who was essentially her bodyguard, but also
because he made her uneasy. Something about this hard, remote man put her on
edge.
However, if Lauren's experience with Carlo Giovessi had taught her
nothing else, she had at least learned that ignoring a difficult truth or
pretending it didn't exist just didn't work. From now on she intended to face
her problems head-on...and Sam Rawlins's attitude was a problem.
Lauren cocked her head and gazed at him across the few feet that
separated them. By now he had lashed both short sticks between the longer one,
forcing them apart into an elongated oval with points at each end. Now he was
weaving heavy nylon twine in an open, diamond-shaped pattern, overall.
"You don't like me very much, do you, Agent Rawlins?"
"No."
A startled chuckle bubbled from Lauren's throat. "Well. That
was certainly direct and to the point."
She had expected denial, or at the very least, subtle evasion.
Something like—"What makes you think that?" or "You're imagining
things," or "I don't know you well enough to like or dislike
you?"—Not a blunt confirmation.
Although... given her experience with Sam Rawlins so far, she
supposed she should have been prepared for brutal honesty. Diplomacy and polite
white lies were not this man's style.
"Would you mind telling me why? I mean, you barely know me,
and I don't think I've done anything to you to cause such animosity. What,
exactly, is it about me that you find so objectionable?"
"Does it matter? My job is to keep you alive so you can
testify against Giovessi in court, not to be your friend."
"I understand that. However, since we're going to be spending
a lot of time together, a little civility would be nice. But unless I know what
it is about me that irritates you so much, how can I correct the problem?"
"You can't. The problem is, I don't have any respect for
women who sell themselves to rich old men. Especially mobsters."
"Pardon?" Lauren shook her head, sure she'd heard him
wrong. "What did you say?"
"You're Carlo Giovessi's mistress. In my book, that's the
same as a hooker."
"Whaaat!"
"Oh, spare me the innocent denials, okay?"
"No, it is not okay! Because I most certainly am not Mr. Giovessi's mistress! I don't know where you got that idea, but you're
wrong!"
"I don't think so."
"Look, I admit he helped me get on my feet after I left the
hospital. He located an apartment for me and an affordable car, recommended me
for the job at the university. Then a few months ago he offered me the job at
the club. But those were just friendly acts of kindness. Being a music lover,
he has a lot of admiration and respect for musicians, and he felt the accident
that ended my career was a tragedy, so he did what he could to help. I
explained all that at the police station. But Mr. Giovessi doesn't support me,
and he most certainly is not my lover!"
"Sorry, but that righteous outrage just won't wash. All the
evidence says otherwise."
"Evidence? What evidence? Just because I worked at his
club two nights a week that doesn't make me his mistress."
"How about the fact that Carlo visited you at your apartment
every Wednesday night?"
Surprise shot through Lauren. "How...how do you know
that?"
"Or that the two of you were alone together after hours at
the club every Friday and Saturday night?" he pressed, ignoring her
question.
"I explained that at the police station, too. I play the
piano for him those nights. That's also why he came by my apartment every
Wednesday evening. Oh, I don't believe this!" Lauren closed her eyes and
pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. "I just don't believe
this!"
Too agitated to sit, she jumped to her feet again and began to
pace. "For two years I've struggled to become independent and learn how to
stand on my own two feet, and now you're accusing me of being a...a kept
woman! All because I gave a nice old man—or at least, someone I thought was
a nice old man—a few hours of pleasure each week!"
"Yeah, I'll bet you
because he made her uneasy. Something about this hard, remote man put her on
edge.
However, if Lauren's experience with Carlo Giovessi had taught her
nothing else, she had at least learned that ignoring a difficult truth or
pretending it didn't exist just didn't work. From now on she intended to face
her problems head-on...and Sam Rawlins's attitude was a problem.
Lauren cocked her head and gazed at him across the few feet that
separated them. By now he had lashed both short sticks between the longer one,
forcing them apart into an elongated oval with points at each end. Now he was
weaving heavy nylon twine in an open, diamond-shaped pattern, overall.
"You don't like me very much, do you, Agent Rawlins?"
"No."
A startled chuckle bubbled from Lauren's throat. "Well. That
was certainly direct and to the point."
She had expected denial, or at the very least, subtle evasion.
Something like—"What makes you think that?" or "You're imagining
things," or "I don't know you well enough to like or dislike
you?"—Not a blunt confirmation.
Although... given her experience with Sam Rawlins so far, she
supposed she should have been prepared for brutal honesty. Diplomacy and polite
white lies were not this man's style.
"Would you mind telling me why? I mean, you barely know me,
and I don't think I've done anything to you to cause such animosity. What,
exactly, is it about me that you find so objectionable?"
"Does it matter? My job is to keep you alive so you can
testify against Giovessi in court, not to be your friend."
"I understand that. However, since we're going to be spending
a lot of time together, a little civility would be nice. But unless I know what
it is about me that irritates you so much, how can I correct the problem?"
"You can't. The problem is, I don't have any respect for
women who sell themselves to rich old men. Especially mobsters."
"Pardon?" Lauren shook her head, sure she'd heard him
wrong. "What did you say?"
"You're Carlo Giovessi's mistress. In my book, that's the
same as a hooker."
"Whaaat!"
"Oh, spare me the innocent denials, okay?"
"No, it is not okay! Because I most certainly am not Mr. Giovessi's mistress! I don't know where you got that idea, but you're
wrong!"
"I don't think so."
"Look, I admit he helped me get on my feet after I left the
hospital. He located an apartment for me and an affordable car, recommended me
for the job at the university. Then a few months ago he offered me the job at
the club. But those were just friendly acts of kindness. Being a music lover,
he has a lot of admiration and respect for musicians, and he felt the accident
that ended my career was a tragedy, so he did what he could to help. I
explained all that at the police station. But Mr. Giovessi doesn't support me,
and he most certainly is not my lover!"
"Sorry, but that righteous outrage just won't wash. All the
evidence says otherwise."
"Evidence? What evidence? Just because I worked at his
club two nights a week that doesn't make me his mistress."
"How about the fact that Carlo visited you at your apartment
every Wednesday night?"
Surprise shot through Lauren. "How...how do you know
that?"
"Or that the two of you were alone together after hours at
the club every Friday and Saturday night?" he pressed, ignoring her
question.
"I explained that at the police station, too. I play the
piano for him those nights. That's also why he came by my apartment every
Wednesday evening. Oh, I don't believe this!" Lauren closed her eyes and
pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. "I just don't believe
this!"
Too agitated to sit, she jumped to her feet again and began to
pace. "For two years I've struggled to become independent and learn how to
stand on my own two feet, and now you're accusing me of being a...a kept
woman! All because I gave a nice old man—or at least, someone I thought was
a nice old man—a few hours of pleasure each week!"
"Yeah, I'll bet you
Similar Books
