A Steamy Bodyguard Romance Anthology: Just One Look Page 13

  He looked quite satisfied with himself as he folded his tall body into the bench alongside the table, taking up too much room near her.

  “I had to get the kiss in right away since the guards only go for physical contact at the start and at the end of a visit. Even then, you have to be careful not to open your mouth or they’ll bust it up. Lots of drugs get passed along with the tongue, you know.” He folded his hands on the table like a model prisoner and looked her up and down. “I figured my need to kiss a woman—any woman—outweighs the fact that you’re a cop and the bitch who turned me in.”

  Smiling, he stared openly at her breasts and waited for her to speak.

  Lucky for him she needed his cooperation today or she’d show him how much of a bitch she’d like to be. His words didn’t begin to touch her since she’d long ago learned that a bitch was just a Babe In Total Control of Herself. Some men didn’t appreciate women like that.

  “Who told you I’m a cop?” She kept her voice down and was grateful he had, too. “You still keep in contact with your old friends?”

  He shrugged. “Going to prison lets a guy know who his real friends are. The people who keep in touch have my back. The others who don’t reply to my letters for months on end…” He moved his gaze up from her chest long enough to glare at her. “They don’t mean anything to me anymore.”

  In a different environment, she would have been relieved to know she never crossed this man’s mind. But right now, she had a game to play if she wanted to find out anything.

  Pouting like a woman who knows how to get her own way, she told herself she could be an actress for half an hour if it meant closing a case.

  “What about your chick on the side? You remember, the one you screwed ten ways to Sunday until I decided to screw you in return? Does she still write to you?” Until that moment, Donata hadn’t really considered her old rival as a possible suspect since illegal porn was more often a man’s crime. But now that she thought about it, she supposed Rosario Gillespie had every reason to hate her.

  “Rosie?” Sergio smiled, probably enjoying the thought that he’d cheated on the woman who helped send him to prison. “Her old man is too much of a hard-ass to let her write to me after he found out about us. Last I heard, he moved Rosie to the sticks to keep her out of trouble.”

  He turned to watch a fight break out between the mother of two and her inmate husband, an argument quickly halted by prison guards who removed the man from the visiting room and escorted the crying woman and her two kids out the other door. Poor kids.

  “How do you know?” she prompted, remembering how difficult it could be to keep Serg on track. She’d always suspected he had ADHD. “Who’s writing to you if not dear sweet Rosie?”

  “Don’t dear sweet Rosie me when you propositioned my own nephew.”

  “Only because he was suspected of shady things.” She’d hated that part of her informant gig. The FBI had directed her movements with a heavy hand and while she didn’t owe Serg any great loyalty, she’d never liked the idea of cozying up to the nephew.

  Thank God Alec Messina had been a much more upstanding guy than his uncle.

  Serg snorted, disbelieving.

  “Seriously, Sergio, who’s taking care of things back home while you’re in here? I noticed the Southampton property looks like hell.” She focused narrowly on the conversation to help tune out the smell of sweat and institutional food.

  “No shit?” He straightened, predictably image-conscious.

  “By Southampton standards anyway. You don’t have one of your boys swinging by now and then to check on it?” She studied her nails like the answer didn’t matter, amazed how easily she could lapse into old conversational patterns since it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to work him around to get answers.

  The task hadn’t been too difficult since Serg wasn’t the sharpest tack, but the old trick made her realize how much she wanted a relationship where honesty and forthright discussion won out over manipulation.

  “Big Joey goes over there sometimes. He’s supposed to contract with the lawn guys and keep the place rented until I get back.”

  “You cleaned out the Southampton house?”

  “We’re renting it furnished. Joey put all my other stuff in storage.”

  Giving the guy free access to old photos of Donata? She still couldn’t imagine why Big Joey would want to target her personally, unless he ran the illegal porn ring and only used the photos for blackmail purposes when she took the case.

  Still, that didn’t explain why the photos had been given to some crappy online site for free viewing.

  “What about the New York house? I know the feds seized it, but did you get to move your things out first?”

  “Are you kidding? They took everything that wasn’t nailed down for evidence. You want to tell me how my big-screen TV was evidence?”

  “What about your computer?” She knew his prints had been on the equipment installed on her PC. “Where did that go?”

  “How would I know?” He smacked his hand on the table, drawing the attention of a guard across the room. “Why don’t you ask your friends the feds? They probably planted evidence on it before they confiscated it.”

  The visit pretty much deteriorated from there with Donata asking leading questions that went nowhere and Sergio growing more and more belligerent.

  Finally, convinced she wouldn’t find out anything else by being nice, Donata switched tactics.

  “Look, Serg, I did you a favor today by coming to see you without the benefit of my law enforcement status.” She kept her voice low, knowing that inmates were apt to make life hell for any of their own they suspected of cooperating with the police.

  “It’s true then?” He grinned like a kid with a secret. “Can I call you next time I get stopped for speeding?”

