Читать книгу Beneath The Silk - Wendy Rosnau - Страница 11

Sunni knew she should have called her father, explained the mess she was in, then asked for help. It would have been the most reasonable and the most responsible thing to do. And she would have done just that if she hadn’t been so sure that she’d lose her lease for Silks and be tossed out of Masado Towers on her ear.

And after that, Joey would have no reason one way or the other to continue to be her alibi. She wouldn’t only be out of business, she’d be in jail.

It had been such a small lie. Well, not that small…but harmless. She’d just wanted Silks to have the best location possible in the city, and Masado Towers was simply the best.

Sunni was in the kitchen still dissecting her grim situation when a knock sounded at the front door. She glanced at her blue silk robe, debating whether she should make a quick change or pretend she wasn’t home. The second knock forced her to the door to investigate. She leaned into the door, closed one eye and focused the other on the peephole.

“Omigod… I’m dead.”

Sunni’s life—past and future—flashed before her eyes. She pressed her hand to her throat, tried to swallow.

Another knock.

“He’s finally made his move,” she whispered, choking on the words. Would they talk first? she wondered. Or would he just kill her…quick? Or maybe not so quick.

The idea of being dead, no matter how Rambo achieved it, sent Sunni scrambling into her bedroom. Throwing one of her fluffy pillows to the floor, she snatched up her loaded .22—if she was going to die, she wouldn’t go down without a fight, she decided.

Sunni emerged from the bedroom with the .22 automatic gripped in her hand, just as she heard Rambo call out, “Sis, you there?”

Sis…

“Come on, Sis. Open up. It’s me.”

She knew who it was, and her neighbor no doubt did, too—his voice was loud as a bell. Sunni looked out the peephole once more. “Not too smart, Rambo. A man bent on murder doesn’t want witnesses.”

Witnesses…

Of course, that was it. What she needed was a witness. Before Sunni could second-guess her genius idea, she slid the .22 into her robe pocket and unlocked the door. Please, Edna, be nosy today, she silently prayed, then flung the door wide and bolted through it.

In a flash of blue silk, she was past Rambo. Another second and she was pounding on Edna’s door. “Edna! Edna!”

In a jiffy the elderly woman in 404 swung her door open. “Yes, dear?”

“Look at this man, Edna.” Sunni spun on her heels and jabbed the air with a nervous finger in the direction of her early-morning caller. “Take a good look, Edna. If you read in the Tribune tomorrow that I was found in my apartment with my throat slit, call the police and give them this man’s description. Green eyes, Edna. Dark hair, almost black. He hasn’t shaved in days.”

“Five, to be exact,” Rambo supplied. “That’s if you want to count today.”

Edna angled her head and squinted Jackson Ward into focus. “He looks tall, dear. How tall did you say?”

“Very tall, Edna. He must be—”

“Six three.”

“Three, Edna. He said he’s six thr—” Sunni snapped her mouth shut and glanced back to find Rambo leaning comfortably against her doorjamb. He was wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket along with an amused smile that didn’t exactly make him look nasty or dangerous. Or much like a hit man.

“Handsome? Is he a looker, Sunni? His voice is sure nice.”

Edna’s question went unanswered, but not for long. Suddenly she shuffled forward in her pink terry-towel bathrobe, fuzzy pink bunny slippers and pink sponge rollers—nine, to be exact. She was three feet from Rambo when Sunni rushed forward and jerked Edna to a stop. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Getting a closer look, dear.” Edna stretched her birdlike neck and licked her crooked lips as she dissected Rambo as if he were the dessert special for Thursday night bingo. Finally, she asked, “Who is he, again?” To Sunni’s surprise, Rambo shoved away from the doorjamb and stuck out his hand to her elderly neighbor. “Hi, Edna. I’m Jackson, Sunni’s older brother. The one she never talks about.”

“Brother? No, I don’t believe she mentioned you.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m the black sheep in the family.”

When Edna reached for his hand, Sunni’s jaw dropped. “You are not—”

One minute Rambo was shaking Edna’s hand, and the next minute he had successfully captured Sunni around the waist. A quick jerk forward and her body collided with a slab of iron. A solid squeeze after that—using only one arm around her waist—he lifted her off her feet. “God, it’s good to see you, Sis.”

Another hard squeeze successfully stripped the air from her lungs, and she fought to speak. As she sucked in air, his male scent rushed up to greet her—that and the smell of sweet tobacco and mint toothpaste.

