Читать книгу Seduced By The Badge - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 14

Chapter 3

Danni did not realize how exhausted she was until she stepped into the shower. The day had been longer than she’d anticipated, and it was only when Armstrong had asked her to change and be ready by the time he returned that she questioned if she had the stamina for round two. As she eased her naked body into the mist of hot water, every muscle from her head to her toes seemed to convulse, constricting and then relaxing before she felt as if a wealth of weight had suddenly been lifted off her shoulders. Taking a deep breath and then a second to steady herself, she found herself feeling lazy and tired and ready for a long nap. She had an hour before Armstrong would be back to get her, so a nap was out of the question. She needed to make the most out of the downtime that she could.

The task force had put her up at the Chicago Lake Shore Hotel. Located in the Hyde Park neighborhood, it was clean, cozy, convenient to the downtown area, and the staff was pleasant. She had six weeks before she would have to return to Atlanta or find her own place to lay her head. Six weeks was at least four weeks too long, Danni thought, determined to bring down someone named Pius and anyone else involved in their case before then.

Thoughts of Armstrong Black suddenly pitched through her thoughts, a cavalcade of energy shooting through her body. The palm of her hand trailed a soapy path from her shoulder, down her arm, to rest against her abdomen just below her belly button. A quiver of energy rippled through her midsection. The man was as intense as she was, and there was no mistaking how seriously he took his job. As he had dropped her off at her hotel, he’d given her a list of directives, his tone brusque and commanding. Clearly, he expected that she would follow orders and do what she was told. Danni had never been one to take direction well, but she was determined not to rock the boat when he could be the help she needed to finish her task.

Stepping from the flow of water, she turned off the faucet with one hand and reached for a stark white towel with the other. Moving naked into the other room, she dropped onto the corner of the bed as she dug into her luggage, looking for a jar of Cetaphil lotion, a clean pair of panties and something to wear.

Minutes late she was moisturized from head to toe, spritzed with the light scent of lavender and dressed in a pair of frayed and torn denim jeans, a cotton T-shirt and black, steel-toed work boots. Taking a quick glance at herself, she pondered whether or not to put on makeup and then decided against it. She pulled her fingers through her hair, twisting the strands up into a high knot atop her head. Satisfied with the reflection staring back at her, she moved to the window to stare out to the parking lot and wait.

* * *

She looked like a grade-schooler, Armstrong thought as Danni sauntered out of the hotel toward his car. He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been excited to get back to her. Because he had. Overly excited, and it surprised him. He’d been thinking about her since they’d parted ways, him headed home to shower and change while she returned to her hotel room to do the same.

She’d become an irritation, a prickly thorn in his side determined to have his attention. Despite his best efforts he was finding it difficult to get her out of his head. He hadn’t expected to like her, but he did. He liked her gumption and the fire in her spirit that would probably prove to be a challenge for any man. She had managed to do what few women ever had before and that was to hold his full and undivided attention. Now she was walking toward him looking like a twelve-year-old and not the stunning woman who’d been with him most of the day. Well, maybe not twelve, but definitely younger than she had hours earlier. It was unnerving, and he didn’t mind saying so.

“How old are you?” he asked as he moved to open the car door for the woman.

Danni laughed. “Old enough. Why?”

He shook his head, a slight smile pulling at his mouth. “You look like you’re just starting puberty. It’s scary.”

“Starting puberty? Really?”

He shrugged.

Her rich laugh echoed in the early-evening air. “As long as I don’t look like a cop!” She pulled the seat belt across her lap and engaged it. “And I’m thirty-four, so puberty has surely come and gone.”

Armstrong shot her a look, surprise creasing his brow. “Thirty-four? You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’m very serious. How old are you?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Oh.” Danni turned to stare out the window. A smile pulled gently at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh? Why did you say it like that?”

“I thought you might have been in your forties,” she answered, turning back to stare at him.

Armstrong bristled. “I do not look that old.”

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “If you say so.”

“Do I look like I’m forty?”

She laughed heartily. “You look like you’re well past puberty.”

Armstrong laughed with her. “Touché! At least I don’t look like I need my mommy’s permission to come outside and play.”

Danni rolled her eyes skyward. “So where are we going?” she asked as he pulled his car out of the hotel parking lot.

“We need to stop by a house party not far from here. No time like the present to introduce you to some of the South Side’s criminal element.”

“So does it live up to its reputation?”

“If you’re asking me whether or not the South Side of Chicago is the dregs of hell like the media has made it out to be, then the answer is no. Those of us who live here actually love it. The diverse neighborhoods that make up our side of town are one of our city’s best-kept secrets. And trust me, Lincoln Park and Wicker Park are a hell of a lot scarier between the hours of midnight and six. We also have Harold’s, and they have the best fried chicken around.”

Danni smiled. “How’s the shopping?”

“You’ll get your best deals on Eighty-Seventh and Dan Ryan. White socks and T-shirts, candy, soda pop and bootleg movies are all cheap.”

“Good to know!”

