Criminal Instinct (9 page)

Her stomach fluttered.

For a second, he stared at her with those golden eyes as if he wouldn’t let her get away even if she attempted to make a run for it. She didn’t know why, but the guy had the weirdest effect on her. Got her hot and bothered just by being in the same room with him. And it wasn’t only his looks. San Francisco had as many pretty faces as bad ones, and none of them made her want to run for her life in the opposite direction.

She pushed a hand through her hair. “If we can’t be friends…we can’t be anything. My life is a little complex.”

“Why are you denying the attraction?”

“I’m not.”
Just doing everything in my power to avoid it.
“I know it’s there, but I don’t sleep with someone just because I like the way he looks. Apparently you do.”

He stared into her eyes. “What does that make me, Ana? A healthy male.”

“Typical too. I’m not down with casual sex, so you can scratch me off your list of possibilities.”

His gaze narrowed. “I don’t have any damn list.”

Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz
.

Ana sighed.
“Give me a break.”

“Is that who you expected earlier when you said my
ass was grass?
”

She walked around him to the intercom. “No. Wasn’t expecting anyone, actually.”

“Anyone who rings your buzzer has to suffer your wrath, is that it?”

Pretty much. She gave a faint smirk to the teasing in his voice and pressed the talk button. “Talk to me.” She released, waiting for a response.

“Damn it! When the hell are you going to pick up your phone and why the hell didn’t you check—”

Sarge!
She quickly slammed the talk button again. “Dad!” A nervous laugh bubbled up her throat. “I’ll be right down.”

She threw on a light zip-up sweatshirt, stuffed her bare feet in her Docs and turned to Saven. “You think you could wait here a minute? Don’t want the old man to get the wrong idea. He has a heart condition. Too much stress can be fatal. So, um, I’ll be back.” She slammed out of the room before he could utter a reply.

Jonas settled on Ana’s worn green chair, the cushion squeaking in protest. He tried to find something interesting in the room to focus on, but he came up desperately blank. Whatever he had imagined about her, it hadn’t been that she would reside in this little box.

Not much here. A bed sitting on an old metal frame, a worn table, and a tiny closet. If anything, this place seemed to be a temporary flop house. When his family lost everything, they’d still had a home. His mom had always tried to make it welcoming no matter what situation they were in.

Finally he stood and peered out the window. Ana leaned against the building, arms crossed like she didn’t have a care in the world. The wind blew her ebony hair away from her face. She should be cold, but you couldn’t tell by looking at her nonchalant posture.

Her “dad,” who looked pale, wide and nothing like her, loomed over her, yelling.

Tension radiated through Jonas’s shoulders. Who the hell was this guy?

He couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen his father’s face bulging with anger like that. So at odds with the man he’d known for the first ten years of his life.

Ana happened to look up at the window. She straightened and walked a couple of steps away from her building. The man followed her.

Jonas turned away and scanned the plain walls. No photographs were set out anywhere. Maybe she didn’t have any family, because that sure as hell didn’t look like her father out there.

Could the guy be her dealer? He rubbed at the back of his neck. He hadn’t seen her high or noticed any long-term side effects.

And he’d looked. Drugs had been his first suspicion when he’d seen her with Dolini. But not being an addict didn’t knock the possibility she could be a casual user.

His gaze veered back to the twin bed. Prostitution?

He already knew if Ana needed money, she took it. The reality that she needed to steal set his teeth on edge. Anything could happen to a young woman on the streets.

He walked over and examined the utilitarian sheets. The worn blue comforter lay bunched on top of a white sheet, a couple of threads unraveling from the seam. No frilly designs, just plain. Not the usual bed coverings for a young woman, especially one who might do business in bed.

Last night, her petite body had moved against him and triggered his desire. Their kiss had knocked him back, turned him hot with need. He admitted he’d come on strong, but she had a way of setting off some switch inside of him. Then damn, the heat had caught up with her and she’d been into him as much as he was with her. Remembering the sensation that coursed through his body had him hardening between his legs. Shit. He shifted and readjusted himself.

Prostitution couldn’t be right. She’d just declared she didn’t plan on sleeping with him. She wanted to be
freaking friends
.

Not if he had any say about it.

He turned, kicking something with his foot. An old shoebox sat beside a couple of small purple bar bells and an empty Dr. Pepper can. The cardboard lid had fallen off and he went to replace it. When he kneeled down, he frowned.

A box full of
hearts?

Fabric cutouts, stickers of various designs, tiny plastic charms. Every item in the box appeared to be in the shape of a heart. He picked one up the size of half his palm, cut from a white cotton material. The initials M.S. were written on it with blue marker.

He returned the heart. A girl’s treasure box.