  She knew he was kidding, but for a moment, she remembered what it had been like when they first met, before he’d taken up the family business of crime. She’d never be attracted to him again, but she could remember what had charmed her as a teenager. His lame jokes and his willingness to be the guy who told goofy jokes had given her the false sense of security that he was a simple man. A safe man.

  “Depends. Did you give one of your guys access to naked pictures of me?” She cut to the chase and studied his expression. She might not be an expert judge of people, but she’d lived with this man long enough to have learned when he was lying.

  “Naked?” He adjusted his trousers. “Jesus, Donata. I’m doing a fifteen-year bid here and they sure as hell don’t allow conjugal visits. Don’t talk to me about naked anything.”

  “This is important or, believe me, I wouldn’t be asking. Someone’s circulating photos that only you would have access to. If it’s not you, I need to know who would have those pictures.”

  He remained silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. Hard. She wondered if prison had changed him.

  “What’ll you do for me if I give you some ideas?”

  Irritation flared along with the urge to show Sergio how much she’d learned in her physical training for this job. She’d love to kick his butt.

  “Either you know or you don’t know. I’m not doing jack shit for you since you earned your trip here. As far as I’m concerned, if you can’t help me out now, I’ll be only too glad to see what else we can convict your sorry ass for to stretch that fifteen years out as long as possible.” She hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to lash out at him since she’d had to play a role as his girlfriend to be an informant.

  It felt good to speak her mind now, even if it meant her visit to Ray Brook proved a bust.

  “You’ve changed.” A hint of admiration lit his eyes.

  “Thank God for small favors.”

  He shook his head, shoulders slumping with weariness.

  “I don’t know who would take those pictures. Hell, I don’t even remember where they were if I wanted to see them myself.” His eyes cruised slowly over her and she had th
e distinct impression he was recreating the scene in his mind.

  “So you don’t know who’s blackmailing me.”

  “Blackmail?” His shoulders perked up along with his expression.

  “Someone doesn’t want me to bust an illegal porn ring and they’re using a blast from the past in the form of those stupid pictures to keep me quiet.”

  “You?” Sergio rolled his eyes. “Good luck to those guys, eh? Although I wouldn’t mind a copy of that photo of you if you happen to have it handy. A man needs entertainment behind bars. The movies suck here.”

  She waited, unwilling to be drawn into more inane conversation about his need for diversion, but slightly pleased that at least she’d left Sergio with a lasting impression that she wasn’t a woman to mess with.

  “I don’t know about any illegal porn rings, but then, when I was on the outside, I was never the kind of guy to want a picture over the real thing.” He scratched his head and leaned back on the bench. “But if I had to guess who might go through my stuff when I’m not around, I’d say the list is pretty long. Besides Big Joey, who am I going to trust?”

  “And no one’s asked you or Joey about access to your stuff recently?”

  “Wait.” He frowned. “Joe did tell me one of his friends wanted a list of some…Well, shit, I can’t tell a cop what he wanted.”

  “I’m not interested in some two-bit drug deal. Whoever is blackmailing me is taking pictures of half-naked little girls and passing it off as porn.”

  The frown deepened, furrowing deep lines around his mouth. Thankfully, there was still a small amount of honor among criminals. Even if Sergio had taken her home with him when she was sixteen, she’d kept her age a secret for the first year because he truly wasn’t the kind of guy who would have hit on a kid.

  “Bastards. The guy’s name was Ford. Richie Ford.” He eased back to peer around the visiting room, perhaps to make sure no one had overheard the conversation. “That must be worth a few bucks to you, right?”

  “It might be, but then I happen to know you’re richer than Midas even after the feds took the Manhattan assets. So why don’t you just consider this your first act of kindness on your path to rehabilitation, okay?” She stood, grateful this chapter in her life was over and oddly relieved that her ex hadn’t been the one blackmailing her. She hadn’t realized how much she hoped the guy wasn’t behind an illegal porn operation until she took her first deep breath in a week.

  Bad enough she’d lived with a gangster extortionist who’d threatened the life of an FBI agent. But if she’d lived with a man who took footage of unsuspecting teenagers…

  Shudder.

  “You’re gonna mention my generosity to the parole board, right?” He smoothed his shirt front and smoothed back his hair. The gesture reminded her what he’d said about only getting to kiss visitors at the beginning and end of a visit.

  “If the tip is good, I’ll let them know.” She kept her voice low, maintaining her original intent not to let any of the other inmates know Sergio had been visiting with a cop.

  Now, she hurried away just as he was reaching for her since she wanted nothing to do with another kiss. She had so much more with Sean now than she’d ever shared with Sergio.

  “In your dreams, Serg.” She waved at him instead of letting him kiss her.

  “Come back anytime,” he called as a guard stepped forward to escort him back to his cell. “Weekends are good for me.”

  She had to smile. Not that she found anything humorous about Sergio’s jail time. No, she felt the smile come from deeper inside her after a visit that left her feeling a little less guilt-ridden about her past and more than ready to meet her future squarely. The stigma of a gangster boyfriend didn’t have to dog her forever.

