BENEATH THE SILK Read online

  The phone rang.

  Sunni jumped, then stared at the phone on the island counter just a foot away from where her bodyguard stood. On the second ring she started forward.

  "Let the machine take it."

  She ignored his rusty-nail voice as well as his intimidating stance. As she reached for the phone his hand covered hers and remained there like an iron paperweight.

  "I want to hear who it is."

  Five rings later the answering machine clicked on. "Sunni, it's Joey. Detective Williams paid me a visit early this morning. He claims he called your father four days ago after being assigned to Tandi's murder investigation. You can imagine my surprise when he told me Clide Blais was your father. Especially since my records say your father and mother are dead and buried in Mississippi. A police chief for the city of New Orleans, is what Williams claims. That explains why Jacky's in town. A few phone calls and I've learned that your father's ace flew in five days ago as the mop crew. What's your scam, Sunni? Ten o'clock in my office."

  * * *

  "You're a sleazy cop?"

  The force of her words nailed Jackson where be stood. "Homicide detective," he corrected her.

  "You're a con man with the morals of a snake."

  "Bodyguard protecting the boss's daughter."

  "Stalker."

  "You must have me confused with that other guy," Jackson returned. "The one who was tailing you the day I got here."

  Her eyes widened. "Someone's been tailing me, other than you?"

  "Not any longer. So Mommy and Daddy are buried in Mississippi, is that the story? That's funny 'cause I just talked to Daddy last night."

  "What do you mean by, not any longer?"

  Jackson was trying to keep his temper corralled, but she was treading close to the end of his patience. She had no idea what he had been doing on her behalf since he'd gotten into town—without running water, no less.

  "If I'm going to be any use to you, I'm going to need your cooperation. As far as the stalker goes, he had a record. People who lie and cheat are usually easy to trip up. That leads us back to why Joe's file on you is full of lies."

  She glared at him. "I don't cheat. The lie … the lie didn't hurt anyone. About the stalker…"

  "Whoever paid him to watch you, paid him enough to keep his mouth shut. I explained to him that if he didn't tell me who that was, he'd be jailed on a charge he couldn't beat. He didn't believe me." Jackson shrugged. "He’ll do a year. Now, about this suspect mess—"

  "This mess, as you call it, Mr. NOPD, isn't my doing."

  "It doesn't matter. It's still in your face, Sis. That's what matters. And Stud Williams goes by the book, sweetheart. If you're on his suspect list, he's got a damn good case, and the power to ruin your life."

  "So what are you doing about it … Ace?"

  "I've been turning this city inside out to rescue your cute butt, that's what I've been doing. And at the same time, I've been keeping an eye on you so—"

  "I know exactly what you've been keeping an eye on, you snake. And I'm sure my father would be interested to know what kind of man he's sent to rescue me."

  Jackson tried to keep a straight face, but even when she was angry, chewing tail, he liked looking at her. And that voice … oh, yeah, he definitely liked her husky voice. It didn't fit her petite size, but then neither did the amount of frontage she was carrying. His grin widened.

  "That grin is going to cost you, Ace."

  He should back off now, but Jackson had never been shy when it came to throwing another log on a hopping good blaze. And that was another lesson she needed to learn if they were going to work together without drawing blood. His gaze went to her swollen lip. "How was I supposed to know you were a practicing exhibitionist, Sis? If I had, I would have steered clear of the window."

  "You arrogant, oversize—"

  Jackson held up his hand. "Whoa! I’m here to get you out of a tight spot, not to fight with you."

  "And why didn't you bother telling me this days ago?" She straightened to her full height and still the top of her head was below Jackson's chin. "I've been sleeping with my gun under my pillow, one eye open and a foot on the floor, thinking you were a hit man for Vito Tandi, you slippery snake."

  Jackson stepped into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He hadn't eaten since last night and his stomach was attacking his ribs. "Next time someone comes to the door you don't know—" he reached for the egg carton on the bottom shelf "—don't open it." He straightened and set the eggs on the counter and faced her across the counter. "Bolting into the hall to raise the neighbors wouldn't have saved you if I had come to kill you. Dead is dead, whether you're bleeding in comfort—" he eyed her white plush living room carpet "—or facedown in the hall. The money's the same to a contract killer."

