Broken Wings (22 page)

Rio Laraquette was all about looking
the part. “
If I’m going to play a hooker
,” she’d said. “
I
need to look like one
.” And she did. Granted, a high-priced
one, but a hooker no less.

Being the new guy, Eddie couldn’t
understand why nobody wanted to work with her. Rio was damn good at
her job.

She strutted by and Eddie tilted his
head, enjoying the view. Her legs, long and lean and looking good,
streamed out from beneath her skimpy get-up. The good guy in him
harnessed the bad and he checked his animal instincts.

“Hey, Tonto.” Bellmore’s voice barged
into his thoughts. Eddie looked at his perp, but Bellmore’s eyes
were on Rio. “Ain’t that your bitch, man?”

Eddie shot up and kicked the chair,
slamming it against the floor with a loud WHACK. For a split-second
Bellmore winced.

“You call me that again,” Eddie
warned. “And I’ll kill you.”

Bellmore didn’t move. He sat frozen,
his face frightened yet determined.

Eddie turned away. He had one chance
to make this believable, and he was thankful Bellmore couldn’t see
his face as he charged after Rio like a stampeding herd of buffalo,
despite his tormenting hesitation.

Sensible judgment eluded him as he
latched onto her arm and swung her against the wall. She landed
with a thud, convincing him he’d been too harsh. “Sorry,” he
mouthed, barely above a whisper.

Rio gave him a tolerant and forgiving
smile. She winked and dragged a handful of strawberry-blonde curls
out of her face. She had on a lot of makeup. The excessive eye
shadow took away from the allure of her jade-green eyes.

“No, baby,” she said, in character. “I
swear, I just need to use the toilet. I’m going right back
out.”

“You better hurry up and get your ass
back out there.” He gave her an appeasing wink.

A giggle resonated from Rio, lighting
her half-opened eyes. She wriggled past him and disappeared into
the ladies room.

Eddie cursed his luck. What were the
odds of coming to Vegas and getting saddled with a partner who sent
his pulses racing? Desire rumbled over him and he pushed it aside.
He shouldn’t go there—no matter how much he wanted to—it was a bad
idea.

He strode back to the table. A stoic
face camouflaged the irritability grinding his teeth. He drew a wad
of cash from his jacket pocket and tossed it at Bellmore. “I got
plenty of money.” He yanked the chair off the floor and settled
into it with a mocking nuance. “But I want to see the guns
first.”

“Ton—dude.” Splicing the two words
together, Bellmore was unable to contain his nervous cackle. “You
need to lighten up.” He peered at Eddie with a look that said he
was scared.

“Shit, Bellmore. Now I’m starting to
think you’re trying to con me.” Eddie’s anger seethed out in a cold
tone that chased off his perp’s remaining confidence.

“Hey, man.” Bellmore rolled his eyes
to the right, like he was stalling to search for some courage. “I’m
for real and my goods is for real.” His expression softened and his
tone followed. “I just have to be careful, you know. There’s cops
all over the place these days.”

“You’re telling me.” Eddie’s jovial
laughter dismantled the remaining tension.

Bellmore’s stiffened face eased into
an overconfident grin. “Come on.” He removed his cap from the wall
and positioned it back on his head, concealing the upper portion of
his face. “My ride’s right out front. Let’s go take a look.” The
unsuspecting perp headed for the door, coaxing him with a passive
wave.

Eddie snatched the money off the table
and stuffed it inside his jacket. “This better be good,” he said,
moving outside.

“Good...?” Bellmore cackled,
approaching a vintage 70s Camaro just outside the diner’s entrance.
“Man, I got shit lined up that your player-ass can only dream
about.” He paused at the trunk, keys in hand, and a salacious grin
curled under his moustache. The fresh air must have renewed his
false sense of security. “Where did you find that sweet piece
of—”

“If you keep stalling...” Eddie cut
him off. “I’m going to end up doing something you’re probably not
going to like.”

