Selling Out (6 page)

Could I give them up to save the girl?

“Please,” I said, not sure what I was asking.

Light flickered through his eyes like the moonlight on
water. He lived and breathed his work. His crusade against the pimps of Chicago
was his mission, the rules and regulations of the Chicago Police Department his
scripture. How could I ask a man to sacrifice his religion?

How could I not?

I thought of Ella and the potent fear-hope mixture in her
stormy eyes. I needed this. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe, for once, I’d beat
fate.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, and I knew what the answer meant. I
wasn’t enough.

I’d thought maybe with a fresh start, a real job… But it
hadn’t worked out. It was more than a little PTSD and a shitty coincidence at a
bookstore. I’d built my life by fucking the men he fought to put behind bars.

“You don’t understand. There’s more to it than just you or
me. I can’t risk…”

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd
angles. I shouldn’t find him so adorable, shouldn’t trust him. We were enemies,
by breed if not inclination. The criminal and the cop, temporarily on a truce,
because I couldn’t say no when he had asked me for help. I’d hoped he’d return
the favor now that I needed it—more fool me. You scratch my back, and I’ll
scratch yours. The rules of the street but not for Luke. He followed the law
instead.

“Look,” he finally said. “She’ll be as safe at the precinct
as anywhere. And you… Let me call this in, and we can go from there.”

“Damn it, Luke.”

“Trust me,” he pleaded.

But I couldn’t. So I plastered on a fake half smile and
nodded. Any man would fall for it, and he did. Grimly, I shut him in the
bedroom and found Ella rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen. Her
expression blanked when she saw me. She lifted her face, like an animal sensing
trouble.

“What’s going on?”

Oh, Luke was about to give up our position to his coworkers,
some of whom might be on Henri’s payroll. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Yes, lies. What else did we have to work with? The truth had
never set me free. None of us were safe. Even Luke could be in danger. If Henri
found out we were here, if he sent someone… I peeked out the window and saw
only an empty street.

“Shit, you’re making me nervous.” Ella flopped onto the
couch.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

I never quite knew why I did it or what I hoped to hear, but
I wandered back to the bedroom where the shut door muted the low, strained
sound of Luke’s voice.

“Yeah, they’re here. Her and another girl. She won’t give
her name, but the description matches.”

Uncertainty unfurled in my belly, but why? Everything was
fine, fine.

“Give me an hour. No, don’t send anyone.”

My breath came shorter, and then not at all.

“I’ll bring them in myself.”

I turned to face Ella, whose eyes reflected the fear I felt
even though she was too far away to hear. She pointed to the TV. On lead feet,
I walked over.

The local news was broadcasting a multiple homicide at an
upscale hotel in the city. There were businessmen, and they were dead. Police
had two suspects, and then sketches of Ella and me flashed on the screen.

“They think we killed them,” Ella said incredulously. “They set
us up.”

It shouldn’t have been possible, but I had underestimated
Henri. What better way to punish us than this? And I had overestimated Luke. I
felt the betrayal like acid. They must have told him we were wanted for
questioning, fugitives, and he would lead them right to us. I was tempted to
let him. Let them take me. When I ended up mysteriously dead in the cell, maybe
then Luke would see the truth about his precious system. Either way, I would be
free of it, bereft of him.

Ella looked to me, her doe eyes frightened and hopeful.

Make this right.

“Come on, then,” I said grimly. “Looks like you’re stuck
with me.”

In two minutes flat, we were out the door, down the stairs,
and far away. We were gone, he’d never find us, and I was lost.

The streetlights blinked rapid-fire as we hurtled over
Chicago’s I-90. I longed to call my best friend, Allie, to hear her daughter
babbling in the background, but any contact could put them at risk. Same went
for the shelter. We could be followed or traced or any number of scary things,
and all I had was a knockoff Prada clutch with my cell phone and two hundred
dollars’ cash.

Well, besides Ella. “Are you going to tell me your real name
now?”

Her fingers clutched the leather seat. “How about bite me?”

“For someone running low on friends, you’re not very nice.”

“Why should I be nice?” she demanded. “Are you still trying
to turn me into a hooker?”

