“No,” he whispered as she went to dress. “No, I don’t.”
Chapter 11
“HEY TRACY, SORRY ABOUT the delay. Been closing out a big case. But I’ve dug up some interesting things on your tenant. How ’bout we meet at your building at one? Cheers!”
Tracy frowned at her phone and hit the replay button on her cell. Yup, same message from Detective Michael McKay—the police officer and good friend she’d begged to investigate Nathan Gao more than a week ago.
She’d been anxious to get information on Nathan then, to find out if he had a criminal record. Well, it sounded like something was up. Unfortunately, Tracy wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. She just wanted to stop thinking—dreaming—about the man.
She stared at the time. Noon. Hell. She’d slept through the entire morning. After leaving Nathan’s apartment in the very early hours, she’d collapsed onto her bed and sobbed herself to sleep. And had apparently slept through Mike’s call. She shoved herself upright, then made her way to the bathroom.
There was still time to catch Mike. She could come up with some lame excuse for not meeting him, but did she really want to hide from the truth? Well, yes. She didn’t want to learn that Nathan was just a con man. Or maybe she did. She needed the truth. Especially now when she could still think relatively clearly. If she waited too long and got hit by that damn horny lightning again…Well, then she was doomed. She’d be at Nathan’s door on her knees begging him to do anything he wanted to her. She had to know the truth now. Therefore, she had to stop moping, haul tail into the shower, and then meet Mike.
An hour later, she had her toolbox in hand and was trudging up the building staircase while guilt burned in her stomach. Mike—Detective McKay—was all business beside her, oblivious to the fact that his every word felt like another weight on her soul.
“Near as I can tell, his mother runs a high-class prostitution ring in Hong Kong. Men and women. No action too depraved so long as the money’s there. The authorities have been keeping their eye on his mother, but there’s never been an arrest. Though apparently she’s been spending money like water lately. Just in the last few months.”
Tracy did a mental calculation. “Mom” had probably started spending the moment Nathan had left home to come to the U.S. She wondered how long that well was going to last. “What is she buying?”
Mike shrugged as they reached the landing outside Nathan’s apartment. “Silks, makeup, jewelry. Nothing outrageous, but it still adds up.”
Mike stepped back as Tracy joined him in the hallway. He touched the small of her back, guiding her to Nathan’s door. It was nothing unusual. Mike was a touchy-feely kind of guy. He didn’t mean anything by it, and yet Tracy felt a zing of electricity up her spine. She and Mike had grown up together. They were friends, and frankly, she had zero interest in him as a lover. But he was a big, strong man. He had large hands and likely a big, thick cock. And…oh, my God! Tracy gasped and reordered her thoughts.
Was this what being a tigress was all about? Unbounded thoughts about young football players and big handsome cops? Fortunately, she wasn’t lusting after Mike. She was just hyperaware of how his anatomy was probably constructed. Still…eww!
“Tracy? You okay?”
She blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, um, that’s it? All you wanted to tell me was that his mother is suspected of running a prostitution ring?” Relief colored her tone.
Mike grinned. “Well, that and to get some proof of evildoing.” He gestured to Nathan’s door. “So open up. And by the way, I can’t tell you how grateful the department is that you noticed this guy. The last thing we need is a Chinese organized-crime outfit gaining a foothold here.”
She didn’t move except to fiddle with her master key. “What if the police are wrong? I mean, it could be…you know…a religion or something.”
Mike laughed, his expression warm and a little bit condescending. “Yeah, I got your religion right here. Come on, Trace, let’s get this show on the road.”
She nodded, but couldn’t force herself to open the door. “He might be home, you know.”
Mike frowned. “You said he was at class.”
He probably was, but she could hardly say she was feeling guilty for violating a potential felon’s privacy.
“And you’ve got that clause explicit in the lease that lets you enter to make repairs, right?”
She nodded. Mike had even made her bring her toolbox, which hung like a lead weight in her left hand. “He said the garbage disposal doesn’t work.”
“There you go,” he answered as he pulled a wrench out of her toolbox. “And I’m an old friend just hanging out.” He hefted the wrench like a weapon and grinned at her just like when they were kids. “All perfectly legal.”
Just not entirely moral. Unless Nathan really was a member of an organized-crime syndicate. A very unsuccessful one. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she hedged. “I think I was very wrong about him.”
Mike smiled and gently pulled her passkey from her hand. “How ’bout we leave the question of guilt to the professionals? You just fix his sink, and I’ll hang around noticing things.” His gaze abruptly sharpened. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
She shook her head. “Nothing, Mike, I just feel weird about this.”
“That’s why you’re a landlord, not a cop.” He grinned as he opened the door. “Hello? Housekeeping! Anybody home?”
She rolled her eyes. Mike sure liked catching bad guys. She followed him into the apartment, her eyes immediately absorbing the familiar surroundings. “Mr. Gao?” she called, half hoping, half dreading to see Nathan. “I’m here to fix the sink.”
Silence. Well, silence except for the neighbor in 4B. This time the sound coming through the wall was a basketball game and another loud argument over the phone.
Mike frowned, obviously listening hard. “How come we can’t hear that in the hallway?”
She shrugged. “Soundproofing. I must have missed the wall between the two apartments.”
“I guess so.” He gestured to the bookcases, cushions and perfectly made bed. “He always this neat?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Mike wandered over to the bookcase, scanning the titles with a leer. “Look at this. Sexual Secrets of the White Tigress. Tantrism for Beginners. Yeah, our boy here is up to his mother’s tricks.”
“They’re just books,” she snapped. “And lots of people are Tantric. Sting, for one.”
“Because people always get their religious guidance from a rock star.” He pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through it. “Sex books right next to accounting texts. Business school for madams.”
Tracy dropped her toolbox with unnecessary force. “You don’t know that. Maybe he’s legit.”
“Sure, he is,” Mike said as he tilted a book to her. “And I’m sure Mother Teresa often preached orgasms to see God.” He snorted. “Like anyone would believe this crap!”
Tracy sidestepped the tears that threatened and moved straight to righteous indignation. “You’ve already made up your mind about him. Just because Tantrism is different doesn’t mean—”
“Is this his laptop?” Mike knelt down to where Nathan’s computer rested on the floor near where he’d been studying the night before. The screen was up but dark.
“I think so,” Tracy said.
Mike tapped a key and the screen powered up. It had been in sleep mode. “Well, look at that, it’s still on. There is a God.” He sat down on the floor right where Nathan had been last night.
Tracy turned to the sink, unable to watch. The sense that she was betraying Nathan made her physically ill. “I’ll just go fix the disposal,” she murmured.
Mike gave her a distracted wave. Meanwhile, the neighbor cursed loudly and vehemently before killing his television. Apparently, his team had just lost.