Catch Your Breath Read online

  He didn’t know how to respond, so he walked out. He stopped briefly in the hall to wait for the click of the lock. Satisfied when he heard the snick, he stomped down the stairs and out to his car.

  By the time he started the engine, he was grinding his teeth. He had no idea what to tell Kittner. He wanted to believe Moira wasn’t doing anything that would interfere, but he couldn’t be sure. But he did know he hadn’t given her any details.

  He thought about how he’d approached the situation to see if there had been a better way. A way that wouldn’t have gotten him thrown out. Maybe if he’d lulled her with the massage a little longer or waited until she drank more of her beer. He’d come on pretty strong.

  If she’d come at him like he’d done, he’d be pissed. But he was a cop trying to solve a crime. She was a reporter.

  In that moment, he knew he was as guilty as everyone else in her life of not respecting her job.

  Shit. He’d screwed the pooch on that one.

  By the time he pulled up at home, he was feeling guilty.

  He hadn’t given Moira’s career much thought. He didn’t actually know what she did. In truth, he saw her much as everyone else did: a partygoer who slapped some words on a page. Which was completely unfair to her.

  Inside the house, he slipped into his room and grabbed his laptop. In the dark quiet of his living room, he stared at the glowing screen as he searched and read articles Moira had written.

  They went on for pages. Her name appeared on blogs, in magazines, and in newspapers.

  By two in the morning, he had a new appreciation for what she did. Her words did more than tell the story of rich people at parties. She managed to make him laugh, tug at his heart, and in some cases, make him want to pull out his wallet.

  She definitely did more than type letters on a screen.

  Now he needed to figure out how to show her he understood that. He stared at his phone. Moira usually stayed up late working, but he had no idea if she’d still be up. He sent a text: You awake?

  She answered with a quick yes, so he called and hoped she wasn’t still so pissed off that she wouldn’t answer.

  “Why are you up so late?” she asked instead of saying hi.

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “I’m almost always up late. It’s a good time to work. Plus, I was too cranky to sleep.”

  “Sorry. I’m awake because of how I handled things. I stayed up reading all of your articles. They’re really good. I wasn’t talking shit when I said you’ve been writing real stories for a long time.”

  “Yeah, my party attendance makes for excellent reading.”

  “Don’t.” It came out harsher than he had planned, but he despised when she put herself down. “You’re a good writer. I’ll admit that until tonight, I didn’t pay attention to what you do. But it’s more than just parties, so don’t belittle it. Be proud of what you do.”

  She was so quiet he thought he’d lost his connection.

  Her voice was small when she asked, “You really read them?”

  “I’ve got the bleary eyes to prove it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I realized after we argued that I was doing the same thing as everyone else. Treating you like your job doesn’t matter.”

  “Compared to a job like yours—”

  “Stop. If you want people to respect what you do, you have to take it seriously first. You flit through life acting like nothing matters, but when I read your articles, I heard your voice and I knew that it all matters too much. Instead of talking about the parties as your job, which I know you don’t even like all that much, tell people about the causes and charities. They’ll listen.” Again, she became so quiet, he was sure he’d angered her. She never liked being told what to do. “You there?”

  “Yeah. I’m just stunned.” There was a slight creak in her voice. “You’re pretty amazing when you do more than bark orders or speak in one-word answers.” She sighed instead of laughing. “All jokes aside, thank you.”

  “Don’t tell anyone or you’ll destroy my image.”

  “Don’t think that’s possible, O’Malley.” She paused again. “Good night, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy went to sleep hoping Moira understood his position, that he wasn’t trying to hold her back from her career. He needed her to be safe and away from his investigation.

  But as he dozed off, Liam’s voice bounced around his brain. He couldn’t imagine Moira walking away from her career. Moira was such a twist in his life plan that he no longer knew what to expect. Could he learn to live with her having the career she loved if it meant he could be with her every night?

  After her argument with Jimmy, Moira worked on her notes for the article because she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t even sure why she fought with him. She’d never been secretive about her work, but this felt different. And part of her deep down knew he’d be mad, not because her story interfered with his case, but because of what she was doing to get the story. He’d given her an opening when he called and apologized, and she probably should’ve taken that chance to tell him.

  But he didn’t ask about her story again, and it was the last thing on her mind after he talked about how good she was at her job.

  Of course, all the arguing and talking and not sleeping meant she overslept, which led to her running around like a maniac all day trying to prepare for her evening.

  She shopped for a new dress, makeup, and a wig, and by the time she got home, she began to doubt every purchase. Unfortunately, Kathy was busy working on a big wedding order, so Moira called Elizabeth for help.

  Elizabeth arrived with a confused look on her face. “Why do you need help getting dressed for a party? Don’t you do this every week?”

  Time to bite the bullet. “It’s complicated, and I’m going to explain it to you, but you have to promise not to tell Colin.”

  Tossing her purse on the couch, Elizabeth cocked one eyebrow. “How bad is it?”

