She grabbed his tie. “Don’t shut me out, damn it.”
His hand went to her face. “Then don’t shut me out. Give me a chance before you judge me.”
Her eyes registered her guilt, but her words were defensive. “I had a good reason for not taking you to the meeting with Steve.”
“You ran out on me while I was in the shower. That was a low blow.”
She paled. “If you hadn’t demanded—”
“I was worried.”
“I can take care of myse—” He swallowed her words with his mouth, kissing her as if he was drinking her in, with long, sensual strokes. Lindsey was like a fine wine, perfect from the very first drop, and addictive from there.
Whatever she was doing to him, he wanted more. The instant his tongue touched hers, she relaxed into him, arms inching around his neck, body leaning into him. She felt what he did. This irresistible need to explore what was between them. Right or wrong, what they shared was too alive to ignore.
When they came up for air, he leaned close to her ear. “I wasn’t trying to control you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
He leaned back to see her eyes. “You’re sure?”
She smiled. “At this very moment, in your arms, having just been kissed very well,” she said, “yes.”
He laughed. “I guess I will settle for that answer.”
“Do you have time to hear what Steve had to say?” She pointed at the untouched bag of food on his desk. “You can eat while I talk.”
He smiled. “Sounds good.”
“Then we can figure out how to handle my father.”
“I’ll take care of Edward.”
She fixed him in a look. “Not without telling me how. We do this together or not at all.”
Mark smiled to himself. Lindsey had no idea how much she had just given him.
Chapter Eight
If one more cab passed her by as if she wasn’t standing at the curb with her hand out, she might just throw something at it.
As if in acknowledgement of her words, a car screeched to a halt in front of her. “Finally,” she muttered to the air as she yanked open the door and slid inside.
“Where to, lady?” the driver barked, never looking at her. Lindsey reached for her briefcase. “I said, Where to, lady?”
“Just a minute.” Her response was terse as she dug for Todd Rogers’ address and found it.
A few seconds later, she sunk back into the seat as the car jerked forward. It didn’t take much to tune out the horn-honking and cursing that went on in the front seat. It was just as much a part of New York as pizza.
Her thoughts went to Mark. How easy it had been to fall back into his arms, and forget their earlier fight. She’d even enjoyed exchanging thoughts about the possible Nevada connection. But when he’d finished his lunch, he’d seemed eager to get away from her. And secretive about why. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if he hadn’t manipulated her to see his way by way of his kisses. Which meant he had done the very thing she hadn’t wanted . . . controlled her.
So, bothered by the idea that Mark was keeping her under thumb, she had to get out of the office. Since Todd couldn’t be reached by phone, she’d decided to try another in-person visit.
The cab stopped at her destination way before her whirlwind of thoughts were in order.
Todd Rogers lived on Bleeker Street smack in the middle of Greenwich Village, the heart of the art district. Considered to be one of the more expensive areas of town, Lindsey assumed Tom had family money or a whole heck of a lot of roommates. Stepping from the cab, she took in historic buildings with fondness. The particular area of town was full of shopping, fine dining, and elegant architecture. Close to campus, it was busy with skateboarders, bikers, and a scurry of walkers. Busy during the day, it was even busier at night. Clubs and bars lined the corners, as did restaurants and stores.
Todd’s apartment complex sat nestled between a pizza parlor and a hairdresser. It was a small complex, not more than ten stories, versus the many high-rise towers so common in the city. There was no doorman so Lindsey was able to push through the street door and enter the small hallway that housed the mailboxes and the downstairs apartments. Glancing at the narrow stairs that led to the other apartments, with no elevator in sight, Lindsey was thankful Tom lived on the bottom floor.
Almost the instant she knocked on the door, it flew open, taking her off guard. Tall, lean, and denim-clad, the man who greeted her was a full-fledged cowboy, complete with a Stetson on top of his head. The hat shadowed his eyes, but she felt his gaze, hot and heavy, as it made a slow slide down her body. Uneasiness pricked at her nerve endings. Despite the perspiration dampening her skin, she felt a cold chill sweep over her skin.
