Текст книги "Exposed"
Автор книги: Ivy Stone
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
The streets of New York are a dangerous place to be, even without the Marino family causing chaos. Notoriously known for running drugs and trafficking women, they’re feared by those close to them, and by those who don’t even know them. These men are Mafia royalty, controlling nearly everybody and everything coming in and out of New York. Alison was another pawn in their lethal chess game. I am the motherfucking queen. If she goes down, they go down. I’m not nineteen anymore. I am no longer weak. I’m twenty-nine and one of the most feared women in the underbelly of this city. My name is whispered on lips on Wall Street as often as it’s discussed across a game of poker with Italian Mafia. I learned from the best. Now I am the best. They call me Ghost because I hide in the shadows. No one ever sees me coming.
Pulling back from Ali, I give her a moment to wipe her eyes and pull herself together. While the hustle and bustle of the precinct swoops into the small space, I nearly miss Mason’s quick glance down to my chest where I’m unconsciously gripping the dog tags hanging around my neck, but the frown that follows is impossible not to notice. I remove my coat, the heat of his stare warming me on the inside in a way I despise but long for all at the same time. I tuck the military tags safely under my top, but Mason’s expression stays the same. I guess when you’re a woman my age wearing a man’s dog tags close to your heart most would assume they are your lover’s. Mine are my father’s, but I guess he doesn’t know that.
“Well, thank you again for saving me earlier as well, and Mason…” I use his first name. “Those tags aren’t what you’re thinking.” Without so much as waiting for a response, I link my arm through Ali’s and guide her out of the crowded precinct. What reaction I was hoping for by assuring him I’m not already spoken for, I’m not certain. What possessed me to even tell him, I have no idea. I knew I would never pursue him, but a small selfish part of me was still seeking reassurance that if I wanted him, I could have him.
“Good to know!” Echoes from behind me and I tuck my head down as I walk, doing my best to hide the smile on my face creeping up into full view.
I’d like to say I don’t turn back around. With any other man, I wouldn’t. I’d play him to perfection and have him eating out of the palm of my hand. But all my common sense left me for dead right around the time he made my body heat up with his very first touch. He’s pleasure and excitement wrapped in muscle and tied together by danger.
With only the comfort of my bed in mind, I glance back for one last look at the man who saved my life today. If we’re both lucky, we’ll never see each other again. Despite the aura of roughness protecting him like a shield, the undeniable truth of his integrity shines through, and that would be his undoing, his weakness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lindsey
In the beginning, guilt consumed me.
A few years later, I could swallow past it.
Now, I’ve become so numb, I can’t tell you what it feels like.
Our taxi pulls into the curb and the five-story exposed brick building greets me with a sense of tranquility. My home, my safe haven, it’s the one place I’m free to sit alone and just be me. I barely take another step before I’m swallowed into two strong arms, squeezing me to the point my air supply is cut short. Cologne sweeps up my nose and I recognize the scent instantly.
“Olly, I can’t breathe. Let me go.”
Breathing easy again, I brace for the endless questions to come.
With wide eyes, he puts out his hands resting them on my shoulders while he assesses my physical trauma. “What the fuck happened to you?” His eyebrows draw together as he checks out Alison’s split lip. “Why do you both look like shit? You’re a hot mess. Where have you been? I was so worried. I’ve been trying to call you all morning and by lunch time, I was ready to send out a search party.” Pain lurks behind his deep brown eyes and I regret not calling him earlier.
Rubbing my hands along my arms for warmth, the chill on my chest lessens while the bareness of my limbs divulge the lack of Chanel threads that clothed my skin a mere hour ago. Ugh, I was too caught up in Detective Mason Cole’s allure to remember to pick it up on the way out. I curse him and myself.
“Well, Olly, we were a little tied up and unable to call. Come on, let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.”
The thought of leaving my favorite coat behind, dampens my mood beyond repair, but the radiating pain of my freshly bruised skin and throbbing joints scream at me for rest and strong pain killers.
Opening the door to the loft, I push through and hold it open for Ali and Olly. Ali falls straight onto the couch, while Olly heads for the kitchen on the other side of the room.
“Well, geez, just make yourselves at home, guys,” I mutter, taking off my scarf and hanging it on the hat stand beside the door.
Pulling out some juice from the fridge, Oliver takes a swig from the bottle before putting it away. “Lindsey, after the hell I put our staff through today from worrying over you, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell happened. We’re going to talk about this,”—he motions his hand up and down the length of me—“and then work shit.”
