Beyond Paradise

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Beyond Paradise Page 9

by Barbara Nolan


  Frank stood, slapped him on the back, and pulled out a vacant chair next to him. “Have a seat, relax.”

  He wanted to tell Frank to fuck off, but he had to stay and fight for the one thing that mattered. His independence. Frank’s firm hold forced him down. “Sit.”

  Feeling like a trained dog made his eye twitch.

  “You think you don’t need me anymore?” Frank sneered. “That you’re too good for us?”

  A few years ago he would’ve been thrilled to sit at this table with them, but now he knew them for what they were—a bunch of cheap thugs who hung out with pros. So yeah, he did think he was too good for them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Buying that club was a big mistake.” Frank pressed his forearm harder.

  The other three goons were busy entertaining the hookers, but Angela just stared at him. Her jaw so tight he could almost hear her teeth grinding.

  “But I’ll give you one more chance to let me in on it.” Frank smiled. “What do you say, partners?”

  He leaned into Frank’s ear and whispered, “Go fuck yourself.”

  Jonny yanked his arm free and stood. Frank stood with him and clamped his hand around his shoulder and squeezed. “Think you’re a tough guy, huh?”

  A flicker of a warning flashed through Jonny’s brain. Frank usually played it cool, especially in a room full of people he wanted to impress.

  “You think you’re fooling everybody?” Frank shoved him, his voice laced with malice just loud enough for Jonny to hear. “Screwing that hot piece Cheryl.” Frank raised an eyebrow. “I understand she’s got a pussy that’s so juicy . . .”

  Jonny slammed his fist into the side of Frank’s jaw then braced himself for a retaliation that never came. When Frank smiled full out and rubbed at his jaw, another warning bell rang in Jonny’s head. This night was about to go straight to hell.

  He sensed other people around them mumbling comments, but he stayed focused on Frank until security guards broke through the circle of onlookers and flanked Jonny on each side. What a joke. The guards had guns that never left the holster strapped around their bulging guts.

  “This man attacked me.” Frank addressed the guards, his beady eyes bright with superiority.

  One of the guards grabbed his arm, and Jonny pivoted out of his hold. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

  “As you can see, he’s very violent.” Frank smirked.

  “I don’t want any trouble sir, but you’ll have to leave,” one guard insisted as the other moved behind him.

  Frank set him up. And he fell for it.

  “You need to leave, sir.” The guard repeated.

  His hands were balled into tight fists, and his insides were raw with frustration. “Fuck off. I’m going.”

  He stormed out with the two guards close behind him. He picked the express elevator to the lobby, then vented his anger on the button. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat. He fought for control, but . . . fuck, he wanted to slam something hard. Anything to get rid of this ball of frustration burning the pit of his stomach.

  The guards stayed at his back like he was an escaped convict until he entered the elevator. He pushed the lobby button and flipped them off seconds before the doors whooshed closed.

  His phone buzzed, he checked the screen, and saw six missed calls from Max.

  Swiping the screen, he barked into the phone. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Eddie’s been beat, bad.”

  His head spun. He reached for the elevator wall, and his balance returned.

  “Get to the club,” Max said. We brought him to the apartment, but he don’t look good.”

  “Call Doc Henderson.”

  Chapter 16

  Jonny entered the club from the rear entrance, not wanting to engage in conversation or any distractions. He pushed through the stairwell door then vaulted up the stairs with two things on his mind. Get money from the office safe to insure the doctor’s silence, then check on Eddie.

  He pulled out the office key and the knob turned under his hand. The door to the office should’ve been locked. Him and Eddie were the only two with a key. He eased into the room and his eyes adjusted enough to see a shadow crouched by the safe in the corner.

  He flipped the wall switch, and the shadow jerked to a standing position, as he squinted against the glaring light. “Looking for something?”

  Cheryl’s expression confused him. Fear? No, relief.

  Her silence prodded him into the room. “You must be pretty good. That safe is state-of-the-art. A nuclear bomb couldn't open it.”

  She’d played him again, and he fell for it. Goddamn how those pouty lips of hers lied so perfectly.

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “It looks like you’re trying to fuckin’ steal from me.” Her cock teasing tongue flicked over her bottom lip, but he kept his focus on the open safe behind her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He couldn’t ignore the way the words Paradise Lounge on her white tank top rose and fell against her breasts as she heaved in a deep breath.

  “If you were looking for money, you would’ve been disappointed.” He flicked his fingers toward the safe. “All that’s in there is petty cash and receipts. The good stuff is in a much safer place.”

  Only him and Eddie knew about the safe they’d installed under the floor boards of the closet. The flash of her eyes told him that maybe money wasn’t her motive, so he pushed the envelope a little further.

  “But you could’ve just asked. Would’ve been a lot easier than sneaking around in the dark.”

  He should’ve been pissed. Anybody else, male or female and he would’ve had them pinned against the desk with their hands behind their backs. But when he looked at her everything went sideways.

