Criminal Pleasures (15 page)

“Did you have any other interaction with the family that I don’t know about? Anything at all?”

Brendan shook his head. “No. Nothing. You were there when I met Gina, and the night of the raid was the first time I’d ever seen Poppy.” Brendan went still. “There was one other thing but...it’s nothing, really.”

“What?” Marc stepped closer to him. “What was it?”

Brendan met his eyes. “That first night I went out to dinner with my clerks, at Bibeta’s. When I was signing for the check, I asked Carmen...”

“What? Brendan,
what
?”

“I asked her about you. I pretended one of my clerks was interested, and I asked if you were single.” He winced.

Marc stared at him a moment, then his shoulders dropped. “Oh, Christ,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“Is that a big deal? It was just a question.”

“Carmen,” Marc said, nodding. “I should have known. It’s fucking Carmen.”

“How do you figure?”

Marc leaned over, his elbows on the hood of Brendan’s car. “Marcello was deported because he was found working illegally, so his fiancé visa was revoked. You asked Carmen if I was single. Like maybe you were poking around, trying to get information about me and my status. It’s not much, but it’s enough to cast doubt in the mind of someone who’s already paranoid and looking for someone to blame. Especially since the next time Carmen saw you, you were suddenly all cozy with Gina. And Poppy. Sitting there, enjoying free drinks at the bar.
Fuck
.”

“But Gina asked
me
to help her with her legal problems, she asked
me
to come to the bar that night.”

Marc straightened up and came to stand in front of Brendan. “Gina is one thing. Carmen is another. She’s got an assault on her record. Attacked an ex-boyfriend with a kitchen knife. He had to get stitches in his arm. Don’t let the cuteness fool you, Carmen’s not wound too tight.” He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I know. She believed I was her cousin, and she still tried to get me in bed while I was working there. She pitched a fit when I turned her down, threatened to cut my dick off.”

“Carmen?” Brendan’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

Marc shook his head. “She apologized the next day, but, yeah. She’s fucked in the head. I’d be willing to bet she’s the one that got into your building and painted your door.”

“So what do I do?”

“Just keep your eyes open. And your doors locked. I’m going to have someone check the security camera logs from the bank across the street from your place. If we can get Carmen on film, entering your building, we can charge her. And like I said, someone’s gonna be watching your place for twenty-four hours.” Marc gave Brendan a quick kiss on the lips, startling him. “I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

“Hey, faggot! I mean Daggett! How’s it going?”

A chubby, middle-aged man in a uniform strolled toward them from the rear parking lot, heading for the station, a sneering grin on his face.

Marc only barely glanced at him as he approached. “Piss off, Karl.”

The man laughed loudly.

“Who the fuck is that?” Brendan asked, his guard up suddenly.

“He’s no one,” Marc said as the man slowed, stopping beside them. “Nothing that comes out of his mouth is of any consequence.”

“That’s right, Gorgeous,” the man said, winking at Brendan. “I’m nobody important. Not like faggot...I mean Daggett here.”

Brendan’s teeth clenched, and he urged himself to keep his mouth shut, but did not succeed. “That’s very clever,” he said to the man. “It even rhymes. You must be proud of that one to have said it twice.”

“Ignore him, Brendan,” Marc said.

Karl laughed, his belly shaking. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, now,” he said. As he passed them by, his fingers reached out and stroked a lock of Brendan’s hair. “You beauties have a nice day, now.”

In a move so fast it made Brendan jump, Marc suddenly had the chubby cop face down on the hood of the car, arm twisted behind his back. “Ouch,
fuck
, Daggett!” he shouted. “Get the fuck off me!”

Marc leaned over, his jaw tight as his lips moved to the man’s ear. “I said your words had no consequence, Karl. I didn’t say anything about your fucking
hands
.”

Karl winced as Marc gave his arm a tug. “Fuck! I’m sorry, cut the shit, Daggett.”

“Touch him again and I’ll break it.” He let him go, pushing him off the car with a shove.

Karl rubbed his arm, glared at Marc, then shuffled with his head down toward the station, muttering curses under his breath.