“Okay, okay.” Bellmore complained in
slow, dawdling movements and then did the dumbest thing imaginable.
He opened the trunk right in front of the restaurant. “I was just
wondering how much she costs,” he said, sounding like a wounded
kitten who’d just tried to challenge his big brother, and
lost.

“Trust me. You don’t have enough
money.” Eddie’s attention cut to the trunk. The dark blanket
crumpled over the compartment made the hairs on his neck rise
up.

Bellmore peeled back the coverlet,
revealing a bevy of guns. “Ain’t these beauties sweet?”

Most were recognizably illegal. A few,
while legally attainable, Eddie bet the serials had been
removed.

“So how much for all of them?” Eddie
rested one hand on the raised trunk.

Bellmore hesitated before answering.
“Hundred grand.”

Eddie laughed.

“Okay, fifty.”

“Tell you what.” Eddie tapped his
forefinger on the trunk twice before planting both hands on his
hips. The perp needed a reason to negotiate. “I’ll give you
thirty-five grand, and you get to spend some quality time with my
best girl.”

The perp stared at the guns, lips
moving silently.

“Well?” Eddie laid on the
pressure.

“Two days.”

“Better take the deal before my offer
drops to twenty-five and forget the girl.”

“Okay. Okay.” Bellmore gave in, seeing
Rio exiting the diner. His interest lit and stayed on her. “Hey,
baby. Get your sweet ass in the car.”

“Excuse me?” Ice daggers shot her
words at Bellmore.

“Not yet,” Eddie said in a calm tone.
“Not until the guns are transferred into my truck.”

Chattering voices turned Eddie’s head.
Two hooker-looking chicks strolled toward them. He put the brakes
on his urge to rant and curtailed it to just a thought.
Damn
it
. This could turn ugly if they questioned Rio’s presence in
their territory.

“
J.B.” One of the girls
chimed Bellmore’s initials in a sing-song voice. She looked high,
and pleased to see him.

“Shit.” The word steamed through
Bellmore’s teeth like the long, low whistle of a simmering
teapot.

What? This wasn’t a good time? Looked
like illegal guns weren’t the only thing Bellmore was supplying to
the dark side of Vegas.

One of the hookers, the vocal one,
shifted her gaze between Eddie and Rio. Eddie’s instincts magnified
and he inspected the perimeter, looking for accomplices.

“Cop.” The hooker breathed the word,
barely audible, yet Eddie heard it.

Uh-oh.

A distorted version of Bellmore’s
movements stirred in Eddie’s peripheral vision. The guy was like a
well-oiled machine dipping into the trunk and back out again. Eddie
had no time to react and knew when he looked back at Bellmore, he’d
see a gun pointed at his head.

Along the opposite corner of Eddie’s
sight, Rio sailed toward them and dropkicked Bellmore to his knees,
knocking the gun from his hand.

The weapon hit the pavement and
discharged. The sound of the bullet ricocheting off the car
resonated in Eddie’s ears. Instinct drove him to the
ground.

Pain, sharp and stinging, blasted his
left temple. Eddie slammed against the sidewalk. The space around
him started spinning and his senses buckled.

The next couple of minutes played out
as if he’d been trapped inside a haze. Undercover cops emerged from
seemingly invisible places, swarming Bellmore and his hooker
friends. Rio ignored the girls’ denials of wrongdoing and
Bellmore’s unwavering insistence that he’d been framed.

Eddie’s headache intensified, swelling
against his skull. His cognizance threatened desertion. He closed
his eyes and remained still, willing away the stinging
sensation.

“LaCall?” Rio shook him with a gentle
nudge. “LaCall, can you hear me?” Her words breathed out with a
forlorned sigh.

Mischievousness curled Eddie’s mouth
into a playful grin. He opened one eye. “What? No
mouth-to-mouth?”

“Damn it, LaCall.” She dropped to the
pavement, as if he’d called her a speck of nothing. A used spec of
nothing. “I thought you were dead.”

Not exactly the response or reaction
he’d expect from an ice queen, the label she’d acquired from their
coworkers. Perhaps unfairly.

“Dead? Not quite. Thanks to
you.”

