Catch Your Breath (28 page)

Elizabeth leaned against the arm of the couch, like she needed to absorb the information.
“Why am I here?”

“Because I need help to not look like me.”

Elizabeth waved a hand. “Wait a minute. You said you went on a date? What does Jimmy
think about all this?”

“He doesn’t know. We agreed not to discuss work because he doesn’t want me digging
into his case. In turn, I refused to give him details about what I’m working on.”

“And you think Colin will be the problem? You better think again.”

Moira rolled her eyes. As if Elizabeth was telling her something she didn’t already
know. “Are you going to help me, or what?”

“Of course I’ll help, but you need to give me all of the details about where you’re
going, and you have to promise to touch base with me so I know you’re safe. Otherwise,
I call in the cavalry.”

“No problem.” She’d been planning on texting basic details to Kathy as always for
backup. “Now make me look like someone new.”

Moira led the way to her bedroom where she had her new purchases.

“Brunette, huh?”

“There’s no way I can stay a redhead; it’s too distinctive, and I thought going dark
would be fun. Do you think it was a bad choice?”

“I don’t know. Let’s try it on and see.”

Moira pinned up her hair and fit the wig on her head. She looked in the mirror and
thought she looked like a kid playing dress up. “This is never going to work.”

Elizabeth circled her. “Don’t give up yet. You’re looking a little ghostly right now.
The dark hair is too dark for your skin, but makeup can fix that. Sit.”

Moira plopped on the bed and relaxed in Elizabeth’s capable hands. They’d only been
friends for a couple of months, but Moira trusted her. Plus, Elizabeth was one of
those women who always looked put together even when she wasn’t trying.

After what felt like hours, Moira looked at herself in the mirror again. It was her,
but different. Her family would recognize her—probably—but the guests at the party
would have no idea who she was. She looked like she had a gorgeous tan, which was
impossible with her fair skin. She burned every summer, and when the burn faded, she
went back to being white.

“What do you think?” Elizabeth asked.

“I think you’re amazing. I can’t believe you did this with makeup. Where were you
when I was sixteen and dying to hide my freckles?”

Elizabeth laughed but sobered quickly. “Are you sure this is something you want to
do?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be a good story. Some news outlets have skimmed the surface of
the escort trade among the rich, but no one’s had the inside scoop.”

“It doesn’t sound like the kind of stuff you usually do, though, so it worries me.”

For someone who wasn’t a big sister, Elizabeth definitely had the routine down.

“The whole idea of me getting this story is that it
is
different. It’s not some fluff piece everyone tosses aside.” Moira picked up the
dress from the bed and held it against her chest to make sure it would look right
with her new appearance.

“And then what?”

Moira shrugged. “I’m not sure. I want this story, though.”

Elizabeth heaved out a sigh. “Do you need anything else from me?”

“Don’t tell Colin.” She gave Elizabeth a quick hug. “Thanks for everything. I’ll text
you the details and call you when I get home tonight. No worries.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I think this is why my parents stopped at two kids. There’s
always something to worry about.”

Elizabeth left, and Moira slipped into the dress and scarfed down a bagel before heading
out the door. When she arrived at the office, Lisa let out a wolf whistle.

Moira hoped her makeup would cover the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Lisa came around her desk for a better look. “We need to take a photo of you like
this. The guys who like exotic will definitely go for you.”

Exotic? Never in her life had anyone accused her of looking exotic. Different was
good. Maybe. She followed Lisa and let her take a couple of photos.

“Do you have a different name you want these posted under?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought about that. “How about Grace?”

“That’s fine. Just remember to always be Grace tonight.” She replaced the lens on
her camera and then said, “The limo will be here in about ten minutes. The other girls
are in the coffee room.”

“Limo?”

“Yeah. Didn’t Jenny tell you? When Billie books us into a party, everyone shares a
limo there.”

“And back?”

“Yep. Unless of course you make other arrangements at the party.”

