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Chapter Three

The apartment lock clicked, then the door creaked as it swung open.

About damn time, too. After hours in this aromatic pigsty, Claudia's eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and she raised her gun, aiming with a steady, two-handed grip at the stocky figure illuminated in the doorway by the hallway lights.

"Don't move. I'm armed and bored outta my mind from waiting for you to haul your sorry ass home, Digger Brody."

Brody couldn't see her, but even his reptillian brain knew when to freeze. Then he snapped, "Who the fuck --"

"I'm not the cops. I'm not here to cause trouble," Claudia interrutped. "I just have a few questions to ask, and I can make it worth your time to answer them. Now shut the door...slowly."

"Yeah?" He slammed the door shut instead. "Worth my time in what way?"

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Brody gave her trouble. Her mood had been ugly before waiting hours for a guy who might not even be of any use to her, and she needed to work out the snarling tension that had been snapping at her heels all day.

But she couldn't afford the trouble, she reminded herself. "In the way your kind likes best, Brody, so lose the sleaze. Keep your hands where I can see them, and don't turn on the light."

"How do I know you got a gun if I can't --"

Claudia fired, the silencer making a muffled, metallic sound. The bullet hit the wall above his head, and he flinched, letting loose a stream of curses as white plaster dust showered down.

"Believe me now?"

She could sense his red-hot rage from across the small room, but he raised his hands and didn't turn on the light. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Nobody interested in your personal affairs. What you do to keep yourself in such fine comforts is between you and the Philadelphia cops, not me."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about. I got no problem with the --"

"You fence stolen property for the mob, Brody. I've been asking questions, and your name keeps coming up regarding the kind of property I'm interested in. I need information about the theft at Champion and Stone, and the one a few months back at the Alliance Gallery."

"I don't move that kind of shit."

"Let's not get off to a bad start with lies."

The scent of Brody's sweat wafted her way on air-conditioned currents -- an air conditioner that rattled and wheezed like it smoked two packs a day. She wanted the lights off to keep Brody from seeing her face, but she also didn't want to look at the piles of fuzzy dishes and trash.

"I don't know who hit those two places. It wasn't local business," Brody said, his voice heavy with sarcasm and resentment. "So how come you want to know? And what's in it for me if I talk with you? Not promising you answers, understand, but I'm willing to listen to what you got to offer."

Back in the day, shen she'd worn the badge, she'd have gladly taken down a bottom-feeder like Brody. But those days were over and done. "I hear you had some buddies working over a crack dealer in that part of town, and that they saw something."

"Maybe they did."

He hadn't moved and kept his arms in the air as she'd ordered, but she still didn't trust him. The man looked like he could wrestle a bull and win. She kept the gun aimed right at the center of his chest.

"Let's cut to the chase," Claudia said flatly. "A thousand dollars for what your friends saw last night, and there's more where that comes from if you keep me informed and play nice."

A brief silence. "Five."

"Brody, don't make me shoot you outta pure irritation." Good. She had his attention. " A thousand's all I got on me at the moment."

Even without being able to see him, she knew what he was thinking. He wanted to take her out and grab the money, but a healthy respect for her gun kept him from making a move. There was also the greed: why settle for a grand if he had a chance to con more out of her? It was a game, and they both knew how it worked.

"If you ain't the cops, who are you?"

"You could say I'm working for someone with a lot of money. So did these friends of yours see anything or not?"

Greed won out, as she'd expected, and he answered, "Nothing that will help you much, just some chick in the back alley by the Dumpster. She was carrying a box. Probably worked for the cleaning crew."

"What did this woman look like? How big was the box? Did she leave in a vehicle?"

"How should I know? I wasn't there."

Claudia sighed loudly. "Little Otis told me you were, so we can cut the 'friends' shit now, too."

"Little Otis?" Brody laughed softly. "I don't believe it."

"He only needed a little extra persuasion to talk." Of the monetary sort, but she let Brody assume the worst of her.

"You serious?" Brody demanded, his tone incredulous. "You beat him up?"

"There's a reason they call the man 'little.' Answer my question."

"And if I change my mind cuz I don't like how you treat my associates?"

Associates? A high and mighty word for such low-life bastards. She almost snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. "Your loss. I take my money and walk out the door."

"You gonna shoot me then?" Now the tone turned mocking.

Claudia held on to her temper. "As much as I'd like to, no. I told you, I'm not here to mess with your personal business. I just want answers. The offer still stands, Brody, but not for much longer."

Silence followed as he mulled it over, drawing out the delay as long as he dared. "Okay, but you gotta understand I was, uh, busy and not paying a lot of attention. She was young; average build; short, dark hair; and she had on black pants and a shirt. I didn't wait around to see if she got in a car, called a cab, or hopped on a bus or the train. The box was..I dunno, box-sized. Not real small, but not real big, either."

"Did she look like a homeless person?"

"Nope. Clean and pretty."

"You could see that at three in the morning?"

"There's a light at the back by the Dumpster. Just a quick look, but I could tell she was clean. She was wearing lipstick. Glossy stuff."