Marc turned to Brendan. “Sorry you had to see that. I’ve got to get inside. Will you call me when you get to work, just so I know you’re okay?”

Brendan was dumbfounded and shaken, so he simply nodded.

“Okay, be safe. I’ll talk to you later.” He gave Brendan another quick kiss, then headed off toward the building.

“Marc!” Brendan called out.

Marc stopped and turned back, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t have your number.”

Marc grinned. “I programmed it into your phone last night while you were in the shower.” He turned and headed off again.

Brendan got in the car and started it up. He shook his head as he put it in drive and headed out of the parking lot.

I’m dating a tough-guy
.

Brendan wasn’t sure how he felt about having someone defend his honor. He might look like some fairy tale prince, but he’d never thought of himself as soft or weak, someone that needed rescuing.

But then he’d never had mobster bitches from hell on his ass, either. So maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. He tried not to be frightened. But he found he was looking forward to getting settled in at the office, to be back in the company of friends and the safety of being surrounded by people. He only prayed that the officer assigned to watch him for the next twenty-four hours would be the
only
one doing so.

Chapter Sixteen

Brendan felt nauseous. He stood beside Matthew Amador, the two of them frowning at the paint on his door. The red covered nearly the whole thing, with drippings fringing the bottom like bloody fingers. The black letters in the center were crude and large.

SNITCH!

Matthew hadn’t mentioned the exclamation point when they spoke on the phone. To Brendan it seemed like an important detail to leave out, changing the whole tone of the threat, adding an angry urgency.

“So I got a hold of someone who can get it cleaned up later today,” Matthew said. He was a short, Portuguese man with a slicked back shock of graying hair. He looked up at Brendan with compassionate brown eyes. “It should be gone by the time you get home from work tonight. I’m sorry about this. As I said, we’re looking into how someone could have gotten into the building. Do you have any enemies? Disgruntled client, maybe?”

Brendan’s stomach lurched. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Probably just your run of the mill scumbags, then,” Matthew said, running a finger along the door. “This city has really turned around the past ten years, but it still has its element, like anywhere, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Brendan said. “It has its element. Thanks, Matthew, I’ve got to get showered and head in to the office.”

Matthew gave him a pat on the shoulder, then moved off down the hallway.

Brendan gave the mess on his door one more glance, then headed inside.

He felt like he was scrubbing off a world of dirt as he stood under the hot shower stream, like in the past twenty-four hours, badness had started to cling to him like a curse.

His stolen car. His ruined front door. Mental images of Carmen DiPietro coming at him with a kitchen knife.

The only thing he regretted cleansing away was the spicy, aromatic scent of Marc that clung to his skin, like a cloak of hope and happiness that shielded him from the badness so it couldn’t sink too deep and poison his blood.

****

Willa was standing at a file cabinet near the front door when Brendan walked into the office. She grinned when she saw him. “Hey! The prince returns. I left some messages on your desk.”

“Thank you,” he said, happy to see her freckled face. He felt better already, and had to admit he was relieved no one had tried to tackle him in the street on his way in. Maybe the graffiti was just a tantrum, not a threat. Carmen couldn’t possibly prove that Brendan was an informant, because he wasn’t. He only hoped
proof
meant something to the pretty waitress, if she was the culprit, as Marc believed.

“Boss man,” Terry Ann called out as Brendan passed by. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He stopped at her desk and forced a smile. “How are things in your world?”

“Not bad. Gregory called, he’s coming in on Friday. He’s got me forwarding messages to his cell phone so you won’t have to field his clients anymore.”

“That is good news,” Brendan said.

“Brendan!”

He turned around and saw Jeremy, his paralegal, coming out of his office. Jeremy was a good looking young hotshot who had an ego the size of Manhattan, but he was efficient and had thus far made Brendan’s life easier. “How’s it going, Jeremy?”

“Busy,” he said, handing Brendan a stack of papers. “I’ve got some stuff for you here. You been working from home or something?”

Brendan gave him a wry smile. “I’ve been in and out. Is anything wrong?”

