Girl Undercover 4 & 5: Ariel & Financial Devil (20 page)

An image of Ron holding a gun materialized in my head. Somehow he’d found out that we were onto him and now he wanted to take revenge before he was arrested and the comfortable life he’d grown accustomed to was forever destroyed. Or maybe it was Davis. He’d likely spend dozens of years in prison for his crimes. Who knew what else the NYPD and the FBI would discover when they investigated him? Who knew how many people he’d killed, either with his own hands or through hits? As easily as he and Ron had spoken of the hit, there had to be more. His only chance to escape significant prison time would be if he could get out of the country. But before he left, he’d want to blow off the heads of the people who’d ratted him out.

I looked through the peephole again but sideways this time, lamely hoping to be able to identify the person this way. I couldn’t of course, so I opened my mouth to ask who was there instead. Before I could do so, there was another knock followed by Ian’s voice:

“Gabi, it’s just me, Ian. Are you there?”

Relaxing and shaking my head, I lowered my gun and opened the door. Ian was standing behind it, grinning and holding up a white plastic bag.

“Next time, please let me know that you’re planning on visiting me first,” I said.

His eyes went to the gun in my hands and the big grin on his face deflated.

“I’m sorry. Yes, I should’ve sent you a text first. I wanted to surprise you. I suppose, given the circumstances, that was a bad call.”

“Yes, it was. How did you even know where I lived?”

“Um, I hacked into your computer and pulled up your paycheck from Nikkei. Your address was on it.” He had the decency to at least look embarrassed when I gave him an outraged glance. “Sorry, I won’t hack into it again. I promise.”

“Please do not. If you want to know something about me, all you need to do is ask, okay? You already know all my secrets.” Well, the ones that could be verified by searching through my computer. There was no way for him to know that I’d never actually gone through all of Nikkei’s membership to find politicians for him. After what he’d just done, any guilt I’d harbored for lying to him about that vanished. “How did you get into my building without using the buzzer?”

“That was easy. Someone exited just as I came and let me in.” He raised the plastic bag in his hands again, though with less enthusiasm now. “Are you hungry? I went to get some take-out from a French restaurant on Columbus. Great mussels and foie gras. Crispy, warm baguette.” He shook the bag lightly. “There’s enough for two in here.”

I was about to tell him no, but then I remembered that I hadn’t had dinner yet and I was in no mood to cook some. What the hell? It would be stupid to reject Ian’s offer. Especially since I happened to love mussels and foie gras on warm baguette.

I gave him a stern glance. “Only if you swear that you’ll never ever
under any circumstances
hack into my computer again.”

His face turned deathly serious and he held up a hand, saying in a dramatic voice, “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but took a step back and opened the door further so he could enter.

“I have some white wine too,” he said, winking at me as he passed by, his transgression no longer affecting him clearly. “A great French Bordeaux you just have to try.”

I didn’t know about that, but I still gave a small smile in response. I just couldn’t help myself and, besides, I was in no mood to be mad. Maybe I’d have a small sip with the foie gras; the combination was heavenly. I told Ian to have a seat on my couch and asked what I needed to bring from my kitchen.

“A corkscrew and a couple of glasses,” he replied. “There’s plastic cutlery and paper plates in the bag.”

I brought wineglasses and an opener as well as two plates and silverware that I placed on the coffee table before Ian. Whenever possible, I preferred not to eat on paper plates using a plastic fork and knife.

“Let’s use these instead,” I said, nodding toward the plates. Ian had already begun spreading the food from the bag onto my coffee table, having placed napkins to cover it first. He’d been right; there was certainly enough for two in that bag. In addition to all the mussels, one kind in white wine sauce and another in tomato sauce, there were two boxes of fries next to the long baguette and the foie gras.

“Sounds good,” he said and broke off a small piece of the baguette. He picked up a knife that he used to put some foie gras onto it. Then he got to his feet and came up to me.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

I was too hungry and it smelled too good to refuse, so I did. He stuck the small piece into my mouth and it tasted even better than it had smelled and looked. I closed my eyes as I chewed, letting the warm bread and its exquisite topping dissolve on my tongue.

