Lovers and Liars (50 page)

Abe laughed. “No harm’s done, and hell, what you did was a response as old as time. Probably something I would have done.”

She smiled.

He leaned back and let his gaze roam her leisurely. Her nipples tightened against the ribbed cotton of her T-shirt. He said, “So that chapter’s closed now, right, doll?”

“Yes. Vince and I are through anyway. I’ve had it with that bastard.”

He raised a brow. “Quick change.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m getting a divorce, and I kicked him out last night.”

Abe grinned. “Good for you.” He shifted again. And tugged at the crotch of his trousers. Mary’s glance followed his movement, and she noticed a healthy hard-on. Their gazes met. “C’mere,” he commanded softly.

Her heart leapt while her vulva grew slick and moist. She was on her feet and moving between his thighs. He grabbed her breasts, squeezing. “Jesus,” he said.

She clamped a hand on his penis through the material of his pants. It leapt and quivered. “Abe,” Mary said.

He pulled up her shirt and buried his face between her breasts, kneading them. She freed his cock. He took a large
nipple into his mouth. “Big and beautiful,” he said. “I want to fuck your tits, Mary.”

And he did.

97

F
ear.

Rancid, stinking fear.

Will Hayward sat very still, in the living area of his studio on Ninetieth and First Avenue, listening. Straining to hear. His face was white. Sweat shone on his forehead and trickled past his ear. His arms were wrapped fiercely around himself. Again he heard it, and he leaned forward, concentrating.

A creaking.

Someone was coming.

And now, now there was nothing.

Will knew he was a coward. If he wasn’t a coward, he would get up and go to the front door and at least use the peekhole to see who was out there. Who? An assassin, of course. An assassin hired by Abe Glassman.

But he couldn’t do it.

He was afraid to even go to the door.

There was no noise now, nothing.

It had been his imagination. Will relaxed slightly, as much as possible with his heart racing a hundred miles an hour and his body wired from all the coke he’d done in the past two weeks. He knew he needed to come down. He wanted to shoot some heroin, or at least do a few Valium. But how could he? He needed to be alert!

Will opened the vial and snorted a few spoonfuls.

Then he heard the elevator—there was no mistaking that sound. He capped the vial, almost spilling its contents
because his hands were trembling so badly. He sat once more in frozen, abject fear. It was only when he heard his neighbor’s door opening and his neighbor’s girlfriend’s laughter that he relaxed, closing his eyes and sinking back against the couch.

He couldn’t go on this way much longer.

For one thing, he was down to the end of his stash—but he was afraid to go out. He hadn’t left his apartment in two weeks, not since he’d almost been killed in Central Park. He hadn’t gone to work, and he hadn’t answered his phone. He still had money left from the five grand he’d gotten from Abe, so that wasn’t a problem—not yet. But what was he going to do about Abe?

He was going crazy.

He knew it.

He had to do something.

He just couldn’t go on like this anymore.

98

J
ack finished shaving. He whistled at his reflection in the mirror.

Despite himself he was really looking forward to tonight.

And he was very pleased with himself. His timing, he thought, was impeccable. He hadn’t seen her in four days, not since an early morning run (followed by a deli breakfast), and he hadn’t called her until last night. While he was making himself clear regarding his intentions toward her, his instincts told him how far and how often to push. His instincts were always right on target when it came to women, and Belinda was a woman—a helluva woman, unfortunately—even if the stakes were entirely different this time.

He thought he had figured her out. She liked to be in control. She had reversed the sex roles by becoming the predator, the provider. Her men were like his bimbos, studs to service her. That was why she was so flighty toward him—she wasn’t used to an aggressive, powerful male chasing her. She didn’t like not being in control. He had to admit he found her an exciting challenge.

We’re not so different, he thought.

He refused to think about all he had learned that other night—about Belinda’s relationship to her father. That knowledge was tucked securely away where it couldn’t affect him or his plans.

His apartment had been very quiet ever since he had come home to dress for their date. No sign of Rick or Leah, although both of their bedroom doors were closed. As he was dressing he realized he couldn’t find his favorite cuff links, diamond-studded antiques. He knew they should be in the ashtray on his bureau, the only place they ever were. Irritated, he then noticed a tie clip was missing. It had been a gift from Tiffany’s. What the hell …?

Leah.

He suddenly knew she had taken the items.

