NYPD homicide detective Ryce Marshall doesn’t remember what happened to her before she woke up in a dirt parking lot in Pennsylvania. She doesn’t know why her lover is so afraid she’ll walk away. She doesn’t know that she’s already neck-deep in things beyond imagining.
One of the UNSETIC Files, Truth Will Set You Free is the introduction of Ryce Marshall and Jesse Stole into the universe, two NYPD cops on a collision course with the supernatural in more than a few forms.
Four
I felt distinctly underdressed, sandwiched between Jesse and Agent Scarborough, as we showed up at the front door of one of the largest houses I’d ever seen out on Long Island. It had felt like a ridiculously long drive from the border of Queens and Nassau counties to where we were now and I’d felt more and more out of place, more and more unworthy, the deeper into aristocratic country we drove.
Being the kid that nobody seemed to want to adopt can give you complexes like that.
Jesse and Scarborough were both in tuxes. I was in the nicest thing I’d thought to stuff into my bag—a blue sundress that had probably ended up in there by accident. It was not the thing that I should have been wearing to whatever kind of black tie thing was going on tonight, but I had to hope that maybe I’d be able to hide someplace and not be noticed—maybe in the kitchen with the help.
“She lives here?” I whispered to Jesse as Scarborough rang the bell.
“About a third of the time,” he whispered back. “She spends more time in her loft in the city, but this is better for charity things.”
“Charity things,” I echoed, staring at the massive oak doors. “A mob princess does charity things?”
“Think Michael Corleone back when he was young and stupidly idealistic,” Jesse said. Scarborough glared at both of us.
“Shut up, you two,” he muttered. “And make nice.”
One of the doors opened a moment later. The young woman in a three-piece suit peered at us, then smiled.
“Will, James. Miss Tasha’s been waiting for you.” Her blue-eyed gaze flicked toward me. “Who’s your…friend?”
Scarborough cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “This is Jesse’s friend, Miss Marshall. Are you going to let us in, Maia?”
The girl laughed and swung the door open wider. “Of course. Is she staying for the party tonight? She can’t wear that.”
I squirmed, trying to tug my hand out of Jesse’s. “I’ll just wait in the car.” You guys should have left me at your safehouse. Dammit!
“Maia, did I just hear Will’s voice?”
The woman who appeared behind Maia was in her early twenties and looked like everything a mafia princess should be—dark-eyed with dark, curling hair that tumbled down to her bare shoulders, lips as red as arterial blood and a figure that curved in all the right places. She wore a strapless, gunmetal gray dress with a spray of glitter along the upper curve of the bodice and spiraling down the left side in an ivy pattern. Her eyes lit when she saw me.
“My goodness! Jesse, is this her?”
Jesse blushed and looked at the toes of his polished dress shoes. “Miss Tasha, this is Ryce Marshall.”
“It is her!” Natasha Mancini slipped past Maia to take my hands in both of hers. “Good gracious, you’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting to meet you. I was beginning to think that Jesse was never going to let it happen. Color me pleasantly surprised!” She glanced at him, one corner of her mouth curving in a mischievous smile. “You could have warned me.”
“The circumstances have been unusual, Miss Tasha,” Jesse murmured, glancing at me and then back to her. “Ryce just told me that she’s quit her job.”
“Really,” Natasha said, taking my measure. “Well, congratulations, then, on becoming a free woman for however long it lasts.” She tugged me inside, the men trailing in our wake. “I know better than to ask what it was you used to do. It doesn’t matter anyway, not to me.” She grinned at me, then looked at Scarborough and Jesse. “I’ll meet you two in the library shortly. Looks like I’ve got a new friend to doll up for tonight.”
“Doll up?” I asked numbly, blinking at her. “What do you—?”
“Come on, now. They told you about the charity event tonight. You’re, what, a size six or so? I’ve got a few things upstairs that’ll fit you. We’ll get you dressed and prettied, then we’ll scrape their jaws off the floor and eat before the guests start showing up.” Her nose wrinkled slightly. “And hope that none of my uncle’s friends show their ugly mugs and fuck things up.”
“Are any of them planning to crash the party?” Will asked, expression turning dark and cold in a heartbeat, a storm breaking in blue eyes that suddenly seemed a stormy gray.
It was almost enough to make me afraid of him. Almost.
Natasha gave an entirely unladylike snort. “After I let it be known that you were going to be here? Only the ones with balls of solid fucking diamonds.” She grinned at me, wrapping one lean arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you pretty, Miss Marshall.”
As her fingers tightened around my shoulder and I felt the muscles that corded her arm, I realized that this so-called princess was more than capable of dealing with any underling that might come at her bare-handed. Even if I’d wanted to, I’d have been hard-pressed to free myself from her grip as she steered me away from the men.
I threw one last help me look at Jesse, who just shook his head slightly, hands upturned in supplication, a what do you expect me to do? gesture.
Then Natasha was dragging me deeper into the house and out of sight. As she tugged me up an ornate, gilded wood staircase toward the second floor, she gave me a conspiratorial grin.
“You don’t have to be afraid of little me,” she said. “Be afraid of how Jesse Stole is going to react when any man so much as looks at you tonight.”
“What?”
“You’ve never seen him when he gets riled up, have you?” Natasha shook her head. “Of course not. I doubt he’d let you. It’s terrifying, trust me.” She gave me a squeeze. “Do I make you nervous?”
I laughed. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I think you’re fucking terrified.” Natasha shook her head. “But that’s all right. It comes with the territory and I’ve learned not to let it bother me.”
