Willa felt as though her stomach would explode. But she pressed on through the aching, through the pain, swearing profusely and not feeling sorry for it. For some reason the cursing helped her through it.
“Come on, Willa, you've got this! One-hundred and seven... one-hundred and eight... Just a few more... one-hundred and nine...”
Gripping onto her legs and clamping her down in place was her personal trainer, an attractive blonde who'd been with her for several years, and thus knew that she indeed did have this. They both knew how much Willa despised stomach crunches and sit-ups; but her trainer was well aware of her unyielding persistence. If she started something, nothing on Earth could have stopped her from finishing it.
“Just five more now.”
Willa growled, clenching her teeth and trying to look as fierce as was humanly possible. “You said that five crunches ago!”
“You can do five more.” Her smile was serene, angelic, but at that moment Willa thought she was the devil incarnate. She hated her.
“All right, you're done. See, you made it. That wasn't so bad was it?”
Willa collapsed onto her exercise mat and never wanted to get up again.
“I hate you, you know that?” she said breathlessly.
“I know, sweetie.” She giggled and patted Willa's stomach, feeling the taut, rock-hard abs she'd helped her achieve. “Your body loves me though.”
All the hate Willa felt for her, the hate she always felt when her trainer pushed her that hard, soon vanished and was replaced by affection. She laughed and shoved her away playfully. “My body's a traitor.”
The trainer helped her to her feet a minute later, and Willa brushed herself down. The buzzer rang.
“I'll see you same time Tuesday, all right?” her trainer said, collecting her things.
“Of course.” Willa kissed her on the lips and walked her to the door of her penthouse. “See you then.”
On the intercom video system, her brother Guy's face appeared. She buzzed him in without a word.
“I didn't know you still used that girl,” Guy said a couple of minutes later when he stepped into Willa's apartment.
Water never tasted more refreshing than after her work out. She gulped down half a liter without stopping for air. “You mean after you slept with her?” she asked finally, shooting her brother an admonishing look.
Guy gave her a bashful, dimpled smile. “You're still sour about that? It was, like, two years ago.”
“It doesn't matter. I almost had to find another trainer, she was that pissed off that you didn't call her back.”
“I never call anyone back.” His delivery was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of smugness.
“How are we even related?” Willa said, shaking her head at him. Although she loved her brother, his attitude to women peeved her. He was a perfect gentleman where it mattered; chivalrous – opening doors, picking up the check, bringing roses for a first date. But his lack of desire for commitment, and his abundant desire for pretty ladies, made him an asshole. He broke a lot of hearts. Willa herself had the same desire, but the difference was that she didn't lead women on. She'd made out with a lot of women over the years, but Honey was the only one she'd slept with since they'd met. Indiscriminate sex had never been her thing, though it easily could have been. With her name and her looks, she found that she'd never had to work hard for female attention. And her reasoning had always been that if she never had to work hard for it, it wasn't worth it.
Guy helped himself to some pineapple juice from the refrigerator. “So the car showed up again at the house. Third time in a week.”
“Little Johnny said it was parked outside Yum Yums a couple of times too.” She sat on a stool at her breakfast bar, slightly unnerved. “You think it's the Italians? Would they be that stupid?”
“It's not the Italians.” He took a long sip of his drink, dragging out the pause as long as possible, keeping his sister on edge. “I had someone run the plate for us. It's not listed. Only one reason why that would be.”
“It's a cop,” Willa interjected before he could.
“Right. We had someone tail it back to the station though. And who should step out but the cute little redhead who showed up at Dad's funeral.”
“The detective?”
“Yep. Her name's Layke Owen. Her dad's Deputy Chief Stuart Owen. You know who that is, right?”
She shook her head, giving him a blank look.
“Well, he was Detective Stuart Owen at the time. He's moved up since then. That piece of crap and his partner were the ones who connected Dad to the shooting in '95. It was because of them why he went to trial.”
“So he has a hard-on for our family, and now his daughter has too?” Willa slammed her fist on the counter. The anger was so severe she could hardly feel the pain. “That son of a bitch probably set her on us.”
“Probably.”