  She shoved the pen light into her pocket and held out her hands. “I didn’t take anything, so can we just forget I was ever here?”

  Probably not. Especially since he dreamt of having her under him again. Naked. Her taut nipples rubbing up against his bare chest. The way her pupils darkened when she came, with her nails scrapping down his back. And now he had the image of her bent over his desk with that heart shaped ass begging him to grab on and—

  “Yeah, sure.” This woman had turned him into an idiot.

  Surprise flickered across her face, but her shoulders remained tense, and then it all came together. She wasn’t doing this for her.

  He stared at her until her eyes softened to the point of tears. Then she crumbled like she hated herself. He wanted to fuck it all and haul her to him. No questions asked, just the two of them, gone.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Did this have something to do with your conversation with Frank last night?” Jonny asked.

  Cheryl fought for control. A way to school her features and not give away Frank’s plan. Not act like a freaking amateur on her first job. It should’ve been easy. In and out. What was he even doing here? She’d seen him leave earlier in his drop-dead gorgeous tux, but he’d only been gone an hour. Who gets all dressed up for an hour?

  “No, it had to do with me needing money,” she murmured. “And falling back on what I am.”

  He inched closer.

  “A thief?” he whispered.

  Logical question, but his voice held none of the accusation or indignation one would expect from someone being robbed.

  The fact that she hadn’t gotten what she came for was irrelevant. She’d broken into his office and tampered with his safe. She probably should’ve mentioned that the lock on his office door was shit easy to bust, but the state-of-the-art safe impressed her. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t concerned about the door.

  Even from across the room she ached for h
im. The erratic way her blood raced hot through her veins, and her desire to be closer to him overpowered all logic and sense. Sick and twisted just like the plan itself.

  He closed the distance between them, and she sidestepped bumping her hip on the corner of his desk. The momentary detour placed him directly in front of her. Again, the spicy scent of his cologne surrounded her. Making her weak from the inside out. And for that split second, she wanted to fall into his arms and have him hold her again. Confess everything and just escape. The two of them, gone.

  He stroked the underside of her jaw. “Someday you’re going to tell me all your secrets.”

  His expression threw her off balance. Not anger or pity, but . . . Disappointment?

  They’d already had sex. Hot, wild, sheet gripping sex and yet she shuddered under his gaze. The sting of hot tears and a choking in her throat cut off her words.

  He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a kiss softer than she deserved.

  “But right now I got bigger problems.”

  He stepped away from her, and she immediately missed him in her space. Across the office, he opened up a closet, crouched down, and shifted some things on the floor. Tumblers fell into place and a metal latch released. When he stood a few minutes later, he clutched a stack of banded bills. Impressive.

  Was it possible Frank didn’t know about that safe? She guessed someone so ruthless would know everyone’s secrets. And now she’d have to explain her failure to a man who definitely didn’t take no for an answer.

  “Eddie’s been beaten up.” He held up the money. “This should take care of the doctor.” Then shoved the money into his tuxedo pocket.

  “What happened?” She followed him out of the office, and up the flight of stairs.

  “I don’t know.” He threw over his shoulder. “You better stay in my room tonight.”

  When they entered the apartment her cell phone vibrated. The caller ID showed the now familiar number. She hung back as Jonny entered the living room and fired questions at Max.

  “Hello.”

  “You were unsuccessful tonight, right?” Frank rasped through the phone.

  She glanced over her shoulder expecting to see him standing behind her.

  “Right.”

  “He caught you in the act?”

  “Right, again.” Totally fucking creepy.

  “Perfect.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s nothing valuable in that safe.” Frank sighed with contentment. “But if I know Jonny he’ll want to come to your rescue now more than ever.”

  “But . . .?”

  “He likes to fix women, and you’re about as broken as they come.” Frank paused. “And now I assume he’s focused on Eddie?”

  “You know about Eddie getting beat up?”

  He barked out a harsh laugh. “I had to keep him out of that office somehow.”

  The words caught in her throat and she gripped the doorframe to steady herself.

  “That was just a test, and you passed.” Frank drew in a deep breath. “The next time will be for real.”

  The phone disconnected, but she kept it at her ear unable to fully process what just went down. He’d sent her to Jonny’s office knowing she’d get caught and had Eddie beat up. If she ever doubted Frank’s power, she was a believer now.

  Chapter 17

  Jonny entered the apartment over the club and found Max pacing the living room, and Bambi hunched on the couch crying while clutching a bottle of vodka. Cheryl’s phone rang, and she hung back as he approached Max.

  “What the hell happened?” Jonny loosened his tie, shucked off his tuxedo jacket, and threw it over a chair.

  Max stopped pacing and blew out a long breath. “He was leaving the club and . . .”

  “They kept hitting him and hitting him . . .” Bambi pushed herself off the couch, tugged at the hem of her micro mini skirt, and crossed the room. The vodka she’d consumed had her clinging to Jonny’s arm for support.

  He looked over her shoulder, and Max continued, “They ambushed him in the . . .”

