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Dark Deeds Page 11


  “I imagine it was hard for you...having to lie to your coworkers,” she said.

  He shrugged as if it were nothing, but something dark, something like pain, moved across his features. They’d been rough on him, then. Shit. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him.

  “If you hadn’t accepted this job, you wouldn’t have been there to save Selina. You gave her a new life.” Becca hoped reminding Diego of the good he’d done, saving someone’s life, would obliterate the pain in his eyes.

  “I could have ruined everything, but when I saw her there...she looked so much like Natalee.”

  “That must have been hard.” Becca wanted to go to him, to hug him to her, but she sensed he didn’t want that.

  “At least I could save her, you know?”

  Yeah, Becca did know. She hadn’t been able to save herself, or her friend, from pain years ago, but she’d dedicated every waking moment to helping others avoid similar fates.

  “Did you tell the Circle I’d be coming to Brooklyn? Is that why the building was cleared out? Did they move more girls?” The hurt at his decision to go behind her back stung like betrayal, but she couldn’t blame him. She was doing the same thing to him.

  Diego shook his head. “It was all for your own safety...and I needed to see if they’d resumed the Cattle Call.”

  “Cattle Call?”

  “Their human trafficking operation. They put their victims up on display like cattle.”

  “Display how?”

  “Usually private chat rooms or video viewing sites that are by invite only.” His face was set with determination. “You asked me why I took this job to work with you? I’ve seen what the Circle can do. I won’t let them touch you like they do their other victims. I’ll protect you.”

  His words pulled at her, making her want that connection again. She stood and moved in front of his chair until his knees bumped hers and he was looking up at her. She ran a hand over his soft dark hair. “And you? Who’s going to protect me from you? You make me want to make bad decisions. I can’t do that again.”

  His pupils dilated ever so slightly. His nostrils flared as if inhaling her. His hands came up to her hips, and her body screamed an affirmative response. She leaned toward him, wanting him to yank her dress up and over her head and press his hot mouth to her belly.

  But he didn’t. His fingers dug in slightly—just before he gently nudged her away and got to his feet. The rejection stung.

  “When’s the flight tomorrow?” He gave her a wide berth as he moved toward the door.

  She swallowed her disappointment at his all-business tone. You wanted this. You wanted him to stay back. “One o’clock. If you can get tickets.”

  “Damian said Catherine would take care of it.”

  “Then it’s as good as taken care of.” She couldn’t meet his gaze, humiliated that she’d nearly thrown herself at him. She’d read the signals wrong. Apparently, she’d learned nothing in the past eight years.

  “Are you sure you want to come to Chicago?” she asked, hoping to create some distance again. “You have Circle contacts here in New York City. You could just send me any information you find that might pertain to Samantha’s disappearance. Besides, you’re working hard to get your reputation on track. Surely, you don’t want to jeopardize that now just to babysit me.”

  He stalked toward her but stopped just out of reach. Restraint was etched in every taut muscle. “I would do anything to protect you. Including keeping my hands off you when all I want to do is rip that silky dress in half, toss you to the bed and not let you up for a week, maybe longer. But we can’t.” His words became strangled, as if torn unwillingly from his throat.

  “We’ve worked together before, and were able to keep sex and work separate.”

  “You weren’t in immediate danger then. And we know how that time ended. I don’t want to go through that again.”

  Had he actually been hurt when she’d left? She’d assumed he’d slip right back into his life and forget about her, other than some fond memory. She’d needed to get out before the pain began.

  “We both need to keep our heads for this one,” he said. “I’m focused solely on keeping you safe. Which is why I need to move into your apartment for the week.”

  “What?” What would it be like to have Diego Sandoval to herself, nonstop, uninterrupted, for an entire week? And what would it be like not to touch him? Sheer hell.

  “It’s the best way to make sure you’re safe, and to make the best use of the short time we have to investigate together.” He moved to the door before she could form a logical argument against such torture. “Good night, Becca. Don’t let anyone in.”

  A groan escaped as he shut the door behind him. Words to live by.

  Saturday, 11:42 p.m.

  Auburn Gresham neighborhood, Chicago

  Eve was on her own again. But she was used to that. If you couldn’t count on yourself to get things done, who could you count on?

  Patrick wasn’t answering his phone. Nico wasn’t answering his phone. But she had a story to tell, so she’d tell it without them. She unloaded a couple bags of groceries from her car and made her way to the steps that led up to her apartment.

  “Midnight snack?” Nico’s shadowy form emerged from the dark area beneath the stairs.

  She dropped a grocery bag on her foot. “Son of a—” She clutched at her chest a moment, then rubbed her sore foot. “Anybody ever tell you not to sneak up on a woman in the middle of the night?”

  Nico bent to scoop up an apple that had rolled away. “Anybody ever tell you not to come home alone, near midnight, in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city? Why the hell do you live here, anyway? With your looks and talent, you could have some anchorwoman’s job behind a desk in a cushy studio, living far away from the south side of Chicago.”

