Page 10 of Tattletale

“In about thirty minutes, this place is going to be crawling with Rossi’s men. If any of them could recognize you, you should go. Hate to tell you, but your source is now adeadend.”

“I’m heartbroken,” she snarks. “But fair point. Some of his men know my face. I should go. Another time then, Babyface.”

She strides away in a hurry, but I flag her down. “Hey, wait. Sylvie?”

She stops and looks over her shoulder. She doesn’t answer but raises her perfectly styled brows.

“Your target’s name? If I find out anything, I’ll get in touch.”

“How will you find me?” she asks.

I’m really relying on my instincts here. Why do I feel this innate urge to help her and protect her?Those eyes.This girl is a ghost from my past; I know it. “Where do you live?”

“Nowhere…” She laughs. “Everywhere.”

“You don’t have headquarters? Who do you work for?”

“Myself. You have a keeper?” She shows me a bemused expression, I suspect laced with condescension.

I hold her gaze, feeling pity for this beautiful, probably vicious, woman. “I have a family, Sylvie.”

“Good for you,” she says. “Makes one of us. I don’t need your help. Luca Accardi is mine to find and deal with. But try to stay alive, Babyface. Maybe if the planets align, we can have another drink one day.” She blows me a kiss before disappearing down the hall. I’d follow her, but more important duties call.

I text Cricket back.

Me

Unlock the door. I’m on my way.

TWO

CRICKET

MEANWHILE

“I like it a little rough.Are you okay with that?” Rossi grunts out, not bothering to look up from his phone. We’re seated across from each other, him in an armchair with a small table right beside. His cigar is smoked down to the stud, the bitter, burning smell filling the entire private room. I’m seated on a black, leather sofa that squeaks miserably every time I shift. The sound annoys me, so I try to sit still in the awkward cross-legged position. I’m seated uncomfortably to hide the bulge of my small pistol strapped to my thigh beneath my long trench coat. If I lean too far on my left hip, it’s easy to make the gun out.

It’s shocking I wasn’t patted down. I was fully prepared to handle Rossi’s bodyguard, but Rossi beckoned me right in and sent his guard away. Dumbass. Rossi either has a god complex, or he was a little too eager to see me naked.

“Rough is extra,” I reply, fully embracing my undercover identity asOlivia, a new escort at Club LaRoe. I even lied and said I was a virgin, just to ensure Rossi was eager to be firstin line. He has a thing for virgins. I have a hunch as to why. Those girls would have no comparison point for his piss-poor performance. But he’ll be dead before he can figure out the truth.

“How much extra?” he starts, but then holds up his hands. “Actually, don’t worry about it.” He glances me up and down, his beady eyes scouring my body as he all but salivates onto the furry little beast he calls a goatee that warms his pointy chin. “I’d empty my bank account for a woman like you.”

“Well, you may have to,” I sass back. “My virginity is not cheap.”

A sinister part of me is trying to provoke him. Sometimes, I enjoy a fight. I love their shock when they see the little blond doll fight back. I like to place the knife against their throat and watch the final flicker in their eyes…more surprise than fear. It feeds my ego, I suppose. I’m far from the helpless eighteen-year-old Fiona, abandoned and left to die in a locked room.

“How about we have a safe word?” He finally sets his phone aside and stands. Smiling, he removes his suit jacket and then unbuttons his shirt. I try not to show my disgust.

He’s oddly short. I’m five foot five, and I tower over him. His large beer belly takes up the majority of his frame; his body is more of a barrel with limbs. But that’s not the most off-putting thing about Rossi. It’s how fucking hairy he is. His mustache is so thick and untamed, it overcomes his top lip. His arms and shoulders are coated with such thick, dark curls, I think Sasquatch would be impressed. I wonder if the women here need gallons of lube to finish the job. There’s not a chance in hell this man is getting anyone wet.

“Perhaps, ‘yellow’as a warning”—he cracks his knuckles—“and‘red’if you can’t handle it?”

Sick fuck actually gets off on hurting his partner? God, I’m so tired of men like this.“How about if I don’t like it, I cut your dick off?” I give him a cute smile.

His glacial scowl turns into a gruff laugh. “Well done. Right on character. I told Madam Beauvoir I like them feisty. You are checking all the boxes, sweetheart.”

Madam Beauvoir arranged my appointment with Rossi. She’s currently waiting back at PALADIN headquarters until my business here is done. We didn’t kidnap her; it’s for her own protection. She sold out a client…a client who is a mafia leader… It’s quite possible she’ll need our protection forever.

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