Wild Dirty Secret(53)
“By that point, the guy is usually too far gone to notice,” I admitted.
“I wouldn’t go so easily.”
No, he wouldn’t. Even though his thumb stroked the column of my neck and his mouth grazed the curve of my ear, this wasn’t surrender. If I were to pull up my skirts right here, right now, he wouldn’t take me.
“Then don’t tease,” I said crossly. “There’s a word for people who do that.”
His laugh turned husky. “I’m not the one holding back. But that will change. Very soon.”
Before I could process that unnerving declaration, he stiffened and stepped back, letting the stale stink of the street flood between us. In his raised hand, I recognized the ominous shape of a gun. My heart beat an erratic tattoo of fear and disbelief—and relief. This would be the end.
His voice turned cold as he said, “What is this?”
Mine. The gun was mine, not his. He wasn’t going to use it on me. Of course not. I wasn’t going to be shot again—what were the odds? I blinked away the sense of inevitability that had claimed me for a few surreal moments.
“A girl’s got to protect herself. Surely you didn’t expect me to meet you unarmed, now that I’m without that lovely security of headquarters.”
Even in the dark, I could see his scowl. Or maybe just feel it wafting in the air, slipping along the invisible cord that connected us.
“Ah, so we are back to that. I wonder what I would have to do to make you trust me.”
“Don’t sell me out to your boss. That’s a start.”
“Because of what I did, what you did, I’m walking around with his boot shoved up my ass. Try again.”
Stop using me. Want me. Fight for me. “I want you to go inside that club and pretend to be my pimp. Help me get proof that the girl was kidnapped. Even if she played a part in their deaths, which she didn’t, it would have been within her rights. Self-defense.”
“And you? If you’re serious about clearing her legally, that’s going to mean taking this to my boss. It means working with the DA. It means testifying.”
Every cell in my body revolted at that idea. “That’s what she deserves. She should have her life back, a clear name. She deserves a regular life.”
“It means going public with your identity, with what you did. Everyone in Chicago will know.” His tone was grim.
“Afraid of what people would think of me?” I asked, feigning disinterest, though the idea of him ashamed of me made my insides tighten.
“I’m afraid of what your father will do if it comes out,” he said quietly. “I’m fucking terrified of what you’ll do if he lashes out at you.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that he knew. He had seen every crack and flaw in me, so why not this? Even stranger that Luke should worry about such an eventuality. Surely it would happen one day. So strong was my certainty that it had never occurred to me to fear it. Luke would be reunited with his long-lost prostitute, and I would be returned to the waiting hands of my father, both of us where we belonged. No reason to worry over it, no reason to fret.
“I’ll be fine,” I said gently, feeling unaccountably protective. Did he stay up nights worrying about each of his informants, about each prostitute he tried to help? Did it break his heart to think of his lost love in my place? Even the thought of her couldn’t dampen my warmth toward him. A man in love was a beautiful thing, even if he wasn’t in love with me.
“If we go in there, then it’s real. I’m really your pimp. You do whatever I say.”
I smiled. “Playing out a fantasy? I like that.”
“I’m not kidding. Going in there half-cocked is asking for trouble.” He put up his hand. “Don’t say anything.”
“Wasn’t going to. Too easy.”
“I’m just worried that you—” He turned away, the troubled sound of his voice ringing through the chilly night air.
“That I can’t cut it? Oh, come on.” And here I’d been worried about him being able to handle himself in disguise. “I’ve done worse than this. I’ve lived this.”
“No, you haven’t. Not like this, in the slums. Half the time, you look like you belong in a country club. You couch everything you say with sexual innuendo, putting everyone else at a disadvantage. You turn prostitution into a little rich girl’s game so you don’t have to face the reality. I’m not blaming you for any of it. But that’s not what we’re going to do in there.”
“Right, because you’re a goddamned expert on life in the slums.”