A smile touched his lips. Not as hardcore as she wanted to be perceived. With great care, he replaced the lid and slipped the box under the bed.

Ana entered the room as he straightened. Her oversized black sweatshirt hung off one smooth-looking shoulder. Her hair was sexily mussed and her cheeks rosy from the cold air outside. His gaze traveled down her bare legs which were fit with muscle. Petite blue boots covered her feet, the laces loose around her narrow ankles.

Damn, she looked cute.

She ran a hand through her hair. Ebony tresses slid back into place like smooth water on either side of her face.

“That dad of mine,” she said, with a mocking grin.

Her reference to the guy filled Jonas with dark thoughts. “Ana, are you in some kind of trouble? Who is he to you?”

“I told you—”

“He’s not your dad.”

Her gaze flickered. “I guess we don’t look much alike.”

“I don’t like being lied to, Ana.” His tone turned superior, but he couldn’t help it. “If that’s the way you work, I don’t want to know you.”

Her expression went mutinous, eyes heating, and he just waited for her to say, “Go to hell.” He didn’t want to walk away, but deceit he would not tolerate.

After an intense silence, she scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. “He’s…my boss.”

Jesus
. “I can help you out of this life, Ana.” With the information she harbored on Dolini, they could help each other out.

Her eyebrows lifted, a secret smile curving her lips. “No, you can’t.”

“Selling your body—”

“What?”

“—isn’t your only option.”

Laughter flowed out of her mouth, and her arms held her stomach as it quivered with giggles. The laughter could have been contagious if
he
weren’t the butt of it.

“You think he’s my pi-pi—” More laughter.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Pimp.”

Her laughter softened. Placing her hand on her hip, she cleared her throat. “Look, Saven, I’m no one’s bimbo. Never have been, never will be.”

Relief swept through him. He didn’t question why.

Her other hand waved in the air. “Our kiss was a one-time thing. Sudden loss of sanity.”

“I’m not sure that’s all that flattering.”

“What you seem to think I am sure as hell isn’t. Just because I’m not your shade of color—”

“Calm down.”

“—doesn’t mean I sell my body.”

“Ana, that’s not what I meant.” He blew out a breath. Again this conversation veered in a direction he didn’t want to go. “Just tell me, what do you do for a living that makes that man your boss? I was under the impression you didn’t have a job. Why else would you be lifting wallets?”

“My work is not illegal or pornographic. Let’s just leave it at that.” She crossed her arms and cocked her hip to her right, somehow making her expression stubborn and snobbish at the same time. “I really don’t know you well enough to tell you my life story.”

Why was she so secretive? Something made her nervous. She wouldn’t keep still. An irritating woman…yet sexy as hell. A combination he hadn’t known intrigued him until now.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re smiling.”

Was he? “Just that, you’re not my usual type.”

She shook her head. “Start up the presses.”

His smile fell away. He wanted her, but he would have to meet her terms if he wanted to find out what she knew about Dolini. And he would get the information from her. Maybe there would be time to change her mind about having a more intimate relationship.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. “Friends.”

A sigh escaped from her. “Good.”

He walked toward her and placed a hand to her soft cheek, his thumb sliding across her chin. She eyed him like a cop might eye a perp. It made his smile return. “Can I take you to dinner?”

“Friends don’t go on dates,” she murmured.

“My friends do.” He leaned down close. She stared at him, but didn’t move. “Damn, last night…you were so delicate against my mouth.” A tightening in his gut mixed with the thought of his mouth on hers again, the taste of her…

Something flashed in her eyes and she turned her head. He caught the quick fluctuation of her pulse in her neck. It didn’t deter him; he brushed a light kiss on her cheek.

His cell phone rang. “I have to take this.”

“Sure.” Her voice came out husky.

He turned his back, pulled out his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Saven.”

“I have news. We need to meet.” Ray.

“Okay.” The information must involve the X, or Ray would have said whatever it was over the phone. “Are the funeral arrangements set for Stevie?”

“Taken care of. Paid in full.”

“Where are you?”

“Decadent.”

“I’ll swing by, we’ll talk on the way to Zero. There’s paperwork I need to finish.” He shut his phone and turned to Ana. “I’m going to have to take back the offer for dinner. Something’s come up.”

She looked down at her boots. “Something with the club?”

“A meeting.”

“Important?”

He stared at her long enough for her to lift her head.

“You mentioned funeral arrangements. Someone named Stevie.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Eavesdropping doesn’t become you.”

Her shoulders straightened. “You
are
in the same room with me. If it was private—”

“Right.” When would he stop acting like everyone was the enemy? “I recently lost one of my employees.” He closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s tough. How did he…?”