I glance over to Alison to see if she’s listening, but the light snores drifting from her let me know she’s asleep. Nodding toward the bedroom at Olly, he follows me in, closing the door softly behind him. It’s not that I have secrets from Ali. She has some idea of how we’ve survived all these years, but not the gritty details. What she doesn’t know can’t bring harm to her. The less she knows the better, which is something we actually agreed on. I sigh, taking in the safety of my bedroom, and my bed. My aching body believes it’s never looked so enticing. The loft might not be an apartment in Midtown with a jaw-dropping view of Central Park, but it still cost me a pretty penny and is special nonetheless. Its beauty is within—the floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of stories, the restored vintage furniture, my walk-in closet full of beautiful clothing, and the soft pink roses in the middle of my coffee table. This is my own private sanctuary with high ceilings and chic décor most women would be envious of.
Already guessing the ‘work shit’ we need to discuss, I prepare to ask the one question I’m dreading the answer to. If he’s fucked this up, our client won’t be pleased. While we no longer worked for Giuseppe, we still took on jobs for the right price. We worked for ourselves and our rules were simple: criminals only. We don’t hurt the innocent. I tell myself it’s okay—they’re rapists, drug dealers, gangsters, felons. They deserve what’s coming to them. It’s the only way I can live, to push through without hating myself for what I’m doing every moment and thereafter.
Turning my back to Olly, I undress, starting with my stained white silk top.
“So, what happened with Marissa? I’m guessing by your mood right now things went south.” Aiming for my grey wingback armchair sitting in the corner of the room, I throw my clothing in that direction. In just my bra and panties, I head into my closet for clean clothes.
“Yeah, you could say that. If by it going south, you mean walking in on her working south on her fucking drug dealer.”
I jerk my head back out to look at Olly, eyebrows raised in shock. “No shit, seriously?”
Well, that’s an unexpected turn of events we could work with.
Letting out a long sigh, he flops onto my bed. “Yeah, seriously, Linds.”
No eye contact, no confident attitude. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the bitch has done a number on him. Never once, in the seventeen years of having Oliver Davenport by my side, have I ever seen the man look emotionally affected by a living, breathing woman who isn’t his foster mother. You’d never guess it now after taking in his well-dressed appearance, but he grew up in the system after his parents were killed in a drive–by shooting when he was ten years old. He originally came from an elite family in New York. They were wealthy and loving, and they adored their only son according to the tales Oliver shared with me. But with no other family to take him in, Olly became a child of the state and lost in the system. At eighteen, he was to receive his trust fund, the money left for him from his parents. But his foster mother stole every cent and had her boyfriend beat him half to death. She was one hell of an asshole.
Throwing an arm over his face, he grunts in obvious frustration. He has to know this thing with Marissa would never end any differently than any other job. The outcome is always the same. They end up dead, and we get paid. They are a business deal, one people pay an exceptionally high price for. We’re hit men, contract killers. In this business, there are no feelings. There is no trust, no loyalty.
I walk back out from the closet, a fresh set of clothes in hand. “Well, she just made our job a whole lot easier.”
“Yeah, guess she did.” Olly’s voice breaks as he sits up. Hunching his shoulders forward, he stares vacantly out my bedroom window. What had she done to him? She’s the Madame of a brothel in Brooklyn that pimps out underage girls. What the hell could Olly see in her?
“Hey.” I walk over and put my palm to his cheek. “Are you all right?” I pause, brows knitted. I want to fill his head with hope, wishing him nothing but happiness. But it can’t happen, not with her.
“This one’s got you all twisted up, hasn’t she?”
Leaning into my hand, he turns his gaze to me and I’m overwhelmed by feelings I’d rather keep buried. The sadness in his eyes is all it takes to cause my heart to ache and a need to lift his spirits. Oliver can sell the perfect lie to even the weariest of people, but not with me. We’re two peas in a pod, best friends for years. His perfect disguise for the rest of the world does nothing to conceal the true identity of the man behind the beautiful face. Oliver runs his hands through his hair. “I just didn’t see it coming. There’s something about her that doesn’t seem all bad. I should have seen this coming though. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.” I frown, worrying his guard is down, an uncommon occurrence and a potentially deadly one.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You know as well as I do she isn’t a good person. Now,”—I point in the direction of my bathroom—“I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. Then I’m going to sleep for a few hours. You’re going to get your shit together and stop moping around like someone stole your porn stash, and later, we’ll head out for a drink. I’ll fill you in about earlier and then we’ll drown ourselves in alcohol and temporarily forget all about this horrible damn day. Deal?”
Olly smiles. “Okay.”
