His Wicked Ways. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
of heated feelings. Fear, passion, anger—they were always other people’s problems.
“You’re NYPD?” Alec didn’t study the badge, saving his scrutinizing for a slow appraisal of her person.
She stared right back, knowing instinctively she needed to give as good as she got with this man or he’d try to roll right over her. What she saw didn’t compute to a handsome man. His features were too strong and prominent, his nose too large and his eyebrows too thick. Yet somehow on him, with his oversize height and chiseled muscles, it all worked. Well.
“A detective, actually. And one of New York’s finest, at that.” Vanessa tipped an imaginary cap in his direction, hoping to diffuse the tension. “You’re wanted for questioning in extortion charges filed by your business partners in McPherson Real Estate Development. If you’ll just come with me—”
“A city cop. Un-freaking-believable.” He tossed her badge back with an easy flip of the wrist. “Are you on my uncle’s payroll?”
“Not unless you’re the mayor’s nephew.” She tucked her badge back into her pocket, struggling to follow his mercurial mood. He seemed more distant now, but she supposed that made sense given his family’s long-standing animosity for law enforcement. “But we can chat more about it on the way to my precinct.”
She jerked a thumb toward the door, more than ready to leave 172nd Street behind. If only she could get Alec into a squad car and down to the station, she could scratch this case off her docket and consider an old debt to Lieutenant Durant paid.
The pending extortion charges against Messina were more an FBI matter, but nothing formal had been filed yet. Alec’s business partners had just wanted the police to find him. Bring him home. She had no idea if their method of dealing with uncooperative associates resembled mob justice, but Vanessa knew she wouldn’t want to be in Alec’s shoes when he returned to Manhattan.
Then again, maybe he thought he’d just silence her now rather than risk being found by his family.
Not that he stood a chance.
“I’m wanted for police questioning.” He reached for a basketball in a wire bin full of sports equipment on the perimeter of the gym. “In other words, you don’t have jack to pin on me, but you think if I come down to the station for an hour you’ll be able to maneuver me into a confession with some good-cop/bad-cop antics, right?” He spun the basketball on his fingertip, steadying his elbow beneath the moving weight. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
Mesmerized by the old playground trick, Vanessa figured as long as his hands were busy with the ball, he couldn’t very well pull any surprise attacks. Unfortunately, the play of his deft, strong fingers didn’t do anything to stifle the unfamiliar tension still coiling through her.
“Don’t you want to clear your name? Let your business partners know where you’ve been?”
“If I wanted them to find me, I would have told them before now.” His free hand whipped the ball faster and faster until it became a blur of orange. “But thanks for letting me know about the trouble over there. I’ll get in touch with them soon and figure out something.”
“They’re pointing fingers at you.” She peered around the gym to make sure they were still alone. Keeping her wits about her around this man took enough of her attention without adding any hidden lurkers to the mix. His students had all filed out onto the street earlier, but she knew there were other entrances to the building. Had in fact scoped them out before she’d insinuated herself in the self-defense class.
“I’m cheating my own company out of money?” He stopped the ball in midspin and tucked it under his arm. “Makes me wonder why I’ve been busting my ass for nine years to build a good business.”
“Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding.” She didn’t care how things settled out, she just wanted to do her part and get it over with. “If you could come down to the police station—”
“No.” He invaded her space, leaning close to get the message across. “Not gonna happen. You’ve got a pretty badge there, lady, but for all I know you’re as crooked as small-town politics.”
“You’re related to one of the biggest mobsters on the eastern seaboard and you’re afraid I’m crooked?” Didn’t that beat all? “If you’re so concerned, why not just call the police station and have them send a car for you? We can have someone here in ten minutes at the most.”
A perfectly logical plan to circumvent his concerns. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem convinced.
“Look, I’m not going to the police station on principle, even if I thought you were for real and you threw in a full body massage on the ride over.”
“Not in this lifetime, Al.” She lingered over the shortened version of his name he’d been using to hide out in plain sight for months. “And be careful you don’t verbally harass me, bud, or I’ll be hauling your butt back to Manhattan whether I have your consent or not.” Where did he get off distracting her with visions of full body massages?
Even more irritating—where did she get off actually envisioning her hands anywhere on this man’s body? Something was massively wrong with her today. She knew it had been a bad idea to venture into her home terrain, considering all the wrong turns her life had taken here.
“The lady doesn’t mind trading punches, but toss a little innuendo her way and she gets out of sorts.” He raised an eyebrow as he lined up a three-point shot from the side of the court. “You’re not the run-of-the-mill detective, Vanessa Torres.”
Don’t get personal.
Vanessa knew the drill, having long ago figured out how to keep the bad guys at arm’s length along with fellow cops. But Alec Messina wasn’t necessarily either. He had a reputation as a shrewd businessman with ties to organized crime even though he’d never been convicted of anything. Did that make him a good guy? Or merely one who was very skilled at getting away with misdeeds?
“You’re not a run-of-the-mill real-estate developer, either.” She watched him make his shot and then found herself moving toward the ball. Not that she was here to play. Far from it. She just found it impossible to walk away from a potential competition. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re hiding out in the Bronx using a different name.”
She dribbled super casually, telling herself maybe she wouldn’t need to shoot if she could keep her hands busy.
“Can’t bear to talk about yourself, can you?” Alec stripped the ball away and jogged to the rim for a layup. “I have to say I’m intrigued why the department sent you out here to bring me in alone. Don’t you people work in pairs?”
“I’ve seen your moves, Messina. I think I can handle it.” She kept her eye on the ball while Alec rebounded and dribbled.
Vanessa had a partner. A great partner who would be there for her in a heartbeat if she needed him. But Wesley Shaw enjoyed working alone just as much as she did. No way would she run to him just because Alec knew how to get under her skin.
“You haven’t seen anything.” He bounced the ball from hand to hand, the thunking cadence reverberating in her ears as he seemed to size her up. “I had to take it easy on you since I thought you were a local with no experience.”
That stung for reasons he couldn’t possibly comprehend since she’d been a local with no experience once. And that lack of preparation—the complete absence of basic self-awareness—had nearly cost her sister her life.
“I’m definitely experienced.” She tugged her thoughts from the quicksand of her past, refusing to get sucked into the same self-recriminations she’d been wading through for years. “And I’ve been around long enough to know I’m making no inroads with you unless I get a warrant, right? I’ll just let myself out.”
Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. No sense wasting time here with a man who just wanted to yank her chain. Six other cases waited