His eyes met hers. Did she look pale? “Shot.”

“What happened? Just curious,” she added when he continued to stare her down.

“Yeah, well, don’t be.” He scanned her place, although another look didn’t make it any more appealing. “I noticed you have a cell phone.”

“Not mine, it’s for work.”

“Really. How do friends contact you?”

She nodded to her entrance. “Door.”

He smiled. “I think you can give me your work cell for texts.”

“I guess.”

Saturday
11:45 a.m.

“Hey, Tommy, remember me?”

Tommy Dolini turned, flipping his yellow ponytail—a slimy banana worm—behind his back. The young girl he had cornered in a darkened section of the arcade was immediately forgotten. He reached out crooked fingers and touched Ana’s hair. She held herself still. She couldn’t get pissy with him yet. She needed information.

“Yeah, baby girl.” His beady eyes narrowed on the logo NARC printed in bright yellow letters across her black shirt before he smirked. “I remember you
real
good. You took off on me yesterday.”

Straining not to bust her fist in his cheesy chops, she forced a smile. “Yeah, pressing business to take care of. Anyway, I’m looking for a buy. Heard you might have some Adams for sale.”

He looked at her with his narrow face screwed up—minor internal struggle—then nodded. “Let’s take a walk. I have a meet. You can come along for awhile.”

Ana’s stomach did a quick pulsating jig. “Sure, no problem.”

Dolini turned to talk to the girl.

Sarge’s orders had been to follow up on Tommy Dolini, Ecstasy peddler and pedophile bastard. Since his interest had been on Ana yesterday, she’d been nominated to find out about his supplier. And because she was at Sarge’s beck-and-call for the operation
and
in the shithouse for sending Skates to her pad, she had to make up for it. That the kid had never made it to her place was still her fault, apparently. She hadn’t told Sarge about Skates’s message. It would just get Skates in deeper crap—and her too, for trying to cover the kid’s butt and lying to her boss.

Sarge coming to her place was strange enough, but on top of that, he’d seemed on edge. Self-preservation had kept her from telling him Saven graced his presence in her studio. It didn’t seem like the right time, since he thought last night she’d come up with zilch regarding Saven and Brooks.

That was before overhearing Saven’s phone call about an employee named Stevie and funeral arrangements. Stevie, as in Stephen Johnson, who bragged about a big shipment coming into the Bay Area? The same guy shot to death two nights ago at the rave, who had mentioned the name Saven? Could all be a coincidence, but she doubted it.

“Let’s go,” Dolini said.

With his limp arm around her shoulders, they headed onto Jefferson Street. A cool breeze flirted with her hair. Dolini’s hip brushed hers and everything inside her wanted to jump away. Through her side vision, she noticed their heads were nearly level. Just too weird walking next to a man her same height.

“Where are we going?” she asked him.

“Somewhere private. Don’t worry, baby girl, we’ll handle your business first.”

She pursed her lips to cover the snarl that wanted to pop out. What’s with this
baby girl
crap?

When they stopped at a corner, Ana took in the cars slowly turning onto the street in front of them. Beat-up sedans, a trolley, a cop on a motorcycle, followed by a sleeked-up silver Cadillac Escalade driven by—Saven.

No way
.

Alarm shot through her. She didn’t have time to duck her head; he spotted her. If his eyes widening and his mouth thinning were indications of how he felt seeing her with the dealer, it didn’t look good.

He tried to signal her with some weird hand gestures. She evaded him in the only way she could think of—she glanced up at the clouds. When a horn honked behind him, forcing him to accelerate, she sighed in relief. She didn’t need his overpowering sense of righteousness blowing her cover. Curious, she watched him drive past.

He stared at her and pointed at Dolini. An unspoken warning to watch out. She caught a glimpse of another man with Saven. The second man resembled Raymond Brooks.

“You know that guy?” Dolini asked.

She played it dumb. “Who?”

“That dude in the Escalade.”

She tilted her head, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s an Escalade?”

He laughed, and they crossed the street. From his tone, she guessed Dolini
didn’t
know Saven. That meant Dolini dealt for someone else? So why was Saven interested in Dolini?

Ana took a cautious glance over her shoulder. No upset Saven barreling down on them. Safe.

For now.

They walked a couple of blocks and entered a deserted alley that was dark, damp and decorated with typical graffiti. Tag names and obscene gestures that gave suggestions of what you could do with your mama. Empty bottles and cans littered the cemented ground. The rank scent of rotten food blew in the air. A large dumpster sat midway between the entrance and the fenced-in area that separated them from another alley. What was it with her and dumpsters lately?

