“A crusade, like you said. I’ll do it, but there is one issue that comes to mind before we agree to anything.” Her mouth was set in a grim line.
“Oh? Tell me. Is it something I can fix? Offer? Just ask.” We needed Liz, and I wanted to close the deal.
“The law? It will have to be stretched, on occasion. Nothing fraudulent or risky, since it’s your money, but we’ll have to create dummy insurance payouts, wills, probate. Trusts from long forgotten relatives. Fictitious awards or stock benefits. Anything to create a wall between the victims’ families and the truth. And they cannot ever, ever meet you or the girls. The risk would be astronomical, both in terms of their finances and their lives. I don’t think you want glory, but you must remain anonymous. Can you do that?” Her request was reasonable, and made excellent sense.
I stuck out my hand. “Agreed, counselor. Your rent is waived. Your salary is one third more than whatever you make now, plus certain benefits that may come our way. We’ll share. And thank you. We need you to help, to make some of the wrongs less permanent, maybe pull some good from the ashes.”
She gave my hand a firm pump and pulled me close for a hug, but whether that was because I was killing immortals or helping provide for her future, I couldn’t be sure, but I enjoyed it just the same.
63
The mood in our house had improved considerably. Risa and Wally took the boat for a victory lap to celebrate and soak up some sun. I suspect beer was a critical component to their plan, and as I was not invited, I opted to visit the Butterfly for an early dinner. Since the Suma issue still hung over us like Damocles’ lost cutlery, there was a chance that my meal would be awkward, at least in my mind. I resolved to keep my routine unchanged or at least outwardly similar until we could form a solution that didn’t bring us collective heartbreak.
Boon’s brilliant smile greeted me moments later as she took me, arm in arm to a table near the east window. I exhaled fully, feeling tension leaving me as the warmth of the room permeated my mood. A blessing of calm enveloped me before my tea could arrive and Pan waved from the kitchen door as I mouthed Prawns to Boon, a one word order based on the heavenly smell drifting from a nearby table. This was home. There was so much more here than I had initially realized when they opened the restaurant. I was at ease from my first steps in the door, which made my actions toward Suma and her lies so magnified, so critical. So permanent.
Boon joined me with my meal, picking scandalously at my plate with merry eyes as I slapped at her hand. It was a dance we did often. She crunched the savory head of an enormous prawn and smiled around her pilfered treat as I did my best not to gulp my tea. Pan had been heavy with the chilies and I had a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead early in the meal.
“Too hot for the tame American?” Boon teased, laughing and handing me another napkin to wipe my brow. Pan was being sadistic with the spices, and I would pay now. And later.
“Your hubby is cruel. But I can’t stop eating.” I confessed, dredging another prawn through the vivid red sauce pooling on my plate. “Where is Suma?” I looked for her, realizing she had not popped over yet.
“Hair. Nails. She has an appointment and she’s doing girly stuff. I told her my hair and nails were perfect, to which she snorted and informed me that if I didn’t get my nails done she was going to refuse being seen with me in public.” Boon appraised her fingers and wiggled them as if proving Suma’s assessment was wrong. It was. Her hands were like pianists’, long and thin. She sighed and stood, announcing her return to work. “See you later. I’ll tell Suma you stopped by.” Her blissful lack of awareness gave me a pang of regret for something that had not happened, but could not be avoided. I finished my tea and left, my thoughts making the end of my meal far less pleasant than the beginning.
64
Wally stood brandishing a phone at me as I closed the door to my truck. Her face was a mix of anger and curiosity, never good on anyone but particularly worrisome on her. I took the proffered phone, wondering what disaster this particular call might bring.
“Ring, Deb Broward here. Jim would’ve called but he’s gotten himself worked up and had to use his inhaler, so I’ll do the talking for the next few minutes.” She was speaking hurriedly, with a hint of anger.
“I take it this isn’t a quality control call about the truck?” I knew better.