So they had to socialize during the party, but they could go home with whomever they
wanted. A shiver of unease ran up Moira’s back. It was the first bit of doubt she’d
experienced since Piper pushed her into her first date.

Before heading to the break room, Moira checked her phone, hoping for a text from
Jimmy, but there was nothing. He couldn’t possibly still be mad because of her refusal
to tell him about her story. Although it hadn’t come up, she thought they were good.
Maybe he had a break in the case, so he couldn’t call.

Taking initiative, she sent him a text.
Working late? Want to catch up tonight?

Then she stood like an idiot, waiting for a response as if it was supposed to be instantaneous.

I’m working too. I’ll call when I’m done.

Hmm . . . not that a text could hold a tone, but he didn’t sound angry. Maybe the
argument they’d had was nothing more than butting heads like they always did. He must
be over being pissed off because he wanted to see her. Feeling better, she turned
her phone off and went to wait for the limo with everyone else.

J
immy switched his phone to vibrate and hoped his message to Moira was enough that
he no longer sounded like the dick he’d been last night. He tugged at the damn bow
tie again. He hated the formal events more than anything. The pet events were bad
enough, especially with Moira pushing him to adopt a dog, but being dressed like a
penguin took him too far out of his element.

One member of the task force sat in a car with Gabby to check out the guests as they
arrived. The team decided Jimmy needed to go solo to be a target. The main problem
was that no one had any idea which escort service, much less which particular escort,
might target him. So he was expected to swim through the crowd of beautiful people,
smiling his phony smile and making small talk about how his wife was out of town.
They hoped word would spread to make him an appealing and immediate target.

Although they were aware of three thefts, the police had no idea how big the ring
was, how many people they had in play, or how many more victims they might come across.
An hour into the party, Jimmy swirled the whiskey in his glass just to hear the clink
of the ice.

Boredom dragged him down. Anything would be more productive than this. As he leaned
against the bar, he surveyed the crowd. Most of the guests were paired off, having
arrived as couples. The unpaired women and men wandered. Jimmy studied the women to
try and figure out if any were escorts.

It’s not like they looked like the average streetwalker. These women fit right in.
They carried themselves as if they completely belonged in this crowd, secure in their
positions. Jimmy straightened his shoulders. If they could fake it, so could he.

In his peripheral vision, something caught his attention. He turned and scanned. Three
women stood in a group chatting it up with three men. Definitely a pickup scene. A
brunette had her back to him, and as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other,
that same something tugged at him.

A familiarity nagged him. His gaze wandered the length of the woman and landed on
her ass. Her torso twisted as she looked beyond the man in front of her and her profile
sucker punched him.

He knew that profile in his gut. Her makeup and clothes didn’t matter. He knew Moira.

Jimmy stepped away from the bar, forcing his temper down. She’d assured him her work
wouldn’t interfere with his. Yet here she was.

But he hadn’t told her he’d be at this event.

Regardless, he needed to keep his cool in order to keep his cover intact. He slid
into place beside Moira, intent on joining the conversation just like any other man
who wanted to hook up with a single woman.

Her awareness of him was immediate. Her eyes flicked wider for a second before she
forced her mouth to curl into a welcoming smile. “Hi, I’m Grace.”

He had no clue what game she was playing. He took her extended hand and stroked the
inside of her wrist. “James.”

Moira’s smile remained steady, but her eyes held fear. Yeah, she knew he was pissed.
He took his hand away and pushed it into his pocket. The grip on his drink tightened
as he felt the glare coming off the man next to him.

Moira licked her lips nervously and her nose wrinkled. She probably forgot she had
lipstick on.

The guy beside him edged forward, in a weak attempt to take the lead. Jimmy stood
straighter, towering over the man, and angled his body so that the disparity between
the two of them would be obvious.

“James,” she began, “Tim and I were just talking about movies. What were you saying,
Tim?”

He glanced down at Tim, whose mouth opened and closed ineffectively.

