Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE





Roarke leaned back in his chair. Surveyed the small group. One of their number had caused this goat fuck. His gaze traveled around as Captain Ferelli spoke. When Roarke’s attention snagged on Tanzetti, the guy had a look on his face that made Roarke shove back his chair as he stood.



“You stupid little shit.”



Tanzetti almost fell in the floor, scrambled upright, started to bolt, then pled, “It was a muthafuckin’ accident!”





Mayan emerged from the elevator into darkness. No candles? Maybe tonight he wanted something different. She set down her bags from Prada. Walked out into the living area.



“She ventured into the big world.”



Mayan flinched at his deep voice. Smiled. “She’s glad to return.”



In the darkness she squinted, adjusting. He stood in front of the panel of towering windows overlooking Central Park. From the hands clasped behind his back, the red silk cord dangled.







Dani maintained the face to face equivalent of radio silence until she and Ash arrived in the barricaded alley, and skittered into the building. Inside her apartment, Dani went to let Buddy out of his crate.



While he frisked in the courtyard, Ashlyn said, “Judging by the time you’ve been gone, I assume you didn’t just explain that you’d made a mistake and it would never happen again.”





Dave remained in his suite during the time Uncle Raymond returned from Sorrento, packed for Aspen as he spent an hour in his rooms. After he met with staff, he left for a business vacation with the CEO and the two top board members of a microchip-manufacturing conglomerate.



Dave waited until he knew his uncle would have gotten aboard the company chopper. Then, he breathed a small sigh of relief and waited for the call he knew would come.





Roarke banked the fury boiling in his gut. Tanzetti, that loose-lipped little shit. Giving up every detail in exchange for a piece of ass.



Special Agent Ford burst into the little conference room where Roarke and Fielding waited to hear the plan of attack. The brawny FBI agent held a handful of computer printouts. “I’ve forwarded these and placed copies with everyone who should see.”



Taking the three or four he was handed, Roarke began to read. A thrill shot through him. “A website.” He flipped pages, skimmed. “No wonder we couldn’t profile him. All the indicators belonged to other people. The fantasies, the needs that define a serial killer. None of them his.”



Ford replied, “Soon as I speak with your captain, I’ll be calling this in. The Bureau will definitely want in now.”



“Now we’ve got a good case for you?” Roarke couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice.



Ford shrugged his wide shoulders. “Yeah. Them’s the breaks.”



Fielding looked up from his handful of printouts. “Maybe I’m reading between the lines, but I think this kid needs protection.” He glanced back down, quoted, “I had to wait until he left on business. I’m sorry. I did this as fast as I could.”



Roarke agreed with his partner’s diagnosis. “Kid’s old enough to file for emancipation. We could send a local team to get him out before the FBI boys get there to slap uncle in cuffs.”



Captain Ferelli opened the smudged metal door. His towering stature filled the space. “Okay kids, Agent Ford arranged for an online task force already in contact with the server associated with our guy’s site. They’ve initiated a monitoring procedure to track him.”



Roarke replied, “We can’t wait for him to go online. Let’s run his picture with an official brief, request any service who recognize him among their clientele notify us with the address.”



Ferelli nodded. “Earning your pay, Larkin. Consider it done.”



Fielding moaned. “This means I have to go on TV again.”





Mayan couldn’t understand the anger he felt. She kept her head bowed, uttered not so much as a whimper. The lashes of the black leather whip he applied rained down again. It was so different from anything else she’d experienced with him. Her back stung. Yet her heart ached more.



She wondered what she had done wrong.





Ashlyn watched her friend. Dani seemed to have absorbed the idea NYPD now knew where to look for their killer. She watched her friend. When Dani announced her intent to go to bed, Ashlyn glanced at the clock. Almost three AM.



“Want me to bunk with you?”



Dan nodded. “Let me crate Buddy.”



Ashlyn wondered if her Grandmere’s sight ran in the family. Because at that moment, she had the distinct feeling that this peace would not continue.





Roarke paced while Agent Ford made arrangements with Denver feds to pick up the kid who provided them all the information, then wait for the uncle. They’d already spoken to the boy. He was all for the plan to get the hell out. Even said he wanted to come to New York. Fielding had surprised them all by offering to let the kid stay with him. The captain had woken up the heads of child services in both Denver and NY to get the paperwork started.



Chief Grace strode in looking as if they’d called him in during a formal event. Tugging his bow tie to loosen it, he asked, “What’s the status on that computer info?”



Ford replied, “A specialist from the Bureau will arrive within the hour, sir. Accompanied by the team designated to assume command of the investigation.” He shot Roarke a glance. “I’ve obtained permission for your detectives here to join us, and I’ll make sure your men receive proper credit for their work.”



Roarke stopped pacing. “We want to put Fielding on camera first thing in the morning with our guy’s picture. Maybe some one will recognize him from among their clients. It’s likely he uses high end services,”



Grace nodded. “Go home, Fielding. You need your beauty sleep. Be back here oh-six-hundred.”



Roarke flexed his shoulders. Tension gripped him in a vise. This hurry up and wait would kill him. For now, they had no choice.







Brand left Mayan alone in his bedroom. Somehow she must have missed seeing a television during her outing. He couldn’t believe it at first. But, she’d had ample opportunity to confess and had only kept silent.



He poured chilled Stoli over ice and went to gaze out over Central Park. At night it reminded him of a lake, with pinpoints of light disturbing its blackness. For a long while he simply stood there sipping the glacial vodka. Then, he carried the glass into the kitchen, set it on the counter and returned to the bedroom.



She remained kneeling on the floor, head bowed. A picture of submission.



Something inside him softened. He untied her, lifted her into his arms.



In bed she responded to him with the vulnerable tenderness that had ensnared him from the first. He traced the lash marks on her silken skin. No one in his life had suffered for him like this. And, she had suffered. In his hand a whip could caress or kill. In his anger he’d made certain of her pain.



Brand stretched out beside her as she lie upon her stomach. He turned her face to him. She met his gaze, unafraid or ashamed. Without blame.



In that naked moment he realized what he would have to do if he wished to preserve things between them.



He would have to make her a prisoner.