Chapter Four

Perrie

 

“Lola!” I called, grabbing her ragdoll from the bottom stair. “Bedtime.”

“Who’s that man?”

Ugh.

“Nobody you need to concern yourself with. Bed, please.”

“Why is he leaning against our front door?”

An excellent question.

“Something else that’s none of your business. Don’t make me ask you a third time to get your butt upstairs.”

Her sigh echoed through the house, and there was a thud as she jumped off the sofa onto the floor. “Fine,” she whined, tugging on a loose thread at the bottom of her pajama top. “But I just want to know.”

“You don’t need to know.” I handed her the ragdoll. “Thank you, pumpkin.”

“I want to know.”

“I know you do.” Grabbing her shoulders, I steered her toward the stairs. “And I want you to go to bed.”

“This isn’t fair!”

“Neither is the fact you ate my ice-cream when you’d finished yours earlier. Life sucks.” I followed her up the stairs. She sighed with every step she took, each one getting louder and making her sound more hard-done-by than the last.

Being seven was terrible, clearly.

Lola stomped into her room and threw herself on her bed.

“Hollywood will be calling to award you your Oscar any moment,” I said dryly.

She peered at me out of one eye, not moving a muscle from where she’d faceplanted her pillow. “Mommy, you’re not funny.”

“Neither is your attitude, so quit it. Leave it in your sleep.” I pulled her covers over her and kissed her hair. “Night, Lolo.”

“Night,” she murmured, rolling over with another small huff.

Apparently, nobody told my daughter that the attitude comes with puberty. I was in for a long, rough ride with her.

“Mommy?” she said in a small voice.

“Uh-huh?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lolo.” I shut off her light and closed her door, waiting for a moment for any signs of movement before going back downstairs.

To where Detective Adrian Potter was waiting outside my front door…to talk.

Talk.

Right.

About what? Why he’d let me go? Why I’d cried so hard? Why he’d taken pity on me?

I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear his sympathy or his pity or whatever bullshit he was inevitably going to spew at me, but I couldn’t turn him away. He’d made that clear the moment he’d flashed his badge in my face.

I didn’t want his judgement, either. Because I knew he was judging me. For what I did, for where I lived, for my whole life.

Everyone did.

People liked to judge what they knew nothing about. The problem was, they didn’t care enough about who they were judging to find anything out.

I brushed my bangs back from my face and took a deep breath. My stomach twisted into nauseating knots, and for a moment, I stood perfectly still a few feet from the door.

Everything inside me did not want to open it. Common sense told me I had to, but that didn’t make it any more appealing.

Dragging my feet, I forced myself to walk to the door and open it.

He was leaning against the side of the house, feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the ink that decorated his lower arm and back of his hand.

I ignored that, and the way the material hugged his biceps, and glared at his face. “Hurry up. I don’t have long.”

Slowly, he turned his face and his blue-green eyes found mine. “Why? Got somewhere to be?”

“No, but my patience is about to run out with today.” I stepped back from the door. “Excuse the mess in the front room. You interrupted bedtime.”

“That explains the door slamming.” He shut the door behind him and followed me through.

I knelt where Barbie and Ken and co. were, as usual, naked, and picked up two of the dolls.

“You call this a mess?”

I glanced up. “It is a mess.”

“Looks like a plastic doll orgy to me,” he replied. “But if you think this is messy, you should see my front room after my son has tipped out his entire collection of Lego to find one measly brick. You can bet your ass he doesn’t pick it back up, either.”

“You do actually have a son? That wasn’t a line to trap me?”

“I didn’t trap you.”

“You approached me and led me to believe you were a potential client. How is that not trapping me?” I threw Barbie’s brunette friend into the tub a little too harshly.

Adrian Potter opened his mouth briefly before closing it again. “You have to understand, that’s my job.”

“Right back atcha.” With the last of Barbie’s apparently unnecessary clothes put away, I pushed the tub into its space on the unit. “Doesn’t matter,” I said, standing up. “It’s done, and I’m very grateful that you did what you did.”

He inclined his head slightly. “I’m a single parent. I get it, Perrie. I know how hard this is. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d made your life worse than it already is.”

