swallowed. "Tony said you had a homicide down by the river."
Eddie looked again, then gave his head a solemn shake. "Girl we found was heavier, didn't look like dis at all."
Relief on Stephanie's behalf rushed through him. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten emotionally involved in this, but he couldn't imagine having to tell her Tina was dead. "You see a girl looks like this one, you let Tony know, okay?"
"You got it, pal."
As he started to walk away, Eddie grabbed his wrist and Jake looked up. "Really is good to see you, Jake. You should come around more, shoot de bull wid me."
Jake pressed his hps together tightly. It was good to see Eddie, too—but as for coming around, he wasn't planning to make it a habit. "Maybe," he said anyway.
Fat Eddie slapped him on the back and laughed. "Dat'd be good, real good."
After leaving the Pirate's Den, they stopped at a couple of other out-of-the-way haunts, but not places where Jake seemed as well-known or warmly regarded. He showed the pictures to one or two guys inside each place, still with no luck.
As usual with Jake, Stephanie found herself experiencing warring emotions. Her hope deflated a little at each shaking head they encountered, and at the same time she was shamefully overcome with an attraction to her companion that escalated with each passing minute. How could she be thinking about that at a time like this?
Each small touch of his hand, every meeting with those dark eyes, carried her a little deeper into desire. Such an unfamiliar territory. Unfamiliar, at least, for a very long time. It made her remember that as a teenager, she'd never really gotten hold of it, never reached a place where she could push it away with any success. And as an adult, she'd had no practice with it.
So when they turned a corner onto Bourbon Street, suddenly thrust into flashing lights and a street party that happened every night, she didn't flinch when Jake took her hand. She hated being unable to control her reaction to him, but at the same time she loved succumbing to it.
Although it was September, heat and humidity still soaked the air where people stood in clusters, drinking, laughing, eating. Open-air storefronts offered T-shirts, Mardi Gras beads, and frozen daiquiris in countless flavors, while music spilled onto the closed-to-traffic thoroughfare—rock, jazz, and Cajun all vying to be heard the loudest.
They passed a strip bar where two young women wearing skimpy bras and thong panties posed provocatively in the doorway. Just as she felt her face growing warmer with embarrassment, one of the girls smiled at Jake—and Stephanie wanted to kill her. Could she not see they were holding hands? And—
Oh God. This was it. She was losing her mind.
You and he are not a couple.
And the only reason he tried to seduce you the other night was to teach you a lesson.
"Where are we going now?" she asked, growing uncomfortable in the heart of the red-light district.
"Place just up ahead here. The Playpen."
She came to a dead halt, jerking Jake to a stop as well. He turned to look at her.
"Is that a strip club?"
He nodded easily. "Yeah. Why?"
She pulled in her breath. "Why on earth would we go to a strip club?"
Jake blinked, tilted his head, his look making her feel childish. But she couldn't help it—she couldn't imagine going into a place like that.
"Chère, you remember the last guy we spoke to, at LaFitte's?"
She thought back to the bar, and the guy—a handsome man in his late thirties with curling brown hair—then nodded.
"Danny Richards, my boss at Sophia's. He's a decent guy, I've known him a lotta years, and he's pretty familiar with the clientele on the third floor. What I'm sayin' is, he knows the high-end escort business in this town."
"And?"
"I mentioned Tina by name and showed her picture, and he's never seen her."
Stephanie's heart plummeted a little further.
"Makes me think we've exhausted our resources in the high-priced escort market," he
Eddie looked again, then gave his head a solemn shake. "Girl we found was heavier, didn't look like dis at all."
Relief on Stephanie's behalf rushed through him. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten emotionally involved in this, but he couldn't imagine having to tell her Tina was dead. "You see a girl looks like this one, you let Tony know, okay?"
"You got it, pal."
As he started to walk away, Eddie grabbed his wrist and Jake looked up. "Really is good to see you, Jake. You should come around more, shoot de bull wid me."
Jake pressed his hps together tightly. It was good to see Eddie, too—but as for coming around, he wasn't planning to make it a habit. "Maybe," he said anyway.
Fat Eddie slapped him on the back and laughed. "Dat'd be good, real good."
After leaving the Pirate's Den, they stopped at a couple of other out-of-the-way haunts, but not places where Jake seemed as well-known or warmly regarded. He showed the pictures to one or two guys inside each place, still with no luck.
As usual with Jake, Stephanie found herself experiencing warring emotions. Her hope deflated a little at each shaking head they encountered, and at the same time she was shamefully overcome with an attraction to her companion that escalated with each passing minute. How could she be thinking about that at a time like this?
Each small touch of his hand, every meeting with those dark eyes, carried her a little deeper into desire. Such an unfamiliar territory. Unfamiliar, at least, for a very long time. It made her remember that as a teenager, she'd never really gotten hold of it, never reached a place where she could push it away with any success. And as an adult, she'd had no practice with it.
So when they turned a corner onto Bourbon Street, suddenly thrust into flashing lights and a street party that happened every night, she didn't flinch when Jake took her hand. She hated being unable to control her reaction to him, but at the same time she loved succumbing to it.
Although it was September, heat and humidity still soaked the air where people stood in clusters, drinking, laughing, eating. Open-air storefronts offered T-shirts, Mardi Gras beads, and frozen daiquiris in countless flavors, while music spilled onto the closed-to-traffic thoroughfare—rock, jazz, and Cajun all vying to be heard the loudest.
They passed a strip bar where two young women wearing skimpy bras and thong panties posed provocatively in the doorway. Just as she felt her face growing warmer with embarrassment, one of the girls smiled at Jake—and Stephanie wanted to kill her. Could she not see they were holding hands? And—
Oh God. This was it. She was losing her mind.
You and he are not a couple.
And the only reason he tried to seduce you the other night was to teach you a lesson.
"Where are we going now?" she asked, growing uncomfortable in the heart of the red-light district.
"Place just up ahead here. The Playpen."
She came to a dead halt, jerking Jake to a stop as well. He turned to look at her.
"Is that a strip club?"
He nodded easily. "Yeah. Why?"
She pulled in her breath. "Why on earth would we go to a strip club?"
Jake blinked, tilted his head, his look making her feel childish. But she couldn't help it—she couldn't imagine going into a place like that.
"Chère, you remember the last guy we spoke to, at LaFitte's?"
She thought back to the bar, and the guy—a handsome man in his late thirties with curling brown hair—then nodded.
"Danny Richards, my boss at Sophia's. He's a decent guy, I've known him a lotta years, and he's pretty familiar with the clientele on the third floor. What I'm sayin' is, he knows the high-end escort business in this town."
"And?"
"I mentioned Tina by name and showed her picture, and he's never seen her."
Stephanie's heart plummeted a little further.
"Makes me think we've exhausted our resources in the high-priced escort market," he
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