“I should have called first,” he told her. “Forgive me, Sis? Please?”

The question wasn’t meant to be answered. He followed it up with a fast kiss planted square on her open mouth. Startled, Sunni jerked her head back only to hear him swear softly, then he thrust his free hand to the back of her head and forced her mouth to meet his once more. Their eyes locked in a battle of wills, he whispered, “Be nice,” then clamped his shiny white teeth around her lower lip and hung on.

Behind them, Edna said, “Oh, dear, would you look at the time. I had no idea it was so late. Jeopardy starts in three minutes. I hope I can move that fast.”

Flattened against Rambo, dangling a foot off the floor with her lip caught between his teeth, Sunni heard Edna’s famous slipper-shuffle start back to her apartment. Desperate to keep the elderly woman in the hall, she jerked her head back, only to wince in pain when sharp teeth clamped down hard to keep her silent.

Edna’s retreating shuffle stopped. “You two have a nice family reunion.” Then the sound of her door closing resigned Sunni to whatever fate Rambo had planned for her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he stepped inside her apartment and closed the door. Sunni felt his arm loosen up around her waist enough to allow air to filter back into her lungs. Eyes still closed, her lip still caught between his teeth, her heart beat like an African drum in her chest.

A minute must have elapsed before he released her lip. Afraid to open her eyes, Sunni opted to keep them closed. That is, until something warm and wet slid over her lower lip. The unexpected sensation brought her eyes open in one quick blink.

“You’re bleeding.”

Her tongue went to investigate, and sure enough, she tasted blood. “What’s next?”

“Next?”

“A quick kill, or are you one of those sadistic animals who enjoys seeing his victim beg?”

It appeared he was struggling to keep from smiling. A warning bell sounded in Sunni’s head.

“Begging is good in some instances. But in this case, I think you’ve got me confused with somebody else, Sis. I’m here to keep you from being a victim, not make you into one.”

“Who are you?” Sunni insisted.

“You know who I am. We met last night.”

“Okay, then what are you?”

“I’ve never liked the word bodyguard, but if that word works for you, then—”

“Bodyguard?” Shock cracked Sunni’s voice. “You’re not connected? A hit man?”

“No.”

“Bodyguard? My…bodyguard?”

“That’s right.

Relieved yet confused, Sunni demanded, “Put me down.”

“First we negotiate.”

Sunni narrowed her eyes. “Negotiate what?”

“I need a shower. Agree to let me use yours, and I’ll put you down.”

“Your apartment is right across the alley. Use your own shower.”

“No water. It’s your fault, really. If you lived on the second or third floor I wouldn’t have bargained with old man Ferguson for the fourth. The Wilchard’s plumbing is out on that floor.”

The humor in what he was saying took Sunni by surprise. And so did the desire to believe what he was saying.

“You find that funny, Sis?”

“Very. Swear you’re not a hit man.”

“If I was, you would have been dead four days ago.”

There was some truth in that. And last night at the window she’d had the strangest feeling. It was as if he was watching over her. “All right. A shower if you can prove you’re who you say you are. Now, put me down.”

He set her down, then reached into his pocket. Sunni thought he meant to show her his ID, but when he produced her .22, she nearly fainted. “Oh, God!”

“Take it easy. Silk pockets are lousy for hiding heavy hardware. Noticed it the minute you bolted through the door.” He grinned, then studied the .22 in his hand. “Do you know how to shoot this?”

“Yes.”

“Can you hit what you’re aiming at?”

“Why not hand it over and I’ll show you?”

His grin spread, then he sobered and walked over to the island counter and laid down the gun—but not before checking to see that the safety was on. After that, his gaze traveled from Sunni’s face to the swell of her breasts. “Just so I have the facts, how long have you been sleeping with Joe?”

His question turned Sunni’s cheeks hot. Only, she knew what had prompted the question. Last night he had witnessed her and Joey Masado kissing. And it hadn’t been just a friendly kiss. Joey had told her to kiss him like a woman in love.

“Come on, Sis. I know Joe was here last night, and we both know how I know that.” Her continued silence had him rubbing his whiskered jaw as he continued to take her apart with his eyes. “I didn’t hear you. Are you or are you not doing the horizontal hustle with him?”

Sunni drew her robe together to lessen the amount of cleavage on display. She wasn’t sure if it helped, but she’d be damned if she’d check. “That question wasn’t part of our deal,” she finally said. “I won’t discuss my personal life with a stranger. At least not until you can prove to me you are who you say.”

