Black Girls and Bad Boys: Stealing Loretta

by Neneh J. Gordon

  Once he’d mastered the pain as much as possible, he pulled his poor hostage down the corridor. He didn’t have time to hang around and let someone stumble across what he was doing. The cashier was supposed to be a couple of doors along. He burst in, taking advantage of the element of surprise. The girl at the desk jumped and began to reach behind her. The muscle standing in the corner did something similar.

  Jordan put the gun to the woman’s temple. It made him feel like scum, but there was no other way forward. “Hands where I can see them,” he shouted.

  The girl jumped again and did as she was told. The guy was slower to act, but once he’d looked from Jordan to the woman with the gun at her head, he decided to play along.

  “Fill this.” He threw a bag on the table. The girl took it and looked at her back-up.

  “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

  She turned her eyes to the front.

  “Fill the bag.”

  Slowly at first, she started to load bundles of cash into the bag.

  This had to go smoothly. Running away was a luxury that wasn’t available to him.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Lorraine, isn’t it?” The woman sitting in the black leather chair crossed her legs in a way that struck Loretta as very staged. Loretta nodded. This wasn’t a place for real names.

  “How do you like my house?”

  So this was the infamous Marcie Harmon. She was just as petite as they said. Loretta could easily believe she was the owner. Her short red dress looked as though it had cost some serious money and she didn’t have a long dark hair out of place. And of course, there was the requisite bulky bodyguard standing behind her left shoulder. “It’s beautiful.” Where was she going with this?

  “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “This is my first time.” And last.

  “I’m afraid there’s been an accusation of cheating.”

  Loretta’s heart raced. “I wasn’t cheating.”

  “I’m afraid the dealer has corroborated your accuser’s account of events.”

  “What accuser? What am I supposed to have done?” How could anyone corroborate anything when she hadn’t even been cheating?

  “I’m sure you appreciate this is a very serious matter.”

  “But I haven’t done anything!” She tried to stay calm, to avoid inflaming the situation, but it was proving tricky to pull off. The winnings she’d accumulated seemed so far out of reach. It was completely unfair.

  Loretta stopped herself from following that train of thought too far – she should be more concerned about her safety. If this woman suspected her of cheating in her poker game she hadn’t called her in there for a cosy chat.

  “What do you think I should do with you?”

  “I wasn’t cheating. You can’t have any proof, because it didn’t happen.”

  Marcie glanced at her hired help. She gave no special signal that Loretta was able to recognise, but the look raised him from his spot in the corner. He moved silently and took up position beside Loretta. Close enough to bring up a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

  “In my line of business, I have to be very careful when it comes to cheating.” She pulled open a desk drawer and brought out a short, fat knife with a wicked serrated edge.

  The goon grabbed Loretta’s wrist and slammed her hand down on the table. She held a tight fist, but he unfurled each finger one at a time and leaned down on the back of her hand. He used so much force she was too worried he’d break something to try pulling away.

  “This was my father’s.” Marcie dragged the blade across the pad of her thumb and had to suck the wound when she drew blood. “He used to take me hunting. He gave this to me when I killed my first deer.”

  The display could have come straight out of a gangster film, but it had the desired effect – Loretta was struggling to keep control of her bladder.

  “Did you know that most gambling houses won’t let you in if you have a finger missing?”

  Loretta stared at her, fighting for breath. “Please. I didn’t do anything.” She could already imagine the cold metal biting into her flesh. “Please.”

  “It’s quite common for cheaters to lose a finger when they get caught, so most houses don’t like to take the risk on someone without a full ten digits.” She got to her feet and dangled the knife by its handle. “Not very fair on those who lost their fingers for some other reason.” Placing the tip of the blade on the table, she trailed it across the desk towards Loretta’s hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t toy with you.” She lifted the knife and shifted its grip in her palm. “I keep it very sharp so it should be a good clean cut.”

  Loretta closed her eyes, screwing them tight shut. She couldn’t look.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  Loretta opened her eyes.

  Irritation crossed Marcie’s face for the briefest of moments, then she composed herself. “Yes?”

  The door swung in and Jordan walked through it wearing a dinner suit complete with black bow tie. Loretta’s eyes went to the natty black walking stick he leaned on. He was limping. Why was he limping?

  “Excuse me ladies, but I think you’ve both been the victims of a thief.”

  The bodyguard let go of Loretta, positioned himself within striking distance of Jordan and made sure that everybody could see his hand was now resting just inside his jacket.

  Jordan took another step into the room and closed the door. He held up his hands to signal he was unarmed. It wasn’t all that easy to walk naturally with thousands of pounds taped to his body, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job. And the limp hid a multitude of sins.

  By the look of the blade Marcie was holding, he’d got there just in time. He took advantage of the shocked silence and carried on. “You’ve had reports that this lady’s been cheating, right?”

  “Who the hell are you?” Marcie pointed at him with the knife, her face rapidly approaching the colour of her dress. She was a good four inches shorter than anyone in the room, but the anger that came off her in waves made her more intimidating than her hired muscle.

