Covert Craving (2 page)

“Well, if you’re not, my imagination is really
aces today. I’d like to bite—”

The woman gasped.

Hmm. If he’d finally lost his shit, his
hallucinations were not only visual, but auditory as well. Might as well go
balls to the wall.

“Gotcha.” Greiff grinned and turned around, held the
coat out to her. “How’s it work? Am I nuts or am I really the only one who can
see you?”

The woman reached for the trench while trying to
keep most of her body flat to the wall. She tugged at the trench, but he held
on.

“How’s it work? That’s a long story, I don’t know
if you’re nuts, but I hope not, and at this moment yes, only you can see me,
but that will be changing in a minute. I’m getting too cold. Plus, I have to
come off the wall to get dressed. Only works if I’m against a wall.”

“Promise not to take off again and you can have
the coat back.”

She jerked on the coat. “Isn’t it illegal to smoke
down here?”

He held firm. The cigarette helped mask the stench
sending his nose into overdrive. “Yes, but if I was talking to myself, I
thought it would hide my lips moving. Promise not to run.”

“Fine.”

He let go and turned his back, figuring that it
couldn’t hurt to act like a gentleman. Proud of himself for not sneaking another
peek, he crushed the cigarette under his shoe. Watching wouldn’t be a good idea
anyway. He already fought a huge hard-on. The bulge in his pants got worse the
more he thought about her tight ass and the twin dimples in her back right
above it. He’d like to kiss those spots. So he focused on the crowd until he
found the most unattractive person he could and imagined them naked.

“Are you going to move and let me out?”
Exasperation, dismay, and grudging acceptance filled her tone.

He held his right arm out with a flourish and she
flitted past him. They fell into step, Greiff shortening his stride to match
hers. She stole glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking and he wished
he’d shaved that morning. Taking time with a close shave wasn’t something he’d
thought of since his divorce. No woman around he had to worry about giving a
beard burn.

He cut the line of thought off. The notion was
ridiculous; the woman was probably a nutter. Why else be out naked under a
trench coat, hanging around crime scenes? Who was he fooling, thinking no one
else had seen her? They were New Yorkers; jaded and so used to seeing bizarre
shit they’d ignored her. He led her up the steps she’d come down and they
emerged into the sunlight, blinking against the glare.

“What’s your name, girlie?” He tucked his hands
into his pants pockets and let her decide on a direction.

“Chloe Saunders. Don’t call me girlie. I’m an
adult, not a five-year-old.” Her lips pursed in annoyance and she ruffled her
hair around, and then tucked the longish strands in the front behind her ears. “Who
are you?”

“Greiff.”

“That your first name or your last?” She tightened
the belt at her waist.

“Last. First name is Jacob. You going to tell me
why you’re out and about in that trench coat, hanging around crime scenes?”

“Do I have to, Jake?”

Her tongue hit the inflection on the ’k’ hard and
he smirked at her. She was funny with her flushed cheeks and giant coat, bare
feet slapping the hot sidewalk with the force of her swagger. A tiny, pretty
package with more panache than some of the gang bangers he’d run into.

“No. Not yet. But I might arrest you for indecent
exposure if you don’t. Feel like hanging out at the police station for the rest
of the afternoon in a holding cell with drunks and hookers in that get-up?” He
glanced down at her feet. Pink toenails flashed in the summer sun. Maybe she
liked pedicures after all. Although he didn’t know why he could see the color
of her polish. Strange. “You wouldn’t believe what’s on the floor.”

“Can’t be as bad as the subway.” She tipped her
head to one side and shrugged. “I like it when the bad guys get busted.”

The tone of her statement suggested it was the
truth. “And?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why are you naked under the trench?”

“I think it is obvious why I’m naked. You saw why
in the subway.” Chloe grimaced and dodged a suspicious greasy blotch on the
ground. She stopped at the steps to a building and gestured. “My place.”

“No, I don’t think it’s obvious.” Damn, he’d
started to think she might not be missing some of her marbles. She’d acted
pretty normal for a few minutes. “And you were at that scene for another reason
than just being a rubber-necker.”