“Todd Rogers?”
Using his knuckle, he tapped the brim of his hat backwards, exposing the well-defined sharpness of his cheekbones, along with sharp, sea blue eyes. “Nope, but sure wish I was,” he said, plopping a shoulder against the doorframe and crossing one booted foot over the other.
Lindsey fought irritation. Damn if the man wasn’t going to make her ask the obvious. “When will he be back?”
“Well, now, that depends on who’s asking,” he drawled in a slow, Texas accent.
“Lindsey Paxton is the name and I am investigating the death of Elizabeth Moore. Now,” she said succinctly, “when will he be back?”
He gave her a long, assessing stare. “Too bad about Elizabeth.”
His voice seemed a sincere enough, but something about it didn’t sit right with Lindsey. Perhaps, the words rolled out a bit too flat. As if they didn’t matter all that much. Lindsey’s eyes narrowed. “You knew her?”
“Hard not to. She dated my roommate for a year. Party animal that one there, though. I told Todd he needed to get her under control. Appears I was right. Never safe for a girl like that to run around like she did.”
Lindsey opened her mouth to speak when footsteps alerted her of someone’s approach. She turned as a man stopped beside her. “Hey, Rogers KH mo. You got a visitor,” Cowboy announced.
Used to quick assessments, Lindsey sized up her new visitor. Medium height and build, he was nothing like his roommate. Glasses sat on top of his nose, encasing light brown eyes. Dark hair, conservatively cut, matched his yuppie-style clothing. Opposites attract, as they say, and Todd Rogers and his roommate were indeed just that.
She extended her hand. “Mr. Rogers, I’m Lindsey Paxton. I’d like to talk to you about Elizabeth.”
She watched as his eyes went wide. Her thoughts went to Jack the Ripper, a conservative businessman who had a nasty side. Could that be the case with Todd Rogers? Was there a nasty side hiding behind Mr. Prim and Proper?
“Who do you represent, Ms. Paxton?” he asked tersely.
“I’m with the FBI.” Which wasn’t a lie. She was. She was just on leave. “Care to see my badge?”
He nodded and walked past her. “No, come on in.”
Cowboy pulled his hat off his head and flattened himself in the doorway, allowing Todd to enter. Waiting for him to move, she was surprised when he didn’t. Instead, he waved her forward, a dare in his eyes. Lindsey raised one eyebrow. “Forget it, Cowboy. Step aside.”
He laughed and slowly complied.
Once inside, Todd motioned towards a small, wooden kitchen table. Sliding into a seat, she pulled out a pad and pen from her briefcase. “Sorry for Rick,” he said, motioning towards the door. “He is a real ladies’ man.”
She assumed Rick was Cowboy. “And you’re not?”
He laughed. “No, hardly. In fact, had Elizabeth not approached me, I might not have had the good fortune of knowing her.”
Rick’s comment about her wild side came rushing back. “How did you meet?”
“At a bar.”
“The Pink Panther?”
His eyes widened. “Yes, did Rick tell you?”
Behind her Rick responded. “Nope, I didn’t say a word.”
/> Lindsey didn’t turn. She’d already known Rick was there. She could feel his gaze riveted on her back. Ignoring him, she focused on Todd. “Why did you and Elizabeth break up?”
He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. It was a long moment before he replied. “I guess it just wasn’t right between us.”
Rick interjected, “He means she wasn’t satisfied with one man. She liked to play.”
Lindsey watched Todd’s eyes as they seemed to cloud over. “Look, Ms. Paxton, I loved Elizabeth, but I don’t see what any of this has to do with her death. Isn’t Williams going to trial?”
Lindsey nodded. “Yes, but the evidence is circumstantial,” she said truthfully. “Without more evidence, he could go free.”
His expression registered understanding. “So tell me what you need from me.”