"All right. Now what have you heard about the Alliance Gallery theft?"

"Like I said, whoever pulled that job wasn't local business."

She couldn't say for sure if he was telling the truth. Looking him straight in the eyes in full light might've helped, if he wasn't a pathological liar. Still, she finally had something more than guesses to work with -- and something she hadn't expected. Males generally way outumbered females when it came to stealing and fencing.

"Fair enough. You gave answers, so I'll pay up. Sit over there by the sink and keep your hands on your head."

"I got no gun on me."

"Don't insult my intelligence. Now move."

He did, but toward her. Expecting it, Claudia swore and ducked. Brody moved fast for a man of his bulk, and his shoulder caught her a glancing blow, rocking her back against the wall. She dropped when he came at her again, his hand snaking toward her gun.

"Stop!" She aimed at his face. "I will shoot."

Maybe it was the cold, flat tone of her voice -- or knowing it wouldn't matter much to the cops if they found one more body shot full of holes in North Philly -- but he went still, then raised his hands. "Had to try."

"Back off. Now. And keep your hands up." When he'd stepped out of reach, she ordered, "Stop."

"You gonna shoot me?" he asked again, this time with a cold, eerie calmness that matched her own.

"You ever hurt the helpless, Brody? Women? Little kids or old people?"

"No." His lip curled, as if offended. "That ain't my style."

"Good," Claudia said softly. "Then I won't kill you tonight. Take off your belt."

"Hey, hey, girl, if you want me as bad as that, and I --"

Claudia fired, then raised her voice over his curses and said, "You know, the first time I shot and killed a man, it bothered me. Second time, not so much. Now I don't even lose any sleep over it."

After letting the threat sink in, she said, "Take off your belt and wrap it around your ankles, good and tight. Then roll over and put your hands behind your head, fingers laced. You know the routine, I'm sure."

When he did as she ordered, she approached, gun steady, rammed her knee and gun into his back, and then secured his hands with a plastic tie. She rolled him to his back, moving her knee and the gun to his chest, and pulled out the wallet chained to her belt. After peeling off a wad of cash, she tucked the bills into his waistband.

"Can't say I don't keep my word. A thousand dollars, Brody, and here's my business card." Se slipped the card into the pocket of his jeans. "If you hear anything more, call me. Leave a message if I don't answer. I'll get back to you."

"Bitch," he muttered, gasping a little as she lifted her knee from his diaphragm. "Ugly-ass cunt."

Claudia sighed. "That's the first time any man's ever talked trash to me after I stuffed money down his pants. What's a lady gotta do to get a little respect, huh?" She pressed the thick, heavy sole of her shoe over his groin, hearing air rasp through his teeth as he sucked in his breath, his body going rigid. "Well, yeah, there's always that consolation prize of soul-suckin' terror. Don't try to follow me, homeboy. Not in such a good mood today."

Vincent stretched his stiff limbs as best he could, then glanced at his watch and grimaced. He was crazy as hell, sitting in a car and waiting for a woman he didn't even like. He'd already had to explain himself to one patrol cop; he didn't need to do it again.

"Fuck this," he muttered.

Claudia had probably gone back to her hotel, laughing at him all the way. Whatever he had to say to her could wait for when she finally came hassling him for her keys. He swung out of the car, and as he started to lock the door, a noise caught his attention. He tipped his head, listening. Definitely footsteps coming his way, and at this time of night in this neighborhood, who else could it be?

A moment later, a figure emerged from the shadows: tall, long legs, curves in all the right places. She wore jeans, a dark, belly button-baring T-shirt, and a sleeveless denim vest that brushed her hips. Not her usual style; even if it had been the middle of January, he'd expect more skin.

"Claudia."

"Vincent. How sweet of you to wait up for me like an overprotective daddy."

Not the comparison he'd have chosen, considering his usual reaaction to her "Philly's a rough town. Not too smart to walk around by yourself this late."

She came to a stop in front of him in the pale glow of a streetlight, and despite the sticky heat of a summer night, she looked beautiful. A puff of breeze caught a wisp of hair on the side of her mouth, and he almost reached up to brush it away.

"Were you worried about me?"

That mouth curved in a smile, and Vincet met her gaze. He considered denying it, but his pride got the best of him, and he said instead, "I don't like you, but I don't want to see you hurt while you're out trying to get a leg up on me."

Surprise flashed across her face, quickly suppressed -- but not quickly enough. He waited for a bitchy comeback, a sly dig. After a few uncomfortable seconds passed, he prompted, "Well, did you?"

"Did I what?"

Was he hearing things, or did she actually sound...subdued? "Get a leg up on me." The instant the words left his mouth he realized they were the wrong choice.

Claudia grinned, her gaze dropping down his T-shirt to his khaki cargo shorts. "If I got a leg up on you, DeLuca, you wouldn't have to ask. You'd know."

"That's not what I meant."

"No, but you'd like to know what it's like, wouldn't you?"

The darkness -- and the duskier skin of his Italian heritage -- hid the color flooding his face. "Would it fuckin' kill you to just answer me straight for once? Did you turn up anything or not?"

