Where There's Smoke (11 page)

“Barbara?” Denise asked.

“That’s the prostitute I tailed. She’d said no at first. Then the older woman spoke into her ear and she followed her. I remember thinking she wasn’t a happy person when they walked by my table on the way out.”

“It’s too synchronized,” Ross said after a pause. “They planned this shit down to the minute. Must’ve had Smoke stashed somewhere nearby, beating his ass and pumping him with drugs until after those punks left the room.” His words clipped. Cherise stroked his arm, ending at his balled fist.

“That was an organized hit, guys,” Denise said softly. “Lots of players. Seven different men, nine if you include Smoke and the Judge. It’s a powder keg. I think we need to get Ms. Veronique up here to look at this.”

“What about your attorney? The one who came this morning?” Cherise looked up at Ross. “Can he advise you on this?”

“He could, but I’d feel better with your mom.” Ross tapped her nose. “She’d understand the street-wise implications of a case like this. Besides, this isn’t her pond so she doesn’t have to tiptoe around the big fish here.”

Cherise stood, pulling him up. “Let’s do this.” Ross followed her out the room.

“I think the targeted victim in this is the judge,” Denise said into the quiet.

“How do you figure that?” Red asked.

“First, someone made sure he was late to see the woman that night. I bet the man who hit the first hooker up made it a two-fer deal. The other woman probably thought it was easy money, and didn’t want to lose out.” She turned to Vianca. “Does this make sense?”

Vianca nodded slowly, thinking. “Yeah, when you put the pieces together, it does seem like it might’ve been planned like that. Every night that week, the judge and the prostitute met at seven-thirty pm, always in her room, except that night.”

“Sunday night, twenty-four hours after they picked up Smoke,” Red said. “Bet the phone call came after they had him.”

“What are the chances the judge wasn’t the one who hired Vianca?” Denise asked looking pointedly at her. Cherise and Ross returned to the chair whistling at that question.

“Actually, that’d make more sense.” Cherise settled on the chair next to Ross. “If someone wanted to blackmail him, all they’d need to do was have a witness watching him cheating on his wife.”

“Then knock her off with him on the premises.” Red nodded.

“How do
we
tie in all this?” Smoke asked, looking at each of his partners. “First Pam, then Felicia, now two women I’ve never seen before. Pattern’s broken from the first two.”

Denise punched Red’s arm. “I knew it. You were involved with that woman.”

“Not now, Babe.” Red kissed her cheek and pulled her close.

Ross nodded. “More than one party involved? Someone took advantage of a bad situation?” he shook his head. “I don’t like it. This isn’t random.” He handed Vianca a slip of paper. “Could you email that file to my mother-in-law?” He smiled at Cherise, who blushed. “She wants to see it and then she’ll tell us how to handle the judge from a legal angle.”

Vianca took the paper, and looked at Smoke. His chest puffed at the question in her eyes. He nodded. Her brow rose before she typed the information on the keyboard. The doorbell rang. Ross stood and walked out.

“That’s probably Tank.” He returned shortly. Tank strode to Smoke, face beaming, and grabbed his hand.

“Damned good to see you.” He pounded his fist. “You look good. You a’wright?” His eyes roved over Smoke before resting on his face.

“I’ve been better, but I’m glad to be here,” Smoke said returning the smile and greeting. “Have a seat.” He waved at a chair nearby. “I think you know everyone in the room except Vee.” He pointed in her direction. “Vee, this is Tank. Tank, Vee.” They nodded at each other.

“I want you to look at some pictures and tell me if you recognize anyone.” Smoke held his eye a moment longer, letting him know it was cool to talk, but with caution. Tank nodded imperceptibly. “Could you run the pictures again, please?”

Seconds later, the pictures displayed on the screen, fading in and out one after the other. The room was silent as they all watched the pictures. Smoke watched Tank. His body tensed when the two men that took Smoke came on the screen. After the pictures were done. Tank looked at him. “I used to see the last two men up in Flint. I heard they moved away. I don’t know where they are.”

“Damn, I sure wish I knew who they worked for? You know anything about their jobs?” Smoke asked.