“Here's what I don't get though. Why the house and the club? They have to know that those are the last places we'd ever conduct business. And you guys both said the car doesn't tail anyone, it just sits there. Waiting – for something...” Her voice trailed off, a faraway look in her eye. “Or someone.”
“What?” Guy stared at her quizzically.
“I think I know why she's out there,” she said after a while. “She's waiting for me to show up. Perhaps I should give the lady what she wants.”
Potato chips and soda had been her breakfast, lunch and sometimes dinner for the past week. Surveillance food, her colleagues called it. She had never been a fan, but had to admit that it came in handy. It did mean that she had to put in more time at the gym. When she'd begun surveillance on the first day, she'd been optimistic, pulling up across the street from the strip club and sitting back, waiting. It was only a matter of time, she'd thought. A matter of time before Willa showed...
On the seventh day, having missed her lunch breaks and spent some of her evenings in her car, growing sick and fat from over-consumption of saturated fat and sugar, she realized she'd been wrong. She'd wasted hours on this futile pursuit, and the girl hadn't shown.
“Cody, could you check if her passport or driver's license has been flagged at any national airports, or anywhere outside the city?” she asked earlier that day. She had to have been out of the country, otherwise why hadn't she shown up? At the strip club or the family mansion (which, Layke was now sure, wasn't her real place of abode).
“Nothing's come up for her. If she's out of the country, she isn't using her own passport,” Cody had come back with. Well, that wasn't outside the realm of possibilities, considering the family she belonged to.
The doubt started to set in on day four, and by day seven she was ready to close up shop, go back to her father empty-handed. She'd already mentally prepared herself for his harsh reprimands, making her feel more incompetent than she already did. And then a blue convertible pulled up in the parking lot of the club. Even before the driver stepped out, something told her it was Willa di Blasio.
“Yes!” She squeezed her fist with victory. “I've got you now.”
Her eyes remained trained on Willa in her flannel shirt and denim shorts, tanned and muscular legs on display. She watched her from her exit of the car right to her entrance into the club, saw her look around suspiciously before ducking through the customer entrance. Layke sat back and waited, now the most optimistic she'd been in a week. It didn't matter how long she had to wait there. Eventually Willa had to come out, and that was when she would follow her. She noted down the number plate.
From the clock on her dashboard twenty minutes had gone by when Willa resurfaced. She wasn't alone. Judging by the way the busty blonde who accompanied her was dressed – everything one size too small, the tight fabric accentuating every feature of her body – Layke guessed she was one of the exotic dancers. The outfit wasn't the thing that made Layke's eyes nearly pop out of her head though, nor was it the hand-holding as the blonde walked Willa to her car. It was what happened when they got there. Willa took the woman around the waist, pulled her close and proceeded to stick her tongue down her throat!
Layke knew she should have looked away, that would have been the right thing to do, but she couldn't bring herself to. She didn't want to. It was like secretly watching a porno being filmed. She didn't think real people kissed like that off screen. A goodbye kiss this was not.
Something was happening to her that she couldn't explain. She tried to convince herself that the sensation between her legs wasn't connected to what she was seeing. Everything pointed to it being arousal, but she wasn't prepared to listen. She didn't want to deal with the implications of such a revelation.
She tore her eyes away, shifted position in her seat. The last time she'd felt a similar kind of arousal was that day at the graveside, when Willa had stroked her badge. She'd ignored the signs then, too, putting it down to the heat, the situation, everything but the thing that it was.
Trying to compose herself, to flush the image from her mind, she momentarily forgot what she was doing in the car. She realized just in time to see that the blue convertible had sped past her while she wasn't looking. She switched on the ignition and stepped on the gas, praying her old car could keep up with Willa's sports car. She'd never tailed anyone herself before, though she'd been in the car a couple of times when others had. Weaving through traffic while trying to stay out of sight seemed impossible to her. Car chases in movies always looked like a breeze, but the reality was that every time she accelerated, every time her speed crept higher on the dial, she had to fight not to crash into another car. Trying to focus on the blue convertible while trying to avoid collision with the vehicles around her was proving a challenge.
