Layers Peeled (13 page)

“Why do we not
have this in our office?” I felt my brows furrow.

“Because the
people who originally bought her worked along with Martinez. I
don’t think Marissa’s file should even have been in your stack of
cases. Tristan made it very clear you’re to stay away from cases
involving anyone from Tiezzo’s group.”

“Tiezzo’s?”

Why did that
name sound familiar?

“Your instinct
already knows who that is, Allie. Don’t get involved. He has too
much power.”

“Wasn’t there
a foundation and a political group set up after him?”

“Political
groups, franchises, full communities, department stores, car
dealerships—basically a lot of money washing. There’s no way anyone
can combat the bastard over night. Everyone knows he’s dirty but no
one can do anything about it. The FBI’s been trying to get this guy
behind bars for almost two decades. Gabe’s first wife already died
at their hands, although we can’t prove it. That’s why Tristan
wants you to stay clear. There was a politician trying to change
every aspect of law some years ago to put Tiezzo behind bars and
disappeared.”

Didn’t Tristan
know that would only make me want to rescue Marissa that much more?
I loved how much he wanted to protect me and gave me so much
assurance all the time, but something drew me to this girl.

Right now, I
believed Fate had stepped in and slid that file on my desk on
purpose. “It looks like I need to have a chat with Mr. Cross then.”
My stomach bubbled in argument – or perhaps Puss was hungry.

“You didn’t
hear it from me.” James raised his arms.

“Don’t worry.
I won’t throw you under the bus.”

“Allie, she’s
the girl I was supposed to get that night and failed. The bastard
who bought her did so ahead of time. I don’t know how he did it. He
has connections I haven’t been able to pinpoint. She was sold
before she even got there.”

“Has that ever
happened before?”

“Other than
with Kendra, no. Whoever has her knows his way around. From the
research we’ve done, he’s like a ghost. He never showed up to the
auction.”

“Why her?”

“That’s a good
question. She’s not a relative of yours, is she?” His gaze scanned
from the photo to me.

“No.” I shook
my head. “I just feel a strange connection to her, that’s all.”

“I can ask
around, but this is pretty much it.” He passed me his file.

I spent the
next fifteen minutes scanning the sheets. The man who had bought
Marissa had no intention of letting her work the streets. No one
had seen her or heard from her, and it appeared she was to be his
personal slave.

Laura and
James were getting too touchy and feely even for my liking. I said
my goodbyes and told them to behave, at which Laura chuckled, of
course. Before leaving I went downstairs to the Starbucks to grab a
tea. On my way back to the building, where the valet had kindly
brought my car, a familiar face flashed from across the street. She
lowered her head when she saw me and hastened her walk.

“It can’t be,”
I said to myself, and then raised my voice for her to hear me from
across the street. “Marissa?”

Her head
jolted up by a fraction, but she continued at her fast pace. I
crossed the street in a hurry, bumping into a taxi. My arm stung.
The wound, although healed, still ached when I put too much
pressure on it.

The driver
rolled down his window, saying, “You’re going to get killed out
here dream girl!”

“Sorry!” I
raised my hand with the apology.

The air was
crisp and I was beginning to see my breath in front of me.

Once on the
sidewalk I pressed my feet harder. Was she jogging? Why? Her dark
silhouette, a long coat and a hood over her head, seemed to be
getting further away. I weaved between the few people on the street
as she turned the corner. The sound of a siren howled in the
distance. I followed the girl, wondering why she was running away.
Was she afraid? And for goodness sake, if she’d been sold, then
what was she doing here? It’s not like we were in the red light
district, although we weren’t too far from it, either: a good
twenty-minute walk north, or so. But then again, the files said she
only worked for her owner.

“Marissa,
wait!” I yelled out after her. I wanted to call Laura or James, but
I didn’t have time to get my phone from the car. If I went back I’d
lose her. Once I followed her to the right I saw her again, a bit
closer this time. She halted her walk and lifted her hand to wave
to someone. The headlights of a parked car flashed. He pulled out
of his spot and stopped at her side. Was that her pimp? Marissa got
inside the back seat of a plate less black SUV. The man wearing
sunglasses and a hood drove right past me. For a moment I thought I
recognized him, but couldn’t quite place the features in the
darkness.

