Coffee and Cockpits (43 page)
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong; I saw no reason to stop. Excuse me if I don't trust the law. If you continue with the gruesome details of my file you will also know the two men were never caught.” I hated myself for the rush of tears that pressed on my eyelids. I would not cry. Not now. Not ever. “How can I respect the law that let the devil's spawn live after my family died?” I pierced them each with a glare. “Believe me, you would run too.”
Officer Bliss clenched his jaw.
I couldn't understand him. He wore an aura of old cop, which couldn’t be true since I guessed he was only in his late twenties, but his tanned face was ashen. Had he never seen a case like mine? I was hardly unusual. Not common, but not unusual.
He shook his head, clearing the horror from his eyes. “Why sell yourself? After everything you survived, why allow sleaze-bags to touch you? To buy you?” He swallowed hard. The way he asked was very personal. As if
he
needed to know, not the cop force he represented. “Kings Cross is the capital of prostitutes, so why degrade yourself?”
He truly did care. It wasn't an act. I would have sniffed that out of him in a heartbeat. I couldn't afford to allow sympathy to thaw my frozen heart. I was an assassin. A killer who took the lives of men who didn't deserve to live. Men like the ones who took my innocence—my chance at a happy life—and chopped it to smithereens with a chainsaw.
Sniffing, making my voice as cold as Antarctica, I said, “Are you going to wrap up this pity party and book me? Or should I order a pizza and get the tissues ready for a cry fest?”
Officer Wade spluttered, but it was Bliss who gave me a wry smile. “You're tougher than you look. I respect that.”
Despite myself, I returned his smile. It was nice to invoke pride in a man's eyes for once, rather than the fear and knowledge he was about to die.
“Well, we don’t have any evidence you were up to no good. So what should we book you on?” Officer Bliss asked, picking up a pen to flick over his knuckles.
Ah, he was one of those: never able to sit still. I always wondered how people did that with a pen. I watched in fascination as he balanced the thin Bic, twisting it between his digits effortlessly. My face grew hot. His fingers were agile. Long, graceful. . . what else could he do—?
Stop that, Ocean. You're dirtier than a truck driver.
I leaned forward, well aware that my cleavage was pushed to the max, and spilling over my boob-tube. Tacky, smutty, but I’d been bait tonight, after all. It wasn't like I always dressed like this. It was the price to pay on this particular mission.
It took me seven years not to slice and dice at the barest of brushes against my skin, but now I was a robot. I was as good as dead inside and it was only going to get worse. My back twinged in agreement. The scorch marks on my spine held evidence: I was a ticking disaster.
I smirked, answering his question. “Well, Mr. Tub-o-lard over there seems to think I was selling my booty. So I guess that's what you book me on.”
“Were you? Selling yourself, I mean?” Officer Bliss's eyes practically begged me to say no. What was with guys wanting to believe in innocent women? Did it matter I'd only slept with two men in my entire twenty-four-year existence?
“Yes. Yes, I was selling myself. Good coin, too.”
Take that, Mr. Sympathetic. I don't want your pity.
His eyebrows fell, causing a slight frown to appear. I bet he had a little wifey at home who was curled up asleep, waiting for him to finish work. Men like him didn't last long on the market.
“Officer Wade, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?” Officer Bliss looked pointedly at Chubby.
“Eh, sure. I'll be close if you need me.”
“Care to bring back a doughnut? I'm starved!” I called after him. I didn't get the reaction I hoped for. The door slammed shut.
Officer Bliss eyed me. “When was the last time you ate?”
Oh please. Here we go with the protectiveness
.
Lay off already
. I wasn't his to protect.
“A few hours ago.” It wasn't—more like this time yesterday. You needed money to eat. I could get my hands on stacks of the stuff, but I wasn't a thief.
“Where do you live?”
“Around,” I hedged. Did he really want to hear that my accommodation normally included a cardboard box or a dingy mattress in a safe community house for the night?
“Do you do drugs?”
Now hang on a freakin’ second.
“Do you truly think, after the fucked-up childhood I've endured, I would put crap in my body?” I jutted my arms out, showing perfect pearly skin with no track marks. “See?”
“You put crap in your body in the form of guys' cocks,” Officer Bliss pointed out. He couldn't have surprised me more if he slapped me. What was this guy's deal?
Try living my life, buggo, and we'll see who gets to judge.
“That is none of your concern. Now, are you going to let me go or what?” I pretended to be bored, when really I was riled up tighter than lightning. I wanted out of there. I wanted away from this cop who looked into my soul. He wasn't safe. He might see the truth of who I was.
“You're free. I won't book you tonight. We don't have you down as a prostitute, so consider this a warning.” He wriggled his pen in my face. “But if we catch you in the Cross again, you won't be so lucky.”
He would never catch me again. It was a miracle they got me tonight. I saluted him. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Half his mouth quirked in a smile. Damn, did he have to be so sexy? He looked as if he’d stepped off a Billabong advert for board shorts. Great, now an image of him half naked and dripping with salt water paraded in my head. Time to leave.
Standing, I edged toward the door, raising my eyebrow and tapping my foot. “Do you mind releasing me, then?”
He stood. He was taller than I originally thought. A whiff of cologne battered me—a scent of salt and spice; summer evenings with stolen kisses.