“Heard on the streets they worked for some guy in prison.” He pulled his ear, turned his face to the side. Smoke noticed the red on his neck and cheeks. “If working for him is what you want to call it,” he muttered.

“I wonder if that’s the asshole in Saginaw.” Smoke returned Tank’s slight smile.

“Could be. I don’t know much about that shit.” His face colored. “Excuse me,” he said looking at the women in the room. “I mean stuff.”

“No, you didn’t.” Denise laughed at his chagrined expression. “You said exactly what you meant.” She looked at Vianca and Cherise. “I’m hungry, what do you have to eat?” She stood. “Vianca, come on, let’s grab a bite to eat and talk,” she said with all the candor of a hungry reporter.

Throwing Smoke a long-suffering look, she stood and followed the women out the room.

Red and Ross moved closer to Tank and Smoke. “Geary?” Red asked.

Tank nodded. His face twisting, “they were his...his.” He pulled his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what the hell they were. They had some strong connection and wouldn’t break. Almost like a cult.”

“Or a gang,” Red added.

“Or a lover,” Smoke said. All three pairs of eyes looked at him. “Geary was their Top. Probably first level, their devotion’s absolute. I’m surprised they didn’t kill me.”

“Good point,” Tank said looking at the pictures on the screen. “There’s something else going on here.”

“Don’t contact the other five, Tank. I suspect they’ll show up soon.”

“Why?” Tank asked.

“They killed or were involved in the murder of two prostitutes right before those two threw me on the bed with the dead women.”

Tank’s brow rose before his features tightened in anger. “Punk assholes tried to set you up.”

“
Yeah.” Smoke changed the subject before too many questions involving Vianca arose. “We need to be on the lookout for strangers. Lots of shit going down, plus we start two new jobs next week.”

“The timing sucks.” Tank shook his head while staring at the floor.

“Yep. That’s the way it normally is. But we got a break, we know what they look like. I’m not showing anyone else these pictures, it’d complicate things. Just pass the word to keep an eye out for strangers.”

“That’s hard with the Thumb prison in the vicinity. Strangers in and out all the time,” Tank snorted.

“Yeah at the prison, not at the office. There’s a difference,” Ross said.

“You sure you don’t want me to ask around on those five?” He looked at Ross and then Smoke. As much as they’d like to have this matter behind them, the cost of involving Tank’s friends was too high.

“Instead of the five, find the others.” Smoke chuckled at Tank’s disgusted expression.

“His lovers?” Tank spat. “Do you know where they are?”

“Not lovers, slaves,” Red corrected, frowning.

The sardonic look of satisfaction on Ross’s face seemed out of place for such a grim discussion. It was obvious he looked forward to the confrontation.

“Slaves sleeping with that snake in the nest, and we’re going to wake them up.”

Chapter 11

Vianca strode through the hall, glad for the moment of quiet. Denise had interrogated her with the tenacity and precision of a talk show host. She’d breathed a sigh of relief when the women, along with Smoke’s partners, left for the office. Perhaps now she could do some research, she needed more information on the men hunting her.

She'd been unsuccessful reaching Fernando. After crossing herself, she sent a silent prayer upwards for his safety. He'd argued down every one of her objections about heading to Lapeer with a stranger. Including reminding her of the murdered women. She'd blocked the vision from her mind and focused on removing Smoke. Unleashed, the memories of the grisly scene and what those men were capable of, made her lightheaded. Nausea clawed at her throat. Leaning against the wall, she battled her fear, and dredged up her anger. No woman, no matter her profession, should suffer the way Barbara McDonald had. Those gringos were sadistic bastards and she wanted to help take down their pasty asses. Fear replaced by solid resolve, she stepped forward and turned into the family room to retrieve her laptop.

Stumbling at the luscious sight inside, she caught her breath. Her libido stood up, cheered and sent moisture below in hopeful preparation. Smoke lay stretched out on the sofa, arm over his eyes, scantily clad in a pair of loose sweats. Although the word loose was up to interpretation. His thick thighs molded to the jersey fabric clearly identifying what she’d known from day one. The man was too fine. A leap in her libido sent additional moisture to her cotton undies.