“That good, huh?” Ian said, smiling as I opened them again and swallowed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I have to say that it was.”

“Wait until you try it with some wine.” He reached for the corkscrew and opened the wine bottle with experienced fingers, barely creating a sound as the cork came out. He grabbed the two glasses and filled them up, handing me one.

I took it from him and met his gaze, which had gone dark. My knees weakened and butterflies filled my stomach. That strong chemistry we had between us had suddenly ignited and I was unable to look away, even though I wanted to. Instead, I found myself wishing that he would lean in and kiss me the way he’d kissed me only a few days ago. Take the wineglass out of my hand and put that together with his on the coffee table, then carry me to my bedroom and ravish me.

Oh, God, why did I let him into my apartment?

There was not supposed to be a second act to that first, admittedly amazing night we’d shared. I did not want to get any more involved with this man than I already was.

A sharp sound cut through the air then and Ian lowered his glass.

“Excuse me,” he said and pulled out his phone from a pocket in his pants.

As he checked his phone, I took the opportunity to sit down on my couch, relieved that the unexpected moment had been cut short so abruptly. I was determined for it not to be repeated. All I needed to do was avoid looking too deeply into Ian’s eyes. That should be doable.

He put his phone into his pants pocket and joined me on the couch.

“Who was it?” I asked in a light tone.

“Just a friend of mine,” Ian said, his voice evasive.

“You have friends?” I nudged him teasingly.

“One or two have been known to call a scoundrel like myself their friend, yes.” He gave me a lopsided smile.

“I hope you haven’t hacked into
their
computers.”

Ian exhaled. “You can be such a woman sometimes, you know that?” Before I could answer, he raised his glass. “To a successful raid tonight.”

I raised mine too, clinking it to Ian’s while making sure not to look into his eyes again. Then I had a sip of the Bordeaux, savoring the crispy, dry but fruity taste of it.

“Do you still believe Ron is your text stalker?” Ian asked, lowering his glass.

His question took me off guard. I hadn’t thought about the texts since I told Ian about them, assuming they just had to be from Ron. Did I still believe he was my text stalker? If he had nothing to do with Cardoza and Nick’s death, which it no longer seemed like, why would he be? But if he wasn’t behind them, then who was?

“Have you received any other texts since the one that asked you to come to the sundeck?” Ian asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“No,” I replied.

“My guess is Ron’s not behind the texts,” Ian continued.

“Yeah, probably not.”

“And that he and his pedophile buddy aren’t connected to the The Adler Group in any way.”

I looked at him. “What makes you think they were?” As soon as I’d asked that question, I knew why he thought so. Just as he was about to respond, I added, “Never mind. How about we eat now?” I picked up a fork and dug into the mussels. “I’m starving!”

We spent the next hour feasting on all the mussels, fries and foie gras on the table, rinsing it down with wine. Well, I drank mostly water out of fear that I’d get too drunk I’d end up in bed with Ian again. By the time the anchor on Channel One announced the breaking news, we were both so full we could barely move.

Stomach ache or not, I shot up and found the remote control so I could raise the volume to hear what the woman on TV was saying:

“…at the Wyndham New Yorker Hotel. The man was attempting to shoot two female police officers who were undercover in one of the hotel rooms. A sniper hidden in the bathroom shot the man in the arm before he could fire his gun. The man has been arrested and no one was hurt.”

The anchor moved onto report about a Starbucks supervisor yelling at customers in a Queens store.

“Wow, that was
quick
,” I said to Ian, ecstatic that the hit had been stopped so successfully.

“Yes, it was,” he replied, leaning close to the TV the way I was doing. “Truly impressive work by the NYPD for once.”

“Though someone there must be leaking information to the press for it to have reached Channel One so fast. I doubt their news department picked it up via scanners.”

“Agreed. It would be hard to piece together all that information using only police radio conversation. Surely someone called it in right after the sting in exchange for some cash.”

