Silken Prey

“Might as well tell me the name of the real one.”
    Dannon shook his head. “Not yet. Really, it’s a psychological issue—it’s hard to fake surprise or confusion if you’re not surprised or confused. Anyway, Quintana is afraid that if Davenport finds the source, she’ll tell him that Quintana already talked to her. And there’s no good reason he should have . . . or that he should have talked to her specifically. So if she mentions Quintana, they’ll know he was likely the source of the porn, and he’s in very deep shit. Like, going-to-prison deep shit. At that point, we don’t know what happens. He didn’t make any threats, but I gotta believe that he’ll cooperate if he’s given a break. Quintana doesn’t know who I am, but he’s a cop, and if I’m dragged into this, he might recognize my voice.”
    “What are you saying?” Taryn asked, one hand on her hip, her fist clenched.
    Dannon hesitated, then said, “I think this woman . . . has to go away. If she goes away, she can’t give up Quintana.”
    “Oh, Jesus Christ.”
    She stared at him for a moment, and he said hastily, “Don’t worry about it. Don’t think about it.”
    “One question. Why not Quintana himself?”
    “Harder target. He might already be on edge, he carries a gun, he’s been in a couple of shootings. If something went wrong . . . Anyway, I’ve been out scouting around. The woman is easy, and it’ll be clean.”
    She continued to stare at him, he didn’t flinch, but felt it, and then she said, “I have a personal question for you. I . . . it seems like I’ve seen certain things in you. Do you . . . have some feelings for me? Something I should know about?”
    He shrugged again, and then said, as though he didn’t want to, “Well . . . sure. For quite a while.”
    “I’ve had some of that myself,” Taryn said. “There’s nothing I can do about it right now—I have to be steady with David, for appearances’ sake. I can’t seem like I might be flighty, or that I play around. I wanted you to know that David is on his way out. He doesn’t know, I’ll wait until after the election to tell him. But then, you and I . . . we’ll talk.”
    “Only talk?”
    She gave him her best smile. “I don’t know what will happen. But I need somebody like you . . . and for more than a bodyguard.” She looked at her watch. “We’ll talk about this. . . . Right now, I need some sleep.”
    Dannon was left standing in the living room; as she turned into the hallway to the bedroom wing, she flashed another bright smile at him. He’d never expected that. And he never expected the result: his heart was singing. He’d heard about that happening, but he’d never before felt it.
    He walked around for a while, enjoying the glow. The glow never really faded, but he moved on to thinking a little wider, a little broader . . . and after a while, he made an executive decision.
    •   •   •
    L ATE THAT NIGHT:
    Dannon walked down the street, moving carefully, watching the car lights. Cop cars had a peculiar look to them: if they weren’t going fast, they were going slow. They were big, and they were sedans. He didn’t want to be seen anywhere near this particular house.
    He was nearly invisible in a black cotton jacket and black slacks; there were almost no lights around, and lots of little clumps of hedge and old trees and crumbling concrete pillars that had once been decorative.
    He was told that it was a bad neighborhood, though he’d been in much worse; in fact, he’d been in a dive an hour before that he thought he might have to shoot his way out of. Still, this wasn’t exactly a well-lit park: he had yet to see a single soul on the street.
    Though wickedly aware of his surroundings, he didn’t look around; looking around attracted the eye. People who saw him would ask themselves, “Why’s that guy looking around like that?” He’d learned not to do it.
    He came up to the house—he’d passed it a few minutes earlier, moving much faster, checking it out—but now he crossed the woman’s lawn, avoiding the concrete steps that led up the front bank. The storm door was unlatched, which made things that much easier. He opened it, quietly, quietly, took off one glove, slipped the lock-pick into the lock on the main door, worked the pins, kept the tensioner tight, felt it click once, twice and then turn. He put the glove back on.
    He opened the inner door, slowly, slowly, and