“I wish, but we know we’ve got your business. Why waste the call? We just had a visitor asking some questions, flounced in here asking for you, said he was willing to triple whatever we paid for the jewelry you were selling us. Sound familiar?”
Did he ever. “What name did he use?” I was betting on Joseph. His arrogance was boundless.
“Joseph Lamarck. Said he worked for a buyer who knew you, and that they were very interested in buying any and every piece you’ve sold us over the past year. I’m not even going to ask how he found us; I imagine you’ll tie up that loose end. But as a friend, let me tell you something. Whoever he represents has more money than God, I can smell it, and they don’t give a shit about anything other than what they want. I’ve met his type before; he was so assured, oily, smug. He made my skin crawl, and that takes a heluva lot with me working in this business, you know?” She sounded worried.
Oh, Suma. “Deb, there is no loose end, I have it under control. I wanted my little side job to be…discovered, let’s say.” I lied, as smoothly as I could. “You’re not at any risk. The hole will be closed this Friday, and you’ll never hear from him again. They think I have a larger collection. I don’t. But that misconception works for me, so we’ll just let that ride, okay?”
Jim and Deb were no amateurs. I knew that they would be fine. Her next sentence proved it. “Oh, we caught on quickly. We told young Joseph that we didn’t have any other jewelry from you, but we’d be happy to sell him the gold coins you’d liquidated. At a mere four hundred percent markup. He said he’d think about it and left. Very polite, that one.”
I laughed heartily. They were slick. My concern about how those two horse traders could handle a fishing expedition was unwarranted, even if the pole was being cast by a seasoned dandy like Joseph. I said my goodbye and thought ahead to my upcoming time with Delphine. I didn’t have multiple pieces of the Baron’s jewelry, as Joseph had believed. And probably still believed.
This made it the perfect time for me to begin bluffing, and I had an idea how I was going to do it.
65
“I’m telling you we should remain distant; let’s keep this under wraps until we know which direction we’re going to go with Suma, the Baron. Everything.” Risa was adamant. As usual, she was also right, which made arguing senseless. I could tell by the obstinate set of Wally’s lip that she was in agreement, and that meant no contact with the Baron, even for chitchat. It was Friday morning, and the sun was pouring in the house to announce that today was a day for romance. My date with Delphine had arrived.
Joseph called, announcing that a driver would pick me up, and no, he didn’t need our address, thank you, as a professional it was his place to know his Mistress’ clients and…the rest, I tuned out, liking him even less if that were possible. I packed a simple bag. I don’t own a tuxedo, despite Wally’s enthusiasm for the orchestra. I took the only two things that I truly needed: my knife, and the necklace. Both were keys to bringing us closer to Elizabeth, and hopefully, some sort of peace.
Risa was in a foul mood. “That bitch has neatly cut us out of the picture. She’s smart. A boat we can’t get on, where we can’t watch you, help you. We don’t even know how many staff will be onboard or if they’re all immortals. Or even worse, Helpers who want to let blood merely to please their mistress.” She stewed in her anger. Wally was fidgety, a sure sign that she was unhappy about these developments. I grasped both their shoulders gently. “I know she’s getting me alone. That’s fine, we knew that would happen, so let’s not obsess on possibilities. Let’s plan for realities. I go in, drop the hint that there is more loot, maybe she gives me the roy
al treatment or maybe not. Either way I’m on board a vessel owned by someone who knows and competes with Elizabeth. That’s a win in my book.”
I was right, but they didn’t have to like it. A knock at the door broke the tension of the room and Wally opened up to a driver in black livery, wearing an expression of competence and professionalism. I had expected nothing less.
“Mr. Hardigan? I’m Crow Hop, your driver for the afternoon. May I take your bag?” He smiled at me with even white teeth that stood out from his ebony skin. He was late twenties, six feet tall, athletically built, and had an intelligent, friendly face. I was expecting a cadaverous relic in moth eaten tails. Crow Hop, along with his name, was a complete surprise.