Denise and Cherise had no problem mixing it up with white meat, but she liked hers dark, with a bit of bite. And this man embodied so many things she liked in a man. Strong, smart and damn sexy. Catching her drool, she chastised herself. Now wasn’t the time to fantasize over his muscular build. She headed in, hoping he was asleep. The earlier revelations of the judge called for an in-depth investigation. Her life and livelihood were in jeopardy. He looked delectably vulnerable on the sofa, but work came first.

Tiptoeing between the sofa and table, she waited as her equipment powered down to turn off the computer. A solid warm palm slid under her ponytail and caressed her neck. Her eyes closed in appreciation of the tingles that shot through her. A slight tug on her hair pulled her head back, refusing to give in, her neck and back arched in his direction. Neither said a word. Slow, like a winch, he wrapped her hair around his hand, pulling her backward. The slight sting to her scalp sent pleasurable shots zinging to her lower region. Her hand shot forward, grabbing the coffee table for balance.

Although no words were spoken, she understood this was a battle, a contest of wills. Lord knows she’d wanted a taste of him ever since she'd stripped him at the cabin. She’d wondered just how good he was in bed. The circumstances of their immediate future underscored a nice associate with benefits kind of thing. He wanted to have sex; she could get with that, after she got some work done.

A tug on her hair landed her in an ignominious heap on the floor next to the sofa where he lay. A few choice words died on her lips when she glared up at him. Had she thought him vulnerable earlier? On closer inspection, he reminded her of a Lion lazing in the noonday sun. Powerful, alert, able to pounce but taking his leisure. Her heart raced in anticipation of his next move.

His eyes glazed over as he stared at her. Loud pants, accompanied with quick puffs as though he’d run a mile escaped his lips, nostrils pinched and jaws tight. He was on edge. The tip of his tongue slipped out and slid his across full lips. Mesmerized at the trail of moisture, she swallowed hard forgetting for a moment he’d knocked her on her ass.

“Get up,” he ordered. The dark cadence sparked a reaction in her feminine core. Without thinking she moved, her eyes latched onto his. The ping of her laptop broke the moment, reminding her of what she’d come to do. Pulling back, she glared at him as embarrassment rushed through her. The man must be a wizard or something. For a few moments, the sexual pull between them held her spellbound. No wonder he bragged about his conquests, the man was potent.

“I’ve got to get some work done.” She went to stand, forgetting he still held her hair. “Let go.” Remnants of her desire reignited when he tugged again forcing her to look at him.

“You can do that later.” He stared at her mouth.

The control she thought she had fled under the look of his fierce desire.
Predator
. He grabbed her around the neck and pulled her closer.

“
Work, you have to work
.” Soft lips brushed against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered shut. It had been so long since someone had taken the time to touch her so gently. The warmth of his breath blew against her ear. She shivered as goose bumps burst across her heated flesh.

“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in that dark panty-dropping voice. Fingertips traced her lower lip before gently nipping and then sucking the spots. A small whimper escaped her throat. Heat escalated and exploded through her body. His tongue speared between her lips, searching, taking and devouring her. Thoughts rambled and failed to make sense. Meaningless words bubbled out her mouth at the tweaking of her nipple, shooting pleasurable zings to her core. From some corner of her mind, the thought of his injuries arose. For his safety, her body slowed, calmed long enough for rationale thought to make an appearance. Hand against his chest, she pulled back.

“Stop. You’re hurt.” He captured her hand; drug it downward to his massive erection. Moisture pooled between her legs at the thickness. Heat from his cock scorched her palm. The words velvet steel popped into her mind as she stroked his hard length.

“I will be hurt if you stop,” he panted cupping her hand tighter around him, urging her movements faster. He tweaked her nipple. She glanced at him and realized how close he was to the edge. Her hand faltered.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this, we can stop.”

“Yeah,” she said releasing him.
Hell no, get back on him
. Mouth dry, she couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Never tease the beast, her mind screamed seconds after she found herself flat on her back with two hundred-plus pounds of hard male above her.

“Hurt me?” he chuckled without humor. “The most pain you’ve caused me all day was when you took your hand off my cock.”