Beyond Paradise

by Barbara Nolan

  Chapter 27

  When they entered the condo, Cheryl escaped to the bedroom and into the shower and Jonny mumbled something about fixing himself a drink. If her screwed up stomach could handle it, she would’ve gotten totally wasted just to forget the last few hours.

  Jonny seemed off too, but maybe it was her imagination. Trying to act normal while her brain screamed in protest was exhausting. Frank’s cryptic call on the beach, totally freaked her out and nearly brought on a full-blown panic attack.

  She stepped into the warm water of the spa shower and let the water beat down on her, but it did nothing for her nerves. After a few minutes, she shut it off, stepped out, and pulled a towel off the rack. When she felt hands at her waist, she yelped.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jonny nuzzled the back of her neck. “I was gonna join you in the shower.” He splayed his hands over her hips and held her tight. She could feel him hard and hot against her bare ass. “All bent over just waiting for me.”

  She spun around, her heart still beating double time. “I know I’ve said this before, but you’ve made me so happy.” Her voice hitched, and she covered it with a cough.

  He smoothed his hand over her damp hair. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she answered much too quickly.

  “You sure?”

  “Remember you told me about your friend that could get us fake ID’s and passports?”

  “Yeah?”

  “So why don’t we do it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Become different people, fly to another country. We could even take my brother. I’d love to get him away from Brooklyn.” Her voice shook with desperation, but she couldn’t control it.

  “Baby, I can’t leave now.”

  “It could be a new start for all of us.”

  “I got too much going on.” He moved her closer. “But you don’t have to worry anymore. I told you, nobody’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

  She leaned into him and pressed her cheek against his chest. She drank in the smell of salt air and summer heat on his skin and clamped her eyes shut to hold back the tears. She planned on betraying him, and yet he still protected her.

  “I know,” she whispered. “It was just an idea.”

  “Let me get everything together.” His lips grazed her neck, and the rough stubble on his jawline pricked her skin. “I’ll have so much fuckin’ money you can buy out all those designer stores, and we can go anyplace you want.”

  She blinked a few times to hold back a fresh set of tears and let her hands roam over the smooth skin of his rock-hard muscles. It hurt so much knowing something so perfect couldn’t exist for her. Her chest ached, but how dumb was that? Hearts didn’t really break, did they?

  His mouth covered hers, and his tongue plunged deep, searching. Like he sensed her desperation or was maybe trying to rid demons of his own. His breathing grew ragged, and she sensed a hunger in him, a neediness, or a desire to be needed. It darkened his eyes and tightened the muscles of his neck. It created an urgency in his touch like his life depended on them making love and making love now.

  “I’m burning up for you.” He grabbed her ass and ground against her. “I need to be in you. Now.”

  He yanked open a drawer next to the sink, pulled out a condom, ripped it open with his teeth, and sheathed himself. He whirled her around, and she leaned in to brace the counter. He clung to her hips and drew her to him, hard. A reckless need tingled through her as a heat settled between her legs seconds before he thrust into her. He pulled her hips tighter, nudged her legs further apart, and when his fingers found her clit, she squirmed and twitched against him.

  “Fuck . . .” He groaned, leaning one hand on the counter for support as his hips pounded harder and his fingers moved faster. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

  Skin slapped against skin, and she hoped the counter was bolted to the wall. She bucked back again, and the pressure built as his fabulous fingers worked her until she was helpless to do anything but give into the lust and the love, and what would be their last time together.

  “Who’s making you feel good, baby?” He thrust into her hard and stopped.

  “Mmmm.” Words and full sentences were not an option.

  “Answer me,” he demanded.

  “Damn it.” She wiggled her ass against him. “Don’t stop.”

  “Then answer me,” he repeated. “Who do you belong to?”

  If he didn’t move soon, she would go crazy.

  “You,” she panted. “Only you.”

  Her words unleashed a magic spell. She shouted his name and repeated the murmured litany seconds before she flew apart. No big build up, just a hot, wild, hard come that left her shaking and clenching.

  His back stiffened as his wet heat shot into her. He collapsed against her, bracing his hands against the counter, his warm breath against her neck. He lay there for a few minutes, their bodies slick and panting. She pushed against the counter, and he slowly lifted with her, his free hand snaking around her waist, pulling her around.

  With a shaky hand, he traced his finger over her jaw and down her neck.

  “You giving me this . . . letting me be real with you.”

  She knew by ‘this’ he meant her.

  “I wouldn’t want you any other way.” She stroked his still-swollen jaw.

  “Whatever happens, I’ll always put you first, keep you safe.”

  She desperately wanted to return the favor, but how could she choose between blood and love?

  He guided her back to the bedroom where they collapsed on the bed. He stretched out in his oversized bed in his beautiful South Beach condo with the sheet draped over his hips. His tanned arm flung behind his head tightened the smooth skin of his ripped abs and narrow waist. A tattoo on his bicep that meant nothing, and another on his ribcage that meant everything.