He parted his jacket and settled his long-fingered hands on his hips. “I’ve seen a lot of you lately, Sis. I don’t consider us strangers.”

Sunni knew what he was getting at. She clamped her mouth shut, then winced when renewed pain shot into her bruised lower lip.

“If I’m going to keep you alive, I need to know everything about you. That includes whose bed you frequent and who you’ve passed your apartment key around to. There was a murder five days ago, and you’re the PD’s number-one suspect. You forgotten that?”

“No. But I didn’t kill Milo Tandi.”

“You have no motive as far as I can tell. But those scarves manacled around the DB’s wrists are damn incriminating, Sis. And this time the CSU didn’t screw up the evidence when they collected it. Your prints are crystal.”

Another warning bell set off inside Sunni’s head. She’d lived with a cop for more than twenty years—her father used cop slang constantly. DB meant dead body. CSU was the crime scene unit. Only a cop would use that kind of slang. Only a cop would—

“Are you Joey’s window dressing, Sis, or the beautiful woman caught in the middle of an old feud? If you’re the woman in the middle, I’ll warn you it isn’t a healthy place to be sitting right now. Powerful men in powerful places think human life can be bought and sold as easily as real estate. The Masado boys and the Tandis are powerful players in an old organization. You could be taking a swim in concrete if you’ve been bed hopping.”

More words and phrases convinced Sunni that—

The phone rang.

Sunni jumped, then stared at the phone on the island counter just a foot away from where her bodyguard stood. On the second ring she started forward.

“Let the machine take it.”

She ignored his rusty-nail voice as well as his intimidating stance. As she reached for the phone his hand covered hers and remained there like an iron paperweight.

“I want to hear who it is.”

Five rings later the answering machine clicked on. “Sunni, it’s Joey. Detective Williams paid me a visit early this morning. He claims he called your father four days ago after being assigned to Tandi’s murder investigation. You can imagine my surprise when he told me Clide Blais was your father. Especially since my records say your father and mother are dead and buried in Mississippi. A police chief for the city of New Orleans, is what Williams claims. That explains why Jacky’s in town. A few phone calls and I’ve learned that your father’s ace flew in five days ago as the mop crew. What’s your scam, Sunni? Ten o’clock in my office.”

“You’re a sleazy cop?”

The force of her words nailed Jackson where he stood. “Homicide detective,” he corrected her.

“You’re a con man with the morals of a snake.”

“Bodyguard protecting the boss’s daughter.”

“Stalker.”

“You must have me confused with that other guy,” Jackson returned. “The one who was tailing you the day I got here.”

Her eyes widened. “Someone’s been tailing me, other than you?”

“Not any longer. So Mommy and Daddy are buried in Mississippi, is that the story? That’s funny ’cause I just talked to Daddy last night.”

“What do you mean by, not any longer?”

Jackson was trying to keep his temper corralled, but she was treading close to the end of his patience. She had no idea what he had been doing on her behalf since he’d gotten into town—without running water, no less.

“If I’m going to be any use to you, I’m going to need your cooperation. As far as the stalker goes, he had a record. People who lie and cheat are usually easy to trip up. That leads us back to why Joe’s file on you is full of lies.”

She glared at him. “I don’t cheat. The lie…the lie didn’t hurt anyone. About the stalker…”

“Whoever paid him to watch you, paid him enough to keep his mouth shut. I explained to him that if he didn’t tell me who that was, he’d be jailed on a charge he couldn’t beat. He didn’t believe me.” Jackson shrugged. “He’ll do a year. Now, about this suspect mess—”

“This mess, as you call it, Mr. NOPD, isn’t my doing.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still in your face, Sis. That’s what matters. And Stud Williams goes by the book, sweetheart. If you’re on his suspect list, he’s got a damn good case, and the power to ruin your life.”

“So what are you doing about it…Ace?”

“I’ve been turning this city inside out to rescue your cute butt, that’s what I’ve been doing. And at the same time, I’ve been keeping an eye on you so—”

“I know exactly what you’ve been keeping an eye on, you snake. And I’m sure my father would be interested to know what kind of man he’s sent to rescue me.”

Jackson tried to keep a straight face, but even when she was angry, chewing tail, he liked looking at her. And that voice…oh, yeah, he definitely liked her husky voice. It didn’t fit her petite size, but then neither did the amount of frontage she was carrying. His grin widened.