***
My long hair cascades down my back as I pull it out from under the tan leather jacket I threw on over my white sheer top. I step into my navy skinny jeans and move to the mirror to check over the light touch of makeup I applied. The last thing I felt like doing was getting up, but I did. Only because Olly had been banging the door down for me to ‘hurry my ass up’ for the past ten minutes.
“You ready to head down to The Vic?” I yell from the bedroom as I search for my clutch bag.
“Looking for this?” Ali stands at the door, leaning a shoulder on the doorframe and waving around the bag in question.
“Argh! Yes!” Collecting my clutch, I kiss her cheek. “Thanks, babe. Go rest and don’t go anywhere while I’m out, okay? I’ll be back soon. And P.S., if I come home and find you off your face, you’re out. You know the rules when you’re under this roof.”
Searching for Ali’s eyes, she eventually meets mine. Her guilt–stricken face is brutal on my heart and, for a second, I question leaving her alone tonight. I should stay with her, comfort her if she needs me to, Lord knows the day took an unexpected toll on both of us, but the girl is as easy to crack open as a vault in a bank.
Alison rolls her eyes before turning around and I follow her down the hall to find Olly. “Don’t worry so much, Lindsey. I have a date with Jon Snow and the couch.”
She flicks on the television mounted on the wall. I shake my head, astounded. Not at her mention of Game of Thrones, but because she baffles me. After everything she’s been through today, she sits here now, comfortable and without a care in the world. Just the thought of her being sent to prison sends me into panic mode, but it doesn’t seem to have the same effect on her. “Oliver’s waiting outside for you by the way. He had to make a call,” she says, ungluing her eyes from the screen to look at me.
“Okay, cool, well, I’ll be back later.” I slip into my grey ankle boots and give Ali one last look that tells her I’m only half-joking. “Behave, Mrs. Snow.”
“Never fear, sister. I may never leave this very spot.”
CHAPTER SIX
Lindsey
It’s wrong. We’ve broken the law. We’ve lied, cheated, and taken lives. The worst part, we’re still doing it, and while I’m not proud of some of the choices I’ve made, I refuse to be reduced by them.
The small heels of my boots click in a rhythm along the city sidewalk. The streets are lined with beautifully restored warehouses turned lofts and apartments, now homes to the millionaires of SoHo. Passing a few quaint restaurants, a glowing gold sign with the words The Victory on it, catches my attention. The small low-key bar is just a few minutes from greeting me with the wafting smell of alcohol and cigarettes from the smokers out front. Mumbling something about a deadline and his day at the office, I tune Olly out, my own work dilemmas moving to the forefront of my mind.
Some days if I could take it all back, I would. When I sit in my office of my million dollar publishing company and remember how I got there, anger boils inside. Heating my veins with so many contradicting feelings, I worry my heart might explode right out of my chest. But I paid my dues to the devil. The work I do there is honest, long. It’s where my heart lies, within the pages of manuscripts filled with stories I can get lost in, like I did as a child. When my reality was scary and traumatizing, I could hide under the covers and live in a fictional world where all little girls lived happily ever after.
But no amount of right, no amount of honesty, can wash away the blood from my hands or the lies in the other half of my life. To my company, I am Lindsey Jenkins, CEO of Davenport & Jenkins Publications. I am kind but strong. I’m firm but fair. I’m nice, goddamn it. To the criminals of New York City, I am Ghost. The woman you need, but really don’t want. I’ll steal your money, maybe your heart, and always your life.
Mason
“Dude, why are we here again?” My best friend, Roamyn Tate, asks as we take in the small and apparently cool bar in SoHo. Every booth and seat is taken, the backless swivel stools at the bar’s counter are crowded by women and men in suits. My gaze wanders to the small wooden stage where a guy, probably in his twenties, belts out song lyrics while he kills it on an acoustic guitar. The small masses of little lights illuminate the entire roof in cool patterns and I’m momentarily dazed by how much I think I’m going to enjoy this place.
“This is where Lindsey Jenkins is tonight. She left her coat on my desk, remember? I’m just dropping it off to her.” I shrug. Normally the last thing I would want to be doing on a Monday night is sit in a bar, waiting on a woman I don’t even know. But her eyes, they told a complicated story; one I was sure I wanted to learn from the moment she opened her smart mouth, calling me an asshole. She had a magnetic pull about her and I couldn’t stop the connection, even if I wanted to. Which I did, she was involved in a world I’ve been trying to put an end to. She might not have been the one holding a gun, but she was there when they pulled the trigger. And despite knowing that, witnessing it, my cock still throbs to sink inside her, in more ways than fucking one.
“And you knew she would be here how exactly?”