  He threw his attitude around in a hard, rough way, pretending to be tough, yet his sensitivity and insight floored her. His soul clashed with contradiction, while his eyes were filled with love. She longed to tell him how she loved him and never meant to hurt him, never meant to blow his life apart.

  He flung his arm out. “Get in here nice and tight.”

  She snuggled into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her as if protecting her from the shadowy shreds of life that opened them up and made them vulnerable.

  “Always, baby,” she murmured against his chest.

  She could have spent the rest of the night in his arms, pretending there were no consequences or repercussions for decisions she had to make, but Jonny had other plans. He wanted to take her to the club and show her off to his friends, but they’d never make it.

  Chapter 28

  Cheryl shifted in the leather seat, adjusted the bustier Jonny bought her the day before, and palmed the bag of coke. At just before midnight, the limo crept through the parade of cars and motorcycles clogging Washington Avenue along with the steady stream of people spilling out onto the street slowing them down to a crawl. Every agonizing minute stretched out before her.

  She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “You know how much you mean to me?”

  “As much as you mean to me.” He deepened the kiss, and her throat tightened with emotion as the limo slowed and eased to the curb.

  Flashy club clothes replaced skimpy bathing suits, amping up the vibe on Ocean Drive. She swiveled around on the sidewalk, overwhelmed by the men in outrageous black leather outfits and women dressed in colors so bright they competed with the vibrant neon signs. The swirling scent of tropical flowers and sweet perfume curled her nervous stomach as she waited for the inevitable.

  “You look great, boss,” the valet greeted. “We miss you down here.”

  It intrigued her how
everyone from the uniformed valet to the big, hulking bouncers at the door vied for Jonny's attention. He greeted them warmly by name, and she could tell they respected him.

  Pounding music escaped from inside the club every time the door opened. The beefy doorman stepped forward and let a smile invade his dour expression. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of screeching tires at the curb and two uniforms bolting out of a patrol car marked Miami Beach/Dade County Police.

  “Juan Miguel Vallone?” The taller one shouted in Jonny’s direction as the shorter, fatter one pushed through the crowd.

  The constant stream of people on the street halted, and even the noisy crowd corralled behind the velvet ropes quieted.

  A few second later she realized they were talking to Jonny.

  The enormous doorman stepped to Jonny’s side, and the taller cop jerked his head. “Tell your goon to back off.”

  Jonny nodded, and the doorman stepped off and clasped his hands behind his back in some relaxed military-street posture.

  “We have reason to believe you’re in possession of illegal drugs.” The taller one yanked Jonny around, shoved him to the outside wall of the club, and patted down the front of his shirt.

  Jonny stayed cool and composed as he looked over his shoulder. “You’re making a mistake, boys. Drugs ain’t my thing.”

  “Keep quiet.” The cop skimmed the pockets of Jonny’s pants and his inseams.

  “Go easy.” Jonny shifted. “Don’t wanna disappoint my girl later.”

  The officer stood and addressed the other cop. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” The shorter cop asked. “Impossible.”

  He stepped forward and repeated the entire procedure, only rougher.

  “What’s the matter, you both want a feel?” Jonny drawled.

  The two cops exchanged a look. “Just watch yourself, wise guy.”

  They returned to the squad car, said something to each other, then sped away.

  “Fuckin’ cops.” The bouncer advanced to Jonny’s side. “You okay, boss?”

  “Yeah.” Jonny held his mouth tight as a storm loomed behind his eyes.

  “Hey?” She moved to his other side. The plastic bag burned against her breast bone when in reality it was undetectable to anyone but her.

  “I’m fine,” His tone meaning the exact opposite.

  She’d made her decision about two minutes after they’d gotten into the limo. Two minutes after Jonny slid in next to her and cradled her in his arms. Two minutes after he told her she was the first woman he’d ever trusted, and that trust was the most important thing to him. She’d saved Jonny, but by now those cops were texting Frank about the botched job, and a shit storm was sure to follow.

  She palmed her phone and sent an urgent message to Dylan while Jonny joked with the bouncers about which cops were bigger assholes, the NYPD or Miami-Dade. She advised Dylan to go to the “safety zone,” code for Dylan’s parole officer. She’d sheltered him before when things fell apart with their mom, and she couldn’t chance Dylan staying alone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t blow off her warning, and she could keep him safe until something could be figured out.

  The bouncer barked orders into his headset, then ushered them into Paradise II. Anxious club-goers craned their necks to get a better view, but the drama was over, for them anyway. She swallowed hard imagining Jonny’s reaction to her latest secret. Trust and loyalty were high on his hit list, and betrayal would be a deal breaker, the one thing that could wreck them.

