After Hours

by Rochelle Alers

  He reached for his drink, taking a deep swallow. “Were you put up for adoption?”

  The seconds ticked off before Dina spoke again. “It should be that simple.” There was an edge of hardness in her sultry voice, the timbre deepening with her dark mood. “I meant it when I said I never knew my father. My mother was an alcoholic, a drug addict and a prostitute. When I asked her about the man who’d fathered me, she said she couldn’t remember whether he was white, Latino or Asian. Her claim was ‘after a while they all look alike.’ I can count on one hand the number of times I remember her sober. I don’t think she was ever clean. If she couldn’t get her drugs, then she drank until she passed out. She was away more than she was home, and if it hadn’t been for my grandmother, I don’t know where I’d be today. One day she went out and never came back.”

  Lance found himself drowning in compassion for Dina, but there wasn’t anything he could do to help her. Her mistrust of men had begun at conception, and he wondered if she’d spent her childhood staring into the faces of strange men with the hope that she would find the one man she resembled.

  “Did anyone report her as a missing person?”

  Dina lowered her head and her gaze. “Yes, but she was never found. Or she didn’t want to be found. My grandmother put her name on the prayer list of every church she visited. After a while she knew Bernice wasn’t coming back and finally released her.”

  Lance gave Adina a penetrating look. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Her head came up. “No.” She emitted an unladylike snort. “I guess you’d say that was a blessing.”

  Picking up a fork from his place setting, he speared a sea scallop in a blood-orange marinade. He shook his head. “I can’t agree with you on that.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  Lance’s hand tightened on his fork. “Yes. I was six when my older sister was killed in a hit-and-run. Her death devastated my parents and eventually destroyed their marriage. My dad worshipped his little princess, and the day they buried her a part of him also died. I missed her then and I still miss her.”

  Dina curbed the urge to reach across the table and hold his hand. “Where are your parents?”

  There was another swollen silence. “My father passed away three years ago and my mother now lives in a Charleston, South Carolina, retirement community.”

  She shifted on her chair, leaning over the table. “May I ask you a favor?”

  Lance sat up straighter, his expression brightening. “Sure. What is it?”

  “Can we talk about something else? I’ve never been comfortable talking about death and dying.”

  He successfully concealed his disappointment behind a too-bright smile. He’d hoped that Dina would ask to see him again. “Of course, ba…” He’d stopped himself before he called her baby. “Yes, let’s talk about something else.”

  Propping an elbow on the table, Dina rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m software engineer.”

  “You’re into computers?” He nodded. “The only thing I know about a computer is how to turn it on and go online.”

  “There’s a lot more to computers than the Internet.”

  “So say you,” she teased.

  “Tinkering with computers helps pay the rent,” Lance countered.

  “Not only the rent but also buys classic cars.”

  “Oh, so you noticed I like old cars?”

  “Of course I noticed.” Dina wanted to tell Lance that she’d also noticed his Italian-made shoes and gold timepiece. It was apparent he didn’t live from paycheck to paycheck. “Did you go to the raceway today to buy another car?”

  “I was thinking about it. However, I only buy something if I truly like it.”

  “Do you need another car?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why buy another one?”

  “I collect classic cars.”

  Her waxed eyebrows lifted with this disclosure. “How many do you have?”

  “Three.” There was a hint of pride in his voice.

  “You have three and now you’re looking for a fourth. Are you aware that you can only drive one car at a time?”

  Throwing back his head, Lance laughed, the rich sound causing couples at other tables to turn in their direction. “Of course I’m aware of that. But that’s not going to stop me from buying another one if I like it.”

  “Men and their toys,” she whispered.

  He winked at her. “That’s because men are just big boys. I don’t have a wife or children, so I compensate with big boy toys.” He sobered, staring at the large eyes that changed color with Dina’s mood. “Would you like to drive back to Irvington?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have a license.”

  “Do you know how to drive?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d learned to drive but never taken the time to get a license. She hadn’t needed a car when there were buses, the subway and car services readily available. And she hadn’t wanted the responsibility of getting up early in the mornings to move a car from one side of the street to the other for alternate-side street parking.

  Dina peered at Lance’s watch. It was close to three-thirty and the restaurant’s waitstaff had begun clearing away the buffet. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave now.” She’d left her cell phone back at the motel and she wanted to check her voice mail for Karla’s call.

  Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, Lance took out a large bill and left it on the table. Dina made no move to stand up until he rounded the table and pulled back her chair. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled up at him, and she wasn’t disappointed when he returned it with a thin-lipped smile that she found adorable.

  They were still smiling when they left the restaurant.

  CHAPTER 16

  Lance’s gaze shifted from the two-story building with peeling paint on the second-story balconies to the woman next to him. The place she called home wasn’t much more than a flophouse.

  Dina realized she’d made a faux pas when she’d directed Lance to turn down the block leading to the motel. She wasn’t in Brooklyn, where she could get out and walk past apartment buildings, brownstones and town houses to reach her public housing development. The motel was in an industrial area five hundred feet from a Home Depot, a Staples and a Sam’s Club. The nearest residential area was half a mile away.