  “My name is Jordan Bernardino. I work for Vito Ursino.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be happy to hear you disturbed me in my private office.” She threw the knife down on the table.

  “I apologise for that. My intention wasn’t to show you any disrespect. But I got the impression you were about to do something hasty.”

  Loretta stared at him. He could feel the heat in her gaze, but he didn’t want to start Marcie thinking by looking back at her. His leg was on fire again. It took all his concentration to keep talking without gritting his teeth.

  “Hasty?” She was a little less red in the face, but she didn’t sound any happier.

  “This young woman hasn’t been cheating.”

  “Why should I take your word for that?”

  He flashed a confident look at Loretta. Could he really get away with this?

  “Because one of your employees is about to knock on your door to tell you there’s been a robbery. This story about the cheating was just a diversion.”

  The bodyguard put his hand to his ear, listening to the voice in his earpiece. “The cashier’s just been robbed.”

  He didn’t risk a glance at Loretta, he just hoped she was putting her poker face to good use. Right about then, he would have traded every penny he’d just stolen for the use of a chair. The stick was a help, but he was leaning on it so hard it made his arm ache.

  “Stay here.” Marcie made for the door.

  Her caveman hung around to make sure they did as they were told.

  Loretta gave Jordan a lingering look full of questions. As long as nobody thought to search him, he’d have plenty of time to answer them all later. “Having a good night at the tables?” He couldn’t quite hold down the grin that wanted to take over his face. It must have been one part hysteria to two parts relief with a dash of chemically-induced insanity.

  She stared at him some more. “Pre
tty good.”

  The bodyguard still had a grip on his gun.

  Jordan was about to try talking his way out of there when the door opened and Marcie Harmon walked back in.

  “Can we go now?” It was a long shot, but nobody ever got anywhere without trying.

  She walked around the desk and settled herself back in her chair. “How is it that you know so much about tonight’s robbery, Mr...?”

  There was no way she’d got to where she was without being able to remember someone’s name first time, but he humoured her. “Bernardino. I heard a few things.”

  “Did you now? How do I know you didn’t steal the money?” As she stared him down, she looked more amused than anything. She was probably hoping it was him. It would liven up her evening.

  He limped forward and brandished his cane. “I’m not at my cashier-robbing prime at the moment. And if I was the thief, why would I come walking into your office and draw attention to myself?” He wobbled and quickly put the stick back to the floor.

  Marcie looked at Loretta. He didn’t do the same.

  “Perhaps you wanted to get your accomplice off the hook. The limp could be an act.” She let the suggestion hang in the air for a while. “Search him.”

  Jordan bit back the impulse to protest – it wouldn’t help.

  “Wait,” Loretta piped up.

  The muscle kept on going, but Marcie held up her hand and he stopped.

  “Who accused me of cheating?”

  “I can’t disclose that information.”

  “Fine, but think about it – isn’t that more suspicious than anything I’ve done?”

  Marcie cast her eye over them both, weighing things over in her mind.

  They were almost there. When he’d first walked in, the threat of violence had been thick in the air. Now there was little more than a low hum of menace. Marcie was getting tired of the interruption to her evening. If what he’d heard about her was true, she’d be itching to crack open a bottle and put the night to bed.

  As if on cue, the throbbing pain of his wound went up another fifty notches. He was sure he could feel blood trickling down his leg. When reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, the bodyguard drew his gun.

  “Easy, easy.” He dabbed at his trousers and the handkerchief came away red. He didn’t dare look over to see Loretta’s reaction.

  Marcie pulled a face at the bloody display. “That looks nasty. Do you want someone to take a look at it?”

  Not likely. He had a good few thousand taped up under those trousers. “No. I’ll be fine.” He held the handkerchief against his leg.

  The combination of juggling the handkerchief with his cane and trying to stay upright led to their inevitable conclusion and Jordan tumbled over in a heap.

  Loretta took a step towards him, then stopped herself.

  Jordan tried to get up, but the pain got the better of him. As he was pulling himself into a sitting position, Marcie came around the desk with her knife.

  She got down on her knees beside him, all amusement gone from her face. “You’d better not have got blood on my carpet.” She brought the knife closer to his leg and he braced himself for a blow.

  Marcie grabbed hold of the bottom of his trouser leg and cut the fabric away from his skin.

  He held still and she tore his trousers all the way up to his thigh.

  Thank god he hadn’t strapped any money to his bad leg.

  “That dressing’s soaked through.” She nodded to her man and he fetched a first aid kit from a cupboard. “So you weren’t faking, then,” she said as she pulled away the sodden pad and started to clean him up. It was obviously a gunshot wound, but she didn’t comment on it. “I’m surprised you could walk on that.” She looked him right in the eye and he met her gaze. There was an iron toughness to her that was at least as intimidating as Ursino.

  “Me too.”

  She wiped away the blood and put a clean dressing on. “You’ll need more stitches.”

