Hooked

Russo tonight turned his stomach. Reality was rearing its ugly head. Tawny had warned him, and he didn’t listen. And he wouldn’t listen now either.
    “Was he alone, or did he have one of his goons with him?” Linc asked.
    “He could have ordered someone to meet him there. I have two men there. One out front, one out back,” Harry said. “They’ll keep me posted.”
    “Where’s the guy out front parked?”
    “He’s in a Ford Escape, parked a few doors east of Cooper’s place on the other side. Name’s Clauson. Russo’s car’s up the street. There’s an exit in back, but the only way in or out is an alley a few buildings down.”
    Linc chastised himself for not knowing about the back exit. But how could he have known Martell would be murdered? Did Tawny even see Reggie Cart at the scene?
    “What are you planning?” Harry asked.
    Linc thought about the possibilities. “I can’t barrel in there as much as I’d like to. Not without a warrant. I need time to check it out.”
    “Um, yeah, okay. Keep me informed. Be careful.”
    “I’ll keep in touch.” Linc called another member of their division, Roland Steele, and gave him the address of Cooper’s place and how to access the back entrance. “Stop anyone suspicious from leaving. We’re on our way.” He sucked in a few deep breaths, avoiding eye contact with Dennis.
    The traffic was steady on FDR Drive . Dennis took the 61 st Street exit, and before Linc knew it, they were parked within spying distance of the townhouse nicknamed Upper Eighties. Heavy drapes covered the windows, leaving the place dark and ominous.
    They saw the Escape and approached on the driver side. Clauson expected them and said he’d be ready if they needed him for backup, but his job was to stay on Russo. They traded cell numbers.
    Linc and Dennis crossed the street. They climbed the steps and Linc rang the bell.

Chapter Thirty-Six
    Capo di Tutti

    T awny wasn’t sure what was happening. Mario leaned against the door, confident and relaxed. Why is he here?
    Mario shook his head in a dismissive gesture. “You people are the biggest group of fuck-ups I’ve ever come across, and I’ve dealt with some first-class morons.”
    His cancer-ravaged voice sounded twice as ominous as anything she’d ever heard. Rather than say anything, she slunk into the boudoir chair in the corner and crossed her legs, trying to appear as calm as the crime boss. She doubted she’d pull it off, considering the twitches of fear rattling her insides. Her worst nightmare had come to pass. Every person in the room wanted to kill her, and she had no way out. Despite Linc’s assurances of her safety, who’d really care about another dead hooker?
    “Tawny, Tawny,” Mario said in a tone that conveyed not only weariness but disappointment. “You retire and then you show up here with the almost believable story that the IRS discovered your off-shore account. Yeah, the IRS found out, but not until the feds clued them in. That’s over their heads these days. Even a man like me, captivated by your beautiful body, had to be a little suspicious.”
    At that, Eileen snorted. Russo glared at her, obviously annoyed at being interrupted, and she slunk into the corner.
    “So I put a man on you to be sure. And wouldn’t you know? Who comes calling at your place? A good-looking NYPD cop by the name of Lincoln Walsh. Did a check on him too. Not the kind of cop who blackmails pros to sleep with him, though I’ve known a few of those. Then, as if he’s not enough, you have lunch today with a federal agent at a noodle shop in Lincoln Center . Your kind of woman isn’t his thing either. So I ask myself—what’s she up to? And I came up with one conclusion. You’re working undercover for the cops.”
    “That’s not true, I—”
    “I knew there was something hinky about that bitch,” Eileen interrupted. “Look at her, sitting there like she’s better than the rest of us.” A quick glance at Russo. “Not better than you, Mario. Everyone else, though.”
    Now Benny snorted.
    Mario ignored Eileen, his focus riveted on Tawny. The thumping in Tawny’s chest reminded her of the timpani at the end of a symphony. Ba-boom, ba-boom. She could scarcely think for all the noise. She had to make an effort to clear her name, or she’d die in this chair.
    “It’s not what it seems, Mario.” She spoke with the calm assurance of someone who’d done nothing wrong. “They had me between a rock and a hard