“If I have clothes on, it doesn’t work.” She
shoved a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated, and blew a hard breath out
of her nose. “Look, I need to put this back before my roommate gets home.”

“What doesn’t work?” Greiff stared at her, waiting
for her to break down and spill her guts. He’d found most criminals only lasted
a minute or two before they lost control of their tongue.

“You know.” Chloe rolled her eyes and went up two
of the steps. The elevation put them eye to eye.

“No, I don’t think I do.” He reached into his
jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. Walking away without taking her
in for questioning didn’t follow procedure, but he wanted to hang around and
see what else he could learn. Besides, explaining to his boss that he’d
followed her because she was in color and everyone else was in black and white
wouldn’t help his cause. Not even his partner knew, although Spetrino probably
suspected something was wrong with his eyes. Despite the perceived disability,
somehow he’d passed muster and gone into a special ops unit in the Army. The military
cred had gotten him around the normal police physicals.

He used his nose to his advantage. With eye
witness statements being unreliable, he depended more on scent than the
information given by traumatized people. “I have a feeling you’re going to need
me sometime soon. If you decide to come clean about what you were doing, call
me. Oh, and if you are some kind of vigilante, pretending to be the Naked Avenging
Princess or whatever, and I just busted your secret identity and you’re
thinking of bailing, don’t. I’ll find you.”

She took the card and read it. “Oh really? How’s
that? I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Hanging out at a crime scene isn’t a crime. Being
naked in public, no matter how tight your body is, is a crime. Finding people
is my special ability. You take off, and I’ll track you.” He already had her
scent catalogued, filed away in his memory, and connected to one he’d picked up
at the crime scene. But arresting her now was out of the question. If he told
anyone he’d arrested her because she smelled right and he could see the gold
flecks in her irises, they’d lock him up.

Besides, he liked her and her sass.

She snapped her feet together and gave him a
perfect salute. “Aye aye, Detective Pushy Asshole.”

“Look. Just don’t go anywhere. You need something,
you call me. I have a feeling you’re going to need that number.”

For the first time, an emotion crossed her face
that wasn’t false bravado amplified to project fearlessness and
self-confidence. She glanced at the ground, then down to the corner, chewed her
lower lip, and clenched both fists.

“I’m going to have to go, whether you like it or
not. If you’ve seen me, then others probably have too.” The trench moved around
her ankles in a swirl as she spun to mount the remaining steps.

“Well, I hope not. You’ll be causing a rash of
heart attacks all over the city; you go flashing that body of yours.” He let
the statement slide out with a flirtatious tone in the hope she’d circle back
and talk to him more.

“You see naked women hugging the walls of the
subway all the time? That why you’re so blasé about this whole thing?” She peered
over her shoulder.

“No, but I’ve seen some pretty crazy shit in my
life. So, naked woman in the subway, not that big of a deal.”

“But that is the big deal. You shouldn’t have been
able to.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to go. I didn’t do anything wrong. Have
a nice life detective.”

“Chloe. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t want to have to
track you down.”

She really believed that she should have been
invisible. Well, he’d been convinced his socks this morning were a fine match
to his shirt. Everyone’s blind about something.

There was nothing Greiff could do but watch her
escape up the stairs with slow steps, the sun highlighting her dark hair. The
color blazed with deep red highlights. All the patrol boys in this area would
be getting her description and keeping an eye out for her. He knew she lied
about the crime scenes, and she hid something else as well. It would take a
little detective work, but he’d figure out the enigma that was Chloe. There was
no way she could be invisible to people by plastering herself naked against
walls. She had to be a crazy who got off on exhibitionism. A really sexy,
spunky, exhibitionist.

Chloe shoved the business card in one of the coat’s
pockets, letting her mind wander over the memory of strong brows, piercing blue
eyes with a nest of smile lines, and the five o’clock shadow she wanted to feel
scratching the soft skin of her belly. Greiff was a handsome man, confident in
a way she didn’t think she would ever be.

