by Shel Stone
Except it hadn’t. Not yet. It was impossible to stop everyone talking. Not his own people, but others. The police had been in his apartment to deal with a multiple shooting incident, where people trying to rob him had been carried away in body bags. The attention ruffled a few feathers. It may even be that some were aware that this girl had run away with his product. It couldn’t be guaranteed it wasn’t known. Hence, she had to be dealt with.
His mind drifted off to her. It seemed to do that a lot these days and he suspected it might be a consequence of the injuries. His mind wandered and he couldn’t focus like he normally did. It wasn’t the end of the world, because he had good people—the best he could find and he hung onto them. Intimidation wasn’t necessary to manage his people. They were professionals and they were all there to run a strong and profitable business.
“You alright?” Carlos asked as the meeting was breaking up.
“Just tired,” Palmer said.
“You’ve got to take it easy. With wounds like yours, it takes time to recover.”
Except everyone who depended on him to keep the peaceful existence between all the stakeholders wanted him to be Superman. Fragility wasn’t allowed. He was about to have lunch with the head of the local tourist board to discuss some upcoming policy changes that were likely to impact them. The local administration called it stakeholder consultation, speaking to many of the prominent businesses in the area, including a medium-sized flooring materials company.
“You need to rest,” Carlos said.
“I’ll rest after lunch.” This meeting with the tourist board, although it would achieve nothing, was necessary to sooth those ruffled features around the place. Out being seen, it calmed things, because at the end of the day, it could be a jittery business, particularly when dealing with people who weren’t pros—and that did not include politicians, who would make fantastic drug dealers if they weren’t so ambitious. Nerves of steel, those dudes. Required to make it in that calling.
The girl was probably not at work yet—wherever she was. With his fingers, he repeatedly turned his phone over, feeling the cold, smooth surfaces of it. Would she answer if he called?
It was not time to muse on it now. He had to go to lunch. With a groan, he rose from his chair at the head of the boardroom table and walked through the office to the waiting car. The people who worked there had no idea what other business was conducted in the boardroom. As far as they were concerned, the management team of another office came in once a week and had their operational meeting.
Normal people would grossly overestimate how eventful this business was most of the time. It was never guys in flashy suits running around shooting off AK-47s through clouds of cocaine. That was the TV version of it, and it had nothing to do with reality. But equally, this wasn’t a business where you willfully fucked up, or caused problems.
Sitting down in the cool air of the car, he let himself be driven to his next appointment, shifting to try to alleviate the discomfort in his chest. His phone still in his hand, he opened one of his social media apps. A dummy account attached to it, but at the very top of the search recommendations was her face, smiling with rainbow hair.
There was no denying she was beautiful. Unwillingly, he clicked on her profile and all the recorded moments she treasured displayed. So young and carefree. Not anymore. Circumstances had completely uprooted her life. As expected, there was nothing new. She’d gone to ground.
What would he have thought if he’d met her in one of these clubs she was pictured in? First, he wouldn’t have, but if he had? Obviously, she’d have drawn his attention, how could she not? At the party, before everything had gone down, he’d noticed her. Something about her had resonated. It wasn’t her confidence, because although hiding it, being there had made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the utter refusal to compromise. He’d seen it and he’d admired it. Not the kind of person he could have around, because you needed to toe the line in the organization.
He’d wanted her at the party.
Shifting again, he wondered what would have happened if her companions hadn’t decided to be terminally stupid. They’d have spent the night together. Would she have left in the morning, or would she have wanted to be driven home? Would she have wanted cab money? There was no evidence that she’d wanted money otherwise. While working in the seedier industries, she wasn’t immersed in it, the people at her club had confirmed it. It was a means to pay the rent for her, and nothing more. She didn’t get greedy. She’d also been smart and left the stolen loot behind when she’d split town. Had intended to use it as collateral, and had spent it all securing her mother’s safety. This girl wasn’t driven by greed. It was a rare commodity in this town. But more importantly, what was she driven by? Freedom. The answer came to him even before he’d needed to think about it.
Putting the phone to side, he refused to think about her anymore. She was simply a problem that needed to be dealt with. It did him no good to dwell on what she was or wasn’t. The fact was that she’d been a part of a robbery and that could not be forgotten. Things would start breaking if people around this town started perceiving him as weak. There really was no choice in this.
Obviously, he was still fully pissed off, and he had every right to be.
The car was pulling up outside the restaurant. One of the nicely restored art deco buildings along South Beach, filled with the tourists that were the foundation of his business.
“Merv,” he said to the older man in a suit, waiting at one of the tables in the back.
“Palmer, good to see you. Business is good, I hope.”
“Never better.”
“I heard there was some trouble the other day,” the man said tentatively.
“Common criminals,” Palmer said dismissively.
“Chose the wrong person to rob, eh?”
Palmer didn’t respond. It didn’t serve him to get into the details. What he needed was to treat it like something unimportant that deserved to be forgotten.
