Bad Blood (27 page)

Tozzi was starting to relax, staring at the blank wall, when the doorbell suddenly rang and he jumped. Roxanne. Tozzi got up off his sore legs and hobbled over to the intercom.

“Hello?”

“It's me. Princess Di.”

Tozzi frowned. It took him a moment to realize she was referring to British royalty. His first thought was Princess
Die
. Wonderful frame of mind he was in today. He shook his head and buzzed her in.

He opened the door and looked down the stairwell, listening to her steps. “How's it going, Your Majesty?”

She didn't answer until she could see him from the landing below. “Elevators are wonderful inventions,” she said sarcastically. “So are parking spaces. Too bad this neighborhood has neither. I must like you to put up with this.”

He watched her climb the last flight. “Hi. How ya doin'?” he said as she walked up to him.

“Honey, I've missed you.” She threw herself into his arms and kissed him just the way he'd wanted to kiss her when he took her home after dinner the other night. He wished he could forget about the slaves for a little while, but thinking that made him feel guilty.

“Well . . . hello,” he said when she let him up for air.

“Got to keep up the ruse,” she whispered. “You know, hubby and wifey. Can't let the neighbors get suspicious. And you never know. The landlord might have a private detective working for him.”

“A detective?”

“Very common these days. Landlords spy on their tenants to make sure they're on the up-and-up. Make sure there are no after-hours sex clubs on the premises, no outlawed pets, no illegal aliens packed into their apartments.” She flashed that sly smile of hers. “I read all about it in
New York
magazine.”

Tozzi forced a smile for her. Illegal aliens. She had to mention that. He hadn't told her about the slaves either.

“Why don't you come in out of the noonday sun . . . dear?” He led her into the apartment and shut the door.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked as she threw her suede jacket on the couch. “You look a little washed-out.”

“No, I'm okay.” He stared at her legs. She looked nice in jeans. “You know, I really do appreciate your doing this for me. You sure it's not a big imposition.”

“Oh, it's a terrible imposition,” she said. “As you know, clients are breaking down my door. Taking today off could be disastrous for the Eastlake Academy. It's a big risk, but I'm prepared to take it.”

“We're funny today, aren't we?”

She shrugged. “It's no problem, Mike, really. My office is a crypt. I'm glad to get out frankly. Besides, you need a bed.”

He took that last line the way he normally would've liked it. But why was this happening now, dammit? “Well, I'd wait for the bed myself, but something's come up that can't wait. I called the place where I bought it and they said it would be delivered sometime between ten and six. The lady said she couldn't be more specific than that. Sorry.”

“I told you. It's no problem. I brought a book.”

“I may be back late. You don't have to stay.”

“Wait a minute! You promised dinner for this little favor. I'm staying put until I collect.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway, be late. I don't care. The Miss Galaxy Pageant is on TV tonight.”

“You want to watch the Miss Galaxy Pageant?”

“I love beauty pageants. All those totally repulsive girls demeaning themselves on national television. Does wonders for my superiority complex. It's better than
The Gong Show
. Better than the Westminster Kennel Club competition.”

“Right.” She was in such a good mood. He wished he could join her.

Her smile faded. She looked concerned now. “Are you sure you're okay?”

He stared at her and sighed. Should he tell her about it? She was
involved after all. And wasn't this how he always got himself into trouble in the past, keeping things all bottled up, mulling it over in his head again and again until it became
his
version of reality? Maybe it would be better to get someone else's opinion. It would certainly be a relief to tell her, just to get it off his chest. Besides, she'd be a neutral listener. Gibbons sure as hell wouldn't be.

“I've found out some things in the past few days.” He sat down on the couch. “Not very pleasant. It's been bothering me.”

She sat down next to him, staring into his eyes. “Tell me.”

“The Japanese nannies? You want to know why they're putting you out of business? They're slaves.”

“What do you mean slaves?”

“Slaves. As in ‘way-down-yonder-in-the-land-o'-cotton.' It's hard to believe, but it's true. I met a bunch of them.”

She bit her bottom lip and laid her hand on his knee. God, he wished she wouldn't do that now. She looked so good, but it wouldn't be right, given the conversation and all.

“You mean they're forced to work and . . . and beaten if they don't?”

Tozzi nodded. “Two were killed for trying to escape. Two that I know of.”

“When is the FBI going to rescue these people?”

Tozzi looked at her hand on his knee, then shook his head. “The FBI doesn't know anything about it. I haven't told anyone yet.”

“Why not, for God's sake?”

“Because the slave I talked to said there are hundreds of them here. Maybe thousands. Sure, we can rescue the ones I found, but what about the others? How will we find them? Once it gets out that the authorities are looking for them, they'll be that much harder to find.”

“But, Mike, you have to tell somebody.” The sunlight shimmered through her hair. The color was indescribable, like red gold. She looked so sad and pained. He wanted to comfort her, hold her, touch her. It wouldn't be right, though. She'd think he was an animal. He'd feel like an animal. “You have to tell somebody, Mike,” she repeated.

“I told
you
.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I'm picking up Gibbons at the hospital this afternoon. I want to discuss it with him first.”

“How's he doing?”

“Okay. The doctor wants him to take a month off to rest, though. Lorraine wants me to convince him to stay down at her place until he's well. I know what he's gonna say to that.”

“Any progress in finding the squat Jap fellow who beat him up?”

“I got a call from the office a little while ago. Someone apparently dropped a dime on our man.”

“Say again.”