“You have no idea how hard my life is.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my tone. “So, don’t stand in front of me and pretend that you do.”

“With all due respect—”

“Which means you’re probably going to offend me.”

“—You’re a Fox. I don’t understand how your life can be hard.”

Resting my hands on my hips, I fixed him with a glare. “Not all people, even members of the same family, are created equal. And if you’d paid any attention to what I’d said in your car, you’d know that Benedict Fox is my adoptive father, not my biological one. Thank God.”

Not that my biological bastard of a father was much better. Was he sick of the walls of inside a jail cell yet? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. I didn’t care.

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Understood. Now, I don’t have all evening, but I have something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Right. The reason he was standing in front of me and annoying me in the first place.

“Then sit down.” I waved toward the sofa, taking a seat on one end.

He lowered himself onto the cushion at the other end and turned to face me. “Last night, at the casino, you easily picked out that the lady in red was a prostitute.”

I winced. “You arrested her, didn’t you?”

“Not me personally, but yes, we did.” He flattened his tie against his stomach. “A friend of yours?”

“I’d never seen her in my life. Educated guess.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Damn him for piquing my interest. Damn me for being interested in the reason why.

“Why?” I said slowly. “What does that matter?”

He linked his fingers and stretched, staring at me. I could almost hear the cogs of his mind turning in the silence as he thought about what to say.

What was he thinking?

Why did my ability to pick her out matter?

“I’m the head of a taskforce designed to cut down on sex workers in the city.” Adrian finally spoke, but it was slow, as if he had to think about every single word he was saying. “We’ve been running for a few months with some success, but lately, we’ve struggled.”

Careful. Calculated. That was the continuation of his words.

“If we don’t pick it back up, I, for one, am in some serious trouble. Not to mention the entire operation could be disbanded or assigned to another department.”

“Okay…I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“We could benefit from having someone on the inside who can help us.”

Was he—what?

His gaze flitted over my face, searching for a reaction I wasn’t willing to give him. “If you agreed, there would be benefits for you, of course. Immunity from arrest. Anonymity both on the case and in court.”

“You want me to be an informant for you?” Was I hearing him correctly?

“Yes.”

“In exchange for immunity.”

“Yes.”

“Are you paying me?”

“That would be for you to discuss with Chief Sandford.”

I folded my arms. “And what if I don’t want to?”

Adrian shrugged a shoulder, but he tapped his belt…right where the handcuffs were.

“You’ll arrest me if I don’t help you?”

“You’re a self-confessed prostitute, Perrie. The chief already isn’t entirely on board with my plan, but we both get what we want. I get to improve the records of the boys working with me, and you don’t have to worry about leaving your daughter alone.”

“That’s a low blow.” I stood up and walked away from him. What he was saying made sense, but I had friends like me.

All right, maybe they weren’t friends, but they were kindred spirits. Would I be expected to have them arrested?

“I’m not above hitting you where it hurts.” He’d followed me into the kitchen. “It’s your choice. You can come into the station and discuss with the chief when your daughter is in school and set forth any demands you might have. He’s a little more reasonable than I am.”

“This sounds like an elaborate plan to get me into a police station without arresting me. Feeling guilty for letting me go last night?”

“Not at all. As far as the chief is concerned, I didn’t. You visited the restrooms and escaped because you saw me for what I was.”

That made me pause. He’d lied to his boss about what happened? Why?

“Why would you lie about that?” I pushed my bangs from my eyes and peered over my shoulder at him.

“Because I don’t want to arrest you.” His biceps stretched against the material of his shirt when he folded his arms over his chest. “If I wanted to, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?”

“How can I trust you?” I turned, mirroring his pose. “Your entire job is to rid the city of people like me. I’d be walking into the lion’s den and offering myself to the vultures if I did as you say.”

“It’s your choice, baby. Help or get yourself arrested.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta go. If you’re not at the station by three p.m. tomorrow, we’ll assume you’re choosing the latter and a warrant will be served for you. You got that?”

Stony-faced, I said, “If you call me ‘baby’ again, I’ll ram my fist down your throat.”