“No, I’ve been handling it.”

Brendan knew that was code for ‘You’re a fuck up who hasn’t been in the office enough, so I picked up your slack.’

“Thanks, Jeremy. Let’s meet tomorrow morning, go over things.”

“Super,” he said, and tucked back into his office, closing the door.

“He asked me out on a date!” Terry Ann whispered to Brendan, snickering.

Brendan grinned down at her. “
Really
. And did you accept?”

She frowned. “No way.”

“Why not? He’s very handsome.”

“And he knows it,” she said. “Good to see you, Brendan. I was worried about you. You seemed stressed out the other day.”

“Just work stuff,” he said. “I’m good. I’ve got to make some calls. Talk later.”

Brendan went into his office and closed the door. He sifted through his messages, then took out his cell phone, scrolling through until he found Marc’s number. He smiled. Normally he’d want to throttle someone that went through his phone without permission, but Marc’s pushy forcefulness was starting to grow on him. It helped to balance out the vague humiliation he still felt at being the pushy one when he’d first met the guy.

Or rather when he’d first met
Marcello
.

He called the number and got the voicemail of Detective Marc Daggett.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said. “I’m at work.” He paused. “No...incidents. I guess I’ll talk to you later.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “Miss you.”

He hung up and stared at the phone.
What if I never hear from him again?

He slapped the phone onto the desk. “Shut up, Brendan, you insecure baby man.” Marc
had
asked him to go away for the weekend, right?

He gave his head a shake and ordered himself to push Marc out of his mind. He had work to do, and his employees had just dropped more than one hint that he hadn’t been on top of his game. He didn’t want them thinking they’d bet on a losing horse by taking a job at his practice.

He made his court appointment downtown, then returned to the office once it was over. He stayed late after the others had left, just to make sure he was caught up on everything.

At half past five his phone rang, and his heart leapt, hoping it was Marc. But it was Cal Whitehead. “Hi, Cal.”

“Hey, kid, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Brendan said. “And embarrassed by everything I said to you the other day.”

“It’s all right, don’t be. Can I ask what happened? I guess you got in to see Daggett.”

“Yeah.” Brendan chuckled. “Yeah, that was quite the shock.”

Cal sighed. “I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. But when you told me about...well I got so angry. That someone would take advantage of your trust like that. What did he say to you? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Actually,” Brendan said. “He was very nice. Once he got over the shock of seeing me there. Remorseful. He took me out for a beer and apologized.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” Brendan hesitated. “Despite everything, he’s not such a bad guy.”

“Well that’s good...I guess. Do you want to come over for dinner this weekend?”

This weekend
. “I’d love to, Cal, but I’ve got a ton of work to catch up on. Maybe next week?”

“Sure, give me a call when your schedule frees up. And Brendan...be careful.”

Brendan felt his face heat.
Be careful
. It was as if Cal knew that he was still smitten and behaving recklessly with the man who’d deceived him. “Of course, Cal. It’s all good.”

The sun was down when Brendan parked in the lot and made his way quickly around to the front of his building. He paused outside the door, and did a quick scan of the cars on the street. Across the road a man sat in a green sedan, watching him. Brendan’s heart galloped. But then the man gave him a curt nod, and he relaxed a bit.
God, I hope that’s the cop
.

Brendan turned and quickly went inside.

His front door was clean and free of paint, and the hallway smelled of bleach. When he stepped inside the loft, he quickly turned the lights on, leaving the door open a crack while he checked all the rooms. Assured that he was alone and there was no one hiding in his closets, he sprinted back and closed the door, locking it. Leaning against it, he sighed.
Calm down, Brendan
.

He sat down and made a few calls, one to his mother, who was busy and on her way out, so he promised to call her again soon. Then he made arrangements to have a security tracking system installed in his vehicle the next day. After he’d finished, he checked his voicemail, but there was nothing from Marc. He told himself this meant nothing. The guy was busy, he had an important job. He couldn’t stop everything to whisper sweet nothings to Brendan over the phone every half hour.