Carla Cassidy - Tough Justice Series Box Set - Parts 1-8

“Hey, Lola,” she greeted as the woman had made her way over. Along with her unrealistic shoes, she wore a skimpy outfit of a black bustier and a leather miniskirt. Her bleached blond hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, falling somewhere near the middle of her back. She was twenty-six and pretty. Two details that kept her career as a prostitute thriving.

“Long time no see,” Lola said, stopping next to her. They both faced the house.

“Sorry, work became complicated.”

“I hear that.”

Lara internally cringed. For years she’d tried to convince Lola to leave the streets—she could be so much more—but the woman had always refused. She’d had a hard life. One that had weighed upon her so long that Lara suspected the idea of anything different might scare her away from ever trying.

The first time she’d met Lola was when her father’s mental state had gotten bad. Lara had pulled up one day to see Lola and him walking hand in hand down the sidewalk toward the house. She hadn’t been wearing leather then, but her outfit had been just as shocking. High-heeled boots that laced up her shins and thighs and a red dress that dipped low and rose high. She hadn’t bleached her hair yet, but she’d already been sporting her long ponytail.

“Your dad?” Lola had asked when Lara, wide-eyed and ready to raise hell, had approached them.

“Yeah, and you are?”

Lola didn’t seem to mind the harsh tone. She outstretched her free hand.

“Call me Lola, your friendly father walker.”

It had taken a longer conversation after seeing her dad back to the house to get the full story. Lola had noticed Bartholomew walking around aimlessly, confused. She’d remembered seeing him watering the flowers in front of the small Cape Cod and had offered to walk him home. Apparently it hadn’t been the first time, either.

Since then Lara had grown an odd attachment to the woman, speaking with her during her visits to the house. Sure, Lola led a life Lara didn’t approve of, but the woman was funny and sharp. Despite their differences, Lara felt an equality between the two. A balance between quiet and loud. Plus, after everything the woman had endured, Lola had managed to hold on to her good heart. Lara respected that.

They continued to look at the house in silence for a moment. Lara reflected on her relationship with the woman next to her. They were quite the team. The FBI agent and the prostitute.

“You know, when my father was dying from cancer, I told him I was totally off drugs.” Lola finally spoke up. “I said I was a bank teller, too. Made good, honest money and lived a good, honest life. I think he died happy.”

Lara didn’t look away from the house, focusing on the front porch. “You know, you could be a bank teller,” she tried.

Lola let out a laugh. It sounded almost hollow. Lara took the woman’s hand in hers and squeezed.

They lapsed back into a companionable silence for a moment.

“I need to get back to work,” Lara said, dropping her friend’s hand. “Take care of yourself, Lola.”

The younger woman bumped her shoulder against Lara’s. “You too, Miss FBI. Don’t be a stranger.”

The tapping of her heels against the concrete moved away, but Lara stayed still for a while longer. She wouldn’t go into the house today. She couldn’t find the strength or resolve to make her feet carry her up the sidewalk and through the door her family had once used daily.

No, Lara wouldn’t be tackling that portion of her past right now.

She turned on her heel and headed back to her car. An overwhelming sense of loss in her wake.

* * *

Lara went back to the office with little enthusiasm. There were no new leads. The other shoe would drop, she was sure, but at the moment it seemed firmly laced up and on. She fell into her desk chair with a sigh that matched its creak.

Her day had, in a nutshell, been draining, to say the very least.

The past had not only shown its face, it had bothered to force her hand in its own and had taken her for a stroll.

“You saw Moretti.” Nick popped his head up over the cubicle wall to her left. If the day hadn’t already taken its toll on her emotions, seeing her partner she’d made out with in a public bar and then ran from would have rubbed her the wrong way. As it was, she merely met his gaze with one she knew embodied her tired frustration. “It didn’t go well.”

She made a finger gun and shot. “Bingo. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to recount our conversation or tell you what I felt after seeing him. Just know it was a bust, and I don’t want to talk about it past that.”

Nick held up his hands, ready to defend himself, when Lara’s phone vibrated. She sighed, ready for whatever shit storm she was sure it would bring.

Drink tonight at Hot Spot, Eve?

Lara froze.

“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

She handed him the phone, already standing with the intent to go straight to Cass to see if anyone currently working at the Hot Spot was named Eve. Though, she doubted it would be that simple. “The other shoe.”

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.