  Jackson went in search of a frying pan.

  "Why didn't my father call to tell me you were coming?"

  "Why didn't you call?"

  "I didn't want to worry my parents."

  "Or have to explain the lie to Joe once Daddy climbed out of the grave."

  "Okay, so maybe that was part of it."

  "All of it."

  "Okay, yes. If I had called, then Joey Masado would have found out my father is in law enforcement,"

  "And that's a bad thing?"

  "If you were a Masado would you want a cop's daughter leasing space in your building?"

  If what she said was true it meant that Sunni Blais wasn't a manipulative bitch. He said, "Masado Towers isn't the only place in the city you could have set up shop."

  "Expensive lingerie, like expensive accommodations, aren't a necessity. Both make you feel good, but you can live without them unless there is no reason why you should have to."

  "So it was all business? The lie was born to get the lease?"

  "They say location is everything. Are you any good?"

  Jackson located the pan and set it on her stove. "Are we talking job stats or my charisma?" He wiggled his dark eyebrows as his gaze locked with her sultry gray eyes—bedroom eyes that suited her lush body and husky voice.

  "You have no charisma. You kiss like a camel. Of course I'm talking about your ability to clean up my mess. The way my luck is going this week, you're no doubt a loser and the only detective my father could get to fly up here on short notice."

  "Don't be shy, Sis, tell me how you really feel." Jackson spied the coffeemaker, the glass pot full of coffee. After opening four cupboards and studying a set of bone china cups the size of a doll's tea set, he palmed a toy cup and filled it to the brim. Staring into the tiny cup, he said, "We're going to have to do something about these. I don't want to smell my morning coffee, I want to drink it."

  When he turned to face her once more, her pretty eyes were narrowed, her sexy mouth pinched and emphasizing the damage he'd done to her lower lip. She was right, he'd muddled that kiss. The only explanation, he had was that his decision to play loving brother in the hall had backfired. Touching her hadn't been part of the plan and neither had Edna, or the kiss.

  "I'm getting dressed."

  "Helluva good idea. Shiny-penny perfect," Jackson muttered under his breath, not finding fault, just stating a fact—Sunni Blais would always be the shiniest penny in the pile. He'd pegged her as a perfectionist the moment he laid eyes on her. And the inside of her house verified the fact. It should turn him off cold, but the truth was nothing about Sunni turned him off.

  "What did you say?"

  "I said, I'll make breakfast. While we eat, we'll talk."

  "I don't have time to talk. I'm supposed to meet Joey Masado at ten. I'm going to need time to figure out what I can say to him to convince him not to throw me and Silks to the wolves."

  Jackson took one swig of coffee and emptied the silly cup. As he set it on the counter, he said, "From here on out I'm your bodyguard, brother, husband, best friend and priest all wrapped into one. What you're going to say to Joe, Stud Williams, and anyone else who comes along, will be discussed first w
ith me. And don't worry about Joe. I'll smooth things over with him. We're old friends."

  Her face suddenly paled. "So, you're one of those kind of cop."

  Jackson had been accused more than once of being on the take when he worked for the CPD. Yes, there were plenty of dirty cops in the city, but he wasn't interested in labels, just doing the job his conscience told him to do. "I don't play by black-and-white rules. I play by my rules."

  "My father's golden boy isn't so golden? Does he know?"

  Jackson flashed his sparkling white teeth. "Your father didn't choose me because I fit some golden-boy mold, or because he likes me. I put six cases on hold to fly out the same day he asked me to save Saint Sunni. You see, down-and-dirty is familiar territory for me, Sis. That's who I am, the whatever-it-takes cop at the NOPD. My specialty—too hot to handle. Which is lucky for you because my legwork so far has convinced me that this case is going to get a whole lot hotter before it cools down and goes away."