“Still got your pockets full of other people’s stuff?”

She tightened her lips, and then there was only the steady
thump
,
thump
,
thump
as the tires
rubbed strips on the road. I drove in a kind of stupor, grateful for the
reprieve. I didn’t want to think about the implications of being set up for
murder—or how stupid I’d been to trust Luke. I didn’t want to contemplate what
my lapse could have cost us, or what it still could if we didn’t get somewhere
safe.

On autopilot I took us into an opulent pocket neighborhood
in Schaumburg and pulled into the winding driveway. We rolled to a stop at the
gate and stared up at the house—mansion, really. The building drew lines with
metal and stacked irregular planes of glass. It should have been the gawky
teenager of houses but was instead a revered eccentric, splitting the lush lawn
and twilight sky to suit it rather than conforming to the landscape.

“I don’t want to go here.” Ella’s voice shook.

I looked at her curiously, surprised by the intensity of her
response. She was shadows and wide eyes, the portrait of a cornered animal. Her
lips were pursed. Her skin looked like it had always been light, a stark
contrast to midnight eyes, but she seemed to pale further.

“Sorry to say, we’re running low on options,” I said. “What,
you don’t like rich people?”

“I don’t like men.”

“Men aren’t for liking, Ella.”

“What are they for, then? Fucking?” Her lip curled. “For
money?”

“At least I provide a service when I take their money.”

She scowled as she stared straight ahead: the silent
treatment. I really was getting a crash course in parenting a teenager today.
Maybe I’d pick up a few tips to share with Allie for down the road. Once I got
out of this mess—if I got out of this.

I squinted at the shiny freestanding number pad as if I
could solve its puzzle. The green talk light blinked mildly, but idling outside
the gate seemed a poor place to beg Philip’s pardon.

On impulse I typed in my old code. It shouldn’t have worked.
But it did, in a strange but convenient lapse in Philip’s security. Surely he
would have cut off my access the day he’d found out I betrayed him. He was
meticulous in his paranoia. Had he expected me to come back? I almost would
have suspected a trap if this had happened sooner. But now, months later, there
was no expectancy, only relief.

I pulled into the circular drive and stopped. The engine
popped, cooling down. I toyed with the hem of my dress, come loose at some
point in the evening, the silky fabric unraveling.

“You seem nervous,” Ella said.

I was nervous, so I kept my mouth shut.

“I mean, why wouldn’t you come here first—a loaded guy like
this in your address book?” She swallowed audibly. “Unless he’s really bad.”

Philip was bad, in his own way, but not like she thought. No
matter how angry he was at me, he wouldn’t hurt her. I was almost sure. “He’s
my friend. It’s just that… Well, he might be upset with me.”

“What’d you do?”

“I sold him out.” I let out a breath. “Almost got him
killed.”

“Oh.” Even sarcasm seemed to have deserted Ella under the
weight of just how desperate we were. She crossed her hands over her chest in a
protective gesture.

I had sold Philip out to Luke as an informant, and just
earlier tonight, Luke had sold me out. Irony was the madam of life: I could
resent the situation she’d forced me into, but deep down, I knew I deserved to
be there.

The gate code wasn’t an oversight, I realized as the front
door opened to reveal an annoyed Adrian Scott. He was Philip’s butler, on
paper, though his true role also encompassed security guard, resident techie,
and, I suspected, confessional. Adrian manned all the fancy monitoring
equipment; he would have seen us through the cameras. We were only here because
he’d allowed us to be. Adrian looked me up and down, his face impassive but his
eyes turbulent.

“Philip’s not here.”

Panic crept into my lungs, drowning out his next words. Of course
Philip was a busy man, but I’d been so focused on our total lack of options and
how I would beg him for forgiveness that it hadn’t even occurred to me that he
wouldn’t be here. Where would we go? We might as well head straight for Henri
and throw ourselves at his Italian leather-clad feet. At least he’d be amused
while he dumped our bodies.

“But you’re free to wait here until he returns,” Adrian
finally said.

My heart started beating again. “Thanks,” came out on an
exhale.