He was making things easy on her. His willingness to help without asking too many questions kept her from explaining her role in the case. And she was damn thankful for that little prize. “I need you to tell me every little detail you can think of that might help.”
They spent the next hour talking about Elizabeth and her habits, likes, and dislikes. Things her parents wouldn’t know, because college-age kids didn’t show that side to them. Rick’s frequent interruptions, though irritating, did offer insight. Several times, things Todd left out of his stories, Rick brought to light, and then Tom would elaborate. When she felt she was out of questions, she stood and stretched. “Well, you have given me a lot to check out. I appreciate your time.”
Next stop, the Pink Panther.
* * * * *
Lindsey arrived at the Pink Panther only minutes later. Located a few blocks from Todd’s place, she had walked. She wasn’t surprised to find the front painted pink, which made it stand out amongst the row-to-row buildings. She stuck her sunglasses in her purse as she pulled the doors open. Her eyes strained against dim fluorescent lighting. Blinking several times, she stood still and willed her eyes to adjust. Shadows danced along the walls, and she searched for a source. Odd, rainbow-colored spotlights were placed in each corner of the room.
Taking several tentative steps forward, she let her eyes drift around her surroundings. Barstools and tables lined a large dance floor. A doorway at the far side of the room gave her a glimpse of what appeared to be several pool tables with pink velvet coverings. “Classy,” she muttered under her breath.
A bar ran the length of the far wall. Smoke climbed into the air from a lone ashtray sitting near the cash register. Bingo. Signs of life. She made her way towards it, ready to get answers and be on her way. This place gave her the creeps. Knowing it was somehow linked to four dead woman, maybe more, if Hudson and Williams were innocent—made the feeling worse.
Lindsey leaned across the bar, trying to see inside an open door directly across from her. “Hello,” she called. No response. She tried again but louder. “Hello.”
This time a gruff-looking, overweight man came through the door with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looked at Lindsey and then down at the ashtray. “Damn, if I didn’t do it again.”
He moved forward and stubbed out the cigar. His eyes went to Lindsey, irritation clear in his look. “What do want, lady?”
Nice, she thought. “I want to ask a few questions about some girls who have frequented your place of business.”
He snorted. “Hey, if their ID says they’re legal, we did our job.”
Guilty bastard. “I hadn’t given your ID procedures any thought, but you’re full of great ideas.”
His reply was quick and vehement. “Don’t play games with me, lady. What exactly do you want?”
Lindsey watched his face. “I want to know about four dead girls who just happened to party here the night they were murdered.”
“I don’t know nothing about any dead girls,” he said roughly.
“I see we have a visitor.”
A slight accent laced the voice that came from behind. Lindsey turned her back to the bar, facing the newcomer. He was tall, deeply tanned, with a menacing presence that crawled up her skin like a snake. Slowly he sauntered towards her, his movements graceful, his demeanor arrogant. His tan pants and matching blazer were expensive and well tailored. He reeked of money, power, and something more sinister. The word “evil” came to mind.
“She’s talking some murdered girls,” the bartender grumbled.
“Is that so?” the dark stranger asked, sauntering across the room and stopping way too close to Lindsey. He stared at her with eyes as black as coal, his deep, heavy brows framing them in a forbidding way. To some he might have been attractive. To Lindsey he felt dangerous. “Paxton isn’t it?”
Lindsey almost gasped. For him to know who she was seemed impossible. She managed to keep a blank expression. Showing any sign of weakness seemed imprudent. “And you are?”
“Victor Ruzo, Ms. Paxton,” he said coolly, almost too coolly, “the owner of the Pink Panther.” He motioned with his hand to indicate their surroundings.
“Just the man I need to speak with.”
He leaned against the bar, his eyes watchful, intent. “About the murders,” he said, as if he found the subject intriguing.
Lindsey’s composure started to waver, and she was thankful for her practiced, courtroom poker face. “Yes,” she said leaning on the bar herself, trying to seem as cool as he did. “Why don’t you tell me about the murdered girls?” She paused for a beat. “Did you know them well?”
