Pure Temptation (5 page)

The room was nondescript and dimly lit. There was a feeble light illuminating from several candles placed around a table. I stood before him, gazing at his nakedness as he laid on it, this time with no towel to cover his exposed skin. I gingerly placed my hands on his upper back, letting him penetrate me with his warmth through the skin of my palms. It radiated through my entire body in an instant, like lightning, pushing tingles of excitement all the way to my toes. He murmured a pleasant sound at the moment of contact. He was pleased with me and wanted more. And so did I.

I pressed harder with my palms, pushing and kneading the perfectly developed muscles of his back, working my way down his spine, studying the two-headed dragon tattoo on his upper back. The contrast of the black ink against his tan skin as it swirled over his back sent another rush of adrenaline through me. I couldn’t believe I was with him. He must be completely exhausted from his fight. I felt tight muscles under his skin, hard biceps, and powerful broad shoulders as I caressed and stroked his back. This was no therapeutic massage. This was sensual, lustful and sexual. He moaned again and told me how good it felt.

His response excited me even more, and I was giddy with desire. I wanted to feel his magnificent body against mine, skin to skin. I raked my hands further down and grasped his perfectly tight buttocks, letting out a gasp at how exquisite he felt to my touch. My heart pounded. I wanted him to roll over and take me. Thrust his manhood into me and pound the shit out of me until I screamed out my orgasm.

I wore no clothes either and I pounced up onto the table with him and raked my teeth across his tight, hard butt cheeks, crawling up over him and pressing the length of my body against his so he could feel my breasts on his back. He wriggled with delight at the touch of my skin against his. My long dark hair fell down and tickled his neck.

I kissed the back of it and trailed out over his shoulder, my lips dusting over the tattoo, licking and sucking at his tight skin, dragging my teeth seductively across the epidermis. The fire inside of my body was now concentrated and raging between my legs. Nipping and nibbling, I pressed my hips up against him and stimulated myself with grinding and rotating motions.
Fuck, that felt good.
It had been a long time since I had sex, too long. It was going to happen fast, I could feel my orgasm coming too fast. I gasped and sucked in a breath. I pushed my hand through thick black hair on the back of his head and tangled my fingers in it. Thrusting and grinding my hips harder. I bit my lip and sat up, straddling him from behind. Panting, I said, “Luke, take me now, fuck me now, I can’t wait…”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me. I can feel how wet you are for what I have. I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby.”

He turned over on the massage table but it wasn’t Luke, it was the face of the old dead man at the Greymore Hotel with pale sallow skin and wiry blackish-gray hairs protruding in all directions from the crown of his balding head. I screamed, but no sound came out of my mouth. Instead of my scream, I heard a loud buzzing noise that tore me out of my nightmare. I sprang up in bed and leaned on my elbows. My sweat drenched thin, cotton sleeping shirt stuck to my body and the grogginess lifted slowly as I realized it wasn’t real.
Jesus H. Christ
, w
hat the hell was that all about? A
fter last night’s event, my damn emotions were having a fucking freak fest, messing with my mind. I certainly couldn’t have the hots for some steroid infused, unconscionable, badass fighter, Luke, whatever his name was. That was Joey’s realm of fantasy, God love her for taking me to the fights, but this should have been her dream, not mine.

The buzzing sounded again. I glanced over at the nightstand. It was my phone that had woken me. I grabbed it. Two missed calls and a voicemail.
Holy crap, it is already two in the afternoon.

I jumped out of bed and managed to complete my shower in a record three minutes. While getting dressed, I pressed play on my voice mail and turned on the speaker mode.

“Miss Carrington, this is Detective Anderson from the New York City Police Department. Please give me a call back at 646-610-5555. There’s been a development in the case of Franco Gianni’s death and it is very urgent that I see you.”

Fuck.
I glanced over at my backpack on the table, right where I’d left it before I fell asleep. Did the police know about the missing money?

My hands were shaking like a leaf as I punched in the number to return the call.

 
Bless me father, for I have sinned…

“Detective Anderson here.”

“Yes, hi. This is Daniella Carrington. You wanted to talk to me about the incident at the Greymore Hotel?”

“Oh yes. Where are you? I need for you to meet me at the station. We’ve found the body of a woman who matches the description you gave…the one who was with the deceased, Franco Gianni, last night. I need for you to come down and identify her. I’ll send a squad car to pick you up. Just give me your address.”

“O—okay,” I stuttered in shock. “I’m at 804 Bergen Street in Brooklyn.”

“Thank you, Miss Carrington. Officer Larkin will be by in twenty minutes or so, to pick you up.”

I’m so screwed.

An avalanche of worries came crashing into my mind as soon as I had hung up. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the hooker from last night had turned up dead today. It had to have something to do with the missing two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m dead meat.