Moving would be more difficult this time. But
she’d been discovered by a Norm. The rules were clear. Unless you wanted to be
returned to the place she referred to as Area 46 and forced to play endless
games of Solitaire, followed by fighting off grab-ass from skeezy lab
assistants, you kept your head down and didn’t get found out. Her acts of
vigilantism wouldn’t get her in trouble, “exercising” abilities was encouraged.
You just couldn’t get caught.

A cold knot of apprehension slid through her
stomach. The last time she moved, the Professor had been furious. A bone deep
shiver wracked her. The Professor didn’t exhibit huge fits of temper when
angry. His cool demeanor changed to one of total ice-cold fury that was far
more terrifying because the focus of his ire never knew when the punishment
would come or how long it would last.

He could pull her back to Area 46 anytime he
wanted; the tracker in her left butt cheek assured it. She lived outside a
facility because he allowed it, and permission could be revoked at any time.

Why had she been such a rotten kid and whined
until her parents agreed to send her to summer camp? Fucking camp with its
Kool-Aid made from glow-in-the-dark lake water. The brochure claimed
microorganisms lit it up.

Camp Sunny Woods should have been called Camp
Toxic Freaks in Training.

She’d left home a pre-teen girl with retainers, baby
fat, freckles, and the hope of scoring her first French kiss in the woods. The
ability to regenerate lost body parts, blend into her surrounding environment,
and cravings for various insects went home with her. Thank God the hankering for
creepy crawly crunchy things went away with the end of puberty. Cricket legs
were a pain in the ass to get out of your teeth.

The camp hadn’t even had S’mores. What a bait and
switch.

If it weren’t for the corporation that had
poisoned them not wanting the government to get involved, she and her friends
would be doing the human equivalent of pressing a feeder bar in a lab
somewhere. So you followed the Professor’s rules and remained free. Screw up
and it was back to the “safe house.”

“More like a nerd colony where they do nothing but
breed little nerds and socially introverted pervs.” The faded, dingy carpet in
the hallway of her building reminded her of the subway floor. In fact, it might
be even dirtier. Definitely time for her to take a shower and give herself a mani-pedi,
starting with a long soak to de-germify her feet.

She opened the door to her apartment, let the
jacket slide from her shoulders, and swung it around to inspect the damage.
Unlocked doors were a strange thing in New York, but this building was special.
God help anyone fool enough to try anything like the jerk she’d busted today.
The majority of the neighbors in the building weren’t Norms; and those that
were had been vetted and approved in secret.

The stain from the hotdog collision was bad. The condiments
had ground into the fabric and dripped down the front of the jacket all the way
to the hem. A shower would have to wait.

She washed her feet off in the tub and took the
time to scrub her soles with a nail brush while trying to ignore how the
emptiness of her apartment reminded her how lonely she got sometimes. Greiff’s
face swam into her mind’s eye and she re-doubled her effort on her feet. Getting
the majority of the nasty off had to happen pronto, and the hot cop was
relegated to a corner of her brain she’d visit some other time. Fantasizing
about him was stupid, even if he had an adorable dimple in his chin.

She finished washing her feet, fished a pair of
running tights and a tank top with a built-in bra from her dresser, dressed,
grabbed the coat, and ran down the hall. Only one person possessed the ability
to help her with this current crisis.

The door to the apartment had a wreath decorated
with strange, dried herbs tucked in around silk flowers tacked to it. She
knocked four times and waited. An elderly woman with purple hair, blue
penciled-in eyebrows, pink cheeks and lips, wearing a velour track suit and a
feather boa opened the door.

Laughter exploded from Chloe’s lips and she covered
her mouth with her hand to try and contain her mirth. “Your granddaughter is
over again, isn’t she, Muriel?”

“Yes. We’re playing fashion show. Apparently,
stage makeup is important. So, what brings you to my door?”

“Had a run in with a hot dog.” She unfurled the coat;
the offending stain etched yellow, red, and green streaks down the entire left
front panel. “Think you can help a girl out?”