  "Well it's not going to cool down and go away now that Joey Masado knows who my father is. He's probably called police headquarters already and recanted his alibi story."

  "He can't recant fact."

  She said nothing.

  "You're saying Joe lied? You have no alibi?"

  "Of course he lied. Why would I have dinner with Joey Masado in his suite late at night?"

  "I can think of a number of reasons. We still haven't established your relationship with him yet."

  Her hands settled on her hips, parting her robe and letting the twins breathe. "I'm not Joey's window dressing. We are not doing the horizontal hustle. And I haven't been playing Ping-Pong with the Tandis and the Masados. Climbing into bed with gangsters would be about as smart as taking up sword-swallowing after one night at the circus."

  In animated frustration her hands left her hips to toss her hair out of her eyes. Her robe parted further and Jackson's eyes were drawn to the juggling act going on in the center ring. Enjoying the show, he asked, "So you've never slept with Joe?"

  "Of course not."

  "How about Milo Tandi?"

  "No."

  "But you knew him?"

  "Since I've lived in the city we talked twice in person, and twice on the phone."

  The conviction in her voice made Jackson believe her, even though it was a proven fact she wasn't above lying. Still, if she wasn't bedding anyone, what was that kiss all about on the terrace last night?

  "What about Joe's brother? How well do you know Lucky?"

  "Lucky?"

  "Tomas Masado," When they were kids, he and Joe had given Tomas the nickname Nine-lives Lucky because he had used up all his nine lives before he'd reached the age of sixteen.

  "I don't know Tomas very well. When we've talked it's always been about business matters. We don't move in the same circles."

  "You said you talked with Milo. Was that the night you went to the Shedd to meet him?"

  "I never went to the Shedd to meet him."

  "I have witnesses who put you there a few weeks ago seated at a table with him."

  "I was there, but not to meet him. I went there to meet Elizabeth."

  "Elizabeth?"

  "Elizabeth Carpenter. She used to work for me. She called and asked if I could bring her last paycheck by the Shedd as a favor. But she never showed up. I was leaving when Milo Tandi appeared at my table and invited himself to sit down. He said he wanted to speak to me about something. He bought me a drink, then started talking about a partnership idea he had for Silks. He wanted to become my silent partner."

  "And?"

  "And I turned him down. I talked to Joey about this last night. He already knew Milo had approached me. He said Lucky knew it the night he asked me."

  "You said you talked to Milo twice on the phone. About the partnership?"

  "Yes. He kept sweetening the pot. He offered me a percentage of his escort business profits. I said no."

  "And he just accepted that?"

  "No, he called again. Then he showed up here, in the lobby. He made his pitch again in the elevator."

  "When was that?"

  "Three days before he was killed."

  "Did anyone see you two together that day?"

  "Yes. The front desk manager saw him get in the elevator with me. I assume Detective Williams knows that. He's already talked to everyone who works here."

  "Did you and Joe ever date before he showed up at the police station claiming to be your alibi?"

  "No."

  "So it was just business as usual until Milo was hit."

  "Yes."

  "At the restaurant you two didn't look like strangers," Jackson pointed out, still having a hard time forgetting what he'd seen.

  "He said the alibi story needed to appear real. Detective Williams has been very persistent."

  "What about afterward?" Jackson tried to ignore what the question was doing to his insides.

  "Afterward?"

  "On the terrace last night."

  "Joey spotted you. Not you specifically, but a shadow at the window across the alley. The kiss was just for looks to sell the alibi story to whoever was, at the window."

  "But you knew who was at the window."

  "Yes, but Joey didn't."

  "And you didn't tell him."

  "There really wasn't time. And I didn't know who you were. Who you worked for. Who to trust."

  If that kiss had been faked, what was Sunni Blais capable of if she cared about the man she was tasting? The question had Jackson wincing as his imagination turned up the heat inside his already tight jeans.

  "Joey Masado is the reason I'm not in jail right now. I don't know him very well, but I am grateful for the alibi."