* * *

Stalled in traffic, they fell into a quiet reverie. Armstrong gave her a look as she sat staring out the window. He really liked her. Despite his best efforts not to feel anything at all for her. He found himself drawn to her spirit. She had an energy that he rarely found in the women he dealt with. She wasn’t fawning over him like he was the biggest prize at the state fair. She didn’t wear an air of desperation like some women, wanting a husband and kids before plucking the first strand of gray hair. She had a keen sense of humor, and in their line of work one was necessary. He also appreciated that she didn’t seem to be easily frazzled, her nerves seeming as steady as a rock. If he was going to have a partner, he needed to trust that she had his back, that he didn’t have to worry about a crash and burn when he least expected one. Danni seemed up to the task, and he was willing to give her a chance. Clearly, they had made significant progress since that morning and their first meeting.

Danni interrupted his thoughts. “So, tell me more about this house party.”

“It’s at the home of Miss Nanette Perry. She’s a fixture in the neighborhood, the community mother. Everybody knows and loves her. When she needs to pay her mortgage, she’ll cook, throw a party and sell plates. And the woman can cook! She’ll also feed the hungry if they come through and don’t have any money. Her home is considered neutral ground for the gangs, and at any given time you don’t know who you might run into. The lowest of the city’s downtrodden and Chicago’s most elite have dined together at her table. If there is anyone who knows who Pius is, Miss Perry will know.”

Danni nodded. “I look forward to meeting her.”

* * *

A series of turns and two traffic lights later, Armstrong pulled into an open space at the end of West Twenty-First Place. The homes were older brick row houses lining the length of the street. Parking came at a premium, and it was by the luck of the draw that the space became empty as they turned the corner.

Danni paused for a split second as he exited the driver’s side, and then she pushed open her own door and stepped out. Armstrong gave her a look, his eyebrows raised.

“In case anyone is watching,” she muttered, her head tilted toward the men gathered on the front porch a few doors down. “I assume someone may know you’re a cop, but they don’t need to know that I am.”

Armstrong nodded. As he sauntered past her, she noticed his attire for the first time. He wore denim jeans that fit him snugly through the hips, accentuating his backside. Beneath a wool and leather varsity jacket he wore a long-sleeved hooded T-shirt. The newest Jordan sneakers adorned his feet.

As he passed her, he pulled the hood up over his head and moved toward the home, where a crowd was coming and going through the front doors. Some carried foil-covered paper plates out, while others were bringing bottles in brown paper bags in. There were a few individuals who seemed to be moving with a sense of urgency. But most seemed glad to just relax in the moment.

Danni followed Armstrong, who moved swiftly up the flight of stairs to the front porch. He gave the men gathered there a nod as he pounded fists with one or two of them. Their gazes skated over her briefly, then the men returned to the conversation they were having. No one spoke, so neither did she. Danni pushed her hands into her pants pockets, painting her expression with indifference.

Inside, the noise level rose substantially, a wealth of chatter vibrating off the walls of the small home. Music played out of an old stereo, the deep bass of some old-school R&B song ringing through the air. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, an older woman called out Armstrong’s name.

“Detective Black, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Miss Nanette Perry asked.

It looked like she was floating on air as she moved toward them, Danni thought. She was tall, with a copper complexion, hazel eyes and a blond buzz cut. She brought to mind what Danni imagined an Amazonian queen might look like. She was beautiful, and there was something very romantic about the air around her. She made people smile, and her gregarious personality served to punctuate her sharp intuition and razor-sharp tongue. She reached Armstrong’s side, throwing her arms around him in a deep bear hug as she kissed his cheek.

“I heard you had some fried chicken,” he answered as he hugged her back.

“Fried chicken, collards, mac and cheese, potato salad and some candied yams, baby! You plan to eat it here, or you want it to go?”

“I actually need two plates,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder toward Danni. “And we’ll have a seat so you and I can catch up.”

“That sounds like you want something, sunshine!”

“Something,” he answered.

Miss Nanette nodded. For a brief moment it seemed as if she were sizing him up, as if such was necessary. “How is that handsome father of yours?” she suddenly asked.

Armstrong smiled. Amusement danced across his face, and Danni sensed there was something in the older woman’s question that only they understood. Armstrong finally answered. “He’s doing very well. And so is my mother. She’s good, too!”

Miss Nanette laughed heartily and winked an eye at the man. She shifted her attention toward Danni. “What have I told you about picking up strays? Whose child is this?”

Armstrong shrugged. “Don’t let her fool you, Miss Nanette. She’s not as young as she looks.”

Miss Nanette’s eyes narrowed as she studied Danni intently. Her head bobbed ever so slightly before she spoke. “She’s too skinny. We’ll need to put some weight on her. Looks like she might blow away if the wind picked up.”

* * *

Danni smiled, a slight bend to her lips that Armstrong found beguiling. “I like your music,” she said, her voice soft like spun cotton.

Miss Nanette smiled back. “You’ll like my cooking more.” She led them to the dining room, shooing three boys out of their seats. “Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. You want corn bread or a yeast roll?”

“Corn bread,” Danni said.

“Yeast roll,” Armstrong answered.