“Thank you, Crow Hop. Goodbye for now, roomies. I’ll be back Sunday.” I let the charade speak for itself, handing my bag to Crow Hop and stepping outside. A Rolls Royce Silver Ghost sad idling silently, magnificent and shining with the care properly accorded a classic. Approving, I went through the open door into an interior that made clouds seem like flypaper by comparison. I slid smoothly across the leather as Crow Hop pulled away from my home, pointing the nose of the Ghost towards the water, and Delphine. The necklace rested cool against my chest and my knife was cinched perfectly in the small of my back. I was ready.
“How did you acquire such an unusual name?” I asked across the distance to the front.
“It’s actually a fairly mundane reason. I was a running back in college, and I tended to hop side to side when I was in traffic. My high school team mascot was a crow, so…there you have it. No mystical family history, no heroic deeds. Just me, hopping side to side and trying not to get crushed by guys who looked like elephants with helmets.” He smiled as he delivered the story of his name. It was a good one, and I told him so as we pulled into the parking area adjutant to the Inquisitor’s slip. He opened the door in a smooth motion, and gathered my bag from the trunk while I stood, sizing up the ostentatious yacht. It was a bit much for my tastes, but I would do my best to make do. I’m a trooper when it comes to roughing it.
The gangway was polished aluminum, bright and scuffed from countless feet ringing the grooves with heels and luggage. At the top stood my nemesis, Joseph. It could be no one else, and when he spoke, I knew I was right.
“Mis-ter Hardigan, we are delighted to have you aboard for holiday.” He began, in a vaguely southern accent but European syntax that was as off putting as his cologne. I gritted my teeth and shook his hand. I hate it when Americans drop words in an attempt to be continental. It’s phony, but for all I knew, he was a continental. Perhaps I was just spoiling for a fight with him. I walked aboard without further offense and Crow Hop said goodbye, unobtrusively vanishing in an instant. Good help, there.
“Would you care for a cocktail before your shower?” Joseph asked, poised like a raptor as his eyes furtively searched me for evidence of the necklace. Bad form, Joseph. Far too obvious.
I decided to go all in, right away. “Here, Joseph.” I handed the necklace over after making a show of removing it from my neck. “This one is for the lady as payment for this weekend.”
He didn’t miss a trick. “This one?” His eyes glittered with greed. Or something even more repugnant. “You mean, that there, there may be other opportunities for you to spend time with Miss Delphine?” I loved his vernacular. It implied I was being canonized by fucking his mistress. I can appreciate that type of adroit language, especially on the fly.
“Yep. I just figured we would see how it went, and all, you know, this being my first time in a long time with a lady, if you know what I mean.” He both did and did not know, but he presented a knowing, conspiratorial face to me, just two guys enjoying a joke about potential mind bending sex with an immortal hooker. You know, everyday stuff. I glanced down, gathering myself for a question, the picture of an awed plebe.
“Joseph, what does she look like? I never even thought to ask.” Oh how shy I could be. It made prying information and setting a mood much easier, especially when dealing with my supposed betters. Joseph did not disappoint me.
“Miss Delphine is hard to describe. Her beauty is timely, and timeless. She is actually smaller than one would think, given her considerable presence. She is womanly, flawless, but nothing of her body harkens to the days when steatopygia was all the rage. A phase that has thankfully passed.” Joseph delivered this opinion assuming I would be ignorant or cowed by the topic. As a veteran of multiple art history classes in which I only occasionally slept, I decided to fire back.
“I always envisioned Venusian women with antennae rather than ponderous breasts, but I’m a dreamer.” I indicated that he should precede me to wherever we were going. I didn’t trust him, regardless of his fluttering hands and pomposity.
After a long hallway vanished behind us, we arrived at a set of doors suited for a mansion. They swung inward silently. I admit it; the stench of wealth was everywhere, and the aroma agreed with me.
“This is your personal shower room. You’ll dress elsewhere, just through there” and he glanced at a second door, equally as impressive “to prepare for cocktail hour. Then, we’ll dress you accordingly for dinner when Miss Delphine calls.” He finished with a sniff that implied I would be fortunate to emerge from this room attired to be a ship’s mechanic, let alone a companion of his mistress.
