Hooked

manipulated, and she hated it. Manipulated by the NYPD, Treasury, and by Lincoln Walsh in particular.
    She couldn’t read him, and that surprised her. Instinct had always served her well where men were concerned. If some guy behaved strangely or a situation felt threatening, she bolted. The hell with the money. She never took chances.
    But Walsh? If she had to guess, she’d say he wasn’t too happy with her or his assignment. At first cocky and arrogant, he now acted almost conciliatory. He sure didn’t like hearing she thought he was pimping her out.
    It’s all in one’s perspective, isn’t it, Walsh?
    Then there was the day in the hotel room in Myrtle Beach —when their heat had reached the boiling point. Three words stopped what would have been a big mistake for both of them. Still, she couldn’t ignore her emotional response to him, then and now. No man had made her cry in a long time, and she didn’t know why this one did. He was business, only a different kind of business.
    Well, they were in it now, and whatever happened happened. She hoped she was right about Benny Cooper. That he was nothing more than a horny sex addict, going from Wall Street to Back Street, even though Back Street was in the toney upper eighties of the east side of New York. Because if he wasn’t, he’d gone from hedge fund manager to pimp to murderer.

Chapter Twelve
    Benny’s Dark Cloud

    B enny returned to Upper Eighties feeling like he’d just signed Angelina Jolie to an exclusive long-term contract. Tawny Dell was damn close, maybe better, and she didn’t have all those weird tattoos. With a smile plastered on his face, he was headed for the door of his apartment when Colin popped out of the office.
    “Need to speak to you, Benny.”
    He had a strange expression that gave Benny pause. The way things had gone before today would send anyone into a fit of depression. After his meeting with Tawny, he was up, and he didn’t want anything to bring him down. “What is it?”
    Colin pulled him inside and closed the door. “Ever hear of a guy by the name of Dirk Hansen?”
    “No, should I?”
    “He says he’s Cindi’s boyfriend.”
    Benny had almost forgotten about Cindi, and he sure as hell had forgotten Melody’s remark that Cindi had a boyfriend. He’d buried the tragic evening, and nothing had happened to resurrect it. Wherever Reggie stowed Cindi’s body, she hadn’t been found, making it easier for Benny to forget.
    “Shit.”
    “You knew about this?” Colin asked. “I thought Cindi didn’t have a boyfriend.”
    “I asked her. She said she didn’t, but she lied. I wouldn’t have hired her if I’d known.”
    “What’s worse is she told him where she worked. He had the phone number and the Web site, and he knew our physical address.”
    “What did he say?”
    “He wanted to know where Cindi was. He figured she’d contracted a weekend engagement, but it’s been longer than a weekend, and she didn’t mention going out of town.”
    “What did you tell him?”
    “At first I acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then I figured denying she worked here would make him more suspicious. So I said she left the other night, and we hadn’t heard from her since.”
    Benny summoned his usual twisted rationale and conceded Colin’s statement was true. She did leave there the other night, and she hadn’t returned. “What did he say?”
    “That he was going to report her disappearance to the police.”
    “Did you look up his information?”
    Colin handed a paper to Benny. “Everything. He’s an actor. He and Cindi didn’t live together and only dated for a couple of months. He found out what she did on the side when she wasn’t going to casting calls or working on her Master’s.”
    “Am I under a dark cloud, Colin? Do you see one over my head? Do you?”
    “Maybe a little one. Like a puff of smoke from a chimney.”
    “Jesus. What do we do now?”
    “Hold tight, I guess, and expect the cops.”
    * * * * *
    B enny waited. And waited. Sweating profusely. What the hell was going on? The cops never showed up. He almost started to relax when Charles called about a man who had neither a password nor an appointment.
    “What should I do?” Charles asked. “He said his name is Dirk Hansen.”
    The name spiked an immediate case of acid reflux. Benny belched under his breath. “Be right there.” He called Colin, explained the situation, and told him to switch on the camera and tape