“Hanging around exactly how? You mean giving me advice on what to do and what not to do?”
Taylor shrugged. When Demos had called him at home the previous night, he’d sounded a bit agitated. It was then he’d asked Taylor to keep a close watch on Eden, after the shoot. He wasn’t going to take any chances, he’d said. Keep a close guard on Eden.
Taylor had jacked up his price, to which Demos had too readily agreed. Taylor wondered if he’d try to stiff him. He’d called Glen and asked for cash up front and Glen had come through.
“Hanging around exactly how?” Lindsay asked again.
He smiled at her and it scared her. She very nearly recoiled. The smile was gone in the next instant and he sat forward in the flimsy chair and said in a very low voice, “I don’t know what’s with you, lady, but I don’t intend to spend my time wondering how you’re going to react to me, and worrying about what I say. I’ve been hired to do a job and you’re the job. I’ll be your bloody shadow until Demos stops paying the bills. If you don’t like that, call him. Now, do you want to call him now or are you ready to go? Incidentally, I’ve got great taste in clothes, so if you want to go shopping, I’m at your disposal.”
Lindsay was silent for several moments. “I’m sorry.”
He only nodded.
“New York is sometimes scary.”
“That’s true.”
“I have a karate class in an hour.”
“How good are you?”
“Third degree.”
“How long you been taking lessons?”
“A year now. I saw a mugging last year and I couldn’t stand it.” Half-truth, she thought, always half-truths. The problem was that they came so easily, more so by the year.
“You know, what the cops say about defending yourself against a criminal is true. It’s usually a mistake.”
“So you recommend just lying there and taking it?”
“I recommend using your brain and assessing a situation. Fear is the worst enemy because it makes you act stupid in most cases. Machismo is just as bad.”
Lindsay got up. “You were with the NYPD?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Why’d you quit?”
He smiled then and opened the yogurt-shop door for her. “Where’s your gym?”
“Down on Forty-fourth and Madison. It’s okay to go there?”
“Yeah, trust me,” Taylor said. “Let’s go, then. That’s a long walk. I assume you walk a lot to keep your weight down?”
Lindsay nodded.
Taylor watched her work out at Lin Ho’s Gym. She wasn’t bad. She was rangy, well-coordinated, strong, and she had endurance. The problem was, you could see how she was going to move before she did it. Her intentions were as clear as the deep blue of her eyes. Maybe he could coach her a bit about that. Against a serious perp she’d be mincemeat. He’d have to make sure she understood what the underbelly of New York was really like. He winced as he thought that. He, S. C. Taylor, that outstanding cop who was all for law and order, who’d ardently believed in justice and in the system, had waited exactly two months after Ellie’s jump from the second-floor bathroom from her private school. Actually, he’d waited one month, three weeks, and two days after Ellie’s funeral. Dear God, that funeral—both the mother and Uncle Bandy had been there, hugging each other, and then the black-souled bastard had actually thrown a red rose on top of the coffin. Taylor had nearly gone after him then. But he’d stopped himself.
But not for long. He’d pulled Uncle Bandy from his rich brownstone and beaten the living shit out of him. Odd, but it hadn’t made him feel any better. The man had the nerve to threaten him. The man had the nerve to scream that it was all Taylor’s fault. Taylor, enraged, had hit him again. But Ellie was still dead. She was buried at Mountain View. He went there occasionally. He’d never checked to see what had become of her mother. He’d simply never cared. But Uncle Bandy, he’d recovered and Taylor knew he carried on as he always had. Power, money, all the trappings.
He left the gym with Eden, his thoughts still on Ellie. Lindsay wondered what he was thinking. He was clearly distracted. She’d called the office from the dressing room and gotten Glen. “The boss is gone, Eden, away for a long weekend, he told me.”
“Why Taylor, Glen? Somebody threaten Demos?”
“Yeah, sweetie. Don’t get pissed off at Demos and lose the guy. Let him stay close; he’s good at what he does. Isn’t he cute? Did you get a look at that chest of his? And that darling little dimple in his chin?”
“Yeah, right, Glen. See you next week.”
“Take care, Eden. If you get him in bed, I’ll scratch your eyes out.”
Lindsay dutifully laughed.
11
Taylor called Valerie from Eden’s apartment. He asked her how she was, how her day was, to which he got the same response he always got, namely, that she was fine, had enjoyed herself, had gone shopping and bought this and that, she missed him, and then, what was he doing. All in one breath, little variation, at least on her end of it.
“I can’t make it tonight,” he said, feeling regret and that regret sounding in his voice. “Yeah, I know you wanted to see that show, but I’m on a job and I’ll be tied up at least for the weekend, maybe even through next week. I’m sorry, babe. I’ll cash the tickets in and get some more for next weekend, all right? Or would you rather have me send them over and you can use them? Maybe invite someone to go with you?”
“I don’t want to go with anyone else! You’re with another woman, aren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s the job I have.” He added, frowning into the phone at the suspicion he heard in her voice, “Nothing more than the job, Valerie. I told you this would occasionally happen. What’s your problem?”
She burst out suddenly, violently, “You’re lying! Damn you, what’s her name? You’re just like every other fucking man! Tell me her name!”
Taylor stared at the phone, jerked it away from his ear. Valerie was yelling at him, actually shrieking. He couldn’t believe it. And she kept it up, this endless supply of venom, yelling now, calling him a liar, accusing him of screwing around, of betraying her with a younger woman, of lying, lying, lying. He remained quiet. What could he say that he hadn’t said already? Jesus, you never knew a person. He’d thought he had known her. He thought of her laughter, her beautiful body, her sometimes too-facetious wit, the undeniable intelligence behind that perfect face. But never had he imagined this kind of fury running deep in her. How could she be jealous? Had some guy in the past really screwed her up? It seemed incredible to him for the simple reason she seemed so in control. By God, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. This was madness.
When she ran down finally, he was angry and impatient, and said, “I’m sorry you don’t believe me, Valerie. You’re entirely wrong. I’ll call you on Monday. I’ll expect an apology then.”
There was just an instant of hesitation before she started up again. He gently eased the phone back into its cradle, looking down at it in disgust.
He turned to see Eden standing in the open kitchen doorway, just looking at him, her head cocked to one side in silent question. He shook his head, feeling slightly sick. “You never really know a person, do you?”
“No,” she said, “I don’t think you do. Perhaps it’s better not to. Skeletons abound. No, better not to. Would you like a diet soda? A cup of tea?”
A beer would be nicer, but what the hell. “Tea would be fine, thank you.”
She disappeared into the kitchen thinking that he was involved, and that was a good thing. She wouldn’t have to worry now. She wondered why the woman on the phone could possibly be mad over another female she’d never met. And he’d said, quite calmly, that this was nothing more than a job. Strange.