Two patrons leave their stools. I nudge Roam and gesture to the vacant seats. Less than a minute after sitting my ass down, a pretty little bartender takes our drink order. With Lindsey’s coat in one hand and my beer in the other, I scan the room for her, but she’s nowhere in sight. When she left her coat on my desk earlier, I contemplated my options. I could have kept it professional, called and told her it was here for her to collect. It’s what I should have done. Instead, I caved into a temptation I have no chance at coming back from.
“Rang Lindsey earlier. Her sister answered her phone, said she was in the shower. Told her I’d drop the coat off but she said if I wanted to see Lindsey, I’d need to come here because this is where she’d be.”
Roam’s lips curve into the signature smirk known for getting him laid. Taking a gulp of my beer, I prepare for the smartass comment bound to leave his mouth any moment now. He’s been giving me shit about women for years.
“If I didn’t know you any better, Mase, I’d say you’re keen on the older Jenkins sister.”
I shrug half-heartedly and he chuckles in response. “I’m not, asshole. Just doing a nice thing by returning her stuff.”
The words sounded smoother in my head. Now I just look fucking obvious.
“Yeah, you keep tellin’ yourself that,” Roamyn taunts before chugging down the rest of his drink.
He nudges my arm with his elbow in an attempt to be discrete, but it has the opposite effect. “Incoming, two o’clock.”
Two blondes make their way toward us, one curving into my side and the other into Roamyn.
“Hi, boys,” the eye candy now wrapped around Roamyn’s arm purrs as the woman by my side rubs her hand up and down my arm, trying to get my attention. Feeling overheated and annoyed by her touch, I shake the blonde off, removing her hand from my bicep. Maybe then she’ll get the message. Not interested. My mind’s too clouded by another woman.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, the sound not registering in my ears over the loud music. Pulling it out enough to see the screen, Cora’s name pops up with a short message: Charlotte’s already asleep. Must have been tired.
My lips curve into a small smile as thoughts of my little girl flood my heart with affection.
Four years ago, my world was turned on its axis. It would never be the same again. My priorities adjusted to meet the needs of a five-year-old, one whose life means more to me than my own. As I journeyed through fatherhood blindly at the time, I made a grave mistake, one costing innocent people their lives. It sent me into a downward spiral of self-destruction. I fell into a mundane pattern of living without really living. I existed each day if only for her, while I endured the torment of the lost souls.
Charlotte, work, Charlotte and repeat.
Would the guilt ever subside? It wasn’t every night, but every time it was torture.
At twenty-eight years of age, I had no ambition to procreate. One day I expected to settle down, happily build a family with the right woman. But that day was yet to come. Then out of the blue, Children’s Services walked into the precinct with my five-year-old daughter in tow. A child I never knew existed.
Two days before, my college girlfriend, Victoria, and her daughter had a car accident. The impact of smashing metal so forceful it killed Victoria instantaneously, leaving behind a scared little girl, orphaned and alone. Until Children’s Services found me, her biological father, according to Charlotte Lily Cole’s birth certificate.
I wasn’t ready to be a father. There was no nine months to prepare for what was to come. Charlotte was propelled into my life as much as I was into hers. A signature here, an exchanging of details there, and suddenly I was a parent. Fear crept in, would I be a good father? I came from a good family. I had two loving parents, could I do this? One smile from her, the hope in her eyes and the moment she called me Dad, there became no option but to be the best father I could be.
Anger bottled up inside of me for weeks after. How could Victoria not tell me? We were never in love with one another, but were good friends. We even kept in touch after we went our separate ways. We never shared an epic love; our story wasn’t one full of passion, rather convenience and fun. Yet together, we created the most perfect person. Victoria wasn’t my forever, but Charlotte is.
Roamyn’s hand waves inches from my face, drawing me from my thoughts. “Earth to Mason. Where’s your head at, man? Those chicks were hot. If you don’t start using that dick of yours soon, it’s gonna shrivel the fuck up,” he jokes. I laugh. He’s probably right. It’s been a year.
I shake my head, smirking before I take a pull of my beer. “My dick’s just fine, but it thanks you for your concern.”
He turns sideways on his stool, now facing me with a shit-eating grin from ear to ear.
“So no pussy tonight, huh?” He reaches for his drink off the bar before turning back to me. “Not even a sweet little brunette, small perky tits, great ass?”
“Not interested in an easy lay, man.” I loosen the knot in my tie, the tightness around my neck suddenly irritating. I open my mouth to speak as Roamyn coughs in a fucking obvious attempt to subtly tell me to shut the hell up. How he pulls off undercover work without blowing his cover beats the shit out of me.