  The feeling of freedom amazed her and scared her at the same time since she realized she had no excuses to hold back with Sean any longer. At least, no excuses by way of her past. And that’s where the fear came in. She had a hot tip that could bring her case to a close and could end her time with Sean along with it.

  The thought stung more than she would have guessed.

  She didn’t know if her future would be one that Sean would want any part of, but for this one moment, she took a lot of satisfaction from knowing she’d done the best she could in her life considering the circumstances of her early years.

  But before she could go out and discover what the future might hold, she had a pressing engagement with Richie Ford.

  CHAPTER 13

  AFTER SITTING in a briefing meeting the next afternoon with Donata, Mick and the chief of their detective division, Sean was ready to have Donata all to himself.

  As he drove her back to her apartment for the first time since the webcams had been discovered, he realized that he should be grateful the police department had acknowledged his expertise on this particular case and let him listen in on the briefing. But his mind wasn’t on work after spending the whole previous day worrying about Donata.

  His fears weren’t logical. Physically, she’d be safe enough at a prison and she knew how to take care of herself. But what would it do to her heart and her head to sit in a visitor’s room across from the creep who’d put her through hell?

  Sean hated the guy with a fierceness that surprised him since he knew all the rage was on Donata’s behalf.

  “So you went over the technical details in the briefing,” he said aloud as he parked the car across the street from her place. “But what kind of vibe did you get from the guy? Is he still angry with you for turning on him?”

  He wouldn’t have liked the idea of her going to any federal pen by herself, but visiting this one in particular had bugged him since he knew she was vulnerable to her ex even if she didn’t care about him anymore.

  “He wasn’t as resentful as I feared, but then almost four years is a long time to get over it.” She stepped into the street before he could get her door and they walked into her building together.

  “So it wasn’t too awkward?”

  She slowed her pace as they approached the elevator. Her building was small, with no doorman and no security beyond a callbox for residents to buzz in their visitors.

  “Of course it was awkward. Just picture going to see one of your exes in prison. You’ve got all the angst of a relationship gone sour plus the cold hard reality to face that your romantic judgment was so bad you not only picked a loser, you picked a criminal.”

  Grateful the elevator arrived on that note, Sean held the door for Donata.

  “None of my exes would have wanted to see me since I’m the king of short term.” He pressed the button for her floor and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was glad to have her back, but this wasn’t the way he pictured a reunion with the woman he’d thought about nonstop in her absence.

  “Is that a hint?” She cocked her head sideways, as if the straight-on view of him didn’t make any sense so she needed to adjust her angle.

  “A hint about what?” The elevator doors swished opened and he waited for her to exit.

  “A hint to me not to expect too much from whatever it is that’s going on between us. A hint that you won’t be sticking around for long.” She reached for the button to hold the door open, her gaze never leaving his face.

  “Hell no. I just meant to say that despite the disappointment of having someone you care about turn out to be a bad guy, at least you know you meant something to your ex. The man still wanted to see you in jail, even knowing you turned him in. Obviously this guy was crazy about you.”

  “Or just plain crazy.” She emerged onto her floor finally, her eyes sweeping the hall in typical cop fashion.

  He waited while she unlocked her door, glad to have escaped that conversational thread.

  “So why would you crown yourself king of short term if you can admire a long relationship even when one of the parties has a rap sheet?” She let him in, tossing her keys on the coffee table and dropping her bag beside them.

  And he thought he’d escap
ed this conversation?

  Fat chance.

  Donata sounded as though she was only warming up as she made her way around the apartment, throwing off her winter coat and booting up her computer.

  They’d come here under the pretext of researching Richie Ford, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of their work nights had taken a turn for the personal.

  “Honestly?” Sean shrugged. “I don’t think much about my personal life to have an opinion one way or the other. Ever since my sister was hurt, I’ve been a little obsessed with work. Not just because I wanted to clean up some of the danger spots online, but because I started my own business.”

  She gestured toward the computer desk where her new laptop rested since her old one remained in the police evidence room. He accepted her unspoken gesture and took the seat, wondering when they’d developed wordless communication.

  “Your business certainly looks successful enough where you could afford to lighten up the workload by now.” She disappeared into her bathroom and he knew she would be changing her clothes.

  Another moment of intimate knowledge that he understood about her. She liked to shed her work clothes for something softer when she came home.

  But then, visions of Donata stripping off her clothes in the other room weren’t going to solve their case any time soon so he forced his fingers to start clicking keys.

  “Word of mouth has been great,” he admitted, proud of how quickly his business had developed. “Especially for a private investigations business. Normally, people think you’re barely scraping by if you’re a P.I., just working for peanuts to make your next rent check. Plus there’s a preconceived notion that you’ll take any kind of seedy job that comes your way.”

  She reemerged wearing the low-slung jeans she favored and he found himself wondering if he’d get a glimpse of that hummingbird tattoo that hovered on her lower back. The jeans had red flowers embroidered down the length of one leg and a silk scarf with similar flowers—a kind of wild roses?—in the print woven through the belt loops. A white T-shirt tucked into the worn denim, the fabric void of decoration save for one red heart stamped in the middle.