Tia McBride sat behind her massive glass-and-chrome desk, one red brow raised, a long and creamy leg crossed over the other. “We’re a home entertainment company,” she said. “To say anything else is patently false and frankly, quite offensive.”

On the other side of the desk, Agent John Gallen glanced around the huge corner office, massive windows revealing some the most expensive real estate on the planet—the island of Manhattan. But the city seemed absolutely gritty compared to the glass and gold and marble of the Longshadows offices.

“You must rent out some heavy duty party clowns,” Agent Gallen said, making a note on the tablet of yellow legal-sized paper in his lap. He glanced at his partner, her white skin and curly blond hair a striking contrast to his dark-chocolate complexion and shaved-bald head. She chuckled, he didn’t.

Tia smiled but said nothing.

The other agent, Barbara Mortonson, asked Tia, “The IRS is interested in these expenses: hotels and motels, a custom limousine. What kind of entertainment do you provide, exactly?”

“It’s a sophisticated type of experience,” Tia said.

“The Bureau of Internal Revenue doesn’t consider prostitution sophisticated,” Barbara said, “and the State of New York doesn’t consider it legal.”

“Agent Mortonson, there’s no prostitution in our company at all. We provide adult fantasy realization of a platonic nature. That’s what the clients get and that’s what they pay for. Anything else that may or may not happen would be a consensual act between two or more willing adults. I have no say in what happens or doesn’t happen in that regard, but I certainly don’t charge extra for it.”

“But you do charge,” Agent Mortonson said.

“For the fantasy re-enactments,” Tia clarified, “of course. You’ve seen our expenses. For one recent case, we had to rent three motel rooms in a row and only use the middle one.”

Agent Gallen asked, “Why?”

“To prevent anyone from hearing something they don’t understand and calling the police. Discretion is a big part of what we do.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“We kidnap people, Miss Mortonson…I’m sorry, Agent Mortonson.”

Agent Gallen leaned forward, curiosity peaked. “They pay you to kidnap them?”

“That’s right.” Tia shrugged, her long, red, curly hair rolling over her shoulders in a cream-colored Armani power suit.

“For sex,” Agent Gallen presumed.

“For any number of reasons,” Tia answered. “Sex is a multi-faceted thing, Agent Gallen. There’s phone sex, where there are mutual orgasms but no physical contact, there are emotional relationships that are non-physical. It’s not the nineteen-fifties anymore.”

Agent Mortonson asked Tia, “But if it’s not for sex, why go through all the motions?”

Tia looked the pretty agent up and down, stopping to consider the question and the reasons behind her asking it. “You admit that there is a connection between danger and peril and sex, the thrill of the chase, the balance of dominant and submissive. It’s all very…natural, wouldn’t you say?”

Barbara Mortonson’s pale expression went red with her blushing, which did not escape her partner’s attention. Agent Gallen turned to Tia and went on, “It’s just about the sex then,” he scribbled on the pad.

“On the contrary,” Tia said, gently stroking her chin. “We have clients who require exposure therapy; for example, some of them even have bucket lists.”

“Bucket lists?”

Tia nodded. “We’ve been associated with the Dream a Little Dream Foundation for years now. And we do those pro bono.”

“For free?”

Tia smiled. “I know what I said, Agent Mortonson. Anyway, our deductions are legitimate and so is our business, so if you don’t have any other questions, I have business to see to and I’m sure you both do, as well.”

The two agents shared a glance, then stood, Tia doing the same. Crossing the big offices, Agent Gallen said, “We’ll put this in our report, but I’d hesitate to say the investigation will be closing any time soon.”

“Please do investigate to your heart’s content,” Tia said. “I’ll have our accountant department send copies of those returns, cooperate in anyway I can.”

“We’ll take note of that,” Agent Gallen said.

Tia turned to Agent Mortonson, pretty and blonde. “A lot of our clients are simply curious about what it might be like, to experience a safe and secure dance along the edge of society. And we serve people in every line of work; we don’t discriminate.”

Agent Gallen couldn’t miss the connection between Tia and Agent Mortonson, and he cleared his throat to help interrupt them. “We’ll be in touch,” was all he said before opening one of the office’s double doors. “Agent Mortonson?”

Agent Barbara Mortonson glanced at him, nodded, and stepped through the door, her partner silent and stern behind her.

“Call again anytime,” Tia said, leaving the door open to her assistant, little Asian Shin Lu, her short, black hair shiny and straight. “Shin Lu,” Tia said, stepping back into the office with her assistant on her heels. “How did it go at the motel?”

“Perfectly, of course.”

Tia turned to examine her little assistant, short and lean with a never-ending scowl. She was all business all the time. “Of course,” Tia repeated, adding, “you can look forward to a bonus.”

“I would rather look forward to staying out of jail.”

Tia glanced at the door, understanding her assistant’s reference. “Don’t worry about that,” Tia said. “Our returns are solid; we don’t technically do anything illegal.”

