Conor sighed. "It isn't that. I didn't want to talk on my cell. They're too easy to monitor."
"Why have one, then?"
Conor laughed. "You're right. I'd be better off with a pager."
"I checked on Vincent Moratelli."
"And?"
"And, I'm afraid your people were right, Conor. There's nothing on the man."
Conor rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.
"Shit."
"Not that he's clean, mind. My sources say he's a gonzo of the first order, a strong-arm pimp with pretensions of grandeur who ran a couple of girls until he beat his number one lady so bad she talked the rest into hustling for somebody else. The other guy put the word out on the street and Vince had to quit the game."
Conor nodded. "Nice guy. Well, listen, Dad, I appreciate you trying."
"There is one thing. I'm not sure if it's going to help you or not."
"What is it?"
"There's a rumor he's involved in something big-time. The word is, he's working for some foreigner and that he's about to come into a lot of money."
"A foreigner?" Conor's eyes narrowed. "What's that mean, exactly?"
"I don't know."
"Somebody here? Or somebody overseas?"
"I'm telling you, I don't know."
"Well, find out." Conor ran his tongue across his lips. "Can you do that?"
"I'll try."
Conor gave his father Miranda's number, then hung up the phone. He told himself to take it easy, not to get too excited. He'd been in this business long enough to know that two and two didn't always add up to four. Still, things did seem to be falling into place. It took no great leap of the imagination to figure that the foreigner Vince Moratelli was working for was Edouard de Lasserre. Or his cousin, Amalie.
But if this was a blackmail scam, as he'd suspected all along, why was it moving so slowly?
"Conor?"
He turned at the soft sound of Miranda's voice. She'd scrubbed off her makeup and brushed out her hair. She was wearing her pale yellow robe. He could see her bare toes peeping out from under the hem. She looked innocent and vulnerable, and he knew he loved her more than he'd ever dreamed he could ever love anyone.
"Miranda," he said.
Miranda's throat constricted when she saw the way Conor was looking at her. She had hurt him before, she knew. Now, she longed to run to him, go into his arms and tell him that she loved him with all her heart.
But she couldn't.
It wasn't that she didn't love him. God, she did. She'd never imagined loving anybody the way she loved Conor.
But something was wrong between them.
She knew he was a man who kept things to himself, that he'd opened up to her more than he'd ever opened up to anyone, even his ex-wife. Still, there was a dark secret in his eyes and it had to do with her. The realization terrified her.
Other people had lied to her and she'd survived. She'd even grown stronger as a result of those lies. But if Conor had lied, if he'd deliberately set out to use her...