of the driver’s side door and pushed a button. The passenger door slid open, and a wheelchair ramp came out. A moment later, the man from last night, pallid and grey, was lifted onto the ground in an electric wheelchair. I turned to Phillip. “Who the fuck has a heart attack and then hits the town the next day?”
Phillip didn’t answer. He unbuckled his seat belt and exited the SUV. I rolled my eyes and followed suit. “You sure know how to make an exit,” I said, trotting after him. The man and his escort had filed into the elevator.
“We’re taking the stairs,” Phillip said.
He looked down at my heels. They were six inches tonight; red-soled Louboutins that I’d purchased with my first intern paycheck post-medical school. I put my hand on my hip and stared at him indignantly. “What? You think I would purchase shoes I can’t walk in?” I shoved him aside and trotted down the stairs easily.
His laugh echoed down the stairs. “You’re fucking adorable,” he said.
My heart was beating from three things: the adrenaline, the fear, and the compliment.
We tracked the man for a good three blocks after we left the parking garage. Then he stopped at the entrance of a black-painted building. The door was ornate and glossy black. A tall, alabaster-skinned man with a bald pate so shiny it reflected the streetlights was standing guarding the door. He nodded at the man in the wheelchair and opened the door for him and his companion.
Phillip pulled me into an alleyway. “We wait,” he said. “We can’t know what’s behind that door. They probably won’t let us in.” He fished his phone out of his pocket.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
Phillip was tapping on his screen. “Whose name?”
“The guy. The man you were paid to follow. The one you nearly killed last night by failing to render aid.”
He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at me but managed to restrain himself. “I don’t know,” he said simply.
“You don’t know ?”
He nodded his head. “Simpler that way.”
I cocked my head and examined his face while he made a phone call. I wasn’t sure if him not knowing the name of his target was standard industry procedure for private eyes or not. My only exposure to that field of work came from my obsession with Veronica Mars .
“Yeah. We’re in midtown Manhattan. 17th and 30 th . Black door out front –“ Phillip paused, looking shocked. “Oh. You know it. It’s – it’s what? ”
CHAPTER EIGHT
CRUZ
It was a sex club.
Of course Flea knew it right off the top of his head.
Lily had nearly exploded with excitement at the news while I’d felt all of my reservations about this evening blowing up magnificently. What the fuck else could go wrong?
I was dragging a woman I’d met on a dating app into a sex club so I could go murder my target.
This week was nothing if not a rollercoaster.
“Serves you right,” she had said to me, taking me by the hand and confidently walking up to the doorman. I had no idea what she said to him – or maybe it was her unrelenting hotness that did it – but within thirty seconds of approaching the door we were let inside.
It was pitch dark. Lily laughed into the void. A feminine voice called into the dark. “Password,” she said.
“Shit,” Lily muttered.
Subtlety was not her strong suit. Thankfully, Flea the creep knew what the password was within sixty seconds of texting a contact of his. “Pony,” I said.
Lily bit back a laugh. I grabbed her arm to tell her to cool it. She retaliated by groping in the darkness until her hand was resting on my thigh to the right of my dick. I felt myself growing instantly. She gave as good as she got.
At least in terms of giving her a hard time she did. Though I had no reservations about her capacity in the bedroom.
“Masks to your right,” the feminine voice said. I heard Lily reaching and a moment later she was handing me a plastic mask covered in something soft and ticklish. I
Phillip didn’t answer. He unbuckled his seat belt and exited the SUV. I rolled my eyes and followed suit. “You sure know how to make an exit,” I said, trotting after him. The man and his escort had filed into the elevator.
“We’re taking the stairs,” Phillip said.
He looked down at my heels. They were six inches tonight; red-soled Louboutins that I’d purchased with my first intern paycheck post-medical school. I put my hand on my hip and stared at him indignantly. “What? You think I would purchase shoes I can’t walk in?” I shoved him aside and trotted down the stairs easily.
His laugh echoed down the stairs. “You’re fucking adorable,” he said.
My heart was beating from three things: the adrenaline, the fear, and the compliment.
We tracked the man for a good three blocks after we left the parking garage. Then he stopped at the entrance of a black-painted building. The door was ornate and glossy black. A tall, alabaster-skinned man with a bald pate so shiny it reflected the streetlights was standing guarding the door. He nodded at the man in the wheelchair and opened the door for him and his companion.
Phillip pulled me into an alleyway. “We wait,” he said. “We can’t know what’s behind that door. They probably won’t let us in.” He fished his phone out of his pocket.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
Phillip was tapping on his screen. “Whose name?”
“The guy. The man you were paid to follow. The one you nearly killed last night by failing to render aid.”
He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at me but managed to restrain himself. “I don’t know,” he said simply.
“You don’t know ?”
He nodded his head. “Simpler that way.”
I cocked my head and examined his face while he made a phone call. I wasn’t sure if him not knowing the name of his target was standard industry procedure for private eyes or not. My only exposure to that field of work came from my obsession with Veronica Mars .
“Yeah. We’re in midtown Manhattan. 17th and 30 th . Black door out front –“ Phillip paused, looking shocked. “Oh. You know it. It’s – it’s what? ”
CHAPTER EIGHT
CRUZ
It was a sex club.
Of course Flea knew it right off the top of his head.
Lily had nearly exploded with excitement at the news while I’d felt all of my reservations about this evening blowing up magnificently. What the fuck else could go wrong?
I was dragging a woman I’d met on a dating app into a sex club so I could go murder my target.
This week was nothing if not a rollercoaster.
“Serves you right,” she had said to me, taking me by the hand and confidently walking up to the doorman. I had no idea what she said to him – or maybe it was her unrelenting hotness that did it – but within thirty seconds of approaching the door we were let inside.
It was pitch dark. Lily laughed into the void. A feminine voice called into the dark. “Password,” she said.
“Shit,” Lily muttered.
Subtlety was not her strong suit. Thankfully, Flea the creep knew what the password was within sixty seconds of texting a contact of his. “Pony,” I said.
Lily bit back a laugh. I grabbed her arm to tell her to cool it. She retaliated by groping in the darkness until her hand was resting on my thigh to the right of my dick. I felt myself growing instantly. She gave as good as she got.
At least in terms of giving her a hard time she did. Though I had no reservations about her capacity in the bedroom.
“Masks to your right,” the feminine voice said. I heard Lily reaching and a moment later she was handing me a plastic mask covered in something soft and ticklish. I
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