Page 4 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Wait,” she calls.

I stop and turn, meeting her green gaze.

“What’s your name?”

“Detective Richards.”

“They don’t issue a first name or what?” She inclines her head with a teasing grin.

“You gotta earn the right to use that name.” I wink. “See ya around, kid.”

The sound of her swearing follows me down the street. I doubt anything will come of this fiasco, but I need all the help I can get. There’s a serial killer loose in Manhattan, and I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel to catch the bastard.

Chapter Two

Quinn

The detective’s wordshaunt me every day. Even as I pull on the little black dress, I can almost hear the disappointed grinding of his teeth and feel the heat of his gaze burning into my skull.

I have tried to go straight over the last three months, but with jobs thin on the ground, money is too tight to live comfortably in the city. My gaze shifts around the cozy, little, East Harlem apartment I share with two other girls. This isn’t cutting it. I barely scrape together the money I need for rent and utilities each month. I was lucky to find the ad searching for a roommate. Beth and Nancy are nothing like me. They have legitimate jobs and goals.

Me? I’m floundering.

Ever since the night I got caught breaking into the wrong house, it’s like I’ve suddenly grown a conscience. I blame Detective Richards—a thorn in my side and an ever-persistent pain in my ass. I haven’t spoken to him since he bought breakfast and offered a deal. His simple request burns me.Stay out of trouble.How the hell am I supposed to stay out of trouble and be his informant? I can’t do both.

Not that it matters. There are whispers on the street, but no one knows anything about the string of break-in–murders. Thieves don’t really share information. But there’s enough chatter to put us all on edge.

Eddie Fink, the guy who fences all my goods, isn’t taking chances. He told me he’s keeping low. Everyone is. Though not because they don’t want to cross whoever this guy is. They’re worried the cops will somehow pin the murders on them if they get caught.

Can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but I have an ace in my pocket. Richards knows I’m not the murderer. That doesn’t guarantee he’ll come to my aid. I just know I won’t be pinned with a bullshit murder charge. But I could still be a target.

I forgo any makeup and tie my hair back, pinning it in place before fixing a white cap on my head. I’m not used to the new color of my hair. Too dark. Makes my face even paler, if that’s possible. But without red hair, I blend in better. I’m less noticeable. When I show up, no one spares me a sideways glance.

This maid gig is sweet. Tempting too. Nancy managed to secure me a part-time position in a swanky uptown mansion. Rich bankers. No one who would recognize me. After the first week, the possibilities presented themselves. Jewelry boxes open in the bedroom. Crystal and silver ornaments littered throughout the house. Cash stashed in random drawers in random rooms.

Who the hell leaves all that valuable shit just lying around the house?

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