Someone must have thought she took the money and killed her. Who knows, maybe they even tortured the poor, skinny, blond in the purple dress to make her tell them where she hid it. But she didn’t have it, I did and if that was the case…tag, I was it.

My stomach twisted and turned with a wave of nausea. The air in the room was heavy and my lungs struggled to pull in enough air.
Oh my God, am I having a panic attack? Maybe it’s a heart attack…arrrgh.

I’ll just give the money to the police. Yes that’s what I should do. But would that actually save me? Oh no, the police would question me and ask why I didn’t turn over the money last night, and surely the people who were looking for it would still come after me. Maybe they already were.

A cold chill ran down my spine as the thought entered my mind that someone may have already been staking out my apartment.

I picked up my phone again and called Jerry.

It only rang once before I heard his angry voice say, “About fucking time, Dani…you could return my call. What the hell happened here last night?”

“Didn’t Kathy fill you in? A guy died in Room 1215.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t mention anything about this guy being connected. I just had two low life scum yelling and screaming at me about last night. They were fucking packing heat, and they weren’t cops if you know what I mean.”

“Really? What did they want?” I hissed into the phone and cupped my hand around the bottom of it so no one could hear, then moved as far away from the bedroom door as possible.

“What do you think? They wanted to know who worked the shift last night. They wanted to know who called it in.”

“Fuck, Jerry. What did you tell them?”

“What could I do? I had to tell them it was you. They threatened to shoot me on the spot. Sorry, Dani.”

This wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening. I crawled into the corner of my bedroom and sat on the floor with my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn’t comprehend it all. This was it. My life was about to be over.

I took another deep breath and spoke more calmly this time. “When did all this happen?”

“I don’t know. About an hour ago. I tried calling you, but you never pick up your god damn phone.” He paused and there was a moment of silence on the other end. Then he said, “Hey, listen. I wouldn’t go home if I were you.”

“I
am
fucking home, you dipshit.”

“Well, whatever, Dani, just be careful…”

I ended the call and rubbed the palms of my hands on my face, pushing them up into my hair. My mind was racing as I glanced over at my backpack. Why did I take that stupid money? What the hell had I gotten myself into?

The ringing of the doorbell shattered my already shaky nerves and I about jumped out of my skin. My whole body shook from the adrenaline rush as I tip toed out into the hallway. Squinting with one eye shut, I peered through the little hole in the door. Thank God. It was the cop. He was wearing a uniform. I opened the door a crack, still with the chain attached.

“Miss Carrington?” he said.

I nodded.

“I’m Deputy Larkin. I’m here to pick you up to see Detective Anderson.”

“Can I see your badge?” I asked.

“The cop glared annoyed but held out the badge. It looked authentic.

I unchained the door to let him in, but left it standing open…just in case…

“Hold on a sec. I’ll be right back,” I said as I hurried into my bedroom to retrieve my backpack. I had no plans of coming back for a while.

I was relieved, well sort of, now that the cop was here. I was carrying a shit load of stolen money and an even bigger shit load of guilt, but at least with a police escort, there would be no way any gangster-like thugs would approach me for the time being.

I grabbed my jacket and swung the backpack over my shoulder, and I left my apartment with the cop as my shadow.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that sitting in a police car would be a good thing. I had always envisioned myself cuffed and thrown in the back, kicking and screaming, pounding my feet against the metal grate, shouting out my innocence. But here I was, comfortably situated in the passenger seat. Deputy Larkin’s face was like stone, and he kept it straight forward while he drove. I wondered if guilt could be read in people’s eyes and gave him a phony smile for good measure.

As the patrol car snaked its way through the streets of Manhattan, I was finally able to think straight. I realized that I couldn’t bring the backpack with the money into the station. They probably used x-ray machines like the ones at the airport. Most all of the government buildings used them, especially a police station and every hand bag had to be scanned.

There was just no way to explain a backpack jammed full of hundred dollar bills.

Could I leave it in the car? No way. Who knows if the same deputy would drive me back? Looking out through the windshield, I recognized the street we were at. There was a deli just two blocks from here. My class mate, Dylan, worked there part time. If he was there today, he could stash the backpack for me while I went to the station. He’d always seemed to have the hots for me, trying to talk to me whenever he got a chance. I trusted him. My only concern was that if anybody was following me, I wouldn’t want to risk putting a friend in danger. I checked the rear window. There were no cars behind us. Not that I was an expert at it but it looked all clear to me.

I glanced to my left. Deputy Stone Face was focused on driving. I gripped the straps of my backpack in my hands. I hadn’t let go of them even when I sat down in the car. I squeezed them so tightly, it felt like they were burning the mark of the Devil into my skin.