Dance Away, Danger (13 page)

“You keep saying those same words.” Did she not trust him to see her through this ordeal safely? “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not,” she said, but the possibility gnawed at his gut anyway. “But we both know this wasn’t a job you wanted.”

“You’re right.” Instant hurt slashed through the golden threads of her irises and sliced deep inside him. “I’d rather not have to figure out how to assist your brother, and I’d rather not have to protect you from an enemy we can’t prove is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Her lips parted. If she’d meant to snap her response, the words got lost in the tremble of her mouth.

He reached out and tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear. His finger took too long leaving the curve of it. She didn’t seem to mind. “But I’ll see it through.”

“Because of a promise you made on a battlefield.”

No, because of the way she looked at him.

“Yes and because you deserve a chance at happiness. You deserve to return to your peaceful life.”

“So do you.” She set her palm on his cheek.

Her touch sent a zap straight into his chest.

Suddenly he realized his time with Tessa was no longer about Jason or the debt Matt owed. It was about coming to the aid of the only woman who’d cared enough to see him as a human being instead of a means to an end.

Whoa. Dangerous territory. He bit back the bile rising in his throat and inclined his head toward the bathroom. “Go get ready. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Forty-five minutes later, Matt guided Tessa to an empty computer in the rear of the local Internet cafe.

A few elderly residents chatted over a cup of coffee, some kids played games on a few of the computers, and a pair of mothers with strollers exchanged stories in the cushioned chairs.

“Tessa.” Matt rubbed her shoulders and leaned close enough for his male scent to wrap around her. “Take it easy. We’re okay,” he whispered softly. He grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it closer.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” The chances of someone studying their every move, never mind wondering who they were, were slim. Unless she fell apart and drew attention to their movements like she had at the train station.

No, she wouldn’t. She was stronger than she had been. “Let’s just get the information we need and get out of here.” She dropped into the wooden chair. Matt sat next to her and shoved the CD in the computer.

Pictures of the cops having sex with women in abandoned buildings. Lots of pictures of Dave, Pete and Gerry. There was one of Gerry and Pete taking money from one of the women, too, with a tall, shadowed figure in the background. The figure wore some kind of hat, but she couldn’t make out who it was. Another cop, most likely, but who? Pete and Gerry were partners. How many other partnerships were involved?

Finally, a close-up of one of the girls with bruises, a fat lip, and a black eye. Bile churned in Tessa’s throat. Another piece of her world crumbled. These men were supposed to be trustworthy. They had taken an oath to
protect
people, not exploit them. “I’ve hung out with these guys, welcomed them into my home. How could I have been so wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong. They were.” He ejected the CD before someone accidentally caught sight of its contents.

He missed the point. She’d trusted them, but they were never honorable. Again, she had been a fool.

“What’s next?” she asked.

His fingers flew across the keys and several screens morphed into new ones. “I’m going to investigate these cops and get a better idea of who they are.” He spared her a glance. “Why don’t you get on another computer and find whatever you can on Walgren’s former partner.”

“Got it.” She shifted to the PC next to his, separated by a half-wall, and began typing. He waited several seconds before he returned to his own research. His keys, fast before, clicked at lightning speed.

A niggling feeling took hold of her. Why was he working so fast?

“Print any articles you find. We’ll read them later,” he said.

While she scanned two pieces about Brian Koswich’s death and funeral, someone passed in front of them, with deliberate steps.

All her nerves tightened. With barely a turn of her head, she studied Matt. He typed so quickly, she couldn’t figure out what he was doing until the computer spit out the CD. “We need to go,” he said.

“Because of the guy who just walked by?” She hit the print button on both articles.

“Yeah. He’s been by three times and each time he approaches, his eyes are on us.” He pushed back his chair and stood. As he grabbed all their papers off the machine, he ordered, “Go to the car.”

“No.”

“Tessa, you need to listen—”

“I’m not leaving you, so pay for the prints and let’s move.”

He clenched his teeth, but didn’t argue any more. While he surrendered the papers and a twenty-dollar bill, Tessa rested her palm on the counter and casually peeked behind them.

The same man studied her from the hallway by the bathrooms with a phone pressed to his ear. She jerked her head away.

“What is it?”

“He’s on the phone.”

Matt picked up his change and their copies and steered her quickly toward the front door. “Go.” He remained behind her until they got out to the street. The sun had set hours before, leaving a moonless night with the threat of another snowstorm in the frigid air.

“What if he tries to stop us?”

“He won’t. I’m considered armed and dangerous, remember? If he was going to, he would’ve done it when he paced around us.” Matt jiggled her arm. “Don’t keep gawking at him.”

A colorful metaphor whooshed out between her lips.

Matt gave her with a hint of a smile.

“What? So I swear. I never claimed to be a saint.”

Too quickly, his smile disappeared. “I hate to say it, but our chances of investigating in public have just completely disappeared.”

“Which means what?”

“We need to retreat to the motel room and, if we do go out, we need to keep an extremely low profile.”

When they returned to their dive, they settled into reading all they’d printed. Tessa leaned against the headboard with her legs straight in front of her and the articles and notes spread out over her thighs. At the table, Matt studied the papers he didn’t want her to know he’d printed: research on one Sergeant Kyle Whittaker.

He had about half a dozen sheets about the man—of his heroics when dealing with wife beaters, his commendation from the chief of police, his grief over Brian Koswich’s death. One long article about him came from his hometown weekly. The reporter covered when he first made sergeant, waxed eloquent about how he’d beaten the odds of growing up on the wrong side of the tracks and pushed himself through to success. The last section covered how he’d stepped up to aid two orphaned kids: Jason and Tessa.