Jack was rigid with fury. He was out of his bedroom and at her door a moment later, yanking it open. He stared, stunned. A man was on top of her, humping away, while she encouraged him with soft sex words and her hands and body.

“What is going on?” he roared.

The man leapt off Leah, going beet-red. He was short and paunchy except for skinny legs and a skinny, rapidly deflating dick. He hopped into his pants frantically.

Leah smiled, stretched, and slowly sat up.

“I don’t believe this!” Jack yelled.

The man was grabbing his shirt. “I didn’t know she was married. I swear we never met before. I swear!” he cried, edging for the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Jack snarled, and the man fled with a hasty snatch for his shoes.

“I’m a big girl,” Leah said, making no effort to cover
her nakedness. “If Rick can play around with his friend, why can’t I?”

“Because somehow I think there’s a difference here,” Jack said stiffly. He was furious.

“Honey,” Leah said, standing and stopping the man from exiting. “Not so fast.”

The man pulled out a wallet and counted out a number of bills, Jack watching incredulously, and stuffed them into Leah’s hand.

“Later, doll,” Leah called after him.

“Put on some clothes,” Jack snarled, clenching his fists. She was whoring out of his home!

She slipped on a robe. “What’s the matter, Bro? Gettin’ excited?”

“I want you and your things out of here by tonight,” Jack managed. “I can’t deal with this!”

“So now big brother’s going to turn his back on poor little sister,” she drawled sarcastically. “Did I even ask to be brought here? Did I? And now you’re kicking me out?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Jack grated. “Just like our mother.”

“And you’re so high and mighty. You got a different piece in here every night—and you pay them just like my johns pay me. With a good word, a favor, a walk-on. You hypocrite! You’re no different from them.”

Jack controlled himself, because he actually wanted to drag her by the hair and throw her out of his apartment.

At that precise moment the front door opened, and Rick and Lydia walked in laughing, their bodies touching, Rick’s arm around her shoulders. Jack ignored them.

“And what happened to my cuff links and tie clip? Are you a thief as well as a whore?”

Rick put his arm protectively around Lydia and backed her down the hall.

“I don’t know anything about your damn cuff links,” Leah shouted angrily.

“Dammit,” Jack shouted and left, slamming her door closed.

“Er … hi, Jack,” Rick said uneasily, his arm still around Lydia. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Rick and Lydia exchanged glances. “Maybe we’d better leave,” Rick said to Lydia.

“That’s all right.”

Leah appeared, her face flushed with anger. “I’m gonna tell you what I think, you bastard!” she hissed. “You come into my life and turn it upside down. You drag me out here. I didn’t want to come. And now you’re throwing me out. Where am I supposed to go?
Where?”

“Rick,” Lydia said softly, tugging his hand. Rick stared from his sister to Jack, both obviously furious, and he took Lydia’s hand and they slipped out of the apartment.

“Back to New York,” Jack said.

“You lousy bastard! You think I can go back there? My pimp will kill me—he will fucking slit my throat!”

Jack stared.

Leah had tears in her eyes. “I can’t go back there.”

“You can’t stay here,” Jack said tersely.

“You wanted your family, but now that you see what it’s like, we’re not good enough for you,” she said bitterly.

“Not
we,”
Jack said.
“You
. Why, Leah? Why did you have to turn a trick? Christ, I give you money, a place to stay, you had Hamilton—why?”

“It’s my profession,” she snapped. “What am I supposed to do, sit around on my ass, bored all day?”

“I can’t believe this.”

“I like it! It turns me on—it’s forbidden, and it’s always different.”

“You’re not even going to try and reform, are you?”

“Fuck you!”

“I’ll set you up in your own apartment,” Jack said. “I’ll buy you a two-year lease. Give you some money to get started. But that’s it. You’re on your own. Unless you want to get into the business in one way or another, in which case I will gladly pull strings for you.”

Leah looked at him a long moment, then smiled. “That’s a pretty good deal,” she said.

“Damn right,” Jack retorted.

“Maybe I was wrong. You’re okay,” she said. “My own place?”

She was just like Janet. Selfish and self-centered. Pathetic. Suddenly, for the first time, Jack felt sorry for her, sorry for Janet. “Look,” he heard himself say, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Let’s not fight. Let’s release the past.”

She looked at him as if he were crazy.

99