Page 61 of Lie with Me
“Not for a second.”
“Good.” She relaxes.
“Where’s your phone?” I ask.
“In my bag.” She points to the little square wallet lookingthing on the bed. I pull it out and hand it to her. “Unlock it.”
She does. Warily. I scroll through her music until I find the right artist . . . what’s her name again? Oh yeah, Grace Potter. I hit shuffle, and a song called“Apologies”starts to play. How fitting. Tara perks up just a bit as I place her phone next to her bed on the stackable plastic drawers. Her apartment reminds me a little of a dorm room.
“Close your eyes. Get some rest. I have to make a few calls, and then I’ll come lay with you.” I go to kiss her forehead, but she lifts her face and catches my lips, kissing me affectionately. It’s apologetic, grateful, and pleading all at the same time. In a split second, she has me under her spell and pulling on her shirt.
“You need to rest.” I try to contain myself.
“I need you,” she replies vehemently.
It takes every ounce of restraint I have to say no when all I really want to say is yes. I’ve missed her body, thirsted for it, but now is not the time.
“Later.” I let her down gently. “There are some important calls I have to make. They can’t wait.” Tara nods, clearly worried I don’t want her. That’s so far from the truth. I’d much rather be buried balls deep inside her warm wet body than subject myself to self-inflicted torture. But it has to be done.
“I promise.” I kiss the inside of her wrist. “When I’m finished, I’ll be all yours.”
“Okay,” she acquiesces.
I stand up and walk to the front door. It’s like seven steps away.
“I’ll be right outside.”
She nods then closes her eyes. She’s more tired than she’s letting on. I watch as she lays there, the soulful music acting as a lullaby.
Once in the hallway, I pull out my phone and start the process. My first call is to Simon, an associate of mine at Endeavor. We call him the gatekeeper because he’s one of the most skilled hackers on the planet. If you’re picturing a tall, skinny nerd withglasses who loves plaid, your assumptions would be correct. He also takes OCD to the next level. He basically runs Endeavor from an ivory tower. No one goes into where he lives, and he barely ever comes out.
“Hello?” Simon picks up on the second ring.
“It’s me.” I pace the hallway.
“Hold.” He’s cleansing the line.
“What’s up?” I hear him typing away at super speed.
“Have you slept?”
“Of course not. Why are you calling? Do you need something? I know it’s not to check on my sleeping habits.”
“I need a background check. A guy named Nino De Blasio. Everything you can find on him. Just uncovered a subscription pros ring in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“A what?” I hear him stop typing.
“A subscription prostitution ring. Johns pay a monthly fee to sleep with as many girls as they want.”
“Like Netflix?”
“Sure. Whatever you want to compare it to,” I say, annoyed.
“Strike a chord with you, huh?”
“You can say that.”
“All right, give me a few. Is there anything I should bring Adams in on?”