He allowed us into the large living room and threw me a
disapproving look before closing us in with one of the impenetrable fingerprint
locks. Fine by me. The tight security here would keep the monsters out as much
as it would lock us in.

I went to the bar and poured myself a shot of 80 proof.
After throwing it back, I poured another. Ella reached for my glass, but I
slapped her hand away.

“There should be sodas in the minifridge.”

She gave me a wounded look but pulled out a Coke. “You seem
at home here.”

I collapsed onto the plush leather sofa. “And you look like
you might barf on the marble. What’s eating you?”

“I told you I don’t like men.”

“You don’t like
rich
men. Did one of them catch you lifting his Rolex?”

She took a swig of soda. “I’m too good for that.”

“So am I, sweetheart. So am I.”

Our idle bragging lapsed into silence, and I closed my eyes
and let my head fall back onto the buttery leather. Was there any chance in
hell Philip would accept my apology? Where would we go if he didn’t?

Best not to think too much, especially now that my mind was
pleasantly fuzzy from the liquor flooding my veins. I peeked at Ella. For once
she didn’t appear to be getting into trouble. Instead she lounged in an
oversize armchair, her head listing to the side.

Hot pink glitter shone from her drooping eyelids, and my
insides twisted at the thought of her painting on makeup in preparation for
this evening. I wondered what had brought her to this, but I was too afraid to
ask. Last thing I needed was another reason to feel beholden to her.

It had been a long night—a long week, a long year. All I had
wanted was peace, and here it was. A clock chimed softly from somewhere far
away—one, two, three. Then quiet.

* * * *

I woke in terror, remaining still and silent through force
of will. The smell of leather, the cool brush of air. It took me a few moments
to realize that this wasn’t my old house, I wasn’t a child anymore, and that
shadow standing over me wasn’t my father.

“Good, you’re up.”

Philip sounded angry, but the fact that he spoke to me at
all, as opposed to one of the many other things he could have done—with his
hands or other, nastier implements—was a good sign. Or hell, he could have just
called Henri up and had me carted away. My groggy brain registered relief even
as the sharp pain of exhaustion lanced through it.

Disoriented, I forced myself to sit. “I’m sorry.”

As my vision cleared, his stony expression came into focus.
His face was always a study in angles—chiseled, not sculpted—but when he was
angry, the hollows became more defined.

He raised an eyebrow. “For arriving uninvited in the middle
of the night, or for ratting me out?”

“Um…both?”
Very
smooth, Shelly
. My charm had completely deserted me.

That seemed to surprise him too. He looked away, down along
my body. I held myself still, figuring my sleepy splayed position was the only
thing I had to my advantage right now.

He frowned. “What are you wearing?”

“Twenty bucks on the clearance rack. Sorry, babe. Not
everyone keeps me in Dior.” And damned if I was going to let those guys get
their grubby fingers on the dresses Philip had bought me. They hung in the
closet of my condo right now, well guarded and unreachable.

He grunted, not impressed. “I take it you’re desperate,
since you’re here.”

“Fishing for a compliment, Philip?” At his wry look, I allowed
a soft laugh. “Yes, you’re right. I wouldn’t have come back otherwise. I
figured you’d have me strung up by now.”

“I would have, if I’d thought you wanted it too. Adrian’s
made up rooms for the two of you. You’ll be safe for the night, at least.”

I couldn’t resist asking softly, “And after?”

“Don’t press your luck, Shelly. One of these days, it’s
going to run out.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room before I’d
managed a weak protest. Well, it could have gone worse. I rubbed the sleep from
my eyes and turned to Ella. She slept with her head leaning against the wing of
the chair, her lips parted. A blanket lay over her, tucked under her chin, that
hadn’t been there before.

I woke her with a gentle shake to her shoulder, dislodging
the blanket and revealing the low-slung neckline of her cheap dress.

“Where are we?” she asked, blinking sleepily.

How quickly she recognized me, despite forgetting where we
were. How completely she trusted. My eyes pricked, and I hid my face as I
pulled her up. “Somewhere safe. Come on, let’s put you to bed.”