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, changing the subject, as he flagged the bartender.
“Need something to calm your nerves?” she asked.
He brushed aside her question. “Vodka, Larry, and bring the lady one as well.” Then he turned back to Lindsey. “I didn’t know any of those girls, Ms. Paxton.”
She rejected his response. “They all knew this place.”
Larry set down the drinks. Victor reached for his, taking a slow sip before his eyes met hers above the rim of the glass. “I make it a point to know about certain things.” Victor gave her a challenging look. “Especially things that directly impact my business.”
Lindsey’s eyes narrowed. “And how exactly has your business been impacted?”
He sat his glass down with a clank and propped his foot up on a metal rail. “My bar was mentioned in the news several times. There was a huge write-up about you as well. About how you got him off so he could kill again. Stunning picture of you, by the way. A beautiful young attorney who knows how to get killers off certainly got my attention.”
Lindsey felt the words like the slap they were meant to deliver. She stared at him, struggling to pull herself together. For his painful remark, she lashed out. “Each and every one of the victims were at your bar the night of their attacks. That’s a pretty damning scenario, if you ask me.”
He smiled. “You seem very tense.” He shoved her glass towards her. “I think you should drink this.”
How could he act so nonchalant about a string of murders connected to his bar? “You haven’t heard the last of this.” Feeling the need to escape, Lindsey started towards the door.
“Come back again, Lindsey,” he said from behind her. She cringed, hating how he said her name . . . so familiarly. He continued with arrogance, “Next time, we can get to know each other better.”
Lindsey walked faster, forcing herself not to run, relieved when she reached the front door. She shoved it open and darted towards the street, only to run smack into something hard. Big hands closed on her shoulders, retracting the blow of her charging form.
“Wow, now, pretty lady.”
Lindsey’s eyes shot up as shock washed over her. Tom’s roommate, Rick stood before her, his hands lingering on her arms. She stepped back, feeling as if she had been attacked. She didn’t like the man, and after her encounter with Victor she was feeling more than a little freaked out.
Forcing words from her lips took effort. “Ah, sorry,” she muttered.
He gave
her a grin. “Anytime you want to bump into me,” he said with a smile, “feel free.”
Any remnant of diplomacy Lindsey might have managed disappeared. “Why are you here?” she demanded.
He laughed. “Well now, little darling, my heart is broken.” He held his hand over his chest. “Obviously you’re not as pleased to see me as I am you.”
Lindsey repeated the question, a demand in her voice. “Why are you here?”
He grinned. “I work here, of course.”
* * * * *
Mark walked through the front door of the long-term care facility where Edward Paxton was being treated with a predatory-type stride. He carried himself with confidence through the hall, only remotely aware of the curious stares he received. Stopping at the front desk, he was greeted by a young brunette nurse who gave him Edward’s room information.
It was well past time he and Edward had a long talk.
Mark found Edward’s room empty. Frustrated, he started to turn away, intent on going back to the front desk and asking for more information. But his eyes caught on a figure outside the window. Edward sat in the courtyard beyond, his profile to the room. To say Mark was shocked at Edward’s appearance would have been an understatement. The man had made a complete physical transformation. Thin and pale, he looked so unlike the robust man he had been only a short time before, that the change seemed almost impossible.
With a strained sigh, Mark turned away from the window and headed towards the courtyard. No matter how ill Edward was, there were matters that had to be discussed. A short walk later, preparing for a bitter welcome, Mark stepped to the front of the wheelchair.
Edward’s eyes went wide. “What in the hell are you doing here?” He half-yelled the words.
A nurse eyed them and started forward. He shot her a glare that stopped her in her tracks, and refocused on Edward. “We have a few matters to discuss.” Mark’s tone was sharp, yet calm.
“We have nothing to discuss. Get the hell away from me and my company, and especially my daughter!”
“You handed your daughter a damn mess, Edward. Paxton is six months, at most, from bankruptcy.”