  “Not that bad, but if you tell him, he’ll tell everyone else and my brothers will all freak out. It’s a work thing and they won’t like it.”

  “I agree conditionally. If I think you’re being unsafe, my promise goes out the window.”

  “Fair enough. I’m working on a story about high-class escorts and the men who hire them. In order to get the inside scoop, I applied to work at an escort service.”

  “You did what?”

  The alarm on Elizabeth’s face was priceless, and Moira immediately knew her brothers could never find out. She decided the best course of action would be to spill the whole story. “I’m not going to actually be a prostitute if that’s what you’re thinking. Some escorts really only go on dates. I went on one last night. Tonight, I’m going to an event with a few girls to work a party. The problem is, it’s an event where people might know me, so I can’t look like myself.”

  Elizabeth leaned against the arm of the couch, like she needed to absorb the information. “Why am I here?”

  “Because I need help to not look like me.”

  Elizabeth waved a hand. “Wait a minute. You said you went on a date? What does Jimmy think about all this?”

  “He doesn’t know. We agreed not to discuss work because he doesn’t want me digging into his case. In turn, I refused to give him details about what I’m working on.”

  “And you think Colin will be the problem? You better think again.”

  Moira rolled her eyes. As if Elizabeth was telling her something she didn’t already know. “Are you going to help me, or what?”

  “Of course I’ll help, but you need to give me all of the details about where you’re going, and you have to promise to touch base with me so I know you’re safe. Otherwise, I call in the cavalry.”

  “No problem.” She’d been planning on texting basic details to Kathy as always for backup. “Now make me look like someone new.”

  Moira led the way to her bedroom where she had her new purchases.

  “Brunette, huh?”
<
br />   “There’s no way I can stay a redhead; it’s too distinctive, and I thought going dark would be fun. Do you think it was a bad choice?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s try it on and see.”

  Moira pinned up her hair and fit the wig on her head. She looked in the mirror and thought she looked like a kid playing dress up. “This is never going to work.”

  Elizabeth circled her. “Don’t give up yet. You’re looking a little ghostly right now. The dark hair is too dark for your skin, but makeup can fix that. Sit.”

  Moira plopped on the bed and relaxed in Elizabeth’s capable hands. They’d only been friends for a couple of months, but Moira trusted her. Plus, Elizabeth was one of those women who always looked put together even when she wasn’t trying.

  After what felt like hours, Moira looked at herself in the mirror again. It was her, but different. Her family would recognize her—probably—but the guests at the party would have no idea who she was. She looked like she had a gorgeous tan, which was impossible with her fair skin. She burned every summer, and when the burn faded, she went back to being white.

  “What do you think?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I think you’re amazing. I can’t believe you did this with makeup. Where were you when I was sixteen and dying to hide my freckles?”

  Elizabeth laughed but sobered quickly. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be a good story. Some news outlets have skimmed the surface of the escort trade among the rich, but no one’s had the inside scoop.”

  “It doesn’t sound like the kind of stuff you usually do, though, so it worries me.”

  For someone who wasn’t a big sister, Elizabeth definitely had the routine down.

  “The whole idea of me getting this story is that it is different. It’s not some fluff piece everyone tosses aside.” Moira picked up the dress from the bed and held it against her chest to make sure it would look right with her new appearance.

  “And then what?”

  Moira shrugged. “I’m not sure. I want this story, though.”

  Elizabeth heaved out a sigh. “Do you need anything else from me?”

  “Don’t tell Colin.” She gave Elizabeth a quick hug. “Thanks for everything. I’ll text you the details and call you when I get home tonight. No worries.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I think this is why my parents stopped at two kids. There’s always something to worry about.”

  Elizabeth left, and Moira slipped into the dress and scarfed down a bagel before heading out the door. When she arrived at the office, Lisa let out a wolf whistle.

  Moira hoped her makeup would cover the blush creeping up her cheeks.

  Lisa came around her desk for a better look. “We need to take a photo of you like this. The guys who like exotic will definitely go for you.”

  Exotic? Never in her life had anyone accused her of looking exotic. Different was good. Maybe. She followed Lisa and let her take a couple of photos.

  “Do you have a different name you want these posted under?”

  Shit. She hadn’t thought about that. “How about Grace?”

  “That’s fine. Just remember to always be Grace tonight.” She replaced the lens on her camera and then said, “The limo will be here in about ten minutes. The other girls are in the coffee room.”

  “Limo?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t Jenny tell you? When Billie books us into a party, everyone shares a limo there.”

  “And back?”

  “Yep. Unless of course you make other arrangements at the party.”

  So they had to socialize during the party, but they could go home with whomever they wanted. A shiver of unease ran up Moira’s back. It was the first bit of doubt she’d experienced since Piper pushed her into her first date.

  Before heading to the break room, Moira checked her phone, hoping for a text from Jimmy, but there was nothing. He couldn’t possibly still be mad because of her refusal to tell him about her story. Although it hadn’t come up, she thought they were good. Maybe he had a break in the case, so he couldn’t call.