  "Just how grateful were you last night, Sis?" The question could squeak by as being a job-related inquiry, but Jackson's motivation was fueled by something he wasn't very proud of at the moment—a sudden possessiveness that made no sense at all.

  "Joey Masado didn't slip out of my bed before dawn, if that's what you're asking. Was that why you were glued to your window last night? Were you actually working, Ace, or do you like to watch?"

  He'd always thought of himself as an action man. But lately, watching Sunni Blais had been nothing short of pure pleasure.

  "What, no explanation for window shopping at midnight?"

  Jackson blinked, irritated that she was picking at an already open sore. "There's something else you need to know about me, Sis. I don't explain or apologize for anything I do. Now, go put some clothes on before you get a chest cold. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes."

  * * *

  Chapter 5

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  For the past two years, Sunni had given herself a measured dose of insulin at exactly six-thirty, then eaten breakfast thirty minutes later. On her way to the closet, she glanced at the crystal clock on her nightstand, knowing exactly why she was feeling shaky and so anxious she could jump out of her skin—breakfast was late by an hour.

  "Routine is everything," she whispered, then grabbed a silk suit from her closet and tossed it on the bed. "Stay calm," she added, then mentally began to list why that wasn't going to be possible.

  Besides, her stress level was on its way through the roof for reasons having nothing to do with breakfast. Her father had sent Ace to clean up her mess. Joey Masado knew she was a manipulative liar. And Detective Williams was convinced she'd killed Milo Tandi.

  Swearing that an evil genie had taken up residence in her house, Sunni stepped into her silver silk skirt, then shot her arms into a matching short-waisted suit jacket before realizing she'd forgotten her bra. "Damn!" Frustrated, she tugged open her drawer, pulled out the first bra she saw—a black lace push-up—and tossed it on, then the suit jacket once more.

  As if a tornado had taken control of her hands, she quickly brushed her hair, then tucked and twisted and pinned. When she turned to the mirror to make sure she'd hidden all the pins, her hair was forgotten as her eyes locked on her lip. "Oh, God! I look
like Honey Harlot." Her gaze fell to the open vee of her jacket and she cursed the bra she'd literally tossed on. Her breasts looked as if they matched her lower lip—swollen twice their normal size. Peeling off her jacket, she started over.

  Minutes later, in the hall, Sunni brushed her fingers over her swollen lower lip, squared her shoulders, then assessed the situation in the kitchen. She was half expecting to see flames shooting out of the toaster—it would certainly top off the morning. But there were no flames, and the heavenly aroma of crispy bacon and onions made her stomach growl. Mr. NOPD actually cooked.

  He'd removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Sunni stared at his hairy forearms, then at his skilled wrist action as he beat a bowl of eggs. He turned to search the counter for something, and that's when she caught sight of her dishcloth jammed into the back pocket of his jeans—the left pocket. The right pocket was missing.

  He had a nice butt, she decided—nice definition. Not too flat. Not too round. No doubt solid and hard like the chest she'd been crushed against in the hall.

  He must have sensed her presence. He said, "Three minutes and we can eat."

  Their eyes locked briefly before Sunni glanced at the already set table. When she spied the tall glasses of orange juice, she rounded the counter and reached for one of them. Her back to him, she took two unladylike gulps of the sweet juice.

  "I hope scrambled is okay. Like onions?"

  "Scrambled is good, onions … they're okay." She took another healthy gulp. "Did you learn to cook at Caponelli's?"

  "No. My ma worked a lot. If I wanted to eat something besides peanut butter on bread, I had to learn to cook. It was mostly by trial and error."

  She turned around ready to say something rude, but when she spied the fluffy scrambled eggs, she forgot what she was going to say—they were so light and airy they looked like yellow cotton candy.

  "Margo calls me a hungry woman's fantasy."

  The comment sent an unexpected shiver up Sunni's spine. Yes, she knew all about a hungry woman s fantasy. But her late-night dreams never seemed to be about food. The thought sparked the memory of pearly white teeth sinking into her lip, then how hard Ace's granite body had felt.