As soon as they got off the highway, though, things only deteriorated. It seemed as though Willa took every side street, every narrow alley she could find.
“Where the heck is she going?” Layke growled, swerving her car down yet another side street that was leading her God only knew where. She could hear her car tires screeching, could almost smell the burning rubber. Every time she thought they were on a straight course, Willa would turn abruptly down another street, which made Layke's rapid change of course even more perilous.
She followed the car down a back alley, and by the time she got through, there was no sign of the convertible, only a stray cat that stepped out in front of her car.
“Shit!” she screamed, slamming her foot on the brake and skidding to a sliding stop. Unfortunately, she went careening into a dumpster. The cat scurried off to hide, all four legs still completely intact.
“Dammit!” Layke screamed, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. She'd lost her target, her car was more than likely dented, and if that wasn't bad enough, when she went to start it up again it only wheezed and croaked. “Terrific.”
She got out to inspect the damage, swearing and mumbling to herself about what a piece of crap Willa was for leading her down there. Clearly the whole thing had been done purposefully.
“Need any help?”
She didn't look up, she was too busy checking out the nasty dent in her car. The dumpster, surprisingly, seemed unscathed. “It's all right, I'm going to...” And then she looked up, stopping mid-sentence. “You.”
Willa stood before her, smugness radiating from her in spades. “Sorry about your car.”
“You're not sorry. When did you notice I was behind you?”
“Did you really think I wouldn't hear about the car parked outside the club and my parents' house this past week?” She raised a cheeky eyebrow as she drifted toward her. “I've known you were there the whole time.”
Layke felt stupid for being so inconspicuous, and even more stupid for not figuring out earlier – before she totaled her car – that she was being led down a rabbit hole.
Willa inspected the damage to the car, all the while her smug expression remained unchanged. “What did that dumpster ever do to you?” she said, shaking her head. “You're really not cut out for this, are you? First time tailing someone?”
Layke's blood boiled. She had to fight to keep her temper in check. There was just something about this woman that got to her. It was as though she had been given the schematics to Layke's psyche, and thus knew all the different ways to make her tick. What a powerful thing to possess.
Layke narrowed her eyes, placed her hands on her hips, displaying her badge as though doing so somehow gave her authority. But she lacked the thing she needed most: a witty comeback.
“So, did you like my little show outside the club?” Willa asked, once again looking her over as though appraising a show dog. “You know, it was for your benefit. Figured you would appreciate some light entertainment.”
“I didn't see anything,” Layke said.
Willa's smile grew. “You're lying. And you're not very good at it. You saw. But the question is, why are you lying about it?”
The roles seemed to have reversed. Layke felt as though she'd become the target while Willa stepped comfortably into her role as detective. And why had she lied about witnessing the kiss? She couldn't find anything suitable to say, and prayed her silence would fill the void.
“You did like it, that's why.” Willa chuckled, ignoring the hateful look Layke was giving her. “Did you imagine yourself in Honey's place, is that it? Don't worry, detective, there's plenty of me to go around.”
“Dream on. I'm straight,” Layke snapped, feeling her cheeks burn.
“If I had a dollar for every time a woman said that to me... usually just before we're screwing each other's brains out.”
“I'd like to think I have better taste and a little more self-respect.”
Willa did a little growl. “Feisty, fiery. I like that. You know, I've never been with a redhead before. I heard a rumor – and maybe you can shed some light on it. Is it true that your pubic hair glows in the dark?”
The crude and unexpected nature of the question hit Layke with such profound force that it rendered her speechless, immobile... She blushed like she had never blushed before and thought it would never stop. All she could do was gawp at this woman, whom she had once mistaken for gracious and well-mannered. So this was the game they were playing, huh? If she stood any chance of breaking this woman down, she had to get on her level. Only, she didn't know where to start, or even if she could.
“Perhaps you could show me some time, you know, for research purposes,” Willa continued.
“That's not going to happen.”
“Why not? Because of the straight thing?”
“No, because I don't associate with dangerous criminals.”