Whoa. Get away from this man immediately.
“I'm not letting you go that easily. You haven't eaten—I can tell. I'll buy you dinner before I call my work done for the night.”
My eyes bugged. I didn't hear him right. “Dinner? You want to buy me dinner? Yeah, pull the other leg.”
This guy was ludicrous. Or insane. I'd go with insane. I bet he rescued puppies and kittens and nursed them back to health. Well, newsflash—I was neither a kitten nor a puppy. I had teeth and could freakin’ well take care of myself.
“Maybe some other time.” I cocked my head at the exit.
He refused to open the door. A look stole across his face as he stepped into my personal bubble. “Not negotiable. Don't make me cuff you.”
He played with fire. I did
not
appreciate threats, but a free dinner would be good. My eyes narrowed. “Fine.” I tried to think of an expensive place that was healthy too. I'd been living on crap for so long. “I want sushi.”
“No problem. I love sushi. I'll take you to Yachiyo.”
Sneak peek into
The Space Between
by
Victoria Smith
The Space Between
A new adult contemporary romance, by Victoria H. Smith
Available Now On:
Author Contact Details:
Twitter:
VictoriaSmith76
Facebook:
AuthorVictoriaHSmith
Blog:
http://twentysomethingfictionwriter.blogspot.com/
When Drake started the night at his father’s campaign fundraiser, he never imagined he’d end it being conned into buying drugs on the West Side. Losing high-stakes poker has its consequences, but he’d repeatedly face them just to hear Lacey Douglas sing. Drake sees Lacey light up the stage, and he has to have her. But his intentions for being on her side of town turn out to be the reason he can’t.
Chicago native Lacey has dreams of the opera, but life has its obstacles. Lacey has come to know her hardships as part of living in the real world and accepts them fully. When Lacey meets the intense and invigorating Drake, a fire is lit inside her, unleashing those dreams again.
Two paths that should have never crossed prove to create the exact pairing the other needs. But when their worlds take time to catch up, everything they have is tested. Finding the space between the two sides that challenge them will be hard, but it’s the only place that will keep them together.
Excerpt
Lacey
“You invited your buyer to the party?” I asked, sliding on my Rolling Stones tee over my black bra. The sleeves were cut off and the hemline rose just above my belly button, but with it still being summer I felt the fitted tee was suitable attire for the party.
Margot took a jean skirt out of her dresser, then pulled the material up her thighs. “I didn’t have a choice. He’s offering a pretty big buy, and he needed it tonight. I couldn’t turn down that opportunity.”
Sitting on her bed, I pulled on my tan-colored moccasins. “But we agreed to a clean party tonight.”
One thing about Margot’s parties was they could get pretty wild very fast. And tonight was about enjoying our final performance of the season with our stage friends. Not all of them were from this side of town, and the ones that weren’t, I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable.
“I know, and it will be. I promise. He’s not sampling. I stressed that.”
Shaking my head, I pulled on my silver bangles.
She plopped down on the bed. “Hey? I promised. Clean. I know how it bugs you, and I respect that.”
I could never fool Margot. She knew the clean party wasn’t just for the benefit of our friends.
She hugged me around my shoulders as I nibbled on my lip ring’s backing. “Shake out of it, girl. The star of the show needs to be the star tonight, and celebrities always keep up their appearances in front of their underlings.”
I smirked. “You know what you did was bogus to that girl.”
She grinned diabolically.
“But I’ll never be able to repay you.” I hugged her back.
“Squee! I knew you’d love it. And don’t mention it.”
I held up my finger. “But you better never do that again, especially for my benefit. Backstage help is a fine job, and I enjoy it.”
She let go of my shoulders. “
Enjoyed
it. And speaking of, have you found a replacement job yet?”
With the economy being the way it was, I hadn’t. Which wasn’t good since I had Mama. “I’m going to have to go on unemployment for a while, and with Mama’s disability we’ll be okay for at least a few weeks.”
“Have you considered the idea I had?”
I watched her go to her top dresser drawer. “What? The nanny job? I don’t know, Margot. I mean I’m a certified sitter and all, but I’ve never done an extensive nanny job before.”
She changed from her band tee into a long cream tunic. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve been babysitting professionally since you were fifteen, and now that you’re eighteen and out of school you can nanny for the rich bitches. I say go for it.”
“I just don’t know about the hours. I need flexibility. Mama can’t stay by herself all day.”
“Don’t you get it? If you work for the
Desperate Housewives
of Chicago you’ll be making enough to hire a caretaker for your mama during the day. And make enough to take care of her medical expenses.”
I didn’t consider that.
“And with all that extra you could . . . You know?” She nudged the air with her arm.
I collapsed back on her bed. “Would you stop with all that dreamer talk? It just exhausts me.”
She pulled my arms, making me stand. “You’re not talking enough for the both of us. Somebody’s got to keep our dreams alive.”
She fluffed out my long brown curls, and I straightened her blonde braids.
When we got out to the living room of her apartment the party had already started. Margot had an open house policy during the cast’s end of the season party. People just came in and had a good time. We were all family in the neighborhood. Half the time the people who came in off the street were the most fun.
“I’m going to check around for the buyer,” she said in my ear.