She took me down hallway toward a room at the back side of the house, our footsteps quiet on the thick, patterned, richly red rug that ran the length of the hall. The bedroom was no less impressive, though it was decorated to far simpler tastes than the rest of the house—warm, golden wood furnishings with clean, straight lines, a neutral rug and pale walls.
“Yours?” I asked.
“Mine,” she confirmed. “Simpler than you expected, isn’t it?”
“Considering the rest of the house? Hell yes.” I smiled faintly as she shut the door behind us.
“My father let me start decorating it when I was a teenager, before he died,” she said. “I was already fed up with the opulence by then, but I keep the place—I grew up here. My mother’s people owned the property.”
Her mother’s people. Talk about old money and bullshit like that. Aristocracy. I suppressed a snort and wandered toward the window, crossing my arms tightly under my breasts. Natasha smiled as she watched me.
“It’s a little much, huh?”
“No,” I said. “Of course it’s not.”
“Don’t lie. I know it is.” She disappeared into a walk-in closet, snapping on the light and starting to rummage among suits and jeans and evening wear. “I’m well aware of what people seem to think of me, Miss Marshall, especially folks who’re in law enforcement.” She poked her head out of the closet. “Trust me, I made you for a cop the minute I saw you. It’s fine. You know what I am, and that’s fine, too. I doubt you’re here to bust me or fuck me over.” Natasha shot me a tight smile. “There’s a lot more going on than you’ve seen. Trust me on that.”
“I didn’t want you to see this,” Jesse rasped in my ear, his fingers tightening painfully around my arm. “I didn’t want to expose you to any of this.”
“Too damn late for that,” I snarled, glaring at him. His eyes were sunken into dark hollows, but otherwise he looked himself, even if he didn’t sound it. “We’re getting out of here and we’re getting out of here now.”
“I’ve still got—”
“Damn what you’ve still got.” I jerked on his arm. “You’re coming with me or I’m going alone.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Then come with me.”
I startled back to myself as she thrust a dark blue dress toward me, one that probably would’ve cost me at least half a paycheck.
Check that. Probably a whole paycheck.
“Here, try this one. I think it’ll bring out some of the color in your eyes.”
I just blinked at her for a moment. She laughed.
“Stop staring and just do it.”
“I can’t,” I said, staring at the dress in my hands. It was iridescent silk, more luxurious than anything I’d ever touched, let alone worn. “It’s—it’s—”
“It’s not too much,” she said, turning me around and starting to unzip my dress. “So don’t even say it. The color doesn’t do much for me, but when you get gifts like this, it’s hard to turn them down without offending someone. Let’s get you in it and see if you pull it off the way I just couldn’t.”
It was an off-the-shoulder affair with a draped neckline and a skirt that flowed like water over my hips, enveloping my legs without making me feel like I was bound up. The bodice hugged me in all the right places as Natasha zipped me into it. I smoothed the silk of the gown over my stomach and glanced over my shoulder at her. “I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
She smiled. “You should. You look stunning. Come see—then we’ll do something about that hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing, it’s just that I’ve got some combs that would look fantastic against the blonde and with that dress.”
Natasha steered me into the bathroom so I could get a good look at myself. The first glimpse rendered me speechless. Her face lit up as she saw my expression.
“Now imagine what Jesse’s going to do when he sees you,” she said, then laughed again and started on my hair, a pair of silver combs in the shape of a fine spray of flowers in her hand. “His jaw is going to hit the floor so hard we’re going to have to wire it back into position.”
I blushed and glanced down at my hands, fingers twisting. “You really think so?”
“You were speechless. He’ll forget how to think. Trust me.” She pinned my hair up in the combs expertly, as if she’d done it a thousand times before. “Just a dusting of blush, I think, and you’ll be all set.”
“You really don’t have to do this,” I said.
“Of course I do. You’d be awfully out of place in that sundress down there and there’s absolutely no reason for you not to be a part of tonight, especially not when I can give you a dress that makes you look like a million bucks. There’re going to be women in that room who are going to want to be you. Hell, I almost want to be you. Fucking cops—why do you all have such amazing bodies?”
“Not all of us do,” I protested lamely, cheeks flaming. Not all of us were like Jesse and Alex—and me.
“No, not all, but enough.” She smiled again and squeezed my shoulder. “Almost enough to start destroying that stereotype about fat, middle-aged men eating donuts in a corner coffee shop.”
“Almost, but not quite. Not all of us look like we just walked off the set of Law and Order.” Though I suppose my precinct almost does, doesn’t it? I killed a smile and shook my head. “Thank you, Natasha.”
“Tasha,” she said, her voice as warm as her broad smile. “Call me Tasha. The boys do.” She rummaged around in a drawer to find an appropriate shade of blush. “You should, too. You’re part of this, now.”
I chose my words carefully, watching her. “Part of what?”
“Of bringing down the family, of course.” She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and her matter-of-fact tone more than anything set me back on my heels.
“Do—do they know?”
“Does who know? The family? Fuck no.”
“No,” I said. “Jesse and Will. Do they know?”
Natasha looked at me like I’d suddenly grown a second head. “Of course they know. They didn’t tell you?”
“No,” I said slowly. “No, not really. They didn’t tell me that much about what you do.” Shit, I knew that she was a means to an end, but it almost sounds like she’s using them almost as much as they’re using her. “Just enough.”
“Enough.” She smirked and shook her head. “Diplomatic, Miss Marshall.”
“Ryce,” I said. “Call me Ryce.” If I’m getting sucked into this, we might as well be on a first name basis.
Dammit. I’m going to be helping a mafia princess take down the fucking mob.