“Dropped a dime. It means we got an anonymous tip on the guy. An unsigned letter with a lot of choice details about him. It could be a prank or it could be real. I don't know yet.” He looked at his watch. “I told them I'd be in this morning to check it out.” He glanced at his watch again. It was getting late.

“Oh . . . well, you better get going then, I guess.” She took her hand off his knee.

“Yeah, I guess.” She had that look like she really didn't want to be left alone. He didn't want to leave her.

He nodded. She nodded. He looked at his watch again. “Well, I don't have to rush. I've got a little time.”

She turned away so that he saw her profile in the bright sunlight. “Please don't think me insensitive or uncaring, but I . . . I . . .” She turned and faced him again, tilting her head to one side as she hooked her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close, slowly pressing her lips against his.

He tasted her lips, ran his hand down her ribs, felt her tongue with his. When he happened to find the space between her teeth, his dick started to throb.

She tugged on his necktie and started to unbutton his shirt. He reached under her sweater and unhooked her bra, palming a breast and circling her nipple with his thumb.

“Oh, Mike, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't wait,” she breathed into his ear.

“I know how you feel.”

She pulled the lilac sweater over her head, and her falling hair filtered the sun. He went for her belt. She undid his, then fumbled with the pants button with one hand as she rubbed him through the material.

His shoulder dug into the couch pillows as he shifted his weight to help her get his pants off. He couldn't believe they were doing this.
For a moment he wasn't sure he wanted it to happen. Not now. Not when he had so much on his mind. She buried her head in his chest then, which made him even harder. Of course, she was the one who started it . . . No, maybe they shouldn't wait. He unbuttoned the pants himself.

He kicked his pants off and ran his hand over her ass, then followed the seam of her panties with his fingers, playing around where the inside of her soft thigh met her crotch. She licked her fingers and rolled the tip of his dick between her thumb and index finger. He stroked her lightly with his middle finger, back and forth, slow and steady. She twisted her hips to get more of his finger and he felt her moistness. She moaned. He closed his eyes and let himself get lightheaded.

“Oh, Mike . . .”

“Rox—”

The doorbell rang. It echoed through the empty rooms.

Tozzi bolted up, his heart pounding. His face was drenched. He saw those faces in the shadows behind his closed eyes. No. This wasn't right.

She glared at the intercom. “The bed, I take it.”

He looked at his watch. “Listen, Roxanne—you're gonna think I'm crazy, but how about if we continue this later? When my head is a little clearer.”

The doorbell rang again.

“Sure . . . of course. You've got a lot on your mind. I understand.” She looked disappointed.

Tozzi felt awful. He didn't think she did understand. Not really.

She got up and leaned into the intercom. She was only wearing panties. Blue cotton ones with little ducks marching across the ass. “Yes?” she said.

“We got a bed here for Tozzi?”

“Yes, that's right.” She hit the buzzer to unlock the door downstairs, then rushed back to the couch to get dressed. Tozzi was sitting on the edge of the couch, pulling his pants on. His dick ached. He felt like a balloon with a slow leak. He knew he'd have this pent-up feeling for the rest of the day.

After she got her sweater back on, she hugged him sideways and whispered in his ear. “Come home as soon as you can. I'll have the bed set up.”

There was a pounding on the door then.

“Be right there,” Tozzi yelled. He kissed her quickly, then stood up to put his shirttails in. “Keep your pants on,” he muttered under his breath. He looked at her zipping up her jeans. He hoped she did understand.

GIBBONS RIPPED OPEN the Velcro straps on the foam-rubber neck brace around his neck and loosened it a little. He'd been fooling around with it all day, but nothing felt right. Tozzi's dramatic revelation didn't do much for his comfort level either. He re-did the straps, but the collar still didn't feel right. Fucking Tozzi. Can't even let a man be miserable in peace.

“You
looking
for trouble or what, Tozzi? When the hell are you gonna wise up? Why didn't you tell Ivers?” Gibbons glared up at Tozzi from where he sat, but the damn brace made looking up uncomfortable. He got up out of the chair so he could look his partner in the eye, but Tozzi decided to sit on the edge of the bed then. What a pain in the ass this guy was.

“Look, you know how it is with Ivers. He'll call out the heavy artillery to liberate those guys at the chicken shack just to get his face on the six o'clock news. If that happens, we can forget about finding the rest of them. D'Urso and his yakuza friends will move those guys so fast, it'll be a fucking disappearing act. We'll never find them.”

“I still don't buy this yakuza business. Sounds too much like one of your usual fairy tales.” He leaned up flat against the wall. His neck was killing him. He hated those goddamn painkillers, though. Stupid things made you dopey.

Tozzi started looking around the room, bouncing his knee. He was
nervous. He usually did stupid things when he was nervous. “You know a guy named Bob Chen?” he asked. “He's a special agent with the Honolulu office.”

“I think I may have heard of him, yeah.” Gibbons was determined not to let Tozzi softsoap him into one of his crazy schemes. Not this time. From now on, it was by the book.

“I gave him a call this afternoon. He's the Bureau's unofficial expert on the yakuza. He told me they're all over Hawaii and California, and he says there's some strong evidence that they're beginning to set up camp on the East Coast.”

“There's a lot of competition around here. Why would they move into an already glutted market?”

“Why do they all come here, Gib? The money. LA may be groovy, but New York is where the real money is.”

“Tokyo isn't exactly poor.” Gibbons shifted his hips, but nothing seemed to help. It felt like someone had just pounded a few two-inch finishing nails into his neck and shoulders.