  The crowd parted as security escorted them toward the stairs leading to the VIP Room. Jonny's firm hand on the small of her back guided her deeper into the club, where the pulse of the music thumped louder, and the crowd of gyrating bodies grew thicker. The DJ suspended in his overhead cage commanded their attention and set the mood. The floor vibrated with energy as people jostled for position at the main bar. Shimmering fabric draped from the ceiling lent the vast room an intimate feel.

  Jonny stopped many times to greet people. He knew most by name, and when he didn’t, he acted as if he did. It hit her how much was at stake for him, and why this trip was so important. They climbed the spiral staircase, and she skimmed her hand against the iridescent tile water wall spanning both levels of the club from floor to ceiling.

  At the top of the staircase, the bouncer pointed past columns of twinkling amber lights to a table in the front corner. “Have a good night, boss.”

  “Juan Miguel?” she questioned, after the bouncer left.

  “My mother’s effort at keeping Cuban roots.”

  “I like it.”

  “Too ethnic, that’s why I changed it, but being only eight, I came up with my own spelling, and it stuck.”

  She furrowed her brow and pictured him as a little boy.

  He clasped her hand in his and led her to a deep green suede banquette that wrapped around a kidney-shaped table already set up with bottles of Patron Platinum and champagne submerged in silver ice buckets. Sheer gauze separated each section of the prime spot, providing full view of the dance floor below them.

  A handsome, impeccably dressed man, whom she guessed to be in his early forties, appeared at Jonny’s side. He could also rock the cover of GQ with his tight cropped black hair and warm brown eyes.

  “So this is the beautiful lady who stole Miami’s most eligible bachelor.” His rich, seductive accent rippled over the house music.

  “Cheryl, this is Carlos. He’s my right hand in Miami.” Jonny’s words sounded sincere, but his eyes remained watchful.

  “He gives me way too much credit,” Carlos said graciously.

  “How’s the table service tonight?”

  “Full house, boss.” Carlos motioned around the VIP Room.

  Genuine respect filled Carlos’ voice, but Jonny remained stiff and edgy. Probably left over tension from his encounter with the cops.

  “Raul and Isabelle are on the dance floor. They asked to join you tonight.”

  “Fine.” Jonny leaned into Carlos. “Can I have a word?” His voice remained soft, but his eyes shone like hard, black pieces of onyx.

  “Of course.” Carlos turned to her. “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, and if you want anything, you need only ask.”

  Jonny eased her onto the soft suede cushions and brushed her lips with a kiss. “Back in a minute.”

  He straightened and followed Carlos to the far side of the service bar. She drew in a cleansing breath and scoped out a ladies’ room, anxious to get rid of the coke and any evidence of her deception.

  Chapter 29

  Carlos stopped at the end of the service bar, where they could talk in relative quiet. He motioned for the bartender. “I’ll have a bourbon.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” Jonny demanded.

  Carlos spun away from the bar. “What?”

  Jonny couldn’t figure if Carlos was confused or defensive.

  “I nearly got popped outside the club just now.” Jonny pinned him with a cold, steady glare.

  “Cops?” The bartender placed Carlos’ drink in front of him, and he gulped down half of it.

  “Patting me down for drugs. You know about this?” Jonny cocked an eyebrow. “Or maybe you set it up?”

  “Jonny.” Carlos frowned. “How could you say that?”

  “The cops seemed disappointed.” He paused. “No, surprised, like they expected to find junk on me.”

  “And you think I had something to do with it?” Carlos set his glass on the bar, and Jonny glimpsed the slight tremor of his hand.

  “I saw Graciela today, and she said someone’s running drugs through the club.”

  Carlos tipped his chin. “And you believe her, a coked-up party girl, over me?”

  “I’m thinking you didn’t tel
l me because it’s Alejandro doing the dealing.”

  Carlos sucked in a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me,” Jonny warned.

  “Yes.” Carlos hung his head. “I’ve tried talking to him.” He splayed his hands over the bar. “What can I say? He’s my sister’s son. He’s always been trouble, a disgrace to the family.”

  “You know the way I feel about this, and family or not, it has to end.”

  “I understand. I’ll try again.”

  “No, I’ll take care of it.”

  Carlos’ eyes went wide.

  “I’m just gonna talk to him, that’s all.”

  “But this other thing I don't understand. We own the South Beach cops.”

  “Unless they’re getting heat from somewhere else,” Jonny suggested, as he observed Carlos’ expression. He’d come to this man as an ally, a friend, and the possibility of deception made his chest hurt.

  ~ ~ ~

  While Jonny was with Carlos, Cheryl located the bathroom, locked herself into the stall, and dumped first the coke then the baggie into the toilet. She’d flushed numerous times to get rid of all traces, so many times the women in line must’ve suspected some intense stomach issues. If only she could dispose of her guilt as easily.

  As Jonny approached the banquette, she admired the self-confidence radiating off him, the way he owned every space he occupied. He motioned to a girl in black bootie shorts and a matching halter top.

  “Let’s try that champagne.”