After he folded those pages and stuffed them into the inside pocket of his duffel bag, he released a heavy sigh. Not a thing about the man gave him cause to suspect him. According to everyone else—the media, the public, the police department, and Tessa—the guy was a genuine hero.

He drew circles next to Whittaker’s name on Jason’s list of cops. The question mark could very well mean Jason was considering discussing his suspicions with his boss. Tessa had been right.

So why couldn’t Matt let go of his doubts?

Spread out on the bed with her curls dusting her shoulders and her thumbnail in between her delicious lips, she studied so intently. They worked well together, feeding off each other’s information and drawing similar conclusions. He’d forgotten how satisfying it could be to work as part of a team.

Except when she refused to follow his direction, like at the Internet cafe. Frankly, her choices left him confused more often than not. Why did she worry about him? Didn’t she believe he knew what he was doing?

She grabbed a paper by her right shin. “Something’s been bugging me all afternoon.”

“What’?” He clasped his fingers on his stomach.

“Jason has Dave’s old partner Brian Koswich on his list, but Brian was killed over a year ago.”

“Maybe your brother found something to link him to the hookers.”

“I can see Pete and Gerry being involved with Dave, but Brian was a straight arrow. He was a lot like Jase.”

“How did he die?” Matt asked. The beeping of a sand truck filtered in through the window.

“He and Dave were chasing some drug dealer down an alley. The guy opened fire and shot Brian. Then Dave killed the dealer.”

“Any witnesses?”

She scanned the page. “Pete....” The color drained from her face. “And Gerry.” A heavy breath fell from her lips. “You don’t think Dave was responsible for Brian’s death, do you?”

“Could be. Maybe Brian found out what those guys were doing.”

She squeezed her bottom lip. “We need to talk to Lola, the prostitute who was helping my brother.

He’d been a fool ever to consider her a hindrance. “It’s a great idea. You’re better backup than I thought you’d be.”

“Jason sent you to protect me, but why should you carry the burden all by yourself?”

She looked at him with those killer eyes that unraveled his good sense and refilled him with the primal urge to possess her. Need to touch her, to hold her, to love her.

Make love to her.

Damn.

****

Two hours and five prostitutes later, Tessa followed Matt down yet another “working girl street.” Her legs were tired, her muscles ached, and the shivers of the night settled deep within her bones. Their investigation so far had yielded nothing but frozen limbs and more heartache. They hadn’t found Lola yet and no one would talk about the picture she had of Jason. But she refused to give up.

Thick clouds hung low in the sky, the promise of a new storm on the crisp air. So much snow, and it wasn’t even officially winter yet.

The scents of lobster bisque, alcohol, and lust reached out to Tessa from the bar doorways, along with raucous cheers and jeers of patrons. Red and green Christmas lights blinked from shop windows, like beacons on the working girls trolling along the seedy streets. A car or two sped through the intersection.

Unease crawled along Tessa’s spine. Not fear, because nothing in their surroundings frightened her. Except the threat of someone jumping out of a shadowed alley and throwing them into a police car.

A vehicle slid past them and idled in front of two girls loitering on the next corner. The smell of motor oil almost overwhelmed her. One woman sauntered over to the car and leaned in the window. Tessa couldn’t hear the conversation, but she constructed the dialogue in her head. Sure enough, the blonde slid into the passenger seat, and the car disappeared down the road.

Matt slowed to a stop by the woman left behind. “Hey there, handsome.” The hooker in the waist-length fur coat slid her fingers inside Matt’s coat and along the front of his sweater. “You and your lady interested in a new friend?”

“Maybe.” Matt flashed her a smile. “What’s your name, honey?”

“They call me Lola.”

Hope flared in Tessa’s chest. That was the name of the woman from Jason’s notes, the one with answers no one else could give. Was she the right one?. Somehow she managed to keep from gripping the girl’s arms. “Lola, we need your help.” Tessa held up a picture of Jason. “Seen him around?”

The hooker stiffened and glanced to her left. Whistling wind whipped her honey-blonde hair around her chin. “Nope.”

“How do you know?” Tessa asked. “You barely glanced at the picture.”

“I seen him in the paper. Ain’t he the missing cop?”

“Yeah. He’s my brother.”

A wave of sorrow flickered across the leathery, too made-up face. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“Hey, my brother’s a good cop, a good man. You may be the only one who can restore his reputation and help bring him home. Please, help me.”

Lola refused to meet her gaze. “I can’t do nothing. Leave me alone.”

She pivoted away. Matt reached out and grabbed her bicep. Her eyes widened, filled with surprise and worry. “Let go of me.” Her bracelets jingled as she tried to free herself.

He kept a tight hold on her. “Or what? You’ll call the cops?”

A steady stream of traffic blew through the green light at the nearby intersection and rumbled down the street. ’“What do you want?”

“How about the truth?” Matt asked.

The woman squirmed against his hold. “Hey, I got enough trouble, I don’t need—”

“We know you were working with Officer Gage. The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we’ll leave you alone.”

“Are you one of the girls who pays the cops?” Tessa asked, getting right to the point.

Lola studied each of them for several more seconds. But then something broke inside her.? “Yeah, I pay the bastards.”

“Then please talk to us. We might be able to help you,” she added.

“You can’t help. They’re cops. They own us.”