  Taking initiative, she sent him a text. Working late? Want to catch up tonight?

  Then she stood like an idiot, waiting for a response as if it was supposed to be instantaneous.

  I’m working too. I’ll call when I’m done.

  Hmm . . . not that a text could hold a tone, but he didn’t sound angry. Maybe the argument they’d had was nothing more than butting heads like they always did. He must be over being pissed off because he wanted to see her. Feeling better, she turned her phone off and went to wait for the limo with everyone else.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jimmy switched his phone to vibrate and hoped his message to Moira was enough that he no longer sounded like the dick he’d been last night. He tugged at the damn bow tie again. He hated the formal events more than anything. The pet events were bad enough, especially with Moira pushing him to adopt a dog, but being dressed like a penguin took him too far out of his element.

  One member of the task force sat in a car with Gabby to check out the guests as they arrived. The team decided Jimmy needed to go solo to be a target. The main problem was that no one had any idea which escort service, much less which particular escort, might target him. So he was expected to swim through the crowd of beautiful people, smiling his phony smile and making small talk about how his wife was out of town. They hoped word would spread to make him an appealing and immediate target.

  Although they were aware of three thefts, the police had no idea how big the ring was, how many people they had in play, or how many more victims they might come across. An hour into the party, Jimmy swirled the whiskey in his glass just to hear the clink of the ice.

  Boredom dragged him down. Anything would be more productive than this. As he leaned against the bar, he surveyed the crowd. Most of the guests were paired off, having arrived as couples. The unpaired women and men wandered. Jimmy studied the women to try and figure out if any were escorts.

  It’s not like they looked like the average streetwalker. These women fit right in. They carried themselves as if they completely belonged in this crowd, secure in their positions. Jimmy straightened his shoulders. If they could fake it, so could he.

  In his peripheral vision, something caught his attention. He turned and scanned. Three women stood in a group chatting it up with three men. Definitely a pickup scene. A brunette had her back to him, and as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, that same something tugged at him.

  A familiarity nagged him. His gaze wandered the length of the woman and landed on her ass. Her torso twisted as she looked beyond the man in front of her and her profile sucker punched him.

  He knew that profile in his gut. Her makeup and clothes didn’t matter. He knew Moira.

  Jimmy stepped away from the bar, forcing his temper down. She’d assured him her work wouldn’t interfere with his. Yet here she was.

  But he hadn’t told her he’d be at this event.

  Regardless, he needed to keep his cool in order to keep his cover intact. He slid into place beside Moira, intent on joining the conversation just like any other man who wanted to hook up with a single woman.

  Her awareness of him was immediate. Her eyes flicked wider for a second before she forced her mouth to curl into a welcoming smile. “Hi, I’m Grace.”

  He had no clue what game she was playing. He took her extended hand and stroked the inside of her wrist. “James.”

  Moira’s smile remained steady, but her eyes held fear. Yeah, she knew he was pissed. He took his hand away and pushed it into his pocket. The grip on his drink tightened as he felt the glare coming off the man next to him.

  Moira licked her lips nervously and her nose wrinkled. She probably forgot she had lipstick on.

  The guy beside him edged forward, in a weak attempt to take the lead. Jimmy stood straighter, towering over the man, and angled his body so that the disparity between the two of th
em would be obvious.

  “James,” she began, “Tim and I were just talking about movies. What were you saying, Tim?”

  He glanced down at Tim, whose mouth opened and closed ineffectively.

  Jimmy sipped his whiskey and then said, “Personally, I don’t think they make movies quite the way they used to before any of us were born. Don’t you agree, Grace? The true storytelling and amazing dialogue of the old black-and-white movies remains unparalleled.”

  Her jaw dropped. Even he didn’t know he’d be able to lay down the bullshit as thick as everyone else. This was becoming second nature, and although he didn’t like it, he definitely enjoyed the look on Moira’s face. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  Before she could protest, he grabbed her elbow and guided her toward the bar.

  “I’m fine, James. I just finished a drink. I wouldn’t want to get tipsy.”

  “Then have a glass of water and let me get to know you better.”

  At the bar, she yanked her arm back with only enough force to let him know she was irritated. The bartender filled orders at the other end of the bar. Jimmy and Moira quickly faced each other and said simultaneously, “What are you doing here?”

  Her nostrils flared, and he knew the skin across her chest would be pink. He closed his eyes and shook the thought. He needed to focus. “I’m working. Didn’t you get my text?”

  “Yes. You didn’t say where you were going.”

  “Neither did you.”

  “I played by your rules. No talk of work.” The fake smile she presented grated his nerves. Only he would recognize the nastiness simmering beneath.

  He flicked the black wig she wore. “What’s this about? You never play dress up when you come to these things.”

  Her eyes darted away and he had his answer. She was working on her secret story. Fuck.

  “I told you to stay the hell away from my case.”

  “I am.” Her angry whisper hissed at him. “I’m doing my own thing here. You’re the one who just inserted himself into my conversation.”