  She ignored the delight she felt that Nico found her attractive. She’d had recurring sex dreams about him for months, but wasn’t sure if she’d been imagining the spark between them. Instead, she focused on the more important part of his statement. “You think I’m talented?”

  He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise.”

  Chosen you. The words sent a thrill through her.

  “Yeah, well, it would be nice if you’d call first. And if you’d let me air the story you’ve been giving me, maybe I would land one of those cushy jobs.” Not that she wanted a desk job. It sounded boring.

  Nico lifted the bag she’d dropped and gestured to the stairs, indicating they should continue their conversation inside. On the second floor, she balanced the other bag as she unlocked her door, leaving it open for Nico to follow her in. As on his previous few visits, awareness of him heated her skin. She set her bag on the counter, then turned on a single lamp, which created the illusion of intimacy. It was only the two of them, and the rest of the world didn’t exist. Except it did.

  Nico set the bag on the counter, then rinsed the apple and took a bite. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She cocked her head, trying to remember. “Why I live here?”

  He nodded, then poked through her groceries, separating them into perishables and nonperishables as if he were Joe Homebody.

  “I grew up here. It’s where the stories are.”

  His gaze pinned her. “And?”

  She grinned, loving that he seemed to know her, to know when she was holding back. “And I want to make a difference here. Give back, you know?”

  His eyes darkened. “Again, that’s why I chose you.”

  “So can I tell your story yet?” Her breath caught at the possibilities. The networks would be scrambling to air her pieces. Setting up a rogue website that reported gritty stories and aired video clips of her on the scene, wherever the news was, was her idea of an audition tape, and she’d finally been gaining some recognition in the field. But she wasn’t at the pinnacle yet.

  “Not yet.”

  He worried about the Circle finding
out he’d been talking to her over the past few months, feeding her information, so their deal meant she couldn’t reveal a shred of information until he gave her the go-ahead. She’d have a front-row seat when the Circle went down in flames. For now, he showed up out of the blue every few weeks with some tidbit about the Circle’s activities in town. The group had supposedly disintegrated a decade ago, but rumors on the street over the past couple years indicated they were gaining a foothold again. And in her neighborhood, no less. What she couldn’t figure out was Nico’s agenda. To know what he knew, he had to work for them, which begged the question, why was he biting the hand that fed him, which also meant screwing over the most dangerous people in town? That was why Eve hadn’t revealed his juicy stories yet. Because she knew the moment she did, he’d be dead.

  “Did Becca Haney back off?” Nico asked.

  Eve shook her head. “I sent an anonymous message to her boss, but I’m not sure it worked. They’re not even in town at the moment.”

  “Thanks for trying.” Nico’s scowl deepened. Eve had done some quick investigative work after he’d contacted her yesterday. He’d tipped her off to the dead prostitute, and asked that, in exchange, she find a way to get Becca to back off with her investigations.

  “Why is she so important?”

  “I need her to back away. She met with someone recently...a victim I don’t want the Circle to recover. Becca’s getting too close to the truth.”

  Which meant she was putting his mission in danger. “She’s supposed to be back in town tomorrow, according to my source. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” He finished the apple, but instead of tossing the core in the trash, he tucked it in his pocket. The man didn’t trust easily. Then again, she had considered sending the core to the lab for DNA testing to find out who her mystery man really was. For all she knew, Nico could be a murderer.

  “The woman from the alley, Fanta, what do you know about her?”

  Nico rubbed a hand against the shadow of stubble on his jaw. “Someone mentioned that a body had been found. It had been branded with the Circle’s mark, and left in their territory, but it wasn’t done by us.”

  Us. He identified with the Circle, yet was betraying them. There was a deeper, grittier story here, she was certain. “You’re sure the Circle had nothing to do with it?”

  “I’m sure. What they can’t figure out is why someone would use their brand. A copycat? A taunt? One thing is clear—women with their brand don’t usually get thrown away like that.”

  “What usually happens?” Eve wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but the journalist in her was screaming at her to follow up. She sensed a major story.

  “They’re sold on the black market. And not just women, either. Children, too. Like pieces of meat.”

  Eve’s stomach churned with the dual impact of a revolting scenario and an exciting lead. She had to find Patrick and get a formal story together about human trafficking. She’d leave Nico out of this, of course, and rely on digging up other sources to find answers.

  “I should go.” Nico stood.

  Eve felt a pang of loneliness. He was going to leave, and she was going to make a sad, late-night microwave dinner for one.

  “Stay for dinner,” she said. “I can whip up some pasta and sauce in no time.”

  He laughed. “It’s nearly time for breakfast.”

  “I work odd hours. We can have an omelet instead.”

  “And I thought I was the only crazy one.” Nico eyed the groceries on the counter, then her. His gaze hesitated on her mouth, her best feature. It was wide, with straight white teeth.

  “I can’t,” Nico said.

  It was the same response he always gave, despite the hunger—and not just for food, but for companionship—she read in his eyes. What inner prison kept him from accepting a simple kindness from a friend?

  She shrugged as if she wasn’t hurt. “Maybe next time.”

