Page 3 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Someone to fence the loot you were supposed to snatch tonight.”

“Fuck you.” Indignant, she shoves me. It’s a feeble attempt, and I can tell I’ve struck a nerve.

“If I were interested in that, I would’ve taken it behind the diner.”

“Asshole.” Her eyes spark with fury. “Like I’d let you touch me.”

“Come off it, kid. You were ready to throw yourself at me at the slightest chance I would let you go.”

“Damn you,” she mutters under her breath.

“I might not be old enough to be your father, but I’m not interested in taking advantage of women or desperate thieves.” I pin her with a no-nonsense stare.

“I’m not getting off with a warning, am I?”

“No.” I shake my head, and a slow smile spreads across my lips. “But I’m willing to offer an arrangement that might benefit both of us.”

She arches her delicate brow. “I’m listening.”

“There’s been a string of murders lately. They look like break-ins gone wrong, but I think there’s something more.” I cock my head and study her expression as she takes in the information.

“What’s that got to do with me? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got connections.” My hand flexes against my thigh.

“I won’t be a rat. I’ve seen what they do to people who snitch to the cops.”

“I don’t want low-level scum. I’m homicide. I don’t give two shits about petty theft.” What I do is different. It consumes me, and I’m running out of patience.

“I’ve been chasing this fucker all over Manhattan, and I got nothing.”

“What do you expect me to do?” She eyes me with distrust.

“Keep an eye open for anything suspicious. If you hear something—anything—contact me at the Twenty-Fourth Precinct.” I pull out my wallet and drop a few bills on the table. “If I’m not at work, come to the Black Penny in Hell’s Kitchen. The bartender’s a friend.”

Her eyes widen when I hand her a twenty. She tucks it into her bra, giving me a glimpse of pale bare skin beneath her black top. “The Black Penny. Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Right.” I stand, and she follows suit.

When I step out into the night, she comes beside me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because stopping this bastard is more important than locking you up.” I glance down at her. The twilight fog swirls around us, and a curl slides across her cheek. I clench my fists after I nearly reach out to brush it away.She’s not your responsibility. She’s nothing. Leave her alone. Walk away.

“Thanks for breakfast.” Quinn offers a half smile, but I can see the skepticism in her eyes. Like she’s waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her.

“Stay out of trouble, would you?” I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. “If you get caught, I won’t be able to bail your ass out.”

Quinn rolls her eyes and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I got sloppy tonight. Won’t happen again.”

I light the cigarette and take a drag. “I’d tell you to give it up, but I know you won’t listen.”

“You asked me to be your snitch.” She puts her hand on her hip. “I can’t give it upandbe your informant.”

“Point taken. Just keep your head down, kid.”

Quinn glowers at me, then snatches the cigarette from my hand. She tosses it to the ground and grinds it beneath her boot. “Thanks, dad.”

I shake my head. This woman will be the death of me. I can feel it. “Get out of here before I change my mind.” I shove my hands in my pockets and start down the sidewalk.

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