick knew how this went. Information was power, so trading snippets could be as good as cash. He had to give the man something. “I’ve kept away. These days I am a university lecturer because I’m doing it right this time. But Gen, she’s straight down the line, and now she’s in trouble. I want to help her.”

“Even though it means stepping back into the mire?”

Oh yes, he knew all about mires. “I should have realized it was too good to last. I got away home free, or so I thought.”

Odell nodded. “I know who you are.”

“Shit.”

Odell grinned mirthlessly. “When Nick Taylor walked into my club, I knew he was more than he said, but he was a great customer and he didn’t cause any trouble. When you dealt with that bastard who tried to drug your woman, I was sure. You were discreet and brutal. You don’t get those skills by going to self-defense and martial arts classes.”

Nick should have known the streetwise man would guess the truth, or something like it.

“I’ve watched you right from the start.” Of course he had, that was what made him great at what he did. “So I did some research. I used facial-recognition software and came up with Mick O’Donnell.”

Fuck, and he thought he’d been so careful. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Are you fucking kidding? Sure I have.”

Nick tipped his head back, and it fell against the soft upholstered back of his chair, and blew out his cheeks. “Five years. Gone.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Once I realized you’d been here so long and not made a move, I knew you weren’t here for me. And I read that Mick O’Donnell died and was positively identified.”

“As far as I’m concerned, he did die.”

Odell regarded him in silence, his hard stare difficult for even Nick to take. “I see. So someone else knows?”

Nick got to his feet and put his hands to his head. “I’m not saying any more.” Fuck, this was all going to shit. He had a better touch than this. And two people had identified him. What the fuck was he thinking, to imagine he could get away with this? And so close too. He could have moved around, found other places he enjoyed living in.

He wouldn’t give anyone power over him, wouldn’t allow any possibility, and since he didn’t want to kill Odell, he’d have to leave. Vanish as he had before.

“Sit down.” Odell didn’t stand up, didn’t appear stressed, but stayed, waiting for Nick to make up his mind. “I said I won’t tell anyone. Why should I?”

“I won’t do anything for you.”

“What if I ask you for a favor?” Odell said.

“Knock for knock?”

Odell grinned. “I don’t know that phrase, but I guess I know what you’re saying. Something like that. Maybe ask you to reach out for me. I’m getting pressure from some quarters, and I want to stay clean. You get me?”

“Mick O’Donnell is dead. He can’t help.” If he reached out as Mick, that would sign his death warrant there and then. They wouldn’t stop until they had him, the cops or the gangs. And who was to say they weren’t right? Only everything was far more complicated. There was no black and white in this world. He’d known cops who’d wreaked far more damage than he’d ever done, by betraying people who trusted them, by taking bribes or by laying information against innocents. Not something he went in for. If people were in the business, they were fair game. But the game had changed.

“I get what you’re saying.” Odell shrugged. “I’ll tell you this on trust and because you helped me clear up that mess the other night. The people I help come to me of their own accord. I don’t coerce them, and I don’t import. They’re already here and in trouble. Understand?”

That went with what Nick had seen over the years he’d been coming here. The girls were high-class, skilled, and willing. Not downtrodden, lackluster, or so full of drugs they stumbled through their routines. Their dances were elaborate, often themed, leaning toward the burlesque rather than straight stripping. They didn’t work here against their will, and acts like Freda and Alberto were expensive, rare. That was why he came here. When he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t stand his own company, he needed distractions, and this club was interesting without threatening danger for someone like him.

Wrong again. “But you’ve done enough to get into trouble.”

Odell jerked a nod. “Whatever you say. If you need anything, let me know.”

Not for him, but for her. “Take care of Gen for me. Make sure that when she goes out, she’s followed. She’s let her boss think he’s got her, that she’ll keep her head down. The bastard’s so arrogant he probably believes her, but he could be paranoid too. But there’ve been two attempts on Gen’s life now. I can’t get close enough to take care of her.”

Odell nodded again. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks.”

A plan was forming in his mind. He’d go and have a drink in the main room and think it over, go over all the different parts to make sure he’d left nothing out. Most importantly he needed to protect Gen. Then he wanted to show honor to Odell. Then he’d take care of himself. And he had to stay clear of his brother. It nearly killed him that he was in the same city as Larry, a few miles apart, and Nick didn’t dare contact him.

Maybe his fuckup of a life was about to reach its endgame.

Outside, he ordered a bottled beer and took his usual stance by the bar, just out of the glare of the lights. The girls on the stage were doing their thing, and as he watched, they smiled, picked up their clothes, wiped down their poles, and left. Another shift due to arrive. Odell put his workers on two shifts, two hours on, two off, or working somewhere else. Kept them fresh, or that was the theory, anyway.

Nick found watching them soothing in a perverse way. The sight reminded him of a few good times in the past, lulled him into thinking he was home, in one of his own clubs. Back to being respected and courted. Not everything had been fucking appalling. Some of it had been fucking amazing. He’d had his good times. Now all he could think of was Gen, and how good she’d look onstage, winding herself around one of the poles.

The new girls came on, half a dozen of them, to match the number of poles on the stage. They went through the ritual of rewiping them, something he was glad Odell insisted on. Although he liked women sharing juices sometimes, he’d rather see them doing it at the same time, together. He was a guy; he enjoyed girl-on-girl action as much as most straight men.

In his mind’s eye he saw Gen, her silky hair trailing over her shoulders, preparing to strip for the edification and enjoyment of every man in the audience. But only he could have her. Knowing that would turn him on more than anything else he could think of.