Muriel clicked her tongue and sighed. The sweet,
harmless, old-lady act faded and the real Muriel appeared. A razor sharp,
calculating expression took over her face and she straightened up to her full
height. “This is a bad one. I might be able to do something with it, for a
price.”

“Which would be what, exactly?” She crossed her
arms and put all her weight on one foot. There was no guessing what the other
woman would ask for, and they both knew Chloe needed the stain out. Now, or she’d
face Daisy Mae’s wrath. The last time she’d messed up a piece of her roommate’s
clothing, she’d been stuck giving mani-pedis for a month. Might not sound that
bad, until you considered the spa treatments occurred on a bi-weekly basis, and
required magnifying eye-wear.

Daisy Mae insisted on bling on her nails.
Rhinestones, crystals, glitter, special designs, tiny pictures of Marilyn
Monroe…Chloe had no idea where she got the stuff, but the manicures kept getting
more outlandish and flamboyant. Her roomie’s recent job as a restaurant hostess
had ended abruptly with an ill-fated customer trapped in a full nelson.

Daisy Mae’s explanation to the manager that the
“limp-dick frat boy chipped my nails when he threw a pen on my podium” didn’t
save her job.

“I need a few things.” The elderly woman turned
her head to scan the apartment’s interior. She faced Chloe again with a wicked
glint in her eyes.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know. A bottle of rum. Zip-ties, a
pigeon, butane fuel, cheesecake, and four gallons of milk.” Muriel’s expression
brightened with each item she recited from her list.

“Look, I don’t have much of a problem with most of
that, but your daughter threatened to beat my ass if I got you any more booze.”

“Pshaw!” She waved my objection away. “Josie is
not my keeper.”

“I’ll get you everything else. The rum is your
problem.”

“The store won’t sell it to me.” The octogenarian considered
Chloe with the shrewd consideration of a practiced scammer. Uh oh. “Get me the
alcohol and the next one’s a freebie.”

Now that was a way to sweeten the deal. Threats of
bodily harm be damned. Muriel had mad skills with stain removal.

“Deal.”

They shook on it and Muriel backed away with the
coat in hand.

“I’ll have this in a few hours. You go and get my
stuff.”

Chloe nodded and returned to her apartment to get
her purse. All the items (save one) Muriel wanted could be procured easily
enough. The pigeon required something extra.

***

Greiff pushed away from the patrol car after giving
the officers inside Chloe’s description and drew one of the last two cigarettes
from the pack in his inside jacket pocket. He lit it and took a long drag,
wondering what his next move should be. He knew Chloe’d been in that apartment.
She played a dangerous game. But why? He’d rather warn her off the vigilantism
than arrest her. His motives for sending her on her way and letting the case go
cold weren’t motivated by good police work. More like a healthy sex drive and
curiosity to learn more about her.

His phone rang. “Yeah.”

“Where the hell are you?” Spetrino’s voice almost
busted his ear drum. He held the device at arm’s length and adjusted the
volume.

“I took a walk.” Temptation to ask if the other
man wanted to wipe his ass too rose, but he crushed the impulse. “Ya know,
following a lead. Being a cop.”

“Cops have partners for a reason. Look, you want
me to come pick you up?”

“Nah, I’ll be back in awhile. I’ll see you at the
station. I’m not finished here yet.”

“Fine.” The crack of his partner’s gum sounded
through the speaker. “Call me in an hour.”

“Yeah. Later.” He ended the call and tucked the phone
back into his pocket.

What he wanted to do right now was find a reason
to hang around Chloe’s building and learn who else lived there and what kind of
things went down. Plus, she might leave and get herself into trouble.

Speak of the devil.

The woman in question marched down the opposite
sidewalk in a tight outfit more suited for yoga than traipsing around outside.
He grinned. Her breasts jiggled in the tank top with each step she took. The
eyeful in the subway was great until she covered up with the bulky trench coat.

Greiff crossed the street behind her and followed
her to the corner store. She noticed his reflection in the glass and turned to
look at him in surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth open in shock.

“Boo.”

“Are you following me?”

“Right now, yes.”

She opened the door. “Why?”