“Threatening an officer of the law probably isn’t your smartest idea.” His lips tugged to one side as his eyes sparked with silent laughter.

“That was no threat.”

The smirk that crossed his goddamn handsome face swiftly morphed into a full-blown grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Perrie.”

“You sound awfully sure of that.” I followed him to the front door.

He yanked it open and, when he was standing just outside, turned to face me. The smile was gone and so was the laughter in his eyes. Replacing it was a smug, self-assured, arrogant glimmer that sent annoyance dancing down my spine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated. Then, after a quick up-and-down glance of my casually but scantily clad body, he tipped an invisible hat and made his way to his car.

I stood and stared after him as he started the car’s engine and pulled away. His words mulled around in my mind as his car disappeared. Was it worth what he was offering me? What the LVPD were?

Could I trust him? Could I trust them? My family had instilled in me a healthy dose of fear regarding the police, especially after my sister died. The clashes between my parents and the force had been legendary in my then-social circle.

I avoided them at all costs. At least, I tried to. That seemed to be near impossible. I didn’t have many friends, but I sure as hell had dealt with enough enemies in my life thanks to my father.

If Adrian Potter was an enemy, surely it was better to keep him close.

I closed the front door with a sigh and wrapped my arms around my body. My thumb brushed the side of my left boob, and I paused in the hall.

My boobs felt awfully free.

I glanced down.

I wasn’t wearing a bra.

And my nipples were shouting that to the world.

Mother. Fucker.

It was obviously time for bed. Tomorrow had to be better, right?

Right.

 

***

 

After double and triple checking that I was wearing a bra, I drove to the police station.

I’d somehow had a full night’s sleep and successfully avoiding any and all questions about “the strange man in the black car” from one very inquisitive little girl. After enough insistence from me, Lola had eventually decided over a bowl of apple slices and grapes that it was a Secret Service agent who was taking me to marry Prince Harry and we’d move to London and play with “the Queen’s short, fat puppies.”

Nobody could accuse her of being a pessimist, that was for sure.

I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’d already called ahead to make sure the chief of police knew I was coming so I’d be in and—hopefully—out by the time Lola got out of school. That made it so I couldn’t back out.

I had to go. I had to walk into the lion’s den with my demands, just like Adrian had said.

I could only hope I wouldn’t be eaten alive.

As I pulled up outside the station, I felt like I was starting a joke. A hooker walks into a police station…

I checked my make-up in the mirror. Picking my clothes had been the hardest. Most people in there wouldn’t know who or what I was, but if I’d gone too conservative in my clothes, then it would have looked like over-compensation to those who did.

All the thinking had made me tired. I needed a damn nap, but here I was, walking into the police station.

Almost right into Adrian Potter, who was standing in the reception area…Who I almost didn’t notice because I wasn’t paying any attention.

“Whoa.” He laughed, resting his hands on my upper arms. “You know your eyes are for watching where you’re going, right?”

I stepped back, shrugging his hands off me. A lingering tingle stayed on my skin where he’d touched me. “Sorry. I’m in my own little world. Are you going somewhere?”

His lips pulled to the side. “I’m taking you back. Chief isn’t quite ready for you yet. You can wait in my office. Luce, do you have her badge?”

“Sign here first.” A woman, presumably Luce, slid him a clipboard and a pen.

Adrian handed me the pen and held the clipboard. I signed my name and dated it on the correct lines before handing it back.

“Here’s her badge.” Luce handed him a clip-on badge proclaiming me to be a ‘Visitor,’ with a sniff of distaste.

“Thanks, Luce. Perrie, come with me.” Adrian nodded his head toward a door. He punched in a code and held it open for me to pass through. The entire time, Luce’s hard gaze followed me, and the eerie sensation of her watching me only disappeared when Adrian pulled the door shut.

“Sorry about her. She’s not exactly the friendliest person in the world. And she’s still pissed I turned her down six months ago.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. “Humble. An admirable quality in a man.”

He flashed me a crooked grin over his shoulder. “My office is right here. Chief shouldn’t be too long. We had a homicide in the early hours, so he’s working overtime.”

“I can come back.”