“But that would be for a judge to decide, wouldn’t it? And you know the Feds are trying to bust us again; this tax approach is just another strategy.”

“Oh, believe me, Shin Lu, I know. It took an accountant to bring down Al Capone. But they’re not gonna get me, not that way.”

“Then how?” A quick and silent tension filled the office, the two women staring each other down. Without Tia having to ask, Shin Lu explained, “I’ve been warning you for a long time about this—”

“And I’ve been warning you, Shin Lu. I’m in complete control of what’s going on here. I won’t have any challengers—”

“But you’re not in complete control,” Shin Lu said. “You think you are, but you’re not! And you’re letting this business fall apart and it’s going to take us all down with it!”

“Don’t lose your head,” Tia said, “or let it get too big, Shin Lu. I founded this company, built it from the ground up.”

“But that’s precisely why you’re not the one to see that it’s crumbling around us. That’s why I’m here, Tia, to let you know when and where things are going wrong.”

“No, Shin Lu,” Tia said with an authoritative snap. “You’re here to do as I tell you to do, when to do it and how to do it. You’re here to assist me in any way that I see fit and nothing more. Is that clear?”

The two women stared each other down, each from a culture rich in the strength of will: Tia’s fiery Celtic streak against the ancient determination of the Koreans. Neither was accustomed to backing down, but only one really had the choice.

Shin Lu finally nodded and turned to cross the office in silent sternness, but just as she got to the door, Tia called her name to stop her, “Shin Lu.” She turned, and Tia went on, “If you’re not happy here, I’ll be glad to accept your resignation.”

Without turning, Shin Lu nodded, then opened the door and stepped out of the office. She still had her job, but both women knew that seemed to be dangling by a thread.

* * *

Tia left the office early and went back to her penthouse on Fifth Avenue. With the only remnant of her family’s fortune, Tia had been able to leverage the penthouse into enough money to found Longshadows, which had secured the penthouse mortgage and provided Tia with the lifestyle to which she’d become accustomed.

But more and more, Tia just wasn’t sure what that was.

Sitting in the back of her company town car, one of several drivers on their payroll escorted her through the busy boulevards. The city rolled past, a series of skyscrapers, marble and gold and glass to mirror her own life. Tia couldn’t help but feel like a natural part of the city, and of the human race.

They need me, Tia told herself, they need what I provide, what only I can provide! There is more to the average person than meets the eye, and they all know it. But I’m one of the few who are ready to admit it, and one of the much fewer ready to act on it.

But she knew there was more to her life than simply the needs of others. Tia had her own needs, and Longshadows went a long way toward satisfying them. She needed a sense of power, of control, but also of authority, respect. Longshadows gave her those. And in the privacy of her own conscience, it was harder to lie and pretend that there wasn’t a real danger of having it all taken away from her.

And Tia needed even more than what her company or her success could offer her, and she knew it. She rolled up the dark town car window to further separate herself from the city, from the others, from the rest of the world.

Tia tried to ignore the loneliness, the increasing sense of isolation. Part of the job, she told herself and not nearly for the first time, occupational hazard. I’ve got to remain aloof, above it all. Anyway, what man would want to marry the world’s most lurid pimp?

Because whatever I tell the IRS, Shin Lu, or myself, I know I’m really little more than that.

She sighed as the limo rolled to a stop in front of her building. She thanked the driver, stepped out and walked past the doorman and into the lobby. Tia collected the few articles of mail that awaited her, most of it junk and ads as her company ran on electronic bill pay at almost every turn.

On the first floor, Tia stepped into the elevator. There was an eery stillness to the air, but she could only chalk that up to her meeting with the IRS agents, the lingering sense of worry and doubt and sad reflection that came with it. But when she got to the top of the building and stepped out to the little hallway leading to the four penthouse apartments’ front doors, Tia noticed a small box wrapped in brown paper sitting in front of her personal front door. Tia glanced around, no indication of anybody around her, no note on the package but her name, handwritten in black ink.

Who would just drop a box off up here like this? The box is light, too light to be anything explosive. Still, could it be poison of some kind, anthrax maybe? Do they still do that?

But her skeptical inner voice had to chide her. You’ve got IRS on the brain, that’s all. It’s probably from one of the neighbors or something.

She stepped into the penthouse and locked the door behind her. She crossed the huge living room, well-furnished with more glass and chrome, sleek and sophisticated like the woman of the house. She set the package down on the dining room table and tore open the paper. It was a shoebox, and Tia couldn’t help but hesitate before lifting the lid.

But it took more than a cardboard box to intimidate Tia McBride, IRS or not. When she did, Tia almost regretted doing it, among so many other things. She reached in and pulled out a rag doll, the famous Raggedy Ann, a smiling redhead…with a nylon cord fashioned into a hangman’s noose around her neck.