  “I was with him.” Bambi sobbed. “It was so scary.”

  “Will you shut the hell up!” Max yelled.

  “Don’t tell me to shut up,” Bambi slurred.

  “Both of you, knock it off.” Jonny snatched the bottle from her hand. “How much of this did she have?”

  “She was freaking out. I had to give her something to calm her down.”

  “You didn’t have to give her the whole damn bottle.”

  Jonny motioned Bambi toward the couch. “Go sit down and be quiet.” He handed the bottle off to Max and massaged his forehead. “Now tell me what happened.”

  “They ambushed him in the parking lot. Fucked him up bad.” He pointed toward the bedroom. “Doc just got here.”

  Dr. Steven Henderson, the youngest cardiac surgeon at New York Medical Center. A rock star in the medical field, with an addiction to poker. Jonny let him sit in on their private games and Steven took care of the occasional medical emergency discreetly.

  Jonny stalked to the bedroom, not liking the sound of fear in Max’s voice. He entered just as the doctor cut away Eddie’s T-shirt. The harsh ceiling light magnified the red welts on his ribcage.

  He stood on the other side of the bed, nodded to the doctor, then looked at Eddie. His right eye and jawline were swollen and bruised, and his tight fists clenched the bedsheets.

  “How’re you doing?”

  “Those fuckers are gonna pay.” Eddie’s rage shot through his pain.

  Steven’s gaze darted between him and Eddie, then he moved the stethoscope along Eddie’s ribcage.

  “Try to relax.” Jonny patted Eddie’s shoulder.

  Steven pulled the stethoscope away from his ears and anchored it around his neck. “It would be best if you waited outside.”

  “Forget it, I’m staying.”

  The doc wasn’t pleased, but no way was he leaving.

  “I know you’re in pain,” Steven said, “but try to tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “I can’t breathe . . . feel like I got a truck sitting on my chest.” Eddie wheezed through blood-crusted lips.

  “Can you tell me how this happened?”

  “They busted me up with a bat.”

  “A baseball bat?” Steven asked.

  “Yeah,” Eddie rasped.

  “Who?” Jonny asked between clenched teeth.

  “Hired muscle.” Eddie stiffened as another spasm shot through him. “Frank's guys.”

  Jonny slammed his fist against the wall. “Fuckin’ bastards.”

  Steven jumped, then stared at him.

  “What’re you looking at me?” Jonny snapped, frustration coiling through him. “He’s in pain. Do something.”

  Steven quickly opened his medical bag and laid out the necessary instruments. He slipped the stethoscope into his ears and ran it along Eddie’s chest again.

  Jonny shifted a few times, then popped the top button of his shirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

  He couldn’t tell if Steven was ignoring him or intent on listening to Eddie’s chest. After another minute, he moved closer. “I said, what’s wrong with him?”

  Steven removed the stethoscope. “He appears to be suffering from pneumothorax caused by severe trauma to the chest area.”

  “You’re gonna have to speak English, Doc.”

  “I believe that one of his ribs has punctured the lung. The air escaping from the lung is causing the pain, but without an x-ray . . .” Steven frowned. “He should be in a hospital.”

  The docs calm demeanor grated on his nerves. “Can you fix it?”

  “I’ll have to insert a needle into his chest cavity to relieve the
pressure and expel the air. It should equalize the lung pressure, so he can breathe easier.”

  Cutting a hole and sticking a needle into somebody’s chest sounded drastic.

  “There could be an infection or other complications under these circumstances,” Steven said.

  “I know you’re trying to cover your ass, but I don’t give a shit about circumstances. All I want to know is, can you patch him up, and is he gonna be all right?”

  “He’s young and in decent shape, so I would say his chances are good.”

  “Then do it,” Jonny growled.

  He stayed glued to Steven’s side. He probably hated being watched so closely, but too bad. The whole procedure lasted about twenty minutes, but Eddie’s breathing smoothed out, and he appeared to be resting easier. Then he injected Eddie with a shot for the pain, cleaned up his cuts, repacked his bag, and snapped it shut. “I’ll come by tomorrow to check on him.”

  He suspected Steven’s profession taught him to play it close and tight. Luckily, he didn’t have the same gift at the poker table. Jonny peeled off some of the banded money from the safe and handed it to him.

  “You do that.”

  After Steven left, Jonny lowered the lights and stood by his friend’s bedside. Eddie could be reckless, doing crazy shit, a different girl in his bed every night, but he’d been there for him more times than he could remember, and Eddie was the only one he’d want covering his back.

  “Don’t worry. Frank’s not gonna get away with this one.”

  Every raspy breath Eddie sucked in reminded him of Frank’s hold on them.

  “How’s he doing?” Max asked the minute Jonny entered the living room.

  Jonny slammed a tumbler onto the granite bar top and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the glass shelf behind him. He splashed some into the glass and glanced around the room. “Where’s Cheryl?”

  “How the hell do I know.” Max scowled on the other side of the bar. “Is Eddie gonna be all right?”

 

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