Beyond Innocence Read online

  Again, Tate had made the mistake of indulging him. Tate refused to participate in male prostitution, and Calvin wasn’t satisfied with bouncing or bartending, so Tate had little choice but to at least give the illusion of allowing Calvin a role in the management of the business. He’d had limited control, and if not for Faye it probably would have stayed that way.

  Faye was the perfect target for Calvin. It didn’t take a genius to see that Faye wasn’t happy with her husband or the rules he imposed on her. It didn’t take a Nobel Laureate to see that Faye was vulnerable to the lure of good drugs and cheap sex. Plus, Faye knew things. She knew the books, and she knew the business. And she knew Tate. Once Calvin put all this together and decided that getting into Faye’s pants would get him on his way to Easy Street—it was at that moment that Tate’s fate was sealed. And Sam’s right along with it.

  But now Tate was back, and come hell or high water, he was going to make sure Calvin and Faye regretted their actions. Tate had done too damn much for them to let that kind of betrayal go unpunished.

  Granted, his ideas for achieving revenge had changed in the last few days. But the ultimate result would be the same. Tate would be free of them. And then…

  He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. And then what?

  There was a soft tap on his door.

  “Yeah?”

  The door eased open and his hostess, Susan, peered in. She was grinning, and that was never good. “Hey, boss, you got somebody looking for you again.”

  “What? What now?”

  Susan’s blue eyes glittered as she pushed the door all the way open. “There’s somebody here applying for a job, and she asked specifically for you.”

  Tate shook his head. “What’s this about? You know I don’t hire that way. Send her packing.”

  “I really think you should talk to this one. She just won’t take no for an answer.”

  Muttering impatient obscenities he stomped after Susan out into the bar.

  “By the way,” she teased. “I like the boots. They’re sexy as hell.”

  “Shut up. Now, where is she?”

  Susan pointed to a booth at the far side of the room. A slinky brunette was sipping on something tall and cool.

  Tate turned to get in a parting shot at Susan but she had already made herself scarce. A sure sign he wasn’t going to like this.

  With a heavy sigh he headed toward the booth. In his mind he ran through the familiar letdown speech. He knew it by heart but he never found it easy or took pleasure in rejecting a woman—professionally or otherwise.

  The woman saw him coming and apparently recognized him because she slid out of the booth and leaned her slender length against the table in order to fully advertise her attributes.

  Auburn lights glinted in the dark depths of her thick, straight hair. Big brown eyes watched him from beneath lush but likely artificially enhanced lashes. While her lips weren’t particularly full, her mouth was wide and the smile was warm and inviting. From the neck down, however, inviting didn’t quite cover it. A stretchy leopard print sheathed her from shoulders to waist. The deep V of the neckline emphasized her small but surprisingly pert breasts. A black leather mini showed off long, shapely legs that ended on three-inch stilettos.

  The makeup was a little heavier than he liked, and the ensemble a tad obvious, but all in all the package was pleasing. She had obviously gone to a lot of trouble. He hated to disappoint her.

  “You must be Tate,” she purred on his arrival.

  He had to strain to hear her over the music that blasted from the speakers. “Yeah, that’s me.” He cleared his throat and began the speech. “Look, miss, I’m sorry you had to come down here for nothing but we’re not hiring.”

  She pouted. “Don’t I fit in?”

  He chuckled. “No, that’s not it all. I’m sure you’d do well enough. You’re very attractive. But you don’t understand—”

  “Oh, come on.” She walked her fingers up his chest and laced them around the back of his neck. “Couldn’t you make an exception, just this once?”

  Irritated by her blatant advance, Tate was about to gently extricate himself from her grasp when she added, “Even for an old friend like me?”

  His hands had latched around her wrists and he was about to pull away, but that phrase set off warning bells. “Old friend?”

  She giggled. “Oh, come on! Don’t you recognize me?” She began rubbing herself against him provocatively.

  He swallowed and studied her. There was something. He just couldn’t quite put his finger—

  “How could you forget so quickly…Luke.”

  “Marnie?”

  She smiled—a slow, hungry smile—like a cat that had spotted an injured mouse. “You got it, cowboy.”

  Tate was beyond words.

  She let go and leaned back against the table, regarding him with smug satisfaction. “Took you long enough, though. I should be insulted. Or maybe it’s just a testament to my incredible makeover.”

  “Jesus Christ!” He had finally found his tongue. Barely. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You…you…”

  “You said I didn’t fit in here. I just set out to prove you wrong.” She bobbed her eyebrows at him. “I can be whatever you need me to be. You name it—nun or nympho. So what do you say?” She stood and rubbed herself against him again. “Can I whore for you?”

  Tate couldn’t see straight. He couldn’t think straight. The world wavered around him as he viewed it through a haze of rage. He’d never been so angry in his life, and that included the day he’d beat up Faye. But that was different. He’d never loved Faye. He loved Marnie, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her sinking into this pit with him. “Goddammit!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the back.

  “Hey!” She stumbled after him. “Watch it! I’m not used to these heels yet.”

