The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(103)

I push it away. I can’t fixate on that right now. I carefully replace my body with the pillow above my head and, inch by inch, pull away. It takes me awhile to gather my clothes, mostly because I keep looking back expecting Roman to catch me. Insanity. He’ll probably be glad I’m going. He doesn’t seem the type to indulge in awkward morning-after conversation.

I have my satchel, but I’m afraid to take the time to find clean clothes, so I put my underwear and bra back on in disgust. I’ve never done it before. Is this what makes the walk of shame so… shameful? Then, I hold the rest of the clothes and my overnight bag tight to my chest and carefully leave the room. I can get dressed with less worry in the living area. I’m pulling up my pants when I hear movement to my right. My eyes look up and that’s when I see the maid from last night. She’s shooting me a look much like I imagine Medusa would use when turning her victims to stone.

“Um… I was just going to…”

“Leave? Don’t let me stop you. Mr. Anthes doesn’t normally like his whores to be here when he wakes up, so you should hurry. The few that overstayed their welcome wish they hadn’t.”

I’m completely taken aback. Her words smack me harder than any physical blow would. If looks could kill, I would be dead.

“I’m sorry about the dishes. I could help.” Even as I’m saying the words, I hate them, but I need to not make enemies. I do not need someone dying to destroy me, especially in Roman’s home.

“The last thing I need is your help,” she replies cattily.

Well, it can’t get any clearer than that. I quickly put my shirt and socks on, then walk to the door.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I say again. Really, at this point I want to kick my own ass.

“Just make sure you didn’t steal anything. Mr. Anthes will not look kindly towards a thief.”

Look kindly? Steal? Thief? There so much there to dislike and the words make me swallow the acid that has churned up from my stomach. I want to scream at her and maybe throat-punch her, kick her in the lady-junk. Something.

Instead, I ignore her, which is no consolation. I quietly open the door and step outside. I lean against it and take a large breath, feeling like I just escaped prison. My body jumps when I hear the click of the lock from the other side. The maid, no doubt. Bitch. I take a deep breath and then walk away. If I hurry, I’ll have just enough time to shower before I meet Paul. The last thing I need is to go see him while smelling like sex—like sex with Roman. I can only imagine the lectures that will get me.





“The next time you decide to text me at six in the morning and ask me to meet you in thirty minutes, the least you could do is be on time, Ana,” Paul says, his gravelly voice ringing out in the empty warehouse. We’re meeting in an abandoned warehouse about three blocks from the apartment I’m renting. I think it used to be an old dog food factory. Now it’s just empty cement that smells musty, dirty, and—just to add spice—seems to have a faint smell of urine. Whether it’s human or animal, I couldn’t begin to know, and don’t care to find out.

“It’s just ten minutes. Stop whining, Paul. You sound like an old mother hen,” I tell him, grabbing the coffee he’s handing me. Coffee, sweet nectar of the gods. It’s the only thing that keeps me going these days.

“Someone needs to worry about shit around here. You sure aren’t. What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ana?”

I freeze with my lips against the plastic lid on the container and close my eyes. Shit. Fuck. Damn. He knows. “I don’t know what you mean,” I bluff. “I don’t have much time though, so give me what you guys got at the raid yesterday.”

“What are you doing, Ana?” he repeats, but his voice is softer this time, the type of voice I imagine a father using on his daughter. Well, a good one. I never had one of those, but I can imagine it. And Paul is everything I wish my father had been. At fifty-two, he’s stern but caring, and has been a great role model. He’s helped me turn my life around. So, it’s not easy seeing the disappointment in his eyes right now.

“Please, Paul, let it go. Brass told me they wanted me to get close to Roman.”

“They didn’t mean his bed.”

“That’s not the first time a UC went beyond for a case. Don’t try to convince me I’m wrong.”

“It’s not, but that doesn’t make it right, and those guys have been with the DEA for f*cking years; they’re one step away from going vigilante. That’s not who you want to model your career after. Shit, girl. You’re a f*cking beat cop. The higher-ups only put you in this position because it involved your brother.”

“And it’s working, right?”

“Ana.”

“Paul, I have to try and get my brother out of this mess alive. If I can do that, that’s all that matters.”

“And kiss your career goodbye?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“That’s crazy talk, kid. You don’t want to ruin your career over this. It doesn’t matter what you do, your brother’s still going to prison. You have to know that.”

“Maybe that’s the best thing for him. He can get clean behind bars,” I argue. He gives me that look. The one that says I’m being na?ve. Maybe I am. I know drugs are thick in the prisons too, but he stands a chance of getting clean there. If he stays free, he’s going to die.