Anticipation. JENNIFER LABRECQUE

that went with a criminal’s lifestyle, but she was fighting all that instead of living it. “The girlfriend’s more than a blond bimbo. Bad news for Slick Nick. Good news for moi.”

      “Don’t you want to know what kind of tattoo he has on his ass?” The elf-gone-bad’s eyes fairly danced with mischief.

      Serena blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. She wanted to grow her hair out, but she might not make it through this growing out stage. And PMS just made it worse. She should come with a warning today: Bad Hair Day, PMS Bloating and a License to Carry Concealed. “I’m thinking there is a limited number of men that fit his general description with any kind of tattoo on their butts, but sure, go ahead. I can tell you’re dying to spill it. And doubtless the guys all know already. They were in rare form this morning.” Secrets in the station just didn’t happen.

      “Right cheek. It’s a heart with MOM inside it.” Harlan cracked up. “Apparently that’s the side he prefers for his spanking.”

      “I TOLD YOU NOT to call me before ten in the morning,” “Slick Nick” Malone said into his cell phone. Couldn’t a guy get a decent night’s sleep?

      “Wake up and pay attention, Nicky, because I’m beginning to think you could fuck up a wet dream.”

      Nick curled his fist around the phone. One day he’d find out who this cop was and then he’d pop him. For now it was useful having a guy on the inside. But sooner or later, he’d make him, and then the voice on the other end was history.

      The cop was always so foulmouthed. His language deeply offended Nick. But Nick thought his cop-in-a-pocket knew that and went out of his way to needle him with it. When he was a kid, Nick’s neighborhood had been a dump—graffiti-covered buildings, foul language not only spouted all around him but spray painted for the world to see. Back them, no matter how many times he’d washed his hands or how clean he’d tried to keep his clothes, he’d always felt the filth of his surroundings. Eventually he’d managed to put the neighborhood behind him and all it represented. He wore nice clothes. Kept his language clean. Stayed in nice places. Ate at nice restaurants.

      The woman in the hotel bed next to him, Susie maybe, was still asleep, her mouth gaping open slightly. Phone in hand, Nick slid out of bed, still naked from the night before, and crossed the room, then closed the bedroom door behind him. He stretched out on the suite’s love seat, the brocade upholstery rough against his back and bare butt.

      “What are you talking about?”

      The voice laughed, an ugly sound so early in the morning. “Your girlfriend or should I say ex-girlfriend, Debi, has been flapping her trap.”

      Apprehension grabbed him by the balls and squeezed. He swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “What?”

      “She visited the station and filled us in on all kinds of little nifty details like who you’re meeting and where and when.”

      Nick stood and stalked over to the window. Fury roiled through him. “She’s dead.”

      He hated it when he lost control and said stuff like that. Another reason to kill her. Jesus. He rested his forehead on the chilled glass of the window and closed his eyes.

      “Nick, Nick, Nick. Don’t even think about breathing hard in her direction.” The hated voice sighed. “You know, it really annoys me when I have to think for both of us. If she turns up dead or missing or even with a broken fingernail, game’s up, bright boy. My people will figure out the information was leaked and then you and I are out of business and—who knows?—I just might be the one arresting your punk ass.” That laugh grated on Nick’s nerves like nails scraping a chalkboard. “And you’d never know it was me. So, listen up, loser, you don’t touch Debi Majette. Next time you want to dump a girlfriend, make it a body, before she talks to us. Get your shit together.”

      Jo-Jo would have his head for this. His uncle Jo-Jo had been the one to offer him the opportunity to move beyond the ’hood, and Jo-Jo could just as easily send him back. Christ. He tamped down his panic. But it was fixable. Definitely fixable. He just needed a few minutes to think this through without the cop hanging on the line.

      “We’ll move O’Malley into place,” Nick said, thinking aloud. “I’ll meet my contacts elsewhere and we’ll send O’Malley to The Barrister on those dates. It’s a little sooner than we’d planned, but it should work.”

      “You’re sure O’Malley doesn’t suspect anything?”

      Nick curled his lip. Even though he’d never met him, he despised Nick O’Malley and all the others like him out there. He’d read about O’Malley’s background in the papers. No graffiti-covered sidewalks in O’Malley’s childhood. No hookers on the corner across from the drug dealers. No, O’Malley was one of those laid-back lucky gimps who always landed on his feet. He led a charmed life. “Doesn’t have a clue. He’s so used to lady luck smiling on him, he never questioned the job offer.”

      Once Jo-Jo had found out the cops were hot on Nick’s tail, he’d heard O’Malley’s story in the news and come up with a brilliant idea. Hire O’Malley to work in one of Jo-Jo’s secondary companies. Let him get comfortable, set him up and then let him take the fall as Slick Nick. O’Malley didn’t look like him, but they were close to the same build, nearly the same weight and about the same age. Every tabloid had carried the story that O’Malley had committed a crime, yet never done time. It was a beautiful plan. It’d take the heat off of him and O’Malley could enjoy the creature comforts of the state pen—and get a taste of what if felt like when lady luck spit in your face.

      “Except now we all know you have a tattoo on your ass and he doesn’t,” the cop said.

      Nick couldn’t think with this jerk hanging on the other end of the line. “I’ll figure something out and take care of it. Thanks for the heads-up,” Nick said. He hated thanking this piece of scum for anything.

      “No problem…as long as you pay up. You know the deal.”

      Nick watched the snarl of traffic on the street below. The little people rushing to and fro for their nine-to-five jobs. Pathetic slobs.

      “Yeah. I know the deal.” Cash deposited into a numbered bank account.

      “You know, I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll throw this in as a freebie, won’t even charge you extra for the info. Everyone in the 151st not only knows you have a tattoo on your ass, they also know you get off on a good spanking.”

      Nick fisted his hand in the curtain.

      The voice on the other end of the line laughed. “And the Debster says you’ve got a little dick. That’s a shame. Size really does matter.”

      Giving way to his fury, Nick flipped the phone closed, cutting off the hateful laughter on the other end. He threw it against the wall and dragged in a deep breath.

      One day. One day that bitch would pay for that. The same as that nameless, faceless cop.

      2

      “TWENTY-THREE DAYS DOWN, seven left to go. You’re never going to make it,” AJ said.

      “I’m practically home free.” Okay, so maybe he’d underestimated just how prominent a factor women were in his life. But it hadn’t been as hard as Nick had anticipated, despite his buddies going out of their way to make it as difficult as possible. AJ and Matt had sent women his way left and right over the past twenty-three days. Matt had thrown a party, complete with lots of single, available, hot women. Oddly enough, none of them had even seriously tempted Nick. He didn’t expect it to be easy, but seven more days was doable.

      “Home free, my ass. You’re gonna break before you manage another week.” AJ laughed. “You look ready to break now.”

      “Man’s got a point.” Tim eyed him across a half-eaten Rueben, Dougal’s special of the day. “You look wound pretty tight.”

      Nick forked a home fry. “You only think