CHAPTER 27

BLAKE Switzer had been following the limo around town on its seemingly aimless journey across the city. Blake guessed that LaCall was on a mission to divert any potential tails Laraquette’s driver had acquired on the way home.

It made perfect sense. They had to be worried about that fruitcake ex of LaCall’s. Rio must be scared out of her wits with a stalker and LaCall’s crazy, pregnant ex-girlfriend sneaking around.

Finally, the limo pulled into the parking garage of the Plaza Towers and Blake followed them inside. Initially, his intention was to watch her get out of the car and head inside. But then she emerged wearing LaCall’s shirt, and he was bare from the waist up. That brought out the angst Blake had managed to suppress until now.

Irritation pushed Blake out of his own car and sent him charging across the parking garage toward Rio and LaCall. He caught up to them at the doorway leading inside. Blake grabbed her wrist. “I cannot believe you!”

LaCall came at him full-force, yanking him by the shirt and throwing him against the wall. “Don’t ever put your hands on her.” LaCall’s eyes glared with viciousness. He was marking his territory, and Blake didn’t like it. He didn’t like being choked either.

Blake wrapped his hands around LaCall’s wrist. Tugging. Aching. Struggling. “You talk about protecting her? Look what you’ve done to her with your pregnant girlfriend.”

LaCall released Blake and pushed him backward. “Get out of here,” he said in a near-monotone voice. There were no misgivings emitting from him. Obviously, he did not consider Blake an issue, much less a rival.

Smug bastard.

Blake turned to Rio. “How could you do this? How could you let him degrade you like this?” He gave a waving gesture at her inappropriate attire. “In the back seat of a freaking limo for Christ’s sake!”

“This is none of your business, Blake.” Rio’s cold stare sliced through him before she turned her back on him. She simply walked into LaCall’s arms and disappeared inside the building.

Feeling utterly disappointed, Blake turned and headed for his car.

Hard to believe he’d ever had feelings for the slut.

* * *

Arriving at the Federal Building with Rio the next day, Eddie still hadn’t gotten past Switzer’s performance back at the garage of the Plaza Towers. So much for the guy losing interest. His temper tantrum definitely proved otherwise. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if the stalker struck again.

He needed to step up his surveillance. Maybe he’d ask James Laraquette to bring in private bodyguards. Make it really hard for Switzer to get to Rio.

Eddie and Rio strolled through the entrance and he purposefully pushed his hatred for Switzer aside. As long as he knew who the enemy was, he felt confident he could control the situation and keep Rio safe—with a little help from her father and his resources. Once Eddie got James onboard, he could concentrate on Perzinsky and the poker tournament.

“LaCall.” Bradley stopped them in the path leading toward their desks at the back of the bullpen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” His tone was anxious and weaker than usual.

“Sure, what’s up?” Eddie asked.

“In private.” Bradley managed to locate the strength he’d temporarily lost from his voice.

Eddie looked at Rio. He hadn’t talked to James yet. He didn’t like the idea of her roaming around alone. Not even here. At the Federal Building.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I want to go have a little chat with our soon-to-be informant anyway.”

“Rivera...” Eddie raised his voice enough to grab the attention of his coworker sitting two rows of desks away. When Rivera looked up, Eddie waved him over.

Rivera closed the manila folder, dropped the pen and pushed himself up from his desk. He closed the gap between them a few steps and then said, “What’s going on? Why does everybody look so serious?”

“Go with her, please?” Eddie asked, pointing to Rio.

She looked at him, opened her mouth as if she were about to object, but instead, rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Come on, Riv.” She latched onto his wrist. “Let’s go.”

Was she pissed? Sure. Did Eddie care? No.

They disappeared through the entrance and Eddie turned to Bradley.

“I really don’t want to get in your business,” Bradley said.

Eddie believed him, but still. “Then don’t.” He studied Bradley’s face, easily guessing what this was about. Naomi and her accusation.

“Well...” Bradley folded his arms across his chest and finally his gaze met up with Eddie’s. “Let’s pretend for a moment that I am her overprotective older brother.”

Eddie could almost believe it. Bradley was playing the part to the hilt. The tension was getting a little too thick to suit Eddie. “So what...?” he asked. “You saying you want to kick my ass or something?”

“All I’m saying, LaCall, is...I don’t want to see Laraquette hurt by this.” Chris paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “And if you leave her for your pregnant ex-girlfriend...it’s going to hurt.”

Eddie remained silent while he debated on whether or not to give in to Bradley’s whims. He’d begun to consider Bradley a friend, and because of that, Eddie wanted to clear his name. And not just with Bradley but the others, too. Except Switzer. Eddie didn’t give a damn what Switzer thought.

“Okay, you want an explanation?” Eddie said with determination. “Get Gabe, Rivera and his girl, and Rio,” he added her name into the mix. He didn’t trust her care to much of anybody else.

* * *

Lester recognized the cop right away when she entered the room. The chick from the poker tournament. He’d known there was something off about her, but he hadn’t been able to identify it. Not until now. “Well, hello, Miss Scarlett,” he said, letting her know he was on top of things.

“Afternoon, Lester.” Her greeting was a little too friendly to suit him. Cops only acted like this when they wanted something. Something that usually involved snitching. Well, Lester had news for her. He wasn’t a snitch.

And he wasn’t afraid of her either. “Afternoon? That’s pushing it,” he said with a cool air. “What do you want? Let me guess...you want to talk about some alleged marker sham, too?” he added, just so she’d know he wasn’t going to be as easy a mark as she was probably thinking.

“Markers? No.” Surprisingly, she seemed genuinely uninterested in his markers scheme. “I want to talk about the poker tournament.”

“Lose your seed money already?” He laughed. “I’d love to help you, but I’m kind of indisposed right now.” He raised his cuffed hands. The hardware tended to put a damper on things.

She tapped her fingernails on the table. They had purple tips. It was kind of sexy, in a freaky sort of way. “No. Surprisingly, I’m winning.”

“Then quit your bitching.”

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table. The relentless gleam in her eyes cut through Lester, leaving him with a definite, bone-tingling chill.

“I haven’t begun to bitch,” her icy tone breezed past, surrounding him with bitter resolve.

He came to the conclusion that taking a determinate stance against her bad-cop attitude was his only hope. “If you don’t want to talk about the markers,” he said, “then what do you want?”

“Okay, here’s the deal.” She paused, seemingly growing tired. Or frustrated. “We know the tournament is rigged. You help us with the particulars...who, what, and how...and we’ll see what we can do about the markers thing.” She put it out there and eyed him placidly for a time before rising and exiting the room.

Like that was really going to work. He chuckled as the door closed between them. Lester Perzinsky wasn’t about to play ball with a bunch of pansy-ass cops.