“Did you have something in mind?” I purred, inching myself forward on his desk, moving my legs apart.
Jackal nuzzled my neck. “I’ll think of something.” He started to stroke up my leg, massaging from knee to thigh.
In all the years we’d been whatevering, there were certain secrets I’d kept from Jackal. My debt to the Lady, for one. And what Lou and I had done to incur that debt. But—stupid me—I’d never considered he might have secrets of his own. Jackal seemed so easy to read. But continuing to blackmail old marks after the Lady’s sting had ended, or else selling them to someone new—I hadn’t guessed he had it in him. A reporter looking for a scoop, a rival business partner, an ex-wife with an axe to grind—pictures worth a thousand words and almost certainly several thousand dollars all told. Double-dipping would be an easy score.
“Come here,” I said, guiding Jackal so close there was almost no space between us.
The nineteen grand in exchange for my silence would be a simple solution, if Jackal had it, but I’d already made one reckless decision that day that had backfired. With Lou and me, there was a code—we watched each other’s backs and we took care of our girls, helped them to their fair share of the cut. But Jackal had brought that girl in here tonight, he’d let me down at the St. Leo, and he’d been complicit in whatever had happened to his ex. No loyalty to anyone but himself. Getting involved with Jackal’s side business was one more bad bet I couldn’t afford.
But maybe there was another way I could use the photographs.
Besides recording the footage, Jackal was the one who collected from the marks, keeping the girls out of danger and making the marks less likely to cause trouble. The Lady set the amount, but it wasn’t like she followed up to make sure that the blackmail had met their satisfaction. If Jackal upped the Klein bribe on the sly, I could slip the excess back to the police before anyone noticed it was missing. And no one would ever have to know it had taken a detour first. Neat, easy, not even stealing, not technically.
Jackal’s eyes were darker than normal, even in the half-light, and a fine sheen of sweat filmed his skin. I liked his eyes on me, and I liked the hate I felt for him even as I wanted him. Hate: an exciting emotion. I studied his face. Hair sticking up, combed by not-my-fingers. A little saliva hanging off the corner of his lip. Still more handsome than a man had any right to be. I smiled and reached for him, liking the feel of his shoulders beneath my fingers, his musky scent mixed with the sticky-candy smell of that girl’s perfume. I kissed his cheek and melted into him, my hands at his belt now.
“Jackal,” I whispered, and he brushed his nose against my clavicle, aligning my lips perfectly with his ear, “tell me about those old case photographs on your floor.”
Chapter 6
Jackal didn’t come clean right away. “What do you mean?” he asked, pulling back. Avoiding my eyes. Still keeping himself between me and the snapshot on his office floor.
“I don’t think you’ll be seeing that girl again.” I rearranged myself on his desk, smashing papers under my ass. That seemed to irritate Jackal, and he shoved me off. I didn’t mind. “Did you like her much?”
“What did you mean, about old photographs?”
“It doesn’t shock me that you’ve got something on the side,” I said. “Only I think you’d do well to remember the Lady Upstairs is less forgiving of sidepieces than I am.”
His hands bunched, and he took two steps around the desk—he almost forgot the game he was playing and bent down to grab the photo before he turned around. There was a small smear of lipstick on his collar. Ugly, tropical-punch pink: a little girl’s color. He was wild-eyed and trying not to show it, trying to think of something to say or do to throw me off, outsmart me. “I don’t know what you think you’ve found out, but you’re—”
“We both know you aren’t as dumb as you like to pretend to be. So tell me. How long has it been going?”
His shoulders slumped. “Does Lou know?”
“Not yet.”
“If you tell her anything, I will make you sorry, you bitch, you—”
“Oh, calm down,” I said, dabbing my finger over the smudge on his collar. The pink blushed my thumb, and I sniffed it, then popped the tip in my mouth.
“If you tell her anything, I’ll—” He closed the space between us. I put a hand on his chest, but it wasn’t to stop him.
“You’ll do what?”
His hand tangled in my hair and he pulled his fist forward so that we were both looking at the dark strands tucked between his knuckles. I leaned into him, wanting him to break the stalemate first. But he let go, taking a half step back. I watched a feeling pass over his face, quick like a summer storm, but I didn’t know, did not want to know, what it was.
I reached out a hand for him, and his phone rang. Jackal’s head jerked, and he stared at me, like he was waiting for me to tell him what to do. I blinked at him, and he cursed under his breath and answered.
“What.” I watched his face as he listened to the other end, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone. Silently, he held his phone out to me.
Me? I mouthed.
Jackal shrugged, his eyebrows raised. Lou.
“What’s up,” I said into the phone, a small wash of panic rising in my stomach. Maybe she’d heard from the Lady that there was a second envelope floating around the office. Maybe she was calling to ask if I’d happened to see it anywhere.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” I could hear something going on behind her—the radio? A woman’s crooning alto. Lou’s voice had a tinny, disembodied quality, like she was speaking to me from far away.
“I left it on my desk,” I said, picturing the phone next to the now-dead gin bottle. “Where are you?”
“On my way home,” Lou said, which didn’t entirely make sense—she’d left the office hours ago. Before I could ask about it, she went on: “I wanted to make sure we were all set for Carrigan tomorrow morning.”
“Yes,” I said, “of course. Ten. I remember.”
There was a pause. I could hear someone honking in the background. “Don’t be too hungover, okay?”
“Lou,” I said, my voice waspish despite the fact that she had a point, despite the fact that I didn’t want her asking me too many questions. “I won’t fuck up. All right? Just because Ellen isn’t—” I stopped. I could’ve bitten my tongue out.
Jackal was staring at me, his hands on his hips. I knew he was wondering what she wanted. If he should be worried.
“What?” Lou’s voice was clipped now, panicky. “Did something happen while she was there, something you didn’t tell me about?”