Page 44 of The Professional
The whores nearly ran to their rooms. Forrest stayed behind. He chewed on his bottom lip. “Can’t we have a secret service for her? Just the workers and you and Terrance? She deserves peace, Rourke.”
“No. She broke the rules.” Rourke went to turn away, but Forrest grabbed his arm.
Forrest cuddled up against him, fists curled in Rourke’s green dress shirt. He shoved himself to his tiptoes and kissed the corner of Rourke’s mouth, making Rourke’s breath catch in his chest. “Please, Rourke. You don’t understand. A lot of us were never loved. We don’t have families, except each other. We need each other. Give her what she always needed. Let her family mourn her.”
“You’re too soft,” Rourke whispered, caressing Forrest’s sharp cheekbone with his thumb. “Fine. Tomorrow morning, before the clients start showing, we’ll have a memorial. That’s it.”
Forrest’s smile was breathtaking. “Thank you.” Then he kissed Rourke on the lips. His taste lingered in Rourke’s mouth, even after he’d fled from the room to go find his latest client.
“Well then, what happened to your rules when it came to Forrest?” Terrance’s annoyed voice startled Rourke out of his daydream.
He turned toward Terrance and sighed. “We aren’t anything.”
“Now that’s a fucking lie.” The curse came out likefooking.
“I don’t need to be questioned by you, Terrance. I came here with the job to clean up this place, make it profitable. I won’t have you fighting me on this.” Rourke crossed his arms. “Either you’re with me, or you’re not. I know you want the Virtue back, but you’re not getting it until you can prove you can sustain it. This,” he waved at Heaven’s body, “isn’t sustaining it.”
Terrance’s shoulders slumped. “I’m trying here.”
“Try harder.” Rourke pressed his fingertips into his closed eyelids, fighting off the headache that begun forming in his temple. “Forrest and I are nothing but friends. You don’t have to worry, okay?”
Terrance nodded, but the skepticism stayed in his eyes. “I believe you.”
“Good, because I care about this place too. So let’s clean up this mess and start an investigation. Interview whores when they have a free moment and find out what they know. Leave Forrest to me, though. I have some questions for him.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get the guards to clean this up. You call Conall and the boss.”
***
Informing Conall and Sloan over the phone about what happened hadn’t been the easiest job. They both wanted answers that Rourke couldn’t give them yet, but he told them they were investigating. Hedging was all he could do, and while they both sounded like they understood, Rourke felt like a failure. He’d promised Sloan that he’d clean up the place.
The guards removed Heaven’s body quickly and efficiently. They’d done it a few times before when the rules weren’t in place and the whores took hits like they ate food. An hour later, the afternoon sessions were done, and a knock on the door signaled Forrest’s arrival.
“Come in.”
Forrest popped his head into Rourke’s office and smiled gently. “Terrance said you wanted to interview me about Heaven.”
“Yes, sit down.” Rourke waved at the seat in front of his desk and fell back into his leather chair.
Forrest frowned, but closed the door behind himself before he took the red leather wingback like Rourke ordered. “I told you everything I know.”
“Did you?” Rourke pursed his lips and laced his fingers together, elbows leaning on his desk. “Because I don’t believe you. I know you, Forrest, I’ve been watching you for seven months.”
“Have you?” Forrest lacked his usual flirty behavior, but Rourke didn’t miss the teasing hint in his tone. “I’ve been watching you too.”
“Forrest.” Rourke sent him a serious look. “Now’s not the time.”
“Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his blond locks and sighed. “I get nervous about things like this.”
“I want the truth, that’s all. What made you worry about Heaven?” Rourke asked sharply.
“I told you, sheneverran late. She liked being on time because waiting annoys clients.” Forrest didn’t look at him, though. He kept his eyes on his hands that rested in his lap. “So I thought maybe a client hurt her.”
“Why? Clients know the rules. They’d never hurt a whore unless they want to be banned.” Rourke leaned forward. “Tell. Me. The. Truth.”
Forrest glanced up at him under his long eyelashes. He looked amazing today, wearing a mesh shirt and a pair of tight jeans that showed off his ass perfectly. His eyes were traced with dark lines, and it appeared he’d added some gloss to his lips, to make them shinier than usual. “She’d been using for a month or so.”
“Fuck.” Rourke fell back into his chair, making it squeak. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