She arched an eyebrow at his dodge, her expression far too smug. "We could go inside your house and discuss it."

Vicent laughed, which surprised her almost as much as it surprised him, judging by how her eyes briefly widened. "I don't think so."

"Aw, and it's such a nice house, too. A testament to the great American dream."

He couldn't tell if she was mocking him or being sincere, but he thanked her curtly, thinking that his mother and grandmother would've approved of his politness under fire.

"I guess you don't trust me, huh?"

"No, I don't," Vincent said drily. "And I especially don't trust you not to leave behind an unwelcome accessory the second my back is turned."

"That would be rude of me, but I'm sure you'd handle the matter. You're a smart guy, even if you got no sense of humor." Her gaze lowered again. "Though you do casual a lot better than I expected."

"You're not answering my question."

Claudia shrugged. "Did you find anything on those security tapes?"

"Nothing useful." It was the truth, yet vague enough to let her think he might be holding back.

"And if I did find something and you found something but we can't find common ground to share it, then nothing gets accomplished." She moved closer, her heat brushing along the surface of his skin, and the perspiration-smudged mascara made her eyes look larger, darker...and tired. "C'mon, work with me here, Vincent. We could solve this together."

The weariness, real or imagined, made him hesitate, then he shook his head. "You're asking me to step too far into the gray. I can't do that."

"Why not?" she asked quietly. "I did, and it's not so hard to dabble on the dark side. The pay's pretty good, too."

"Claudia, I read the case file on the incident in Boston back in April. I read the coroner's report on Kostandin Vulaj's cause of death."

"What's this got to do with --"

"I know you were there," he snapped, cutting her off. "There's no question Will Tiernay put a few bullets in Vulaj, but the coroner has evidence that Vulaj was also hit twice by a high-powered rifle."

When she said nothing, he repeated, "I know you were there. Jesus Christ, Claudia, how often do you go around killing people?"

"I didn't kill Kostandin Vulaj. Tiernay didn't kill Vulaj," she said, flatly. "Vulaj was killed by a bomb he set imself, and in the process he also managed to kill his equally stupid girlfriend."

"But you don't deny you shot him."

To her credit, she met his gaze straight on. "Vulaj was a little nuts by that point. He had an assault weapon and was firing at my colleague and at an innocent woman who, through no fault of her own, got caught up in an ugly mess. That mess was our responsibility to clean up. I'm sure you also know Vulaj had kidnapped and threatened to kill this woman."

"You shot him."

She let out her breath in a huff. "Yes, I shot him -- and I aimed to disable, not to kill, which the coroner's evidence should prove. I didn't want him dead, and neither did Tiernay: Vulaj would've been more helpful to us alive. But there was the small matter of a shit-load of explosives in an old factory, and the fact that Vulaj wasn't going to be taken alive. For the record, I don't get off on putting bullets through living flesh and bone, but sometimes I don't have a choice. You got a problem with that?"

"Yeah, I do have a problem with that kind of armed force being used outside federal and state laws with impunity. You don't get to shoot people, even bad people, and then walk away. I don't get to do that. Cops don't get to do that. Nobody does."

Vincent took in a long breath, then let it out slowly. "When it comes to enforcing laws, there's no gray area for me. You either uphold them or you don't -- and if you don't, then you pay the price. If there are any gray areas, it's for the courts to decide. That's their job, not mine."

"You really do have that self-righteous stick shoved up your ass," she said softly, but again, without the bite he'd come to expect.

"Make fun of me all you want. Tell me I'm nothing but a government yes-man or a naive asshole. It changes nothing. You might think you're doing the right thing, but I know I'm doing what's right. I've got the law on my side. What do you have besides Ben Sheridan's dirty money?"

He met her gaze, refusing to feel embarrassed by his beliefs, no matter how out of step they seemed nowadays. Trusting and believing in his sense of right and wrong, of justice and fairness, was the only way he could get by in this crazy, fucked-up world. But she wouldn't understand that.

Claudia stared at him a moment longer, her expression unreadable, then shrugged. "Well, can't say I didn't try to save us both a lot of frustration. In more ways than one."

She gave him a teasing smile and a wink as she brushed past him, adroitly plucking the car keys from his hand, then swung open the door.

The streetlight gleamed on the gun revealed as her sleeveless vest caught on the holster at the small of her back.

"Nice gun," Vincent said. And it was: a no-nonsense 9 mm Beretta in basic black to match whatever the lady might be wearing.

She glanced back at him impatiently. "I'm licensed."

And no doubt she was -- to own the gun. "You licensed to carry concealed firearms within the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania?"

Her impatience sharpened to irritation. "I'm covered."

Not a yes. "Show me your license."

"I only have the owner's permit with me, not the license to carry concealed. I left it at the hotel."

Got you, sweet thing. Vincent grinned, though he suspected it looked more like a sneer. "It's a third-degree felony in Pennsylvania to carry concealed without a valid license. You're under arrest."

Claudia stared at him, then blinked and snarled, "What?"

GO TO: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Michele Albert · inkalicious.com

Her Last Chance

Chapter Three