Chapter 14
IT HAD BEEN A BUSY night at work. A couple of stag parties had come through, and their energy seemed to affect everyone else. It wasn’t bad, just made people busy. Your standard normal guys with their one opportunity to really cut loose, and they did, even clumsily trying their hand at being sleazy, but could never pull it off well. Made things awkward.
Shoving her things into her bag, Nook walked out the back door into the dark parking lot. Quickly, she scanned the area before stepping away from the door. The bouncers were pretty good at keeping lurkers away, and they would come running if she screamed. Strippers were known for carrying cash, after all.
Emerging on the street, she walked to the bus stop, freezing as she heard her phone ring in her bag. She knew she should have gotten rid of the SIM card. Had been going back and forth on the issue all day. Now he was calling, because she still hadn’t given this number to anyone else.
On some level, it felt important to know where Palmer’s mind was at. That way she could gauge the level of immediate threat. Would he be kind enough to call ahead and inform her he’d found her? One could only hope.
“Palmer,” she said darkly as she flipped the clamshell phone open and put it to her ear.
“Just getting off work?”
Oh, it was creepy when he did that. “No,” she lied.
“What time it is there? One, two in the morning?”
“No idea, but more importantly, you should probably be asleep.” It was really late back in Miami. “Still not sleeping, huh?”
“When your body’s had major trauma, it sets its own clock.”
Unable to help it, she felt bad just because she’d been there. It was her friends that had hurt him—and he’d killed them in return. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t feel so bad. For whatever reason Palmer had invited Jaz and Samie to the party, it hadn’t been to enjoy a good evening. Truthfully, she didn’t want to know.
“What do you want, Palmer?”
“You know what
I want. I want to know where you are.”
“Well, I am not going to tell you for obvious reasons.”
“Somehow you give the impression that you don’t like me.”
“Ditto, buddy.”
There was silence down the phone. Was he calling her because he was bored? Or was this just to wind her up, to get inside her mind—keep her terrorized and worried. Maybe a mixture of both. His new favorite toy he pulled out whenever he felt like it. Feeding his anger.
If only there was some way of negotiating with him, but there wasn’t. She had nothing to offer, and the only thing he wanted from her was her location—and that would be disastrous.
“A lot of traffic around,” he said after a while. Nook silently swore. He was listening for clues.
“You’re not going to find me, Palmer.”
“Really? I know you’ve gone east.”
“What makes you say that?”
“If you were local, you wouldn’t be getting off work this time of night.”
“I could be.”
“Perhaps, but it’s more unlikely.”
A panic inside her head told her to hang up, but this was also telling her important stuff if he was revealing how much he knew.
“All this work, Palmer, when I’m only going to be somewhere else come next week.”
She heard him exhale as if he was shifting and making himself more comfortable. It sent a thrill through her, reminding her that he was human. She’d found him so intriguing at that party, having made up her mind she wasn’t going to let the possibility of getting to know him intimately pass.
How different things could have been if she’d just fucked him and then slipped away to never see him again. The most intimate act and they would be strangers. Now they were inexorably linked and she’d never even touched him.
“That would mean risking bus stations. See I know that’s your favorite mode of transport.”
“What else do you know about me?”
“I know where you came from. I’ve seen where you grew up. If not there, then somewhere just like it. I know you like to party, but you never let guys too close. I know you want freedom more than money. Won’t allow yourself to be tied down.” Everything he was saying was true. “I suspect this isn’t the first time you’ve skipped town. You probably do it whenever things get too hard.” That was true too. “And I know you don’t hang up the phone when I call to chat, which suggests that you’re feeling alone, and that talking to me excites you.”
“Or else I just need to establish where you’re at. Goes both ways.” But it was true, talking to him gave her a rush. Adrenalin coursed through her system, making every part of her feel alive. Or else it was called spine-tingling fear.
Her bus came and she waved it down. It wasn’t exactly a spectacular and trustworthy crowd on the bus this time of night, but again, nowhere near as dangerous as what was on the other end of this line. Palmer wanted to kill her—although in coldness rather than crazy passion. Everything he said was so calculating. Cold and calculating, that was him, but then he’d wanted her that night they’d met. Whenever she thought she had a grasp on him, it slipped out of her hand. The pieces never seemed to fit.
“You’re on the bus,” he said. “You live about ten minutes away from your work.”
She really should hang up, but he had nothing that would actually find her. “Yes,” she admitted, because he was right, it gave her a thrill teasing him. Like baiting a bear. So far she was safe with him stuck in a cage—and she needed to keep it that way.
“What are you wearing?”
“Oh, we’re having those conversations now?”
“I’m game.”
While creepy coming out of anyone’s mouth, with him, it was calculating. He wanted to know what kind of climate she lived in. Offering info would suggest a lie. As would potentially the truth. Truth or lie, he would probably pick it. “You know me. Mostly I wear a bad attitude.”
“Do the patrons like it at the strip club you work at?”
