Guarding the Socialite Read Online Free PDF Page A

served to remind her to mention the hot-tempered pimp to the agent. “There is someone you might want to question, Agent McIntyre,” she began. He looked up from his search, interest in his yes. “He’s a pimp and a mean one. He had an obsession with Charlotte. His name was Mad Johnny.”
    â€œMad Johnny? His mother must’ve hated him,” he quipped, earning a small smile for his effort, but he sobered quicklywhen he realized she wasn’t in the mood for laughs. “You don’t by any chance have a real name for him?” he asked.
    â€œNo, I’m sorry, but I’m sure the police have him on file. He has a record and a reputation for beating his girls.”
    â€œDid he ever come around here?”
    â€œNo,” she answered firmly. “Charlotte knew the house rules and wouldn’t break them, not when she was so close to getting out of that lifestyle.” She pushed at the wave of sadness threatening to ruin her calm facade and lifted her chin. “Charlotte loved living at Iris House. We were her only family.”
    â€œThat seems to be a commonality with your boarders,” he mused and she couldn’t deny it.
    â€œTheir biological families threw them away a long time ago. We’re here to pick up the pieces so they can start fresh.”
    â€œWhy do you allow them to continue prostituting? It’s against the law and you know what they’re doing when they go out at night.”
    She walked a fine line with law enforcement. They knew she was trying to help these ladies so they gave her some latitude, but she didn’t know this agent or his philosophies and wasn’t about to divulge any more than was required. “I actively encourage the girls to quit,” she said. “What they do outside of these walls is not my business. The only rule is that they don’t bring it home. As I said previously, Iris House is a sanctuary. And I keep it that way.”
    â€œSo why do you care so much?” he asked, throwing her with his sudden question.
    â€œWhy wouldn’t I care? They’re human beings, too, with hopes and dreams, aspirations, heartaches…just like you and me.”
    â€œSome are cons and criminals,” he countered evenly.
    â€œSome,” she conceded then added coolly. “But mine arenot.” He seemed to catch that she’d just circled the wagons and simply nodded. She offered a small smile but it was strained around the edges. Being in Charlotte’s space was harder than she imagined. Boarders came and went but she’d never lost one to violence—at least, that’s what she’d thought. She suppressed a shiver and inquired, “Are we finished here?”
    He shoved his hands in navy blue slacks and did a slow perusal of the mostly pink room but paused at a picture taped to the dresser mirror. He gestured. “May I?”
    She hesitated but then realized no one would care what happened to Charlotte’s personal effects except her and relented. He plucked the picture from the mirror. “Something tells me this isn’t Mad Johnny,” he said.
    Emma leaned forward for a better look. In the picture Charlotte was smiling beside a well-dressed man, her arms looped around his middle in a way that was very familiar. She frowned slightly. “No. That’s Robert Gavin, a very generous man who has donated frequently to Iris House.”
    â€œWere he and Charlotte close?”
    She drew back, her frown deepening. “No…not that I’m aware,” she said, trying to remember if Charlotte had mentioned a friendship with Robert. She couldn’t recall, but she wasn’t privy to every aspect of her boarders’ lives. She shrugged. “The girls are free to befriend whomever they choose.”
    â€œWas he…a client?” he asked.
    To that she balked. “Absolutely not. Robert Gavin is not that kind of man. His generosity comes from his heart,