Miss Nanette chuckled. “Sweet tea, baby girl?” she asked.

Danni nodded.

“Baby girl has some Southern roots. I heard it in that accent. The tea just confirmed it for me.”

“I’ll have a glass of...” Armstrong started.

“Boy, I know what you drink. Sit on down!”

Armstrong grinned. “Yes, ma’am!”

Armstrong pulled out a seat for Danni and then took the one beside her. There was an elderly man and a couple still seated at the table with them. The old man had drifted off to sleep, leaning so far forward that he looked like he might fall face-first into his empty plate. The couple were focused on their meal and each other, barely giving Armstrong, or Danni, a look.

Armstrong spoke anyway. “How’s everyone doing this evening?”

The younger man gave him a quick stare and a nod. “Good. How about yourself?”

He nodded. “I’m good. Glad for a hot meal.”

“Miss Nanette put her foot in this here supper!” the woman exclaimed. “Best potato salad this side of town!”

“I’m a fan of her fried chicken,” Armstrong responded. “I come at least once a month to get me some.”

The man shifted his gaze from Armstrong to Danni. “Your daughter doesn’t look like she gon’ eat much,” he said teasingly.

Danni laughed as Armstrong rolled his eyes at her. Before he could respond, Miss Nanette swept back into the room with an oversize tray that held two plates loaded with food and two red plastic cups filled with drink. She placed both down in front of them, completing the setting with yellow paper napkins.

“Eat up, baby girl. There’s seconds for you if you want,” Miss Nanette said as she placed a warm hand against Danni’s shoulder. “And I have some banana pudding for dessert, too.”

“Thank you,” Danni said as she reached for the plastic fork. As the decadent aroma of the home cooking wafted up her nostrils, she suddenly realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she was starved.

The first taste of macaroni and cheese was orgasmic, the creamy cheddar thick and rich and loaded with flavor. It was an explosion of flavor against her tongue, and it was only when everyone around the table burst out laughing that Danni realized she’d moaned, a low purr escaping past her lips. She blushed profusely but kept eating. The fried chicken instantly became a favorite and, Danni and Armstrong both agreed, part of a necessary food group, as they licked the seasonings from their fingers. Minutes later there wasn’t anything left on either’s plate.

* * *

Armstrong was amazed at the amount of food the petite woman had been able to consume. She had a healthy appetite and clearly had no interest in hiding it. He found himself watching her, staring in anticipation of her saying or doing something that he didn’t want to miss. His response to the nearness of her had him feeling slightly out of sorts, and he found it disturbing. He shook his head, trying to wave the sensation away, and then he realized Miss Nanette was staring at them both. He smiled as the woman narrowed her gaze then shifted her attention back toward Danni.

“You should own a restaurant,” Danni said as she finished her last spoonful of banana pudding. “This was wonderful!”

Miss Nanette smiled. “This suits me just fine. I feed folks once, maybe twice each month. I get something out of it. They get something, and everyone’s happy.” She turned to face Armstrong. “So why don’t you tell me what you came here to get.”

Armstrong looked over his shoulder. The crowd had thinned substantially. The old man was still sleeping soundly, having laid his head down onto the table, his plate pushed to the side. The couple was long gone. His voice dropped an octave. “We’re looking for someone. They call him Pius. I was hoping you might be able to give me a name or point me in his direction.”

“Pius?”

Armstrong nodded. “Do you know him?”

Miss Nanette smiled. She rose from her seat and reached for all the empty plates. “Come help me in the kitchen. Bring your friend.”

In the other room, she dropped the plates into a sink filled with soapy water. She extended a pair of rubber gloves toward Danni and pointed her index finger. “Earn your keep, baby,” she said. She spun to the other side of the room and pulled a plastic container from an upper cabinet. She moved back to the counter and filled it with what was left in a pan of banana pudding.

Danni took a deep breath, shot Armstrong a look and then moved to wash the dishes that cluttered the sink.

Armstrong laughed, stopping when Miss Nanette slapped him in the chest with a drying towel. He sputtered as the two women both giggled heartily. Minutes later, with the dishes washed and dried, Miss Nanette handed him the container of dessert. In return, he pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and pressed it into the older woman’s palm. “So, do you know this Pius?”

“Alexander Balducci has a grandson. Paul Balducci. He’s been bad news since preschool. He’s coming up fast in the family business and fancies himself to be quite the kingpin. His mother used to call him her little priest. But that was wishful thinking on her part. In her mind, he was a good Catholic kid. The truth was his grandfather bailed him out every time he got into trouble—and he got into trouble a lot.”

“Do you know who he runs with?” Armstrong asked.

Miss Nanette shrugged. “If it helps, there’s a coffee shop on California Avenue that he and his associates are known to frequent,” she concluded. “They say he’s quite the Renaissance man. You might find him there.”

“Thank you,” Armstrong said.

“We really appreciate everything,” Danni added.

Miss Nanette winked an eye at the young woman. “Be careful out there,” she said, staring directly at Danni. “Pius and his kind chew up pretty girls like you and spit them out like they’re sucking all the salt off some sunflower seeds.”