  Regret flitted across his face before he pulled on his steel armor. There would be no dinner the next time, or the time after that. He was using her for some purpose. Had chosen her to help him in his cause.

  She was just a means to an end.

  Maybe she’d skip the dinner and head straight for the bag of Oreos.

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday, 2:08 p.m.

  JFK International Airport, New York City

  “Breathe.” Diego’s command was whispered in Becca’s ear from the seat next to her on the plane.

  “Easier said than done,” Becca said.

  “The Fan probably isn’t on the same flight.”

  Just in case, though, they’d carefully scanned faces in the boarding area and as people got on the plane. Nobody looked familiar or overly interested in Becca.

  Diego sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I took your boyfriend’s seat.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. She wasn’t moping about him trading seats with Matt so that Diego could stick close to her. “His name is Matt and he’s not my boyfriend.”

  Diego glanced toward the first class area where Matt was sipping a Bloody Mary. “So who did I give up my choice seat to?”

  “My brother.”

  Diego’s eyes widened, and he laughed. “I should have seen that.” But when passion interfered, sometimes people were blind to the obvious. Which was why Diego’s decision to keep things platonic was wise.

  Before the doors closed and electronic devices were stowed, she checked her emails on her phone. And stiffened as she hastily scanned one that had come from James.

  We’re bound to bump into each other, living in the same city. Hope to see you soon, and finish where we left off.

  Part of her hoped she’d bump into him—in a dark alley where she could show him what she’d learned since he’d last taken advantage of a half-dozen young women who’d attended the same university. But the grown-up, responsible part of her knew that would be a bad idea. Continuing to ignore him was the best plan. She wouldn’t respond to his provocation.

  Becca switched off her phone before Diego saw the email, then tried to do as he’d recommended, taking a deep breath, even though it went against every warning in her head. She didn’t want to relax or be reasonable around him. She wanted to throw a full-on fit, like some toddler who wasn’t getting her way, and insist he stay behind in New York City. Because if she couldn’t have him in her bed—another bad idea—then her frustration would keep building, and she’d rather not have him around at all.

  A flight attendant announced the closure of the cabin door and insisted they prepare themselves for takeoff. Becca took another breath and braced herself for two hours hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder, in a metal box, several miles in the air, with the biggest temptation to face her gender since Eve was offered the apple. The heat of Diego’s body engulfed her in a way that wasn’t so much uncomfortable as comforting—which made her uncomfortably aware of him. Now that he’d committed to keeping his hands off her, she seemed even more aware of her aching need to have his hands on her.

  He grinned as if he knew exactly what effect his body was having on hers. “Need some air?” He reached for the nozzle above their heads, but increasing the airflow only seemed to send his scent her way.

  One hour and fifty-eight minutes to go.

  Becca gritted her teeth as Diego stretched out in his window seat, aligning their legs from hip to knee. She caught Catherine sending her an amused look from across the aisle. As Damian’s ever-efficient assistant, Catherine had made the travel arrangements and ensured that Diego could join their flight at the last minute. He’d been at her door at nine this morning, packed bag in hand, ready to escort her to breakfast.

  After the plane leveled off and the seatbelt sign turned off, Matt appeared at their row. He asked the stranger on her left if he could trade seats with him for a moment. The man gladly retired to the First Class cabin. Matt had sent several curious glances Becca’s way since they’d left the hotel, but hadn’t asked any questions when Becca expla
ined Diego would be coming home with them. Which shocked the hell out of Becca. Her brothers weren’t known for their silence...or their tact, especially where she was concerned. It looked like her reprieve was over.

  She sighed, realizing one more of her defenses was about to be razed. “Matt, this is Detective Diego Sandoval. Diego, meet Matt, Brother Number Four.”

  “Four?” She felt a smidge better at Diego’s expression of horror.

  She nodded. “Four. All older.”

  Matt leaned across her to hold out his right hand to Diego. “I take it I’m allowed to talk to you now.”

  Diego shook her brother’s hand. She didn’t like the look the guys were sending each other. As if they were about to share their Becca stories and commiserate over a cold beer.

  One hour and forty-nine minutes left...

  Sunday, 3:53 p.m.

  O’Hare International Airport, Chicago

  Becca survived the flight, but the worst was yet to come. She’d be spending an entire week with Diego.

  “You doing okay?” Catherine sidled up to her as the group watched the baggage carousel for their luggage.

  Matt, Diego and Damian were all within hearing, so Becca couldn’t very well complain. “With all the attention I’m getting, how could I not be okay?”

  Concern crinkled Catherine’s forehead as she caught the sarcasm. “Attention?”

  “Someone who calls himself the SSAM Fan, who’s been sending notes, pictures and links to Damian, has recently started sending things to me as well.”

  She paled, her eyes going wide. “I think he sent me something.”

  “What?”

  “I found a copy of The Scarlet Letter outside my door this morning. I thought a hotel guest had dropped it, so I checked inside for a name and found a strange inscription. Didn’t make sense to me, but I didn’t think it was important at the time, either.”