Criminal Pleasures by Darien Cox Page B

Years.” He looked down, shaking his head, then took a sip of beer. “I’m not perfect. It was getting to me.”
    “I guess that explains why you were such a bitch to me that night,” Brendan said. “Or is that just you?”
    Marc tightened his lips and looked at Brendan. “I was a bitch to you because I was undercover and couldn’t risk getting involved with anyone in a real life capacity. So I tried to deter you. But...” He looked away, sighing.
    “But what?” Brendan asked.
    Marc wrung his hands, not meeting Brendan’s eyes. “You were like this breath of fresh air, come out of nowhere when I was having a very low moment. And I just thought...why not? Why can’t I have something for me, just for one damn night?”
    Brendan stared at him icily. “So I was your escape. Like your little rainforest room, except with a cock.”
    Marc’s brown eyes flicked up. “Yes.”
    “Well that’s great. I hope I was an efficient coping mechanism for you.”
    “You weren’t . I felt guilty as hell, Brendan. Especially when I saw you again the following week. But I was so drawn to you, and as soon as I saw you I wanted you again. But that night I went to your loft, I realized this wasn’t just some fling I could have as a little rest and relaxation from my day job as Marcello DiPietro. I liked you way too much. And you were so open and honest. That’s why I left your loft that night. I couldn’t do that to you a second time, deceive you like that. I thought the less I said about myself the less I’d have to lie to you. But it only made you more suspicious. And I knew sleeping with you again would be just another lie.”
    Brendan nodded. “Well at least it makes sense now. I thought you were insane. Now I kind of wish that was the case. I’d feel like less of a chump.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “And the raid on Bibeta’s Garden? I assume that had something to do with you.”
    Marc looked at Brendan for a long time, saying nothing.
    Brendan narrowed his eyes, then slapped his hand on the table, making Marc flinch. “Oh, come on, Marc! You’re gonna clam up now? Threaten me, muzzle me, whatever you have to do to guarantee I won’t talk, but just tell me all of it. I deserve it. At least for taking your shit . Oh excuse me, for taking Marcello’s shit. ”
    Marc cast his eyes down. “All right.” He looked at Brendan. “Did you see the old woman that came in to see Poppy? On that Tuesday night at the bar, the last time I saw you?”
    “Yes,” Brendan said. “Poppy took her into a back room or something.”
    “That was Patrick Quinn.”
    Brendan’s jaw dropped. “The old woman?”
    He nodded. “He was hiding in plain sight. Just under a wig and a dress. Danielle and I spotted him at the same time. When Danielle came over to the bar to confirm it with me, I told her to go make the call. We had to move fast, before Patrick Quinn left the restaurant again. But my next thought after that was that I had to get you out of the building. Before it went down.”
    “And that’s why you threatened to punch me in the face.”
    He nodded. “How did you find me, Brendan?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “You understand this is a cause for concern. I really do need to know how you found me.”
    “The DiPietros said you’d been deported.”
    Marc nodded. “Do they still believe that?”
    “As far as I know.”
    “How did you know I was a cop?”
    “I didn’t,” Brendan said. He held Marc’s eyes for a moment, then looked down. “I was frantic when I heard you were being deported. Desperate to find out if you were safe.”
    Marc reached over and grasped his hand.
    Brendan tugged his hand away. “Don’t do that. It wasn’t you I was worried about. It was a guy called Marcello, who doesn’t exist.”
    Marc’s eyes closed. “I know.” He opened them again. “So you were trying to find Marcello. And somehow you found me. How?”
    “I have a friend who’s a judge. Don’t ask me his name. I won’t