Still immersed in a hazy state of
cobwebbed consciousness, getting up was harder than Eddie expected.
A sitting position was as far as he got before the pain thumping
against his skull yanked his concentration elsewhere.

He rubbed his forehead and closed his
eyes, as if skewing his mouth could stop the agony from escaping.
His fingers slid through the sticky, wet substance trickling along
the side of his head and he knew he’d been hit.

Rio’s fingertips skimmed over his
injury. “You okay?” she asked. “Maybe you should go to the
hospital.”

Hospital? Was it that bad? No, it
couldn’t be. He was conscious and he was sitting up. Not well, but
he was sitting.

Eddie rejected the idea with a
dismissive nod. To prove himself, he pushed up from the ground. His
mind wavered and his body followed. He settled back onto the
sidewalk and cradled his head in one hand.

“That’s it.” She reached inside her
tank top and pulled a cell phone from her cleavage. “You’re going
to the hospital.”

“Come on, Laraquette, I’m telling
you...all I need is a little mouth-to-mouth.” He let his
quarrelsome laughter work its magic. With any luck, he’d ensnare
her easily. It would make his job so much easier in the long run.
So long as he remembered it was all for the sake of his
mission.

* * *

Eddie awakened in a hospital room that
looked like it’d been decorated to resemble a hotel room. Spring
green walls, flowery paintings and matching curtains failed to live
up to the disguise’s potential. Machines and hospital gadgets still
stuck out like a penny waiting for change.

Why am I still here
? Wrapping
his head around that was like trying to grab hold of a butterfly.
Every time he got close, it flew away.

He let the thought go, in favor of,
why was Rio camped out at his bedside
. Her feet were propped
up on the bed, and she was fully engrossed in a crosswords
magazine. The puzzle on the page facing him was
finished.

Finished. That meant she’d been at his
side a long time. But why? Why was she playing the role of the
dutiful partner? They’d only known each other a week. Everybody had
an angle. He doubted Rio Laraquette was an exception.

She nibbled the pen’s cap, her
green-eyed gaze glued to the magazine. Her face brightened with a
smile. She tapped the pen against the page twice and propped the
magazine on her thigh and began filling in the puzzle
boxes.

He should let her know he’d awakened,
but he didn’t want to startle her. Charming the girl was more
conducive than frightening her. He could always clear his throat,
but where was the fun in that? Teasing her seemed like a lot more
fun. And it drove her nuts.

“I don’t trust anyone who does
crosswords in ink.” He tried to pump humor into his
voice.

She peered over the top of the
magazine. “What’s your trouble with inkers?”

“They’re too sure of
themselves.”

Rio’s feet slammed against the floor.
“Well, it’s about time, LaCall.” An arched eyebrow indicated her
amusement. “If you think you’re pawning off those Bellmore reports
on me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Eddie chuckled. “This is definitely
where I pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, how’s your head?” Her
words changed with her tone, growing softer. Consoling. “Not too
much pain, I hope. Doc says you’re going to be fine.”

Again, not the actions of an ice
queen. Eddie was nearing to the conclusion his colleagues were
wrong about his new partner.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he said.
“Of course I’m going to be okay.” Obliging gratitude sedated his
mood. “Thanks.”

“For...?”

“For kicking Bellmore’s ass.” He gave
her props for single-handedly bringing the guy to his knees. And
just in time, too. Otherwise, Eddie could be having a conversation
with a totally different kind of being.

She tilted her head, as if shrugging
off the importance of her actions. “All in a day’s
work.”

“Well, if that’s routine, I definitely
want us to remain partners.” He settled his gaze on her. “You know
Dalton better than I do. Any chance he’ll make our assignment
permanent?” A continued partnership with Rio couldn’t be as bad as
everybody was saying.

“I’d say there’s a fair chance of that
happening.” She leaned back in the chair and laid the crosswords
magazine across her chest, folding her arms over it. She was good
at evasiveness. “How do you like Vegas so far?” Her soft voice held
all the innuendo he imagined.