  Tate bypassed his office and headed directly for the door that opened onto the back alley. They stepped out beside a dumpster, which thankfully had been emptied that morning. He pulled her around and grabbed her by both arms.

  “Now, what the hell is this about?” He wanted to say more but an emotional fire was raging inside him and he was having trouble focusing on words.

  She pulled away from him. “I told you. You said we didn’t fit into each other’s worlds. You said this is where you belong and there was no point in your trying to fit into my world. But just look at this.” She spread her arms and hitched out a hip. “Look how easy it was for me to slip into yours.” She snapped her fingers. “Nothing to it. If you won’t come to me then I’m bound and determined to come to you. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It’s not simple at all!” His voice was much louder than he intended. “This…this is crazy! It’s not you.”

  “And this,” she pointed to the door to The Pit, “isn’t you.”

  Frustration surged through him. He shook his head and paced to the dumpster. He kicked it so hard it echoed like metal thunder. “That’s what you’d like to believe, Marnie. But this is me. This is as me as it gets. Luke was a fantasy. He came out of nowhere. This is where my roots are. I grew up around ugliness and that’s what I’m destined for.”

  “Shut up!”

  He looked at her sharply, stunned by the vehemence in her voice.

  She approached and pushed a bright red fingernail into his chest. “If you spew another line of that crap I’m going to throw up. Sure, you grew up with an abusive father and a suicidal mother. But you came this close to breaking away from that life.”

  “What the—?”

  “Let me finish! Pete told me how you had big plans to go to school, and how you trashed them for no reason.”

  Oh there was a reason, all right, a reason he couldn’t ignore.

  “You’ve convinced yourself that this is where you belong—that you’re a no-good piece of trash who pimps and makes his living off naïve, hapless women.”

  “Marnie—”

  “Bu
t you can’t even carry that to its logical conclusion. You make special trips to New York and LA just looking for women who have hit bottom. You look for women who are either beaten to within an inch of their lives or strung out so far they’re ready to snap.”

  “How—how—” he sputtered. “How did you find out?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you take them in, clean them up, and give them a life beyond their wildest dreams.”

  He took a calming breath. “But they’re still hookers and whores. They still prostitute themselves, and I take a healthy chunk of the money.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. You’re hardly a saint. But what do you do with all that money? Faye told the cops she and Calvin figured there should have been a half a million stashed in that bank account. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the books. But when they got there they found a paltry forty grand.”

  “Maybe I squandered it.”

  She snorted in laughter. “You couldn’t be stupid if your life depended on it. No, you used that money for something. Something specific. But what? Where did it go, Tate? You got another goodwill project somewhere that you hide because it doesn’t go along with your rat-face persona?”

  Tate’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like a blacksmith striking an anvil. She was close. Damn close. But he couldn’t share the truth with her, because that would mean truly facing it himself. And he had spent too many years convincing himself he was a reptile to try and change now. “Does Don know about this?”

  “Changing the subject?” She propped her hands on her hips. “I must be close to something.”

  He stared at her and concentrated on his breathing. He concentrated on not exploding. He concentrated on just about anything but what she was saying.

  But when that didn’t work he leaned back against the dumpster and decided it was time to give a little, even if it was only an inch. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. “God, Marnie.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I give. What do you want from me?”

  He looked up at her and saw her melt. That little concession—that little show of vulnerability melted her façade and he saw Marnie shining through again. If he had felt stronger he could have taken advantage of that. But at the moment he felt as weak as a kitten, and just as lost.

  She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. With that contact he dissolved once more into days and nights spent mingling with the breezes and the stars. He was immersed in sunny afternoons and crackling fires, sparkling rivers and whispering trees. He closed his eyes and let the memories bubble to the surface.

  “I want you to face the truth,” she whispered.

  “What truth would that be?” He smelled her hair and sank deeper into the fantasy.

  “That you’re a good person. That you could leave this and come to live with me.” She looked up at him. “Bring Tanner. You belong there, Tate. You don’t belong in the sewers with the rats. You belong on the peaks with the clouds.”

  He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You gotta stop this poetic crap. You’re gonna get me all misty.”

  “What happened, Tate? Why did you throw away your dreams for this? And why did you hurt someone that you loved?”

  “Sam? Boy, Pete’s been busy.”

  “You know, despite everything, I think he likes you.”

  “He’d like me behind bars.”

  “Maybe.” She smiled—and he couldn’t stop himself.

  He dipped his head and their lips melted together. His arms tightened about her in a desperate attempt to anchor himself to her. The kiss was slow but complete. It was so sweet—laced with the fragrance of blossoms and the taste of spring water—so sweet it made his throat ache.

  She was the one to pull away, and look up at him with misty eyes. “Does this mean you’ll come?”

  Oh God! What was he doing? He couldn’t possibly—

  And then he heard himself say, “I’ll think about it.”

  She beamed.

  “Okay? That’s not a promise. But I will think about it. Now will you go home?”