  “What are you doing living—”

  She put up her hand in front of his face, cutting him off. “Please don’t ask.”

  He glared at her until she lowered her hand. “Okay, Dina, I’ll stay out of your business.” He’d only conceded because he knew when to advance and when to retreat when it came to women. “May I at least walk you to your door?” The motel wasn’t in the best neighborhood and probably wouldn’t garner a half-star rating even with a new paint job.

  Her smile was slow in coming. “Yes, you may.”

  Lance walked into the motel with Dina, following her down a hallway to her room, and waited until she unlocked the door. At least the lobby and halls were clean and well lighted. She handed him his cell phone.

  “Thank you for everything and a memorable afternoon.”

  He stared at the back of Dina’s head, wondering why she wouldn’t look at him. He actually didn’t know much more about her than her name, age and that she lived in Irvington, not in a house or apartment but in a seedy motel. He wanted to know her marital status, whether she had children or where she worked.

  More questions bombarded him like missiles: who was the man at the track who’d walked away with his approach? What was his connection to Dina and what had he said to her to make her cry? Lance knew his questions would remain questions if this was to be the last time he saw Dina.

  “It was my pleasure,” he said to her back. Turning on his heel, he retraced his steps, walking away from a woman who’d stirred up protectiv
e instincts he hadn’t known he had.

  Dina stood motionless, watching Lance until he disappeared from her line of vision, then walked into the room and closed the door. The threat against her life had changed her. Two weeks ago she would’ve seen Lance Haynes as the perfect mark. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was married or single because she would’ve pimped him for everything he had and walked away without a modicum of guilt. Her rationale would’ve been if he’d been dumb enough to let the head between his legs do the thinking for him, then he deserved whatever he got.

  What she couldn’t understand was that she liked Lance. But, then again, she was Dina Gordon, not Adina Jenkins—who would’ve messed him over royally. Lance Haynes didn’t know how lucky he was that he’d escaped Adina Jenkins’s clutches unscathed.

  She slipped out of her shoes, sat down and reached for the cell phone in the drawer of the bedside table.

  She checked her voice mail.

  Her heart sank.

  No one had called.

  CHAPTER 17

  Karla lay on a chaise on the shaded patio of the Oldwick, New Jersey home she shared with her husband, Ronald, sipping from a glass of iced green tea. Ronald had gotten up early to play doubles tennis with three of his fraternity brothers. He’d invited her to come along and hang out with the other wives, but she’d declined.

  She probably would see the same women the following day at a cookout hosted by mutual friends. Interacting with some of the women for two consecutive days was not what she thought of as entertainment. There were a few women who didn’t like her, and the feeling was mutual.

  It felt good to sleep in late, lose track of time after she’d lounged in the Jacuzzi before eating a cholesterol-laden, calorie-filled breakfast—something she rarely did. It was Sunday, a day of rest, and Karla intended to do just that—rest.

  Her gaze narrowing, she stared at a bird circling lazily overhead. She sat up and watched as it appeared to stop in midair, then fell out of the sky in a burst of speed, disappearing from sight. She waited, counting off the minutes, a smile parting her lips. The bird reappeared with what looked like a small rabbit in its talons. She wasn’t a serious bird-watcher, but she recognized the bird as a hawk.

  She loved the four-bedroom, four-bath house as much for its spaciousness as for the surrounding countryside. The million-dollar, forty-six-hundred-square-foot Colonial with an inground pool set on three acres of landscaped property with a nearby stream was surrounded by a wooded area that sloped down into a picturesque valley. She and Ronald lived far enough from their closest neighbor to walk around naked without anyone seeing them. Walking around without their clothes on was something they did often.

  Reaching for her sunglasses off the table next to the chaise, Karla settled back on the cushions and closed her eyes. The cool breeze feathering over her body countered the strong rays of the sun. Ronald hadn’t decided what he wanted to do later that evening, but if it were up to her, she would spend it at home.

  She felt as if she’d just dozed off when she heard the chiming of the doorbell. Sitting up, she glanced at her watch. It was five-thirty. She’d been asleep for hours. Swinging her legs over the side of the chaise, she went inside.

  She pushed a button on a closed-circuit screen built into a wall in the kitchen to see the face of a man dressed in a FedEx uniform. A slight frown furrowed her forehead. She wasn’t expecting a delivery, so it had to be something for Ronald. Pressing another button, she activated a speaker device on the intercom. “May I help you?”

  “FedEx, Mrs. King. I have a delivery for you from R. Weichert.”

  A wide grin split her face. “Please hold on and I’ll be right with you.”

  He’d come through for her. Her former law professor, Judge Weichert, had expedited Adina Jenkins’s name change. Opening a drawer under the countertop, she picked up a five-dollar bill from her household petty cash and made her way to the front door.

  She signed for the envelope, gave the messenger a tip, closing the door before he could thank her. Sitting on a needlepoint-covered chair in the expansive entryway, Karla ripped open the envelope and examined the contents. She smiled. Rhys had given her three official copies of the birth certificate. It was apparent he was looking for something special from her, and she would give it to him.

  Going into the space she’d set up as a home office, she picked up her cell phone and dialed the number to Adina—no, she thought, Dina Gordon’s cell. The call was answered on the second ring.

