Blood Red

Maggie was smiling at him, her eyes alight with amusement. “You’re a very bad man, Ben. Very bad.”

“Yeah, well, I have my moments.”

They left the boxes behind, taking only the evidence packages that they held.

All the way back to the apartments, Maggie kept giving him the strangest looks. He didn’t know why, but he rather liked it.

V

Tom Pardue was high on life. He always got that way when he knew he was going to have a good time with someone. Right now he was going to have a party all over Maggie Preston. She was a fine-looking girl, she really was, but she’d been playing games and thinking it wouldn’t get back to him.

She was supposed to be handling situations with Lance Brewster, and he’d just gotten another call from a long-term client who was not at all happy with the lack of attention he was getting. That wasn’t acceptable. She knew the score: He let her think she was something special. He made sure she got the nonviolent johns who weren’t too freaky, because she earned the money. He gave her name to only the best clientele, because she was damned good at her job. She’d told him a few things back in the day about being double-jointed and a gymnast. Until she’d proved to him how much difference that could make, he could have cared less. She could also do things with her mouth to make a man cry. She could unhinge her jaw, for God’s sake! On the day he decided to give her a test session, she’d swallowed him whole and then kept him at the edge of orgasm for over an hour. Maggie could tease mercilessly and have a man begging for release. That was why she was so popular. She could also get into the most incredible positions he’d ever experienced. But that didn’t mean she was in charge of her own destiny or any of that other shit she liked to spew from time to time. In the long run she was just another piece of ass, and she was his to do with as he pleased. She was a hooker who had a few special talents; it didn’t make her the queen of the universe, it just made her a good commodity. If she wanted to believe she was something more than that, he could correct her ideas.

Maybe it was time to stop being so nice about how he treated her. Maybe if he gave her a few sessions like he’d given Lizzie earlier, she’d remember who was in charge of her fucking destiny.

So he was waiting around for her to show her little ass at her little apartment. Then, if she got bitchy, he was going to explain everything nicely, exactly one more time. If it was twice, he’d break her in half.

That was before she came into the courtyard of her place with some little yuppie fuck, carrying a bunch of white bags and laughing like she didn’t have a care in the whole world.

Seeing her and her boyfriend just made the whole of his day better. She hadn’t been producing as well as she should for almost a week, and now he knew why.

Maggie was laughing, her head thrown back at something the college boy had said.

Being a good sport, Tom walked out from his hiding place and smiled.

“Hey, Maggie.” He smiled and watched her jump as the bags in her hands fell all over the ground.

“Tom . . .” Her sweet, lovely, sexy-as-all-hell face grew ghostly white, prompting a bigger grin on Tom. He sauntered over as casual as he could, and rocked back on his heels for a second.

“That’s me. Tom.” He looked over at the college boy. He was in decent shape for a loser, but probably wouldn’t last more than three punches. “Who’s your friend?”

“Ben, this is Tom. Tom, this is Ben. We have a class together.” She was good, keeping it calmer than he’d expected. It made sense, the kid being a study buddy, because Tom couldn’t imagine his pet whore would want to get her face shattered for a limp-wristed little piece like the one she was hanging with.

The kid set down his packages as carefully as he could and held out a hand. Almost amused by the idea, he took the offering and shook hands like a real gentleman.

“Nice to meet you, Tom.” The kid’s face was neutral. That was good. He didn’t want to have the boy feeling like they were going to be friends or anything.

“Likewise,” he said with absolutely no concern whatsoever if the loser noticed it was a lie.

“What can I do for you, Tom?”

“There’s a little problem with Brewster, my puppy.” He looked into her eyes and saw the minor flash of gratitude that went along with the tightening of her jaw. He could have ousted her and it wouldn’t have mattered all that much, but if he pissed her off over the little shit, she’d forget to be grateful when the time came.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He misses you. He just wanted me to say hi; maybe later you could give him a visit?”

Maggie looked at him through half-lidded eyes. She had a great bitch stare. It would have worked on most guys. Tom wasn’t like most guys. He knew the score and sometimes he had to remind the girls. They didn’t remind him.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. It always did the nicest things to her tits. “Has he learned not to bite yet?”