Willa looked around. “I don't see any dangerous criminals here. Just two women talking, when they could be doing something much more satisfying.” She winked lecherously. Her hazel eyes, Layke noticed, had definitely changed color in the sun. They had a certain cat-like slant to them.
“The only thing more satisfying than this, Miss di Blasio, would be hauling your ass to jail for gun-trafficking and all the other stuff your family's gotten away with over the years.”
She was holding her own, even managing a roguish smile to match Willa's. She only prayed Willa couldn't see her shaking like a leaf from being so far out of her depth.
Willa stepped closer to her, the space between them negligible. Her eyes sparkled playfully. She was enjoying this more than she should have been – they both knew it.
“You just want to use your handcuffs on me, don't you, detective? I could tell you were a kinky one the moment I met you. I bet you like it rough, too. I'm game.”
The uneasy feeling Layke got as she stared deep into the eyes of her provoker didn't come from fear. No, fear wasn't the thing stirring her loins, causing that warm sensation, that kicking throb between her legs. To her, this feeling was far worse than fear.
“Too bad you'll never find out,” she said. Although it came out confident, it was a facade, a flimsy facade that would fall or crack at any moment, if she wasn't careful.
“Damn, and I was so sure that was why you were following me. So why don't you tell me why you were following me, Detective Owen.”
Hearing her surname sent a cold shiver down her spine. She'd known sooner or later the whole di Blasio clan would know all about her, and would discover her familial tie to their history, but even so it threw her.
“Why were you trying to lose me?” Layke asked.
“You first.”
“Just trying to catch you doing something you shouldn't be doing.”
“Really, detective, you shouldn't paint us di Blasios with the same brush. I'm just a simple girl doing simple things.”
“Then you have nothing to hide, and won't mind me following you. But we both know that's poppycock.”
“Out of curiosity, why me?” Willa tilted her head to the side, looking more intrigued than ever. “You and I both know I've never been in trouble with the law. Not even close. I can't help thinking that this is personal.”
“You're a smart woman, Miss di Blasio. You did everything right. Went to the best schools, got a great education. Kept your nose clean. On paper, you're the golden child.” Layke's face became serious. “That's why you're the most dangerous one of them all.”
Barely any space remained between them, but that didn't stop Willa closing the gap even further still, so that they could hear each other breathing. Layke's hand felt around her waist for her gun, her palm sweaty, and remembered that it was tucked away in the glove compartment. She gulped, staring unblinkingly into a face that, like hers, had now grown serious. Even the sun seemed to have ducked for cover.
“Then you're either brave or foolish, following someone like that around. That's the kind of thing that gets people killed.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Of course not, detective. Only dangerous criminals make threats. I'm just an innocent girl with an infamous surname.” When she smiled it was heinous and lacked the joy of a real smile. But Layke couldn't help thinking that she hadn't looked more beautiful than now, when she was at her most menacing. “It's probably best you stop following me, in any case.”
“I'm afraid I can't do that. Better yet, I don't want to.” Layke didn't know what it was, maybe fear or anger at being covertly threatened, but something was driving her to build a backbone, to hit back. “Because sooner or later, you're going to screw up. You're going to have to conduct your business, and you're going to break the law. That's what you people do. And when you do, I'll be right there to catch you.”
“So I guess I'll be seeing you around?” Willa said, finally stepping back.
“You can count on it.”
“Looking forward to it.” She started off. “See you soon, detective.”
Layke watched her until she was out of sight, then she let out the breath she'd been holding. Her heart slammed against her chest, her head throbbed. Her breathing was labored. For the first time in a long time she considered giving up, handing in her badge and gun and walking away. The first time she'd felt that way was on her first day on the job as a beat cop.
She sat in her car and tried to calm herself. Playing the tough guy was all well and good until you were up against a real tough guy – or girl – who wouldn't have thought twice about putting a bullet in you. The doubts didn't last, however. They never did. This was her job, and she hadn't made detective by being a wimp who scared easily. Criminals were frightening, but she had the law on her side.
She managed to get her car to start, miraculously, and as she drove out of the alley, she was more determined than ever to bring Willa di Blasio down. And she wasn't going to die trying.