  “I know.” He tried to stand and she helped him up.

  Marcie turned to Loretta. “I don’t know what you did to get him in here with an injury like that.”

  Loretta looked at the floor.

  “Mr Bernardino, you’d better get out of here while you can still limp.”

  Jordan turned to leave. Loretta did too.

  “Lorraine, wait a moment.”

  He made his way out of the door with his heart trying to climb out his body through his mouth. He couldn’t stay. They weren’t supposed to know each other – though he suspected Marcie had seen through that. He’d have to trust Loretta to handle herself.

  CHAPTER 20

  Loretta watched Jordan leave. She could still see the flash of scarlet on his handkerchief. It might have been stage blood. But somehow she didn’t think it was.

  She brought her attention back to the here and now. With him gone, she was very exposed.

  “You know him, don’t you?”

  She wasn’t a good enough liar to play games. “Yes.”

  “I believe you when you say you weren’t cheating, but there’s more to this than either of you are telling me.” Marcie went to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and came back with two glasses of cognac. “Sit down.” She pushed a glass across the table to Loretta and took a drink of her own. “Tell me your story.”

  So she did. Well, carefully edited highlights. She left out the part where she suspected Jordan had been the one to steal from the cashier. As far as Marcie was concerned, he was a just a worried boyfriend trying to protect her after she went looking for the wrong poker game.

  “He must be shit-hot in the sack if you came here to win money for him.”

  She looked up at the bodyguard. He was doing an impression of a deaf brick wall. “Actually, he is.”

  Marcie threw her head back and let out the dirtiest laugh Loretta had ever heard. It was hard to stay scared when she was cackling like that.

  “Then take your winnings and catch up with him. Get yourself another slice of heaven.”

  Loretta took that as her cue to leave. Was she really letting her walk out with all that money?

  “And Lorraine, don’t come back. You’re not cut out for this.”

  “I won’t.” The high of winning those games had quickly turned sour. Her nerves couldn’t survive another night like this. She walked out of Marcie’s office and went to collect her chips.

  ***

  Jordan sat on the bonnet of Loretta’s Mini and waited for her to come out. The fire in his thigh had died down to more of a slow smoulder, but he was still glad to have the car to lean on.

  All sorts of stupid ideas ran through his head as the minutes stretched out. Like running inside with his gun drawn to find her. Or offering to return the money if they’d let her go.

  It was ridiculous. Suicidal. But he was getting closer to hobbling back up those steps by the second.

  Luckily for him, she appeared at the front door before he got that far.

  A rush of good feeling warmed him from head to toe. And that’s when it hit him. It wasn’t just lust and a good time. She was more than an easy way to get hold of some money and have a little fun.

  She walked down the stairs, graceful and elegant even when she didn’t know he was watching her. She was totally different to any of the other women he’d been with. It wasn’t the colour thing – he’d dated a few black women – it was her whole mind-set.

  She wasn’t looking to him to make her life better. It was such a relief not to have to deal with that.

  In fact, he’d got pretty damn close to ruining the life she’d made for herself and she’d still stuck around. If that had been the case with any of his exes they’d have screamed and shouted and persuaded some other man – a father, a brother, a lover – to teach him a lesson. But not Loretta.

  She dealt with him herself. No woman had ever put him in his place like that. Or put herself at risk for him the way she had.

  She caught sight of him and
rushed over. “Oh my god. What the hell happened to your leg?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It didn’t look fine in there. What happened?”

  Gina wasn’t a topic of conversation he wanted to explore right about then. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  “I promise. Are you okay? What did she say to you back there?”

  She gave him a tired smile. “Girl talk.”

  He shook his head. Fine. It would be hypocritical to complain about her holding back.

  “How did you even know I was in trouble?”

  He hesitated. She wouldn’t like the truth. Hell, what would he gain by lying. “I got someone to accuse you of cheating.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You what? Why? Why would you do that?”

  “To get you out of the way. I knew where they’d take you and it made you look like a patsy for the robber.”

  “Or an accomplice. She was going to cut off my finger.” She looked away, clearly horrified.

  “It would never have got that far.”

  “If you’d been a couple of minutes later, she’d have bloody done it.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you.”

  He straightened up stiffly, leaning on the cane.

  Loretta looked him up and down, unsure whether to be angry or sympathetic.

  “I wouldn’t have let her hurt you.”

  Her hazel eyes looked black in the dark. They were serious. He’d put his foot in it again.

  “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

  She tried to smile, but her bottom lip just trembled.

  “Let me take you home.”

  “Okay.” If he hadn’t been in such pain, the prospect of being dropped off at home alone would have been more depressing. He couldn’t blame her. But he’d have enjoyed waking up beside her.

  She sighed, but she seemed more tired than upset. “So. You robbed the poker game,” she said as they climbed into the car.

  “I never said that.”

  Her body language loosened up as she fastened her seatbelt. “Where’s the money?”

  “In the back.”

  She turned to look at the bag on the back seat. “But the car was locked.”