  “No. I’m not leaving until I have a definite answer.”

  “And it’s the right one, no doubt.”

  “Something like that.”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to arm’s length. He gave her a final once-over before conceding. “Okay. I gotta admit you look the part.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What happened to the glasses?”

  “Contacts. I hardly ever wear them. The last time was when I went to a physiotherapy conference in Vancouver. When I unpacked here I found them stuffed in my toiletry bag.” She combed her fingers through her hair and smiled coyly. “I even got highlights in my hair.”

  He nodded slightly. “Okay. It’s not bad, but I like the other you better. Although a tiny dash of Marnie-the-Sinful wouldn’t hurt.”

  “And I’d like a nice combination of you and Luke.”

  “Looks like all four of us need to find a common ground.”

  She smiled at that truth. “So, what now?”

  He wrapped an arm around her and steered her through the alley.

  “What? You’re not letting me back in the club?”

  “Are you kidding? And have every guy in the place hitting on you? Not on your life.”

  “You’re jealous,” she crooned.

  “Damn right.”

  They reached the front door, and Tate motioned to a cab that was idling across the street.

  “Okay,” he said into her ear. “Give me some time, okay? Maybe…just maybe things will work out. But it’s complicated.”

  The radiance on Marnie’s face could have powered the entire city of Philadelphia. “I can wait.” She kissed him firmly on the lips. “I have faith in you, Tate Barton.”

  He nudged her toward the cab. “Get lost, and go wash off that Godawful purple eye shadow.”

  He heard her giggle as she crossed the street and slipped into the cab. She waved, and he turned back toward the front doors, silently cursing his lack of resolve. But in the same breath he thanked the heavens for Marnie and wondered if, despite his efforts, he was becoming a little more like Luke and a little less like the man he thought he was.

  He rubbed his temples. This was too damn confusing. There were far too many people in this relationship.

  * * * * *

  Marnie gave the hotel address to the driver and leaned back in her seat just as Tate disappeared into his club. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, and she couldn’t shake the mindless euphoria that had settled over her. It had worked!

  She wasn’t sure if it was the shock of seeing her dressed like a temptress or whether she had actually managed to drive her point home, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Tate was looking at things a little differently, considering options, considering her.

  Tate’s decision was by no means guaranteed but it looked promising, and she intended to give Don an enormous “thank you” hug the moment she stepped through the hotel room door. He was expecting a call from the club, but this was better. Walking in like this was sure to send his jaw plummeting to the floor in disbelief.

  She was just giggling at that image when she realized the cab hadn’t yet moved. “Is there a problem?” she asked the driver.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” offered the portly gentleman with the graying temples that peeked out from beneath his Phillies baseball cap. “I was just having a little trouble with the meter. But I’ve got it now. Where did you say your hotel was again?”

  Marnie’s words didn’t make it past her lips because at that moment the car door beside her was wrenched open and a dark, disheveled figure of a man slipped inside. His black hair was long and greasy and he needed a shave, but despite his unwashed appearance his well-toned physique screamed good health.

  Marnie tried to hide her annoyance. “Excuse me. I had the cab first.”

  He smiled at her, and the expression in his gray eyes se
nt shivers coursing up her spine. “It’s common courtesy to share a cab, lady.”

  “Hey,” the driver turned around and regarded the intruder with contempt. “Don’t feed her that line. You—”

  The cabby’s words hung in the air as he faced the barrel of a handgun that bore a striking resemblance to a portable cannon.

  “Shut up, asshole,” cursed the intruder.

  Marnie didn’t register fear at first. Her mind was too focused on her recent conquest to allow for such negativity. Instead, her first reaction more closely resembled annoyance. She was just getting things sorted out with Tate and now she had a mugger to contend with. That really sucked.

  She held out her purse. “Here. There’s over a hundred bucks in there. Take it and leave us alone.”

  The mugger was still grinning. “Sorry, babe. I’m not interested in your money.”

  The cabby was frozen, staring down the barrel of that imposing weapon. It took Marnie a moment to process that information, but when she did there was no denying the intense dread that settled in the pit of her stomach. Rape? And look how she was dressed! God! She should have called Don. Would Tate hear her now if she screamed? This couldn’t be happening. Not today!

  She inched away from him on the seat. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  But the man turned to the cabby. “Drive, idiot. Head down toward the shipyards. Take the 676. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

  Marnie’s teeth had begun to chatter and she held her purse against her chest in an attempt to cover the cleavage she had worked so hard to emphasize. She didn’t want to die like this, at this man’s hands. She wanted her life with Tate. Dammit! She was so close.

  But the mugger’s next words made her previous fears seem inconsequential next to the terror they evoked. With the gun still trained on the driver he drawled, “You ever hear the name ‘Calvin’?”

  Icy fingers clawed at her gut but she retained a slippery grip on coherent thought. “No. Why?”

  He laughed, and her fingers dug deeper into the supple leather of her purse.

  “Smart lady. But I know you’re lying. He told you all about me, didn’t he?”

  She shook her head vigorously.