Dolini shoved her against the grimy wall, his body pressing against hers. She stiffened and checked her first instinct to knee him in the balls. Cheap cologne invaded her nostrils. His rough tongue slid up her neck as if he were a thirsty vampire preparing for an appetizer. Her stomach turned.

She braced her hands on his bony chest and straight-armed him away, with a lot less force than she wanted to. “I said Adams, that’s it.”

“Chill, baby girl.” His muddy eyes glazed over with male interest, and his nasty breaths came out in short, excited pants. “Tommy will give you a nice free tablet if you give up some.”

Yeah, like she needed information bad enough to catch a disease. “What if I need more than one?”

“Sorry baby, you need
dinero
for that kind of treat. Why don’t you have yours now.” He stuffed his hand in his frayed pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic bag with one tablet inside. He dangled the drug in front of her like a worm attached to a hook.

Ecstasy tablets appeared on the street in all different shapes and colors, and varied in potency. Dolini’s X wasn’t familiar—circular in shape, plain white, with a stamp of a shoe with wings.

She dropped her arms and took the bag. “Maybe you don’t have enough to handle what I need. Maybe…I need to go someplace else.”

His shaggy brows pinched. “How much we talkin’?”

“I got a man who’s looking to buy big. Thinking of starting his own, out of the city.”

“Maybe I need a little incentive to give you that information for your
man
.” He glided a bony finger across her chest. “Take the pill,” he grunted out, before he slanted his chapped lips over hers.

Sick bastard!

Lips firmly shut against his probing tongue, she popped up her knee and rammed him full force in the groin.

He went down like a sack of old potatoes, curling into a fetal position, cursing her with heat.

“Fuck, fuck,
fuck!
”

Her disgust for him reeked as ripe as the rotting dumpster. She swung out with her boot, using the weight of her body for a hard-edged blow, and connected with his ribs.

He hollered and rolled onto his back, giving her free access to prop her boot on his windpipe.

“Now let’s talk business, dirtwad. Who do you work for?”

“Fuck off,” he squeezed out.

Ana’s jaw tightened. She pressed harder with her boot. “Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Removing her switchblade, she leaned down and flicked the weapon open right beneath his nose. Her voice went low. “Who do you work for?”

“No…name…breathe…
can’t
.”

She eased back on the pressure. “How do you reach him?”

“He pages me—or sends a…guy.”

“What guy?”

“Differ—guys.”

“When’s the shipment of Ecstasy coming in?”

“What shipment?” She leaned harder against his neck. His eyes bulged, his face turning red. “Don’t. Know.
Soon
.” She eased back a little. “Coming in—boat,” he rasped.

“What about a dealer named Stephen Johnson, goes by Boner. Tall, rangy, buzzed head. He likes to work the raves. You know him?”

“Ye-Yeah. Haven’t seen ’im.”

When he didn’t say anything further, she pushed the blade into his face hard enough to nick him. “I swear—
you bitch
—that’s all I know.”

In her book,
bitch
was a step up from
baby girl
.

Tears gathered in his eyes. After a miniscule debate, Ana yanked on his oh-so-proud tail and sliced it off at the neck. Her lip curled at the greasy texture before she threw it at him and stepped away. She would have left it alone, but the idiot rubbed her the wrong way.

“Son of a bitch—why’d you do that for?” he whined, cradling his precious worm and slowly getting to his feet.

“Take it as a warning. Stay away from little girls. I see you pressuring any more kids to give up action for drugs, I’ll cut off something a lot more important to you next time.”

“Fuck off—”

Gravel spun under tires. Ana jumped away from Dolini to keep both him and the vehicle in her line of vision. A black SUV with tinted windows pulled into the alley. Not about to stick around for introductions, she spun on her toes and ran toward the fence.

A firecracker sound went off behind her.

Her heart rammed into her throat. Sweat broke out on her skin. She hooked her fingers onto the fence and climbed. The iron dug into her fingers and palms.

She hooked a leg over the top of the fence, gripped her hands on the fence, swung the rest of the way over and dropped down into a crouch, the impact vibrating the soles of her boots. Dolini lay sprawled on the ground. Two men in suits with shiny plated guns jumped out of the SUV. They’d shot Dolini! But he wasn’t dead. His arms waved in a pleading gesture. It didn’t help. One of the men pointed the gun down at Dolini’s chest and fired.

Ana flinched.

A bullet shattered brick splinters two inches from her head.

She pivoted, pushed off and ran in a criss-cross pattern across the rest of the alley.

Another shot sliced through the air. Her stomach twisted. Sweat dripped down her back. She careened around the corner to the sidewalk, her legs pumping. Hard. Fast. The alleyway was straight ahead. Just as she hit the entryway, a fierce grip latched onto her arm.