For a moment I
contemplated jumping into a cab to follow her, but that would have
been reckless, and I promised Tristan not to put myself or the baby
in danger. I’d have to find a different way to approach her.

The taillights
of the car became smaller, and I just stood there. The girl in the
file looked desperate and without hope. Yet here, I’d given her a
chance to make contact with someone else, and she didn’t take it.
Was she afraid he’d hurt her? And why would he allow her to wander
around like that while he waited a few blocks away? It didn’t make
sense. My stomach bubbled again.

If I had to
bet, and if my instinct hadn’t lost its mojo, I’d say she arrived
outside of Cross Enterprises, looking for me.

When I pulled
into the driveway, Tristan was waiting for me on the steps. I sat
in the car for a moment, enjoying the view of my man leaning
against the stone like he was born to be a model. The house was lit
inside and out. I still had a difficult time believing this was our
house—no, our home. It felt too good to be true, and I really
wanted to meet the fairy godmother who’d made it all happen.

I opened the
car door and stepped out. The faint smell of burning wood wafted
around me. White smoke puffed from behind the house. Tristan must
have lit the fireplace, and I couldn’t wait to cuddle up in front
of it. Feeling the temperature cool since I’d left work, and I
tightened my arms around my front.

Without saying
hello, Tristan pulled me in for a drawn-out kiss. His warmth
circulated through me in seconds, as if he were my own personal
heater. Tristan smelled so good and fresh. I sank deeper into his
embrace, letting him cocoon me, and the world ceased to exist. The
cold turned to heat and my icicle hands and legs thawed. Once we
pulled away, our foreheads leaned against one another. The tip of
his cold nose brushed my cheek and his breath caressed my face,
“You should wear these pants to work more often.”

“Then you
wouldn’t get any work done.”

“I guess
you’re right.”

“Have you been
waiting long?”

“A few
minutes. The Bentley has GPS tracking, and I couldn’t resist
checking how far away you were. Let’s go inside.”

Tristan locked
the door and removed my jacket. He stilled once he saw the corset
top I’d borrowed from Laura. I’d worn one before, but it wasn’t as
revealing as this little piece.

“This is what
you wore?” he asked.

“I was
undercover. And it’s much more clothing than what some of the women
were wearing.”

“Sorry, I just
didn’t expect it. The thought of another man ogling you or thinking
the thoughts I’m having right now is just too much.” He clenched
his fist.

“The only man
I’m interested in ogling me is you.” I gave him a reassuring kiss.
“If it makes you feel better, I need to return it to Laura.”

“Well, that
explains it, then.”

I
chuckled.

“Hungry?” he
asked.

“Yes,
please.”

He tugged my
hand and we headed for the basement. As we got closer to the
staircase, my stomach was awakened by the appetizing aroma.

“Come
downstairs. I may have asked Olivier to prepare something special.”
He grinned.

“Now you have
me intrigued.” At the mere mention of Olivier, my stomach started
doing flips and somersaults.

“Not in the
kitchen?” I felt my own mouth curve up. The last time I’d tried to
surprise Tristan in the kitchen, our meal turned out to be more
than I bargained for.

“This room has
been christened already.”

Calling our
basement a simple ‘basement’ was an understatement. Spanning the
whole length and width of the house, the lower level had a movie
theater with a projector and stadium seating – except instead of
uncomfortable folding chairs, Tristan had installed reclining
loungers with cup holders and headphones. Near the fireplace a
games area featured a pool table, a poker table, foosball, and a
few arcade machines, one of them being Pac Man. The big screen TV
further down was reserved for an X-box and Wii system.
Did we
really need two?

I’d never seen
Tristan play video games, but something told me he’d be good at
them, losing himself in the play like a little boy. Then again,
even if it felt like years, we hadn’t really known each other for
too long. I wondered how good he was at Tetris and whether I could
beat him. While at school I used to play on my laptop from time to
time, and found it took my mind away from the cruel world I lived
in.

“Do you play?”
I asked.

