Джеймс Паттерсон - The Black Book

Yes, there it was, in her eyes, while her guard was down, while the alcohol tangled with her emotions, while she thought nobody was watching.

But I’m watching, Kate.

When Billy was done, he raised his beer in a salute, and everyone applauded. When it died down, Patti put her drink on the table and got close to Kate.

She was so near now that Kate couldn’t ignore her without being rude, so Kate reluctantly turned toward Patti, raising her eyebrows.

“Billy’s one of the good guys,” Patti said.

“He’s the best,” Kate agreed.

“He’s still getting over everything, y’know.”

Kate pulled a sip from her bottle of beer and set it down. “I know that.”

“You do?”

“Yes, Patti, I do.”

“Don’t hurt him,” said Patti. “Don’t hurt my baby brother.”

Kate drew back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. And you better know I’m serious.” Patti wanted to say more, but she’d had a lot to drink herself, and who knew what might come out of her mouth if she didn’t disengage? Her insides burning, she set down her drink and headed straight for the exit.

Ten

BILLY TOOK one of the tables at the back of the bar and considered the beer and the shot of whiskey before him. He couldn’t remember the last time he drank so much. Someone had put a plate of fries out, too. He couldn’t imagine eating them. The grease would probably make him puke.

Kate dropped down next to him, and he scooted over. The place was dying down now. It was past three in the morning. The place closed at four. It was last call.

“What a fuckin’ night,” he said to her.

“I know, right?” Kate’s hand touched his leg underneath the table.

Her hand…on his leg.

“Hey!” Some drunk guy—in this bar, that was a redundant phrase—plopped down across from them. “What was the mayor like?”

“He was a gentleman throughout the process,” said Billy. “He accepted his fate with grace and dignity.”

The guy laughed. So did Kate.

Her hand slid upward. Billy was drunk and beaten down, but another part of his anatomy sprung to attention.

“That must have been a thrill and a half, catching him like that,” said the guy.

Kate turned to Billy, who wasn’t sure what kind of facial expression he was sporting at the moment. “Was it?” she asked, her hand moving farther up his leg. “Was it a thrill, Detective?”

Billy looked into Kate’s eyes. There was no misunderstanding. That hand sliding up his leg was no accident.

“I would call it unexpected,” he said.

Her hand moving again, getting close to pay dirt in his lap.

“Unexpected in a good way?” she asked. “Or a bad way?”

And…bingo. There it was, Kate’s hand finding his main artery, wrapping her hand around it, squeezing it, stroking it.

“It could be bad,” he said, watching the guy across from him, the drunk cop who was more interested in the french fries.

“That’s true,” said Kate, nodding as if nothing was going on beneath the table while she artfully unzipped his pants and slid her hand inside. “It could be very bad.” Still stroking the throttle. If she kept going like that, it was going to be blastoff.

“I need to take a piss,” said the drunk guy, who scooted out of the seat and left them alone.

“Bad can be good sometimes,” said Billy. His right hand reached down and found Kate’s leg, her blue jeans. At that moment, he wished it had been a skirt. Kate’s legs, together under the table, parted, and Billy accepted the invitation, sliding his hand upward.

“If it’s just one time,” said Kate. “If it’s not complicated.”

Billy was having trouble breathing now. He wasn’t blind. He knew Kate was a knockout. He’d just never let himself go there. She was his partner. He had just closed his mind to it.

But now that barricade was coming down. Of course—of course the thought had passed through his mind. You couldn’t look at Kate every day, spend eight-hour shift after eight-hour shift with her, and not have it cross your mind. Look at her.

Which he did. But now he wasn’t picturing Detective Katherine Fenton. He was picturing Kate, naked, her back arching, her hair in her face, her legs wrapped around his back, a primal moan escaping her lips, her body writhing in response—

“We don’t need complications, do we, partner?” she said.

“No…no complications.” He could hardly speak he was so aroused. He was about to launch, right here in front of a handful of drunken cops, none of whom seemed to notice, thank God in heaven.

Then they were waving to the rest of the crowd and making their way to the exit.

“Just one time is no big deal,” he said.

A row of cabs waiting outside. They got into the first one.

“Not a big thing,” he said.

“No?” She put her hand back where it had been when they were sitting in the booth. “It felt pretty big to me.”

When the cab sped away from the bar, he was on her, tearing at her clothes, shoving his hand inside her blue jeans, her breath hot in his ear.

Just one time, he told himself. No big thing .

Eleven

“OH, SHIT. Holy fuck.”

Billy stirred in bed, moaned, rolled over, and opened his eyes to a squint, the pain ricocheting through his skull.

“You gotta see this, Harney.”

He felt the bed depress, Kate falling onto it. She was wearing running gear, the shirt wet against her chest, her hair pulled back, gym shoes still on.

Figures. Rain or shine, big night of drinking or not, Kate is up at the crack of dawn doing her miles.

“Look at this.” Kate held her phone in front of his face.

He could hardly state his own name much less read something off a small screen. The lasers of sheer agony crisscrossing through his brain made him briefly consider whether someone was reenacting a scene from Star Wars between his ears.

Then his eyes focused on it, and he concurred with Kate’s initial impression: holy fuck.

It was a headline from ChicagoPC, an online newspaper-blog—the concepts were merging these days—that covered politics ( P ) and crime ( C ) in Chicago. The byline was credited to Kim Beans, an investigative reporter whom Billy had met on a few unpleasant occasions. Unpleasant was an understatement. Kim Beans had the tenacity of a pit bull and the charm of a rattlesnake.

The headline: GREEN BAY PACKERS QB A REGULAR AT SEX CLUB?

Wow, thought Billy. That didn’t take long.

“Video footage,” Kate says. “It says they have video footage of him visiting the club.”

“Not last night, though. He wasn’t there last night.” He read through the article. It said that ChicagoPC had “come into possession” of video footage of the starting quarterback from Green Bay walking into that brownstone sometime last summer.

The article also promised that there was more video, of more celebrities, to come.

“This isn’t good,” Kate said. “It’s all going to be about this little black book that we didn’t recover. You know they’re already asking questions about it, don’t you? Wizniewski even said something to me last night, the little prick.”

Goldie had said the same thing to Billy. But to Billy, the more interesting question was, who took this video? And why?

“This is bad,” Kate said.

“Look on the bright side,” said Billy.

“There’s a bright side? What’s the bright side?”

“This might give the Bears a shot at the NFC North this year.”

“Jeez, Billy, you don’t see this as a problem?” She directed her finger back and forth between them. “This is going to be your and my fault. We were in charge of the investigation.”