Discomfort rose up her spine again. His way of seeing through her was disconcerting. So he knew what type of work she did. Perhaps not surprising as he knew where she had worked in Miami. There were probably a thousand joints like it in this town alone, and it was hard for her to get a job elsewhere. At least not one that paid her enough to live on without fundamentally compromising her. But it did make her predictable as he’d just proven.
She should be hanging up, but she wasn’t. It was almost as if he was the only connection she had with her old life.
“Speaking of work, haven’t you got some actual work to do? Out selling stuff, driving around in speedboats in tacky suits.”
“In reality, my work isn’t as exciting as you imagine.”
“Neither is standing down on street corners selling smack.”
“You’re judging me now, stripper girl?”
Although she wanted to argue that she wasn’t a stripper, but it would be disrespecting the girls who were—most of which were decent girls taking care of their own. Too many people were judging them for getting by.
And also, good going—piss off the murderous drug dealer chasing you down. “To each their own. Whatever you can live with.”
“I have no complaints.”
“Good for you.” It wasn’t something she could do. There was enough evidence in her neighborhood as to the consequences of his trade. It was hardly going to serve her talking ethics with Palmer. Clearly didn’t have any.
“Well, that’s my stop. As fun as it’s been chatting with you, I’ve gotta go. Hey, though, here’s an idea. Why don’t you just forget my number and we’ll never talk about it? We both know I didn’t shoot you and I had no intention to. You have your stuff back. I’m not around anymore. You could just turn your attention back to whatever it is you do all day—destroy lives and such. Not judging—you do you. But there is no reason we should be hanging out like this.”
During her diatribe, she’d gotten off the bus and was now walking down the street.
Down the phone, he sighed. “Can’t, though, can I? Me being me and all. Can’t just ignore what happened? Then everyone will start to think there are no consequences for stepping out of line—intended or not. It’s nothing personal. I am sure you were just saintly in your intentions. Still, though, gotta take care of business.”
And that’s what she was to him—business. Everything he said had one objective in mind—to find out where she was. He’d do anything—charm her, seduce her, threaten her. It was all a means to an end for him.
Swearing, she hung up. The worst part of all this was that she wanted to talk to him, spar with him, tease and deny him. But the stakes were too high and she couldn’t forget that. He wasn’t a guy to toy with—so she needed to stop toying with him.
Chapter 15
THE END-OF-CALL TONE buzzed in his ear and he groaned. She’d given him nothing useful. Every background noise he’d listened to, trying to discern names or places, but there hadn’t been anything he’d been able to pick out. Maybe he needed to record them so he could listen more carefully. The break would come with something she said or something that happened around her.
Clenching his fist, he put the phone down. She wasn’t going to answer again tonight, and he didn’t want to crowd her, or she’d shut him out completely.
Interestingly, she ached to talk. Had to be quite lonely out there. Also, she wanted to show him how tough she was. He knew the instinct. It came from a hard childhood, and he could imagine hers had required a lot of self-raising.
His own mother had been the opposite of Nook’s. She’d been loving and giving, and even now, he sometimes remembered the smell of her if he walked past a scented garden. He’d been eight when she’d died, and had been placed in the foster system, where he’d learnt to what degree his mother had protected him from the world. They’d had a charmed existence—although they’d been poor. They’d never had any money, living off what she made from pottery, but they
hadn’t needed money.
Without her, everything had fallen apart. And on his eighteenth birthday, he’d found his stuff outside the foster home and the door locked. They’d never given him a key in the six months he’d been in that place and he’d had to knock to get in the house. But the day he’d turned eighteen, their obligation, and the money the Government paid them, had run out.
His formative years had been an education all of its own. That it was a world where the smartest and fittest stayed alive. He’d known where he wanted to go, and he also saw the pitfalls other people fell into, vowing he never would, and he never had. Everything about him was about securing the future he wanted, and frankly, it hadn’t been hard to achieve.
In this world, smart guys rose to the top, not the most volatile or hot headed, but you had to be strong enough to take out anyone who threatened you. A strength only utilized when needed.
Nook, however, didn’t have the same ambition—she just wanted to get by without being hassled by anyone. She wanted to party and have a good time, and she wanted to be free of obligations. Obviously, he’d had people ask around about her and what she did. Her apartment had been found, the stuff she’d discarded.
There wasn’t that anger in her that needed to show the world it had been wrong in treating him like it had—that nothing was going to hold him down, even if most things worked against him. Things would order themselves according to how he wanted. Even Nook.
Rising from his chair on the balcony, he stretched a little, feeling the dull pain surge. Now that he was healing, he didn’t mind the pain so much. Pain, in and of itself, wasn’t anything to worry about as long as it didn’t suggest a real problem.
Another magnificent sunrise. It was actually really nice being up this time of the morning, a sedateness where no one wanted anything but to get on with what they had to do. There was no big drama this time of the morning, no fervent expressions of people’s inner souls. It was a time for boring business and mundane tasks.