“I’m curious about you. Plus, you look great in
those pants.” He winked and smiled with a slow, wicked curl that turned his mouth
up at the corners.

She blinked five or six times, shook her head, and
frowned. “You really think it’s okay to flirt with me when you’re on duty?”

A blush accompanied her snarky comment. He liked
that, the way he could see the pretty reds in her cheeks.

“Yes. I don’t think you’ll report me. Because then
I’d have to explain how I found you in the subway.” Flirting with a suspect was
unprofessional, but he couldn’t help himself. When he was around her, even his reservations
about her mental health flew out the window.

The blush deepened, and she turned away to cross
the threshold of the store. He followed, studying the flesh exposed on her
lower back where the tank top ended an inch or two above her waistband.

No panty lines. God, she was killing him.

All the blood in his body made a determined
bee-line to his groin. For whatever reason, seeing her dressed was almost
sexier than seeing her naked. He reviewed several ways to peel the spandex from
her legs in the ten steps it took to arrive at the coolers on the far right
side of the store.

“Since you’re insisting on following me, big guy,
you can help with the shopping.” Chloe pulled out two gallons of vitamin D and
passed them to him, then got two more. “I hope Frank’s here. He usually lets me
borrow a cart.”

“What’s with all the milk? You drink all this?”

“No. It’s for my neighbor. She’s getting the stain
out of my roommate’s jacket. A stain you’re responsible for, I might add. You
should be paying for this stuff.”

“How is it my fault?” He reached out and took the
other two jugs from her, taking advantage of his long fingers to manage two
gallons in each hand.

“Thanks.” She bent over to retrieve a bottle of
rum from the shelf opposite the cooler and he got an eyeful of the smooth skin
of her breasts and the hint of a nipple. She caught him looking and turned away
with a quick spin. “Perv.”

“Hey, you’re the one who picked the outfit. So,
how is you having to buy four gallons of milk my fault?”

“You chased me and then I ran into the hotdog guy.
If you hadn’t chased me, I wouldn’t have gotten crap all over the jacket and
risked the wrath of Daisy Mae. You don’t want to see her angry.”

“Well, just tell me what you were doing at those
crime scenes, and I’ll stop following you.” He trailed her down the aisle and around
the corner to the right. The store was one of those catch-all sorts of places
that had odds and ends of almost anything. A canister of butane fluid joined
the bottle of rum. Down another row, she plucked a plastic bag full of zip ties
off a peg.

“I was watching. Like all the other people.”

“Right. Just hanging out barefoot and naked under
a borrowed trench coat. ‘Cause you just happened to be walking by after your
morning shift at the park flashing unwary passersby.”

“Yep. That’s it. Gosh, detective, you are so
smart. You close all your cases this fast?”

They arrived at the front counter and she leaned
on it with both hands.

“Frank? Frank! You here? I need to borrow a cart.”

A short forty-something-year-old man with light
hair at his temples and a paunch exited a room to the left holding a box full
of cigarette cartons.

“Hey there, Chloe. You buying stuff for Muriel
again?” The clerk put the container down on the floor behind the counter and
picked up the rum bottle. “I got a cart, but you know her daughter said no more
of this.”

“Shit, she was here too?”

He nodded and set the alcohol back down on the
counter.

“Look, I need it. Or Daisy Mae is going to have my
ass. Please? I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Frank smiled at her and shook his head. “Hey, you
wanna keep that crazy ol’ lady in booze, that’s your business. I just sell the
stuff.”

“Thanks, Frank.” She shot the clerk a huge smile
and Greiff wondered what he’d have to do to get a grin like that directed his
way.

He used his body to subtly move her aside and put
the milk on the counter. Frank flicked a look at him, then at Chloe, raised one
eyebrow, and started to ring up the items.

“Hey, can I get a pack of—”

“Oh no you don’t. You need to quit that crap.
Those things will kill you.” Chloe crossed her arms under her breasts and
glared at him. The gesture plumped the flesh up in a rather tantalizing way. He
looked back at her face and she frowned harder and cocked her head.