Jimmy sipped his whiskey and then said, “Personally, I don’t think they make movies
quite the way they used to before any of us were born. Don’t you agree, Grace? The
true storytelling and amazing dialogue of the old black-and-white movies remains unparalleled.”

Her jaw dropped. Even he didn’t know he’d be able to lay down the bullshit as thick
as everyone else. This was becoming second nature, and although he didn’t like it,
he definitely enjoyed the look on Moira’s face. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Before she could protest, he grabbed her elbow and guided her toward the bar.

“I’m fine, James. I just finished a drink. I wouldn’t want to get tipsy.”

“Then have a glass of water and let me get to know you better.”

At the bar, she yanked her arm back with only enough force to let him know she was
irritated. The bartender filled orders at the other end of the bar. Jimmy and Moira
quickly faced each other and said simultaneously, “What are you doing here?”

Her nostrils flared, and he knew the skin across her chest would be pink. He closed
his eyes and shook the thought. He needed to focus. “I’m working. Didn’t you get my
text?”

“Yes. You didn’t say where you were going.”

“Neither did you.”

“I played by your rules. No talk of work.” The fake smile she presented grated his
nerves. Only he would recognize the nastiness simmering beneath.

He flicked the black wig she wore. “What’s this about? You never play dress up when
you come to these things.”

Her eyes darted away and he had his answer. She was working on her secret story. Fuck.

“I told you to stay the hell away from my case.”

“I am.” Her angry whisper hissed at him. “I’m doing my own thing here. You’re the
one who just inserted himself into my conversation.”

The bartender came over, and she asked for a glass of water. Then she turned back
to Jimmy. “We both have jobs to do. It’s probably best if we pretend not to know each
other.”

“We know what my job is, but I still have no clue what you’re doing. What the hell
kind of story are you chasing?”

She inhaled deeply. “I’m working on a story about high-class escorts and the men who
hire them.”

In one fell swoop, the pieces came together and his muscles locked. He forced his
jaw to move, praying that he was jumping to conclusions and she’d call him an idiot.
“Are you here as a fucking hooker?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m here as an escort. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have
to go mingle.”

Moira stepped around him and walked away. He set his glass on the bar so he wouldn’t
crush it in his hand. Counting to twenty, he took slow breaths and willed his body
to relax. She was going to make him explode, and his cover would be shot to shit.
It would be career suicide to fuck it up now.

He grabbed his glass again and swallowed the contents in one gulp. All he had to do
was pretend he didn’t know Moira. What was a little more acting when he was in this
deep?

For the next twenty minutes, he walked the perimeter of the room making eye contact
with few people. The banquet hall felt like a cage, and the other men in the room
were his enemies. He watched as Moira interacted with a variety of men. One by one,
guys sidled up to her, handing her a drink, which thankfully she was smart enough
not to consume.

She’d tilt her head and let out a light little laugh that reached his ears over the
noise of conversation around him. His entire body was in tune with her.

Then Tim returned and that was when Jimmy’s last ounce of patience slipped away. Tim
slid his arm around Moira’s waist and tried to lead her away from the crowd. She danced
sideways and patted his chest, but Tim wouldn’t let up.

Jimmy began his trek toward them, trying to figure out how to approach without blowing
his cover, when another woman entered the picture and distracted Tim. As soon as Tim
turned his back, Moira ducked away.

She wasn’t quite quick enough to escape Jimmy, though. He caught her elbow and propelled
her toward the elevator. “We’re done partying for tonight.”

“Wait.” She relaxed the arm he held and cuddled up next to him. “I think she’s here.”

He started, confused. He’d expected her to yell at him. “Who?”

“The mystery woman I told you about. I think I caught a glimpse of her, but then that
asshole Tim got in the way.” She ran a finger down the front of his jacket and looked
up at him from under heavy lids.

Who the hell was she putting on a show for?

“Get the hell out of here and I’ll go back and look.”

Her forehead crinkled. “No way.”

“What does she look like?” He stepped away from her and craned his head to look at
the crowd in the room. It was too coincidental for it not to matter. “Are you sure
she’s here?”

