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I scoffed, unable to contain the sound. “That’syour immediate thought? You’ve got to be shitting me, Mario.”
Gabriel has so much more finesse under questioning.
I clench my jaw. No thoughts of Blackwell welcome here.
He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Want me to show you? I don't mind giving you a little taste. The first one is free,” he replies.
I’ve heard worse. Then again, I’ve heard better, too.
Devan is irritated. His face gives nothing away but I recognize the little tells he can’t help. The skin under his left earlobe always twitches, weirdly, and he’s prone to flaring his nostrils when he’s not getting as far as he wants to with a subject. “Tell me more about your spot. Where is that, exactly?”
His pen pauses above his notepad. He’s the keeper of those things. His handwriting is much better than mine.
“It’s a little place known as Whip.” He continues to look at his nails like he’s actually concerned about his appearance, which he definitely is not. “I like to meet my Subs there. High-class, if you know what I mean.”
Which indicates he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel.
“Was Candy afraid of something there, then? Is that why you met her outside the Greek restaurant?” Devan continues.
“If she was scared, then whatever it was is deep inside of it,” Mario says. “And you won’t get information out of the most depraved people there unless you’re one of them, if you know what I’m saying.” He laughs and shows more teeth. “Whip isn’t a place for cops to go, especially if you’re entering sacred space without paying.”
He’s right, and I know it. Mario is finally speaking the truth and we’re not going to get much more out of him than we already have. Pushing him will make him clam up tight. “Don’t leave town,” I tell him as we take our leave.
We’re in the car before Devan speaks. “I know you’re going to go. To Whip. Be careful.”
I stare straight ahead as he pulls away to head back to the precinct. “I always am,” I reply.
Knowing that if I’m going to learn anything, I’ll need an insider who would be more trusted than me.
Gabriel can get the information for me.
Which means…I really will accept his bargain. One night, as payment for getting me into Whip.
THIRTEEN
gabriel
Layla lefta message with her friend Taney at the Velvet Underground, a scrap of paper with three words written on it in barely legible scrawl:It’s a deal.
By the time I head outside to grab the SUV and pull back around to the front doors, she’s there waiting for me, a wraith appearing out of darkness. Adrenaline spikes through me the way it always seems to when she meets my eyes, and my cock strains at my pants like I’m a fucking teenage boy with raging uncontrollable hormones.
I dart my tongue across my lips to wet them as Layla slides into the passenger seat.
Almost as though we’d planned this meeting, even though we hadn’t spoken for two days. This woman, this cop, is getting more access to me than I should be comfortable offering. And yet…
“You need me,” I say right away. I knew she’d come around.
Arrogant.
Yes, I’m arrogant. I’ve earned that right.
But I understand my kind of arrogance, the pitfalls and the benefits, and use it as skillfully as any weapon. It’s different. My ego is the kind where the follow-through makes the big head believable.
Tonight she’s dressed in a pair of pants and a short-sleeved button-up shirt that leaves her muscular arms bare but covers up every inch of cleavage. The outfit emphasizes her curves and the graceful line of her neck.
How does a woman who looks more prepared to pack lunches for a school field trip give me such a rush?
She’s carrying a jacket and slides her arms into it once she’s settled. She ignores me, though, taking the time to buckle her seatbelt.