I exhaled and yawned big, feeling extremely relaxed. “Well, I’m glad it’s over and that they caught the hitman alive. Getting him to tell them who ordered the hit should be a piece of cake. All they need to do is offer him a lesser sentence, which I’m sure he’ll agree to being the whore that he is. Together with the other evidence we supplied them, Ron and Davis are
toast
.”

“Definitely.”

In my euphoria to have saved two people’s lives and caught two criminals, I made the mistake of looking into Ian’s eyes again. And I was lost in an instant, drowning in them.

The next thing I knew, Ian’s lips were on mine and my arms around his neck.

***

I was reliving the night I had shared with Ian in my mind as I walked over to Nikkei to train a client the following morning. This time around, he was the one sleeping while I’d gotten ready to leave.

It had been even more amazing than the other night and now, in hindsight, I felt silly having worried so much about ending up in bed with him again. It was only sex after all, and good sex too. Having sex was healthy and I was all about being healthy. Why not use Ian as my lover? He was available, hot and great in bed. A pleasant shiver rushed over my skin at the thought of how well he’d pleased me. It would be stupid not to take advantage of such a man. I wouldn’t fall in love with him the way I’d feared that I might. He wasn’t Nick after all. Maybe I’d develop a crush on him, but crushes eventually faded. More importantly, I could manage a crush. It wouldn’t control me.

I smiled to myself as I entered Nikkei. Yes, I would definitely have sex with Ian again.

I trained three clients back-to-back and then went down to the cafeteria to have a snack. I went over to the counter that contained all the protein bars, bags of nuts and chips, and assortment of fruit, trying to decide what I was in the mood for. My floor shift wouldn’t start until half an hour later, so I had plenty of time to kill. I still had two shifts left, but Rolf had promised me that, if I kept up my number of sessions until the end of the pay period, he’d let me drop another. Which would be great as that would give me even more time to focus on finding leads to Nick’s killers.

A feeling of discomfort spread within me as my most recent conversation with Dante and what he’d asked me suddenly returned to me:

“How long are you gonna stay in New York, looking for leads to Nick’s killers, Gabi? It’s been over two months now.”

He obviously believed it was time for me to come back home, that I would never find what I was looking for here.
Well,
I thought, pushing the discomfort away. I’d prove him and everyone else wrong. Nick’s killers
were
here somewhere. I just hadn’t looked hard enough.

“Hi, Jamie,” a female voice said next to me.

I turned my head and saw Emma standing there, smiling.

“Oh, hi,” I said, smiling back. “I didn’t see you.”

“No, I could tell that you were in your own world. Is something bothering you? You were scowling like you were really annoyed about something.”

“I was?” I shrugged like it was nothing, even though she was absolutely correct—I was annoyed. But I wasn’t about to share that with Emma. “I’m not annoyed. How are you doing? How’s the…” Gazing down at her stomach, I remembered how incredibly upset she’d been about being pregnant the last time we’d spoken. How she’d cried uncontrollably and told me how much she hated being pregnant. How it was not because of raging hormones bothering her, but something else.
So many things,
she’d told me.
“So many you would never believe.”

The big smile on her face disappeared and was replaced with what could only be described as sadness. But then it was like she realized she couldn’t allow herself to look sad, so there it was again, that cheery smile. Just like it had been when I bumped into her in the stairs later that same day she’d broken apart.

“Everything’s great,” she said. “I can’t wait to become a mommy!”

“Oh. That’s great.” I watched her carefully. Her eyes didn’t match the big smile on her lips. She was lying to me, but telling her that was not wise. Instead, I made my voice light and said, “I’m so happy for you. Just so you know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. Anything at all you need to get off your chest.” I put my hand on her shoulder to emphasize just how much I meant those words.

The moment my hand touched her, she jerked as though I’d hit her, not gently placed my hand against her shirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said and quickly removed my hand.

“No,
I’m
sorry. I’m just a little jumpy these days.” She grimaced. “It’s my hormones that make me go crazy. Hey, it was nice seeing you. I just wanted to say hi. See you later.”