If the smirk on his face didn’t give away the fact someone is behind me, his eyes on that someone would have.
“Well now, that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think, Detective Cole? This little brunette is no easy lay. Although, Detective Tate, thank you for the compliments. You’re great for my ego.”
Shit. I stiffen at the mention of my name slipping past her perfect lips. Fuck, it sounded good. The smooth tone of her voice flushes a spike of adrenaline through me. Slowly swiveling on my stool, I prepare to face a pissed-off Lindsey. Fucking Roam, the shit-stirrer baited me, all the while knowing she was within hearing distance.
Shocking the shit out of me, a twinkle of mischief adorns her beautiful face. Along with a slight smile unveiling two dimples, defined in each of her cheeks. Well, I’ll be damned. She just gets sexier.
The smile gives her away. She obviously thinks she’s caught me in a weak moment, the element of surprise leaving me unable to validate a response. Maybe she even thinks I’m embarrassed. I’m not usually a cocky bastard, and any other time I’d think fuck it and get back to another drink. No woman I’d met was ever worthy of a goddamn chase. But the thought of challenging Lindsey, the excitement, the thrill, it awakens a part of the old me lying dormant. The carefree me who doesn’t have the blood of innocent children on his hands. I had a feeling provoking her would be much like poking one scary-ass bear, and if my mind wasn’t already made up, it didn’t matter. My cock had spoken for me, and it wanted Lindsey Jenkins.
“Really, is that so?” I respond, my tone sharp. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we’ll find out if there’s any truth behind your words. What do you say?”
I appreciate her from the ground up, stopping when my gaze meets hers. A silent war passes between us, the gleam in her eyes telling me game on.
She smiles and folds one arm over the other, popping a hip out as she changes stance.
“Well, since it looks like you’ve brought me my coat, I guess I owe you a drink.”
A male arm drapes over her shoulders and immediately Roamyn and I are alert. On the job or not, our cop instincts are like second nature, kicking in constantly. I grip my beer tighter, resisting the urge to rip the dude’s arm off her.
“Lindsey, babe. Who are your friends?” He smiles kindly, but I don’t miss the underlying suspicion in his tone. Lindsey turns in his grip and steps out from his arms, flipping her long straight hair behind her.
“Oh, right. Olly, this is Detective Cole and Detective Tate.” She smiles as she spins back around to face us again. Maybe he isn’t her man.
“Remember I told you about them earlier?” She moves beside me, sitting down on the now empty stool. I guess she’s staying for that drink.
“Nice to meet you both.” He extends his hand for me to shake and I return the sentiment with a sharp nod before he does the same with Roamyn. His shake is firm, his expression pinched. A knot forms in my stomach; something is off with this guy.
“And you are?” I ask.
Lindsey interrupts before he can answer. “This is Oliver.”
“This your man, Lindsey?” Roamyn pipes up.
“No, I’m not,” he replies, turning his head toward Lindsey. “More like Lindsey’s… partner in crime.”
He smiles at her playfully. Her face pales, features falling, but she covers it up quickly with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. A moment of silence passes; the awkwardness in our little group growing rapidly with the lasers of fury Lindsey’s throwing at Oliver. Their silent conversation speaks volumes. I just have no clue what it’s about.
She glances in Roamyn’s direction and mine. “Well, gentlemen, how about that drink? I’m guessing you’re here with my coat so you can return it, unless you two are suddenly having casual drinks at the bar I visit regularly. Or is there something else I should know about, Detective Cole?” Her brows are wrinkled as she eyes me suspiciously. What is she searching for?
I stare into her greyish-blue eyes. “No, just here to return what belongs to you.”
A small smile spreads over Lindsey’s face and she exhales air like she was holding in a breath, waiting on my response. Odd. What is it about this woman? I make a living solving puzzles and I’m fucking good at it. But Lindsey, she’s a mystery, an unsolved puzzle luring me in piece by piece. A game set out to test my limits gives her a power over me that I’m not entirely comfortable with.
“In that case, thank you. I appreciate it. Let me buy you both a round to say thanks.”
Lindsey motions to the bartender for another round of beers before grabbing her coat and saying goodbye to us. Without even a second to get a word in, she’s gone. Pulling Oliver by the hand to the back of the bar.
All night I watch her. I watch her beautiful face light up at another man’s words. Her hips sway while in another man’s embrace. Just when I think I can’t bear to see any more, she stops dancing. Her lust-filled eyes capture mine and desire shoots straight to my semi-hard cock. I don’t know if the look is fueled by an over indulgence of alcohol, but I don’t care. I bask in the glory of a feeling I’ve long since lost, because for the first time in years, I have hope.