  “Hello.”

  Karla smiled when hearing the tentative greeting. “Dina Gordon, this is Karla King.” She heard a soft gasp through the earpiece. “I need you to meet me in my office Tuesday morning. I have several documents to give you.”

  “What time Tuesday morning, Mrs. King?”

  “Is ten too early?”

  “No. Ten is fine. I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. King.”

  Leaning a hip against one of two rosewood-topped facing desks, Karla stared at the modular wall suite in a soft vanilla-bean color with shelves of books and photographs displayed behind glass doors.

  “Now, you know, you’ve already thanked me, Ms. Gordon. I hadn’t called you because I wanted to wait to see if my friend would come through for you. If he hadn’t, then I would’ve returned your property to you.”

  “Was it enough, Mrs. King?”

  “Yes. It was enough. Enjoy your weekend and I’ll see you Tuesday at ten.”

  “Thank you again.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” A warm glow eddied through Karla when she ended the call. Ten thousand dollars was spare change to a woman living with the fear that each day might be her last.

  Pressing a number on speed dial, she waited for Rhys to answer his cell. She wasn’t disappointed when she heard his resonant greeting. His voice was like the man—powerful. “I got it a few minutes ago. Thank you, Rhys.”

  “When am I going to see you, Karla?”

  “You’re going to have to let me know when you’re available.”

  “Let me check with my secretary on Tuesday to see what’s on my calendar, then I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Who are you waiting for?”

  Karla spun around to find her husband standing in the doorway, his white shirt and shorts a startling sensual contrast against his tanned honey-brown skin. He smiled at her, and like Pavlov’s dog she felt the flutters followed by a gush of moisture between her legs. She pressed her knees together to still the sensations.

  Ronald Thaddeus King had had that affect on her more than six years ago when she met his gaze across the room at a party, and it was still evident. They’d dated for five months, then married in a small private ceremony with Judge Rhys Weichert officiating.

  The first time she slept with Ronald she knew she’d finally met her sexual soul mate. Not only did his sex drive match hers, but he wasn’t timid when trying new positions or other methods of sex play that ended in indescribable pleasure.

  Karla had openly admitted to her husband that she’d married him because of the sex; however, it wasn’t the only reason she’d remained Mrs. Ronald King. Before they’d celebrated their first wedding anniversary she’d found herself inexorably in love with the man.

  CHAPTER 18

  A mysterious smile tipped the corners of Karla’s mouth. “Rhys.”

  Smiling, dimples flashing in his chiseled cheeks, Ronald King walked into the room, his gaze fusing with his wife’s. Dark brown deep-set eyes caressed her face, moving sensuously down to her chest before reversing direction. The shape of her full breasts was ardently on display under a wife beater.

  “Oh, yes, the Honorable Judge Rhys Weichert,” he whispered seconds before his mouth closed over hers. Capturing her lower lip between his teeth, Ronald suckled it. “Are you planning to see him?”

  Karla put her arms around her husband’s waist, pressing her breasts to his wide, deep chest. She didn’t want to talk about Rhys. “Mmm!”
>
  Ronald shifted his attention to her neck; he cupped her waist, wondering whether she had on panties under the blue-and-white-striped cotton drawstring pants. He ground his hips to hers when he felt the stirrings of an erection. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  Karla threw back her head, baring her neck for his kiss. “It’s an eventually.” Her breathing deepened with the hardening flesh against her thigh. “I’ll let you know when.”

  “You better,” he threatened softly. Every woman he’d slept with since marrying Karla knew, and vice versa. Ronald stared at his wife. She looked nothing like the lawyer who favored tailored suits and a chic hairstyle. She’d pulled her hair off her face in a ponytail. Wayward strands had escaped the elastic band to fall around her neck and over her forehead. The epitome of high maintenance, Karla King had a standing weekly appointment for her hair, her hands, her feet and a massage, claiming the massages were the cure for her tension headaches.

  He’d always thought her more attractive than beautiful, yet that hadn’t stopped him from pursuing the woman with whom he planned to spend the rest of his life. Five-nine and weighing one forty-five, she claimed the most incredibly toned body he’d seen on a woman. And in thirty-eight years he’d seen and had his share of naked women. However, it was Karla who complemented him in and out of bed. Both had an insatiable lust for power, luxury and unlimited sexual pleasure. But it was her intelligence, ambition and her willingness to take risks that made her the perfect wife.

  Karla lowered her head and buried her face against the strong column of Ronald’s neck. He smelled of sweat, cologne and man! He worked out every day in their home gym, running miles on the treadmill, lifting weights and bench-pressing twice his body’s weight of two hundred pounds that was evenly distributed over his six-foot, two-inch physique. His crooked dimpled smile, delicate refined features and black silky close-cropped hair, eyebrows, trimmed goatee and mustache had most women—if they were normal—giving him a second look. One of the female attorneys at her firm had remarked that Ronald King had the face and body of a god, to which Karla had politely thanked her, then crossed the room to loop her arm through her husband’s in a proprietary gesture that definitely wasn’t lost on the others at the social gathering.