“Sometimes.
I’d offer for us to try now, but I had a more adult game in
mind.”

There was that
lusty voice of his that twisted my stomach with desire and tingled
between my legs every time I heard it. But my nose decided to
wander, sniffing for the spicy smells.

On a table
near the fireplace were dishes filled with noodles, rice, spring
rolls, and round dumplings probably stuffed with shrimp or chicken.
The variety was too much for two people to consume. But my tummy
disagreed with a hungry growl.

“Chinese?” I
rushed over to the table. My mouth watered, and I brushed my hand
over it to make sure the drool wasn’t about to drip.

“Yes, Olivier
left a few minutes ago, so it’s all fresh.”

“And fortune
cookies. I love fortune cookies.” I sat down on the floor crossing
my legs.

“Leave these
for last. I’ve heard patience brings good luck.” Tristan sat down
beside me. My gaze followed his lengthy body that tried to squish
in as close to me as possible. The cotton shirt he’d worn tonight
was easy enough to peel off, no buttons, and the sweats would fall
with one pull of a string. Within seconds the object of my hunger
switched from Chinese food to Tristan Cross, but he brought me back
in an instant swirling a forkful of noodles in front of my nose.
“Chopsticks or fork?” he teased.

“Fork. I took
the bite.” Normally I would have used chopsticks, but tonight, with
the growing hunger in my belly and the increasing need to move on
to the main course sitting next to me, I knew I could get much more
in my mouth, and more quickly with a fork.

I filled my
plate with what I wanted (which was everything) as Tristan fed me.
My mouth tasted heaven. The spices of Oriental cuisine were exactly
what I and Puss wanted tonight. Could Olivier cook for us every
day? Not that I didn’t like it when Tristan prepared food, in his
boxers and nothing else. It was a feast just watching him in the
kitchen. But the kind of food Olivier prepared took a talent that
few had.

Yet something
still bugged me. A feeling I hadn’t been able to shake since I’d
left Cross Enterprises.

“Tristan, I
need to ask you a question.” Spoiling the mood was the last thing I
wanted, but if I didn’t ask him about Marissa’s file, I wouldn’t be
able to enjoy his company. And I had a feeling that tonight would
be a night to remember.

“Sounds
serious.” He shifted his weight to face me. “Should I be
worried?”

“I don’t know.
You kept a file from me. The girl I was looking for, her name is
Marissa. You didn’t want me seeing her file. Why?”

With a deep
breath of what I could only interpret as honesty, he said, “I was
afraid you’d get mixed up with the wrong people again, and I can’t
go through that. The cartel that sold her was operated by the same
mogul who hired Martinez.

“Tiezzo?”

“Yes.” Tristan
didn’t look surprised I knew. “Since I’ve been consulting in
Washington on new anti-smuggling and money-laundering legislation
he’s scaled down his operation, but that’s not who I was afraid
of...” His voice trailed into the distance.

“Who,
then?”

“The guy who
bought her is like a ghost. James worked undercover with the police
and a not-for-profit rescue organization before he came to Cross
Enterprises. He was supposed to get Marissa that night, but he
couldn’t. And James has connections to almost every underground
operation you can think of, yet he can’t find this guy.”

“You’ve asked
James to look for him?”

“Yes. Only on
instinct because I don’t like the unknown.”

“He told me
Marissa could be connected to them. Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not,
silly. It’s not my department, and I trust James.” He smoothed the
back of his hand over my cheek. “I figured I wouldn’t be able to
keep this from you for too long.”

“Then why keep
it away from me at all? You know I can handle myself.”

“I’m not
doubting your abilities or your motives, Allie, but Marissa...
she’s a special case. She’s the first girl James failed. His stings
had always been so intricate, he was shocked when he learned she’d
been sold before the auction.”

“To whom?”

“That’s the
problem. Like I said, this guy is like a ghost, which scares me
more than when we deal with the scummiest dirt bags—even if he’s
not part of the same cartel Martinez was. He acts alone. He’s never
been seen or heard from, yet he knows things only the cops should
know. I don’t like it. It’s always better to know the beast you’re
up against than not know him at all. And for that reason, I’m
afraid to let you touch the case.”