“ No.”

“Shit. Come here.” He pulled Moira flush with his body and pulled out his phone to
text Gabby. If James Buchanan was supposed to be interested in escorts, texting instead
of groping one wouldn’t help his case. He kept the phone low to their hips and sent
the text.

Gabby responded immediately that she had surveillance and photos of each guest so
they could figure out the woman’s identity.

Jimmy lowered his head and whispered in Moira’s ear. “We’re leaving now.”

“You can leave. I’m not. I’m working.”

“You’re wrong on multiple counts. You are leaving, and you are most definitely done
with this kind of work.” He’d already pressed the elevator button, and when the doors
swooshed open, he pushed Moira inside, blocking her escape with his own body.

“This is kidnapping.”

He pressed his body against hers, pushing her against the wall. Her body was familiar,
even though the face wasn’t. Except the eyes. She still had Moira’s eyes. “You can
have me arrested later. There is no fucking way you’re staying at a party where the
men all think you’re a hooker.”

She rolled her eyes and he growled. He wrapped his hand around her jaw and forced
her to look at him. “This isn’t a game. You think Tim back there was bad? That was
nothing.”

The elevator dinged when they approached the lobby, but neither of them moved. Fear
had returned to Moira’s eyes, and he didn’t know if it was the realization of the
truth he spoke or him that put it there.

He released her and stuck out his arm to hold the door. When she joined him, he put
an arm around her shoulder and said quietly, “I’d never forgive myself if something
happened to you.”

Moira swallowed hard. Anger and tension rolled off Jimmy so hard she thought they
might knock her over. Of course she’d known that pretending to be an escort had some
risk involved, but she hadn’t truly considered it. She attended the party with a group,
she had backup, and it was a public place. She had no intention of going home with
anyone.

Oh shit. She left the party without letting Jenny know. “Wait,” she said to Jimmy.
She dug out her phone and sent Jenny a text letting her know that she was leaving.
She thought briefly about making a joke about Jimmy having to pay her for leaving
with him, but she knew he wouldn’t find it funny.

Something in his eyes, the intensity with which he spoke in the elevator, unraveled
her. This wasn’t just about his case, no matter what he said.

“Do you have your car here?”

“Nope. I arrived in a limo.” Crap. She should’ve just said she got a ride. Her freaking
big mouth.

His step faltered for a minute. “Why?”

“Because the girls I came with all shared one.”

“The girls you came with.” He handed his valet ticket to the attendant. “What girls?”

She put an arm around his waist and went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I missed you
last night.”

“Don’t change the subject. What girls?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Moira.”

“I’m not trying to, but you’re already kind of mad, and I’m fairly certain this will
only make it worse.”

He spun her so they were face-to-face again. “Kind of mad doesn’t begin to describe
me. I’m fucking furious, pissed off, and borderline homicidal.”

She gulped again, not doubting a word he said. Luckily, the valet pulled up in his
car and held the door open for her. She offered him a friendly smile and sat down.

After tipping the valet, Jimmy joined her.

“Promise you won’t yell.”

“I can’t promise that.” He pulled out into the weekend traffic of downtown Chicago.

She closed her eyes and spoke as quickly as her tongue would allow. “After I got the
idea for the story on high-class escorts, I contacted a few companies to interview
for a job. One called me back and hired me. I was at the party tonight as one of their
escorts.” She sucked in a breath and then remembered to add quickly, “There’s no requirement
to be a prostitute, and I had no intention of sleeping with anyone.”

Moira kept her eyes tightly closed, prepared for the bellowing. Her hands fisted in
her lap, and she tried to remember she shouldn’t have to defend her actions or her
career to Jimmy. They’d barely been on a couple of dates.

When silence continued to press on her, she squinted her left eye. Jimmy’s hands gripped
the wheel so tightly the veins on his hands bulged. His severe intensity was focused
on the road in front of them, and she prayed no one would do anything like cut him
off.