“That will be all, Joseph” a voice carried from behind us. There stood Delphine, in the flesh. She dismissed him with a squint, an expression that invited no discussion, but was clothed with a sweet smile that softened her tone, but only just. He inclined his head in a near bow and silently walked past me, closing the doors with a muffled thump. We were alone, and I felt myself being measured so thoroughly that any disguise on my part was futile. Delphine would know.
She was five feet three, or four, and her hair was waist length blonde of a hue that hinted at short summers and rocky Scandinavian coastlines. A simple robe covered part of her womanly shape, the remainder of her toned body visible beneath the hem. Legs that were athletic but sculpted ended where the fabric began in a taunt that was impossible to ignore. She was bronzed, by what sun I couldn’t guess, because there was not a flaw on her body that I could see. Full pink lips were drawn back in a smile that radiated predation and bubbling laughter, an unsettling blend of contrasts that many men had doubtless found endlessly thrilling. But her eyes, locked on to me with warmth and caring that was too intent to be feigned, the eyes were beyond anything I was prepared for. Blue, but shot with greys and depth that should have been frigid, drawing me to her just as she raised her fine boned arms and offered me an embrace that I knew was the edge of a hole. A pit with a long, silent fall, full of pleasure and forgetting, crowded with the bones of men before me. Before I could muster a stand, I felt the heft of her breasts against my abdomen and her smell crowded my senses in a short but decisive seduction. I willingly lost to her sensuality, if I even fought at all. Her mouth was on mine, briefly, and she exhaled against my skin softly, a whispering caress. My body reacted so swiftly, I actually blushed. I was in deep water, and tiring fast.
“To the shower. I’ll wash you myself, and then we’ll drink and eat and you can have me in every way imaginable. And some you can’t.” Her honeyed voice was muffled in my shirt but I felt every vibration of her mouth against me like a tuning fork wired to my libido.
I went with her. What else could I do?
66
I was disrobed slowly, expertly. Her awareness was keen, every touch or gesture measured. The consummate professional in a business that bridged pleasure and sexual power, she was even more erotic in the rising steam filling the cavernous shower. Stone walls surrounded us, a spatter of oranges and whites, with crystalline counterpoints that danced in the mist.
As I sat on a tiled bench, she knelt before me, removing my shoes and socks. I should have felt in command, but I didn’t. Her subtle smile robbed me of even the hint of control. Down, boy. You’ve got two days.
“What are these walls?
It looks like a meteor was cut into slices and mortared in place.” I was frankly admiring.
She looked up with pleasure at my cognition of her tastes. “It’s a base stone from the opal mines of Coober Pedy, Australia. Dreadfully hot there, I’m told. I had it shipped in and cut on site. I rather enjoy the irregularities; they frame the remaining opal quite nicely.” Gems as tile. The mark of truly limitless money.
Rising, I shrugged out of my button down shirt before she could continue with her exploration of my body. My knife made no sound, safely wrapped in the cotton fabric as it dropped to the floor. Thankfully, Delphine made no move to retrieve it. I hoped Joseph wouldn’t be acting as my valet, or at least until I could attempt to secret the blade somewhere else. I had the foresight to wear slacks that she unzipped and dropped without ever taking her eyes from mine. Her robe slid from her shoulders, revealing round breasts with pink aureoles, attendant to my presence. Those shadowed a flat stomach ending in a secretive mound of soft curls, shy as a maiden’s smile. We stepped into the spray together.
“The necklace is beautiful. Alive. Let me ask, Ring, do you think that I am worth the price?” Her fingers traced the line of my arm as she spoke.
“Yes. I think that you would be worth as much gold as I could carry here on my back, if need be, but I don’t think you care.” Her touch had unleashed the philosopher in me, which was incongruous with my erection. She didn’t seem to mind.
Box Set: The Fearless 1-3 Page 19