“What’s the point in that?” Adrian closed the door behind him and motioned for me to take a seat. “A rushed and under pressure Chief Sandford is the best Chief Sandford. He’ll agree to anything.”

“If anyone asks, I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.”

He laughed. “You do that. He’s well aware of that fact. He’s probably gonna agree to whatever you want anyway. He’s getting sick of the boys not being able to hook any hookers.”

“Sounds like a bachelor party game. Hook the Hooker.”

“I think that’s the way some of them do it. A game.”

“That’s probably why you’re not getting serious results.”

Adrian perched on the edge of his desk. “You’re probably not far wrong. Which is why we need someone who can help us.”

“I still don’t understand it,” I admitted, folding my hands in my lap. “You’re the ones who are trained. Are you seriously telling me that a bunch of guys who live and work in Las Vegas can’t recognize a hooker when they see one?”

He paused. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You have the bonus they don’t, and that’s the ability to put yourself in their shoes, because you’ve lived it for so long.”

I didn’t understand how or why these people who were trained officers were doing a job they obviously couldn’t do, but I didn’t get a chance to ask, because at that moment, the shrill ring of Adrian’s phone cut through the air.

He leaned over the desk. “Detective Potter…. Yes, sir. We’ll be right there.” He put the phone back on the cradle and stood up. “Let’s go. Chief is waiting for us in his office.”

My stomach flipped. The nerves were doing some kind of tap dance in the pit of my belly. Not that it mattered—I was already here, if there was a trap, I’d fallen for it. Except it didn’t feel like a trap, but still. The skeptic in the back of my mind said it was.

I beat down the butterflies and followed him through the building, ignoring the curious glances of those who passed us.

Did these people know who I was?

Why did I care?

I really, really needed a nap.

Adrian knocked on the door and followed it up with a, “Sir?”

“Come in. Make it quick,” a harsh voice responded.

“Ladies first.” Adrian swept an arm toward the now open door.

I swallowed hard and stepped into the office.

Chief Sandford glanced up. Dark amber eyes peered through thin, rounded glasses, piercing me firmly but not unkindly. “Ms. Fox. Lovely to meet you.”

“Hi,” I said.

Could I have been any more awkward?

Adrian coughed back a chuckle and shut the door. “Ms. Fox, this is Chief Sandford. Chief, Perrie Fox.”

“We’ve established that, thank you, Detective. Ms. Fox, please take a seat.” He waved his hand toward a chair and obediently, I sat. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for a long conversation, so here is my offer. The department will pay you twenty-five dollars an hour, plus any costs for a uniform, i.e., disguises, wigs and so forth.” He dropped his attention to the file in front of him.

That was a cut.

A big cut.

“When would I be…needed?” I asked hesitantly.

“Every evening. At least six days a week.”

“For how long?”

“Two to five hours each night.”

“Make it five hours a night, six nights a week, and pay for my babysitter. Then you’ve got a deal.”

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up.

“A shrewd negotiator. I’d expect nothing less from a Fox.” He peered over the top rims of his glasses. “That seems fair to me. As long as we get two to three arrests every single night, that deal will be upheld.”

No pressure, then.

“Done.” The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Needless to say, Ms. Fox, even with immunity, I expect you to cease your work immediately.”

I nodded in agreement. It was still a pay cut, but it was enough to live on and this gave me enough time to find a job. Even if I only had two weeks…

In the short-term, it got me out of the thing I was trying to escape, so there was that.

“Excellent. Detective Potter, can you arrange everything with Ms. Fox? I have to get back to work.”

Just like that, we were dismissed.

Adrian led me out of the room and back through the building to his office. There, he shut the door and locked it behind him. He whipped a form out from one of the drawers on his side and handed it to me.

“Fill that out,” he said, sitting down. “You’ll be needed tonight, so if you need to, call a sitter.”

“Tonight?” I blinked. “How quickly do you think I can get a sitter?”

“Family?” he said. “Her dad? A friend? How you usually do it. Make it regular.” He moved his belt over, clinking the cuffs that were attached to it.

Deliberate or not, it worked.

I filled